#who i haven’t seen in probably a decade or more????

[gacorley]

There’s some common threads I see in the anti-voting posts going around, and I feel like I need to discuss some of them. Let’s start with the biggest one:

Voting to punish evil. I see lots of variations of this. Biden is supporting Israel, therefore we can’t vote for him. Is there any viable candidate who would stop the genocide? I don’t think the anti voting crowd actually cares. They are appealing to moral feelings rather than political strategy, because strategically, you have to realize that voting is not going to change foreign policy, and that change has to be pushed by other means. It’ll probably be something in the long haul.

Democrats should run someone else. First of all, this is a shit strategy. You don’t primary your president in the second term unless your party is falling apart. This may come from people from countries where replacing the head of government is easier, but the POTUS is the de facto party head. Also, going to the lack of thought to the goal — do you know someone willing to primary Biden and able to win who would do the things you want?

Biden hasn’t done anything anyway. This is just a way to bat away pro arguments. There’s plenty of lists of progress on lots of things. Student loans, insulin price caps, regulations, anti-trust.

Putting the entire Palestinian genocide on Biden. I’m not saying there’s not culpability there, but understand that the entire US government is in support of Israel, on both sides. It was a miracle we got a handful of Senators to call for investigations. We should cut off aid, absolutely. Who’s running to do that? And keep in mind that Israel chose to engage. US officials would have liked a more limited response, not out of care for Palestinians, but because they know from experience that it will come back to bite Israel in the form of newly radicalized Hamas recruits.

Liberals just have no hope for change. This is a new one. Just some idea that people are stuck in a rut and that’s the reason the two party system exists. The two party system is a mathematical consequence of the way we vote. There is reason to hope for change. The change, though, whatever means you choose, will take decades. Keep working at it. The hope is not that this election will fundamentally change things. The hope is that many small political actions over the years will push things forward.

Funnily enough, I haven’t seen a whole lot of third party promotion, just lots of this rhetoric aiming to punish. When voting, ask yourself:

Is this problem I have with this candidate something that the other candidate would be better on?

Are there other political actions I can take that will help?

What things can change with a different President or Congress, and what needs to be pursued by other means?

Withholding your vote as a punishment isn’t really going to help. Biden doesn’t know who you are or why you are not voting for him, and there is no one with a chance of winning that will do everything you want. But you have other means. Protest, organize, donate, build up alternatives, advocate for a different system.

Vote to give yourself space and get a little bit. Do other things to keep things moving.

[lillotte17]

*throws more Veilguard Banter into the gaping maw of Tumblr and then flees*

~~

Solas: “I have another question, Varric. If I may?”

Varric: “Just the one?”

S: “For now. I must admit, I was surprised to see that you were the one they asked to make an attempt at dissuading me from completing my mission. Not to belittle our prior bonds of friendship, but if the intent was to send an agent who might presumably hold some power of persuasion over me, I…would have thought another candidate might have seemed like the more obvious choice.”

V: “Would it really have changed anything if she had been the one telling you to stop?”

 S: “I…do not know. I should think not.”

V: “But at least you would have gotten to see her again, right?”

S: “Perhaps.”

V: “Heh, don’t you worry, Chuckles, I’m sure you’ll get your chance. The fact that I was here instead of her is more of a fluke than anything else. She was more than eager to follow up on the tip that led us to you, but then the kid insisted on tagging along, and you know how it is.”

S: “…kid?”

V: “Right, the kid. You probably haven’t seen him either.”

S: “…No. I have not. Although, I would have thought that there would have been news if the Herald of Andraste had… Well. I suppose there is wisdom in striving to keep such affairs private. I certainly have no right to voice an objection.”

V: “Why would you object to seeing the kid again?”

S: “Again? I… You are referring to Cole.”

V: *snorts* “Well, yeah. Who’d you think I was talking about?”

S: “Never mind.”

~

Rook: “So, Varric, do you really think the Inquisitor is going to show up?”

Varric: “Oh, don’t worry, she’ll be here. She’s been searching high and low for Chuckles for nearly a decade.”

R: *whistles* “And she never caught up to him in all that time?”

V: “Once. It…didn’t end well. After that, a few of our agents came close over the years, but it turns out that the world is a pretty big place, and tracking a lone elf with a network of magical transportation mirrors on his side is about as tricky as you’d expect. It’s even harder when you’ve got a notorious reputation and half of Thedas has seen portraits of your face. One whisper of the Herald of Andraste entering a city, and all our leads would vanish overnight.”

R: “But…I thought the two of them liked each other?”

V: “I think that made it worse, actually.”

Solas: “You do realize that I am standing right here?”

~

Solas: “For what it is worth, I am sorry about your Bianca, Varric.”

Varric: “Oh, you know, what’s an irreplaceable keepsake from the woman I can never be with in the grand scheme of things, anyway? At least you didn’t turn me to stone.”

S: “Your anger is justified. I do not expect your forgiveness, but I would apologize for my actions, none the less.”

V: “Look, if I were you, my forgiveness isn’t what I’d be worried about right now. Someone else has a much bigger bone to pick with you than I do.”

S: “I am not expecting her forgiveness, either.”

V: “So, you’re not even going to try?”

S: “And what, precisely, should I be trying, Master Tethras? This is hardly the sort of situation to be solved by a bouquet of flowers and a well-constructed poem.”

Rook: “Maybe you could send chocolates?”

V: “I was going to suggest groveling, actually.”

[bluesidez]

Firefighter!Miguel Part 2

content warning: the urge to use AAVE was slipping through the nerves of my fingers. I tried to hold off, so if you see something that looks grammatically different, then it’s probably AAVE that I couldn’t NOT add. this is all fluff too! there are also mentions of food, but that's a norm for these drabbles

word count: 2.2k, proofread! (I think there's no mistakes 😭)

Prev | Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

“Eileen! Is that you?!”

You internally groaned as your grandma hopped out of the motorized shopping cart to greet yet another person.

The trip to the grocery store to buy ingredients turned into a meet & greet with the star being your grandmother knowing everyone in the town.

You felt loopy, going from almost burning down your house to contemplating whether or not the hot fire captain would prefer yams or potato salad. Maybe both?

You grumbled to yourself as you scanned the aisle for a specific brand of cookies for some banana pudding. If all else fails, this was a dessert you could make with no oven.

“And now we’re here, trying to find this child something to cook with,” you heard your grandma fuss out. Why did your business have to be the topic of the conversation?

You turned and walked the short distance to your grandma and another woman who was….her old coworker? Her church member? Or maybe they went to school together….

“Good morning Ms. Eileen,” you say, thankful that you caught her name. You couldn’t keep up with everyone like your grandma.

“Is this the baby?!” she says, shocked eyes going from you to your grandma and back to you.

Your grandma nodded, a smile growing on her face.

“Child, I haven’t seen you since you were this little!” she says, holding her hand about 2 feet off the ground. She turns back to your grandma, “This can’t be the baby!”

You stand there with your lips in a line as you wait for the realization that at least two decades have gone by since you’ve last seen her.

Or more like since she’s seen you. You’re still trying to gather who she is.

“Yeah, this is my grandchild! All grown up and now we’re trying to win over a husband,” your grandma says, shaking your arm.

You wanted a hole to swallow you up or possibly grow some wings so that you could take flight. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“A husband?!” Ms. Eileen smiles mischievously. “Who are you trying to marry?”

“Uh-”

“Honey, this child got the Fire Chief ringing my doorbell!”

“He’s actually the Fire Captain-” you mumble, trying to get your two cents in

Ms. Eileen holds your hands and starts doing an excited bounce as she vocalizes her excitement.

“I need to get right then if we’re fixin’ to have a wedding!” she said, gesturing to her hair as if to fix it.

“It’ll be soon! Just wait and see!” your grandma says, putting her hands back on the handlebars of the car. “Let us go on and buy the rest of this stuff. We’ve got a lot to do. It was good to talk with you!”

Your grandma starts to move forward, somewhat ignoring Ms. Eileen as she started to open her mouth again.

“Leave me some of that food ok?” she calls out.

“If there’s any left, I’ll let you know!” your grandma says as she turns down the aisle.

You chase after her, waving to Ms. Eileen as you leave.

“Who was she again?” you ask as you two go down a new aisle.

“Eileen Wilkins from the school.” So she was a coworker! “She still doesn’t know how to stop talking, though.”

Your laugh sneaks out of you as you watch your grandma stop at some seasonings.

“Why do you say that? You were keeping the conversation up.”

“I was just being nice! It was fine until she started bragging about that granddaughter of hers. That girl doesn’t know her left from her right. How she make it to nursing school?”

“Maybe she’s a hard worker!” you respond.

Your grandma snorts, “Yeah. Working hard at paying somebody else to do her work.”

You just shake your head at your grandma. What are you going to do with this woman?

“Will you call the number already?”

“I don’t really want to do that,” you say, tapping your foot against the ground.

This would be the fourth station within the area that you called with no record of a "Captain O'Hara." You were starting to believe that you and your grandma made him up. Just a small figment of both of your imaginations. What your grandma saw as a suitor and what you saw as a hot guy just trying to do his job.

"You need to want to call," your grandma, responds. "We didn't get all of this food made for nothing. And you're wearing my good necklace! He won't know what hit him when sees you."

You both decided on soul food. Tin pans full of food for the entire crew from greens to mac to fried catfish. Then, there was a hefty styrofoam takeout plate made especially for him. Your banana pudding for him in a tupperware container with Nilla wafers patterned along the side.

Not to mention, you spent an unhealthy amount of time deciding which scent you should wear.

You looked infinitely better than you did when he last saw you with ingredients dusting your front and smoke coming out of your windows.

Still, it would all be for nothing if you couldn’t find his station.

While yon were staring off, your grandma tapped your phone, impatience riddling her frame.

“Grandma!” you shout, holding your phone as if it were a game of hot potato.

“Just ask if he’s there!” your grandma says.

“That’s not how this works-”

“Station 29, this is Captain O’Hara speaking.”

“Hi! Hello,” you turn back to the phone in a rush, embarrassed that he might have heard you and your grandma. You introduce yourself properly this time, saying that you wanted to bring some dinner down to the crew.

You hear a noise of shock as he starts to speak again, “That would be amazing actually. The crew was just trying to decide what to eat. When can we expect you?”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” you say, a little too quickly to be honest.

“Perfect. We’ll see you then!”

You end the call and look up to your grandma who’s staring at you with a small smile.

“Now you tell him to bring back my good tupperware,” she says, instantly switching back to her regular self.

You just shake your head. Grandmas will be grandmas.

“I’m just trying to get you a good man!” she fussed. “And that’s my good tupperware. He’ll hear from me until I get it back.”

“And who were you just on the phone with? You’re smiling real hard there.”

“Shut up Parker,” Miguel fired back. “And why are you even in here. Aren’t you supposed to be washing T29 right now?”

“I finished that an hour ago, thank you very much. You’re so touchy!”

Miguel got up and shuffled Peter out of his office, “I’m not touchy. You’re just irritating me like usual.”

“Oh my god? You do have someone you’re talking to,” Peter says as he digs his feet into the ground, stopping Miguel. “How come you didn’t tell me? Is it that lady with the tree-loving cat? No! It’s the guy whose dog keeps getting stuck in the wall! There’s a theme here.”

“No, I’m not- Will you move? I’m not dating anyone with daredevil pets,” Miguel responded, trying to push Peter in a new spot.

“Cap is dating?” Ben asks as he walks by the two bickering like cats. “When can we see them?”

“I’m not dating-”

“Miguel! You didn’t tell me anything,” Jess says as she comes down the hallway.

“Why won’t you ever address me as Captain?”

“I will if you tell me who you’re dating,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Miguel mumbles, letting Peter fall to the ground instead of fighting him.

“Well if you weren’t talking to your lover, who was that?” he asks from the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

“While you all were slacking, I was making sure that everyone goes home with a full stomach. Remember the kitchen fire from earlier this week? They’re bringing some food for us.”

“Will it be safe to eat?” Ben says, eyes flittering to Jess nervously.

“It was a broken gas line, you idiot,” Jess says with her mouth turned sideways. “At least wait until the food is here before you judge it.”

“No way,” Peter says from the ground. “You put them in your lap and now they’re bringing you food.”

Miguel lightly kicks Peter in the thigh, making him scream out a scale of keys.

“That face gets so many people,” Jess sighs annoyingly.

Firefighter!Miguel who jogs out to the car when you arrive. No, he wasn’t watching the clock or his cameras. He just happened to see some movement in one of the security cameras.

He opens the door for you, helping you out of the car.

It’s like you’re a totally different person from the frantic little baker from earlier.

“Can you help me get the plates out of the trunk?” you say, voice barely reaching his ears with how soft you’re speaking.

“Of course,” he replies.

He manages to carry all four hot tins of food, leaving you with just two plastic bags to carry.

Firefighter!Miguel who places the tins on the table with ease.

“Is there anything else?” Peter asks, walking up to his side.

“No, I think this was all of the tins,” Miguel replied with his hands on his hips.

“Show off,” Peter whispers with a smile on his face. He patted his shoulder and walked towards the entrance.

Miguel blushed, realizing how that might have read to you.

Firefighter!Miguel whose eyebrows raise as you hold him back from getting in line, a plastic bag aimed towards him.

“I made you a separate plate. You were especially kind to me and I wanted to show my appreciation,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the bag. “Should I give you the verdict?”

Your heart beats faster, watching his pretty face light up. You nod your head, hopeful that he’ll love the food.

Firefighter!Miguel who has you sit next to him at the table. The crew is quiet for once. Nothing but smacks and the shuffling of cups could be heard.

“Don’t be rude, guys. Say thanks,” Miguel chides at his crew.

At the sound of his voice, everyone starts thanking you profusely.

Miguel starts to open his bag and you feel like you could break out in a sweat.

You watch as he opens the plate and his eyes go big.

“Hey, how come he gets the extra stuff?” Ben whines from the end of the table.

Jess elbows him to shut him up, eyes throwing daggers.

You may or may not have added some fried chicken and potato salad to his plate.

You wait anxiously as he takes a bite.

Is it weird that you counted the seconds as he chewed?

“Damn, that’s good,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

If everyone could hear your thoughts, they’d truly be terrified at the screams going on right now.

“You like it?” you ask, biting your lip.

“This might be the best food I’ve had in a while,” he replies back. “Thank you!”

Your smile grows, watching as he tears away at his food. His laser focus doesn’t stop him from smacking Peter’s hand away from his banana pudding.

Firefighter!Miguel who walks you back to the car. Everyone was chatting and laughing at the table. The after-food glow on all of their faces.

“Everything was really delicious. Thank you for this. You didn’t have to,” he says as he opens your door.

“Stop, I really wanted to thank you guys. You all are the true heroes. Oh! And my grandma would really appreciate it if you brought her container back.”

Miguel chuckles, giving you that charming smile of his. He looked so pretty that way. The black shirt he was sporting was hugging him just right too.

“Of course,” he responded. “We still have to check out your kitchen too, yeah?”

You nod, shocked that he remembered.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can work that out tomorrow.”

He hands you a card, writing down what you assume is his personal number. As he hands the card to you, your heart picks up as his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll see you then,” he says, waiting for you to get in your car before he closes it. He taps the hood and walks backwards, watching as you back out of the driveway.

You give him a little wave and squeal to yourself when gives a hearty one back.

Firefighter!Miguel who is hounded by his crew when he gets back inside.

Some of them are making kissy faces and the others are patting his back in encouragement.

“Would you all get back to work?” he sighed, annoyed at all of the attention.

He moved fast to his office, face in flames.

Firefighter!Miguel who groans out when he scoops some banana pudding in his mouth.

You were good. Really good.

He makes an angry face as he takes another bite, “My god.”

“Oo, they got you real good,” Jess snickers as she steals a bite of his dessert.

“Hey!” he said, moving too late to stop her.

She laughs as she runs from his office. Miguel gets up and locks the door, making sure that no one else could steal his food.

It was specifically made for him, after all.

divider by: @dollywons + @starzyyy1 ❤️‍🔥

a/n: Special thanks to @slushycoookie for giving me ideas! It was brilliant and much needed ☺️

If you want to be on the taglist, sign up here!

taglist: @snails-doodles22 @xerorizz @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003

[pedrospatch]

lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck. 

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 

He could have done more. 

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 

A single white pearl hung from the chain. 

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

[velarisdusk]

Burning Desire

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 4 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 6 - Embers to Ice

word count: 17k (AAAAA?)

content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, BDSM, power dynamics, bondage, gags, sensory deprivation, pain play, spanking, paddling, flogging, begging, degradation, praise | infidelity, emotional infidelity, explicit language, alcohol, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, marijuana), bitches are fake as fuck, bad rebound choices, i.e. casually fucking someone who you KNOW has had an actual crush on you for years and not caring, the Vanserra family is a loving one in this he deserves happiness ]

summary: In a depression following being caught cheating, a troubling phone call brings a harsh revelation. Distraught and in need of comfort, you turn to Eris, who's been trying to reach out since that night. He provides the emotional and physical escape you need.

author's note: oh. my. god. i've been working on this for what feels like a decade i feel like years have been taken off of my life. school has been killer (negative), writing this was killer (positive), and i hope you enjoy >:)

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of rotting in bed, drowning in self-pity, and starting your days with cigarettes and bottles of rum. Over a week ago, you threw your phone into the drawer of your nightstand, barely resisting the urge to post a pity-filled story for your close friends. Before you essentially vanished, you noticed texts from Feyre and Mor. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but you didn't read them, dreading their content. Were they upset? Angry? What did they think of you? Were the messages even about the situation? You couldn't say if they knew or not.

You also received messages from Az, Eris, and Tarquin. Their concern surprised you, figuring that bro code would have outranked you on the list of priorities. But then, were they even still talking? If you were Cassian, you’d probably cut off all communication.

It was a complicated situation. They all worked together and had for years. They couldn’t just walk away; they were bound by contracts. You wondered how practice was faring if it was even happening. By now, they must have realized that Cassian wasn’t speaking to you. Whether they kept things private or shared the news with Feyre, Mor, or anyone else, you had no idea. You hoped they had the sense not to all come downstairs at once after your departure with Cassian. But even if they were careful, it must have been noticeable when they started reappearing suddenly.

Two weeks of these thoughts hurtling through your mind.

You haven’t told your mother why you showed up disheveled at her door in the night. How could you? You couldn’t bear to face her after admitting what you’ve done.

But as the hours stretch endlessly, a surge of loneliness (only the latest of many) finally drives you to your phone. You respond to the texts from Azriel and Tarquin, reassuring them that you’re as fine as you can be. When you open the text thread with Eris, you’re caught off guard.

Hey, just checking in. How are you holding up?

If you need someone to talk to I’m around. Seriously.

Look, I get that it might seem weird coming from me, but I’m genuinely concerned. No strings, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

I’m not trying to pry, but isolation doesn’t help. If you need a break from everything, my line’s always open.

You sit there, staring at the string of messages, each one making you feel a little more seen, a little more cared for. You aren’t even sure you want to acknowledge that right now. It’s almost too much, the kindness wrapped in Eris’ words, especially when everything else feels like it’s crumbling around you.

But Eris’ texts… they’re a lifeline, a small thread of connection in a sea of isolation. You pick up your phone again, reading through the messages once more, feeling the sincerity behind them. The idea of responding, of reaching out, is both comforting and terrifying. But the thought of facing all of this alone, of letting it continue to eat away at you in silence, is somehow worse.

Your fingers start to move, typing out a response before you can second-guess yourself.

you’re not prying, thanks for checking in. captain morgan’s been keeping me company lmfao

No sooner do you turn your phone off and toss it onto the bed beside you does the screen light up again with a buzz. That was fast.

Sounds like he’s good company, but maybe not the best listener. How about a real conversation instead?

You can almost hear the playful tone in his words, a lightness that cuts through the heavy fog of your thoughts. It’s enough to make you smile, just a little, even as the weight of everything else still hangs over you.

Another buzz and his next message appears.

Seriously, if you want to talk, my door’s open. No pressure, just an offer.

You can tell he’s trying to strike a balance, not pushing it too hard but still getting through your head that he’s there. It’s disarming in a way, and it leaves you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you should take him up on that offer.

thanks eris, i might take you up on that. it’s just… a lot rn, yknow?

There’s a pause, the seconds ticking by as you wait for his reply. You don’t have to wait long, and it’s as straightforward a reply as you expected.

I get it. You didn’t make the mess alone, just wanted you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone. And if you want to get out of your place for a bit, my offer still stands. You can even invite the captain as your plus one if that helps.

You smile at that, a small huff of amusement escaping you. The thought of getting out of your old childhood bedroom, of not being surrounded by the same four walls that have seen you at your lowest, is more appealing than you’d like to admit. Maybe a change of scenery, and the chance to talk things out with someone, would help.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think about how to respond. Part of you wants to dive in and take him up on the offer right away, but another part of you hesitates, unsure how it would look if Cassian found out. You decide to keep things simple. You don’t respond.

Without paying any mind to the countless social media, text, and call notifications from your other friends, you open your texts with Nesta and make a FaceTime call. The thought of her blunt honesty is a small comfort in your otherwise bleak current existence.

Her face appears on the screen, and though her expression is one of surprise and concern, you can’t help but feel a twinge of relief.

“Where’ve you been? You look…”

She trails off, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your appearance. You glance at yourself in the small window at the top corner of the screen. Your eyes are puffy and red, your face is pale, and the bags under your eyes seem darker than ever.

“Talk to me,” Nesta says, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to cut through the fog of your despair.

You draw a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing heavily on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart. I’m a fucking mess.”

Nesta’s gaze softens further, her concern palpable. She leans in slightly, her tone soothing yet resolute. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m here.”

The hesitation is palpable as you search for the right words, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Finally, you find the courage to confess. “I messed up, Nesta. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Nesta’s expression tightens, her eyes flicking to something off-screen for a moment before she returns her focus to you. She runs a hand through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips as she gathers her thoughts. “Just... try to explain what happened.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before asking, “Do you know what’s been going on?”

Nesta’s gaze momentarily shifts away, a flicker of something you can’t quite read passing over her face. “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” she begins, her tone deliberately vague. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Sensing her evasiveness, you decide to give her a broad overview. You explain the guilt and confusion you're feeling, how everything seemed to unravel and make the situation worse than you could have imagined. You describe the betrayal and the weight of not knowing how to mend things. By the time you’ve caught her up, your words are coming out through hysterical cries and gasps for air between sobs.

Nesta listens quietly, absorbing the emotional weight of your words. Her expression reflects a mix of sympathy and contemplation as she processes the gravity of what you’ve shared.

“I broke that boundary to hell, Nesta. I ruined everything.” Your voice trembles with the weight of your confession, the words feeling like a leaden anchor pulling you down.

Nesta’s brows knit together, her concern deepening as she tilts her head slightly. “What boundary…?” she asks, her tone gentle yet probing, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your unraveling story.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but a sniffle escapes you. “They’ve all been pretty flirty with me since the beginning, and Cassian and I… we decided early on that we didn’t mind it?” You pause, glancing down at your hands as you fidget with the red scrunchie around your wrist, twisting the fabric between your fingers. “So we’d just let them like… make comments… touch up on me a little–”

A sudden, sharp gasp crackles through the phone speaker, cutting through your words like a knife. Your eyes narrow as you stare at the screen in confusion. That sound hadn’t come from Nesta; you’d been watching her intently this whole time, and her lips hadn’t moved.

You furrow your brows, your heart quickening with unease. “What was that? Is there someone there with you?” you ask, trying to keep the edge of suspicion out of your voice, but failing.

But her face is the image of calm, save for the confusion in her furrowed brows. “Huh? Oh, it was just the TV,” she says, quickly flipping her phone around to show you the screen. The shaky camera reveals a reality show playing in the background, the exaggerated drama of strangers’ lives filling the awkward silence.

But your gut tells you something’s off. The way her hand shook just a little as she moved the phone, the tension still lingering in her posture. It all feels wrong. Despite her attempt to brush it off, the seed of doubt has been planted, taking root in the back of your mind.

Nesta flips the phone back to face her, and her voice is smooth and encouraging as she speaks. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him?”

You hesitate, letting out a sigh as you rub your temple. “I don’t know. I’m scared of what he’ll say, or worse... what he won’t say. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of rejection, Nesta.”

She nods slowly, her expression softening into one of understanding. “You have to do what feels right for you, but running away won’t make it any easier in the long run. I know it’s—and I’m sorry to say this—your fault, but you still deserve to know where things stand, even if it’s hard to face.”

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “I know, I just... I need time to think. To figure out what I want, what I’ll do.”

Nesta listens patiently, offering her quiet support as you continue to spill your thoughts. The conversation drifts from your immediate fears to the what-ifs. She shares some of her own experiences, her voice a mix of tough love and genuine care, giving you just enough space to feel heard without feeling judged.

The minutes tick by, and soon you find yourself leaning back into the pillows, the exhaustion creeping in. You talk about other things too, and an hour passes before you even realize it, the conversation winding down naturally, both of you running out of things to say. It’s a comfortable silence now, a brief respite from the storm of emotions you’ve been weathering.

“I should let you go,” you finally say, your voice soft. “Thanks for listening, Nes. I... I needed this.”

Nesta smiles, a touch of warmth breaking through her usual stoic demeanor. “Anytime. You know I’m here for you.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter, if only for a moment. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

As you move to end the call, you hear it—faint, but unmistakable. A voice, muffled but clear enough to make out the words: “No way–”

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can react, the call disconnects, leaving you staring at the screen, that single phrase echoing in your mind. The voice wasn’t Nesta’s, and it sure as hell didn’t come from the TV. You know that voice. It’s familiar in a way that makes your stomach churn, your pulse quicken. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

It was Elain’s. You’re sure of it. You sit there for a moment, phone still in hand, your mind racing. But why would she be there hidden from view? Why wouldn’t she just say hello or at least make her presence known? The questions tumble over each other, forming a gnawing pit of unease in your gut.

Then, like pieces of a puzzle snapping together, the thought hits you: Elain was listening in, but she didn’t want you to know she was there. The secrecy, the way Nesta quickly tried to cover it up. It wasn’t just about eavesdropping. No, it felt intentional, like Elain was trying to gain insight into your situation with Cassian. Your breath catches in your throat as the implications sink in. A cold, hard truth begins to crystallize in your mind. She wanted to know the details because it mattered to her. It mattered because she’s involved—because she and Cassian are…

You don’t want to finish the thought, but it’s there, undeniable and ugly. Elain and Cassian. It explains the secrecy, the way Nesta tried to protect her, and the sickening feeling gnawing at your insides.

The weight of it is almost unbearable, pressing down on you as you sit there, phone in hand, processing the cruel truth that’s just come to light. Elain and Cassian. How? Why? You never saw any sign in their interactions before. The bitterness of the revelation is a sharp, relentless edge in your chest — you need to do something, anything, to shake off this feeling.

You push yourself up from the bed with a determined resolve, your mind racing with anger and the need to reclaim some sense of control. First things first: you need to wash off the remnants of the last two weeks, the sweat and guilt that cling to you.

The hot water of the shower is a welcome relief against your skin, and you let the steam envelop you, trying to wash away the emotions churning inside. You lather up, scrubbing away the sweat and liquor and cigarette smoke, letting the water run over you until you feel clean, both physically and mentally. You stand under the spray, letting the water cascade down your body as if it could cleanse the memories away. When you’re done, you run a comb through your hair, detangling the wet strands with care before blow-drying and styling it, every strand perfectly in place and your arms sore by the time you’re done.

You reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the screen as you debate your next move. Finally, with a deep breath, you type out a message to Eris:

you still up for company?

It’s simple, to the point, and carries the weight of everything you’re feeling right now. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but you hit send before you can overthink it, nerves and anticipation bubbling in your chest. As you wait for his reply, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in the freshly styled hair, and the clean skin. You look entirely different than you did this morning. You’re someone in control, someone who knows what she wants. Your phone buzzes.

Absolutely. I’ll swing by and pick you up.

You weren’t expecting that, but you don’t hesitate before replying with the address. His response is swift.

See you in 15.

Your eyes linger on the screen, absorbing his words as you double-tap and leave a heart his message. Something is grounding about the certainty in his response. No hesitation, no questions, just action. You set your phone down and take one last look in the mirror, a quiet determination settling in your chest. He’ll be here soon, and you have just enough time to get dressed.

You see Eris pulling up through your window, the white Jaguar rolling to a stop, and you take a deep breath before heading toward the door. As you walk down the driveway towards him, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the car’s window. Jean shorts and a hand-cropped t-shirt—casual and understated.

Eris’s eyes meet yours as you approach the car, his expression softening with concern. There’s no sign of the smirk you usually see on his face. Just a steady gaze that feels sincere. He leans over the center console and opens the door for you, a simple gesture, but one that makes your heart feel lighter.

As you settle into the passenger seat, you set your tote bag down in the footwell. It holds a mostly full bottle of Captain Morgan, a pack of Newports, some gum, and a lighter you grabbed on your way out.

Eris’s eyes flick to the neck of the bottle sticking out of the bag before he asks, “Bringing the party with you?”

You shrug, offering a faint smile. “You did say I was allowed a plus one.”

He nods, his tone softening. “That I did... You okay?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

You glance at him, a bit surprised at the shift from teasing to concern. “Not really,” you admit quietly.

Eris gives a small nod, his eyes still on the road. “Could’ve guessed the answer, huh?” he remarks, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

You offer a wry smile and a quiet “yeah.” You glance out the window as the sunlight reflects off passing buildings. “But I figured getting out of the house might not hurt. What were you thinking of doing?”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road. “I can swing by somewhere if you need to grab something or,” he pauses, a sly grin forming. “Or if you’re up for unwinding a bit…”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the playful glint in his eye. “What are you suggesting?”

He shrugs, one hand gripping the steering wheel casually. “We could stop by my plug’s place and pick something up, if you’re looking to take the edge off. He’s got some good shit.”

You lean back in your seat, considering his offer. The idea of numbing your mind with something other than liquor is very tempting. You glance at Eris, his casual demeanor giving nothing away, but you can sense that beneath the surface, he’s paying close attention to your reaction.

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settling in. “Let’s do it. I could use a change of pace.”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a flicker of approval in them. “Alright, then,” he says with a grin, shifting lanes smoothly as he changes direction. His hands move with practiced ease, one gripping the steering wheel and the other shifting gears with effortless precision. You glance up from your phone just in time to see him reach into the center console. He pulls out a sleek pack of Dunhills, taps one out, and lights it with a quick flick of his lighter.

The cigarette sits casually between his lips, its ember glowing softly as its smoke curls lazily around him. “Want a cig?” he asks, his tone casual as he cracks his window.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, reaching out for the cigarette sticking out of the pack. Eris passes it to you with a small knowing smile, his eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to the road and lowering your window for you. You take a drag, the smoke filling your lungs and momentarily dulling the edges of your lingering unease. It’s quite the difference from the menthol kick of your usual Newports. The flavor is richer, with a deep, earthy undertone that’s almost woody. It feels more refined, less about the immediate hit, and more about a lingering, sophisticated aftertaste. You exhale, the smoke curling in the air, and the taste leaves a warmth that’s oddly comforting.

“Helps, doesn’t it?” he glances at you, a touch of curiosity in his gaze.

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke get pulled out the window. “A little… Thanks,” you say, and you both know it isn’t just for the cigarette.

Eris nods, his grin widening slightly. “Anytime. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so just get comfortable. We’ll hit the place soon.”

You settle back as Eris merges onto the highway. The sun is high, casting a warm light over the passing scenery. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the classic rock on the radio make for a relaxing ride. You gaze out the window, watching the landscape shift as the car speeds along. After finishing your cigarette, you hold onto the butt, not willing to litter. Eris is focused on the road, so you just hold onto it, unsure what else to do.

A few minutes later, Eris chuckles and glances over, eyebrow raised. “Were you going to hold onto it the whole ride? Come on, you can’t be serious.”

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I wasn’t going to throw it out the window.”

Eris smirks, his eyes flicking to the cigarette butt in your hand. “Just give it to me.”

He reaches over, fingers brushing against your wrist as he tries to take it from you. But you’re quicker, pulling your hand away with a playful glare. “No!” you protest, holding the butt out of his reach. “You’re gonna throw it out the window!”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, making another grab for it. “I won’t, I promise.” And for some reason, you believe him.

He takes the cigarette butt from your fingers and, with a practiced motion, opens the center console and undoes the locking mechanism on a glass jar. He drops it in, the jar already filled with likely a pack’s worth. The jar seals with a soft click, likely why you hadn’t noticed any lingering smell before. He shuts the jar and console, his attention never wavering from the road.

The smell-proof jar, not even considering littering, doing it all while keeping his eyes on the road—it’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

The drive stretches on with the radio playing softly in the background. You watch the scenery blur past as the car weaves effortlessly through traffic. With the windows still cracked, you catch a glimpse of Eris’s auburn hair tousled by the breeze. The sun casts long shadows across the highway, and you find a strange comfort in the steady rhythm of the drive. Eventually, Eris slows the car, steering off the main road and into a sleek, gated driveway. The place is an upscale, modern mansion with neatly trimmed hedges. Not what you expected. He parks near the entrance and turns to you with a casual smile.

“I’ll leave the car running,” he says. “Lock up, I’ll be quick.”

You nod, watching as he gets out and heads toward the front door. The gate closes behind him with a gentle click, leaving you alone in the plush interior of the car. After a few minutes, Eris reappears with a small, discreet bag in his pocket. He slips back into the driver’s seat, the bag placed neatly into the center console.

The car pulls out of the driveway, and Eris’s eyes flick toward you as he navigates the streets with practiced ease.

“Any special spots in mind, or are you up for anywhere?” he asks, the hint of a grin in his voice.

You shrug, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, yours is fine.”

He gives a teasing scoff, putting a hand on his chest as he speaks. “My place is special, (y/n), you wound me.”

His words pull a genuine laugh from you. It really wasn’t that funny, but hearing your name on his tongue so casually stirs a nervous flutter in your chest.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Besides the view, or the pool, or the game room?” he pauses for dramatic effect, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Yours, truly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what makes you so special?”

Eris lets out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking to you before returning to the road. “Well, I’ve been told I’ve got a talent for making things unforgettable.”

“Someone’s got a massive ego.”

He grins, his eyes glinting with confidence. “Guilty as charged. You like it though.”

You roll your eyes at that, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face any longer. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ah, you didn’t deny it. I’ll take it.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh softly, shaking your head.

As the highway fades into the background, the road before you begins to wind through lush greenery. The towering trees start to crowd in, their canopies forming a dappled, sunlit tunnel. Fields of wildflowers stretch out on either side. The road curves gently, revealing glimpses of a large, elegant house nestled among the trees, its silhouette framed by the tranquil lake shimmering in the late afternoon light.

When you step inside, the first thing you notice is how effortlessly cool the place feels—like it’s been designed with a blend of sophistication and laid-back charm. The living room is spacious and airy, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors. The furniture is a mix of sleek modern pieces and cozy, oversized cushions that invite you to sink in and relax.

Eris heads over to a low cabinet and retrieves a small grinder and some neatly rolled-up papers from a hidden drawer. He moves with casual confidence, clearly in his element. You couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d invited here for a smoke before you, having to remind yourself that this wasn’t that. You’re here as a friend who needs an attentive ear.

“So,” he says, flashing a grin as he begins grinding the weed, “what do you think of the place?”

You settle into the sofa, taking in the room’s ambiance. The walls are adorned with tasteful art, and the scent of cedarwood and something subtly herbal fills the air. It’s inviting.

“Not bad, huh?” Eris continues, leaning against the cabinet and looking down at the papers in his hand.

You chuckle, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes dart up to meet yours, a playful, mock-surprised smile on his face. “Crazy…” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Oh come on, you know it’s a nice place. I'm not gonna shower you with more compliments than you need.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he sits on the couch, starting on the joint. The sound of the grinder and the rustle of the papers are the background to your conversation. “Fair enough. But before we get too cozy with this,” he nods toward his work, “let’s talk. I’d rather hear how you’re really doing.”

You hesitate, feeling a bit vulnerable all of a sudden. “I don’t know if I can get through it all sober.”

Eris looks at you with a soft, reassuring smile, his fingers pausing briefly as they work the paper. “Just try.”

For a moment, you’re silent, the sound of the grinder filling the space between you. You look around the room, at the art on the walls, the low light casting a warm glow over everything. It’s easier to focus on that than on the storm inside your head.

But then you find his gaze again, and the quiet concern in his eyes makes something inside you crack, just a little. "It’s just… everything’s been so overwhelming lately," you begin, your voice soft. "I keep making these choices that… I don't know how to explain it… I’m digging myself into a deep, deep hole. And I don’t know how to get out." You hesitate as you try to find the right words. “It’s just… I don’t even know why I let it happen. I mean, I love Cassian, he’s everything to me. But every time I’m with you,” the words catch in your throat, and you quickly clarify, “with all of you, I mean… I feel like I’m losing myself, like I’m just drifting through all of it without thinking. It’s like I’m not even in control anymore.”

Your voice trembles as the floodgates open, the words spilling out faster than you can stop them. “And the guilt… it’s eating me alive. Every time I’d see Cassian, it was like I was drowning in it. When we went to sleep at night, when he’d kiss me, when we cooked dinner, when he’d tell me he loves me and I said it back with a straight face, knowing what I’ve done… I keep asking myself why I did it, why I kept doing it, but I don’t have an answer. I don’t even know if I’m looking for one or if I’m just trying to justify something that can’t be justified.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of it all is too much. “I thought I could handle it, that I could keep everything separate, but it’s all tangled up now. I’m tangled up. And I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even can.” You pause, swallowing hard as you try to gather your thoughts. Focusing on how methodically he rolls the joint is the only way you can keep from crying. “The past couple of weeks have been a nightmare,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every day feels like I’m just… going through the motions. I wake up, and for a split second, everything’s fine. But then it all comes crashing back, and I remember what I’ve done. It’s like this constant weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe.”

There’s a heavy silence as you finish, the room feeling almost too quiet. You glance at Eris, the exhaustion in your eyes reflecting your need for a break from the emotional turmoil. “I can’t keep talking about this right now,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “I just need to… I don’t know.”

Eris nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah, I got you,” He stands up, moving with a relaxed confidence, and heads towards the kitchen. You watch him, feeling a small flicker of relief at the prospect of a distraction. He returns with two glasses of ice, setting them down on the coffee table before lighting the joint and pointing towards your bag for the rum. When you reach to pour the drinks, he gently takes the bottle from you, pouring them himself.

You take the glass when he offers it, the alcohol warming your insides and helping to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. Eris hands you the joint, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Here’s to a temporary escape,” he says, his tone lighter now.

You take a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and the effects of the alcohol and weed start to mingle in your system. The combination is soothing, and you feel the tension begin to ease. As the minutes pass, you can feel the fog of intoxication settling in, and your thoughts become less jagged.

A while later, the room is darker now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the side table. The drinks are empty and the bottle of rum you brought stands proudly, and emptily, in the center of the table. The joint is long finished, and the conversation has shifted from heavy to light. You and Eris are more relaxed on the couch, and the air is filled with more classic rock, the remnants of laughter, and the gentle hum of your voices.

You lean back, feeling pleasantly buzzed, the haze of the alcohol and weed wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. Eris is sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours, his hand resting casually on the cushion next to you. The shared warmth and comfortable silence between you feel natural.

“You know,” you say, your voice slightly slurred but lighthearted, “I didn’t think I’d find myself here tonight, like this. But... I’m glad I did.”

Eris glances over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sometimes the unexpected turns out to be the best part of the night.”

You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the music playing in the background. “Yeah, it’s funny how things work out. I definitely needed this more than I realized.”

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “It’s good to let go now and then. Just don’t forget there’s still shit to unpack when you’re ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, your gaze drifting around the dimly lit room. There’s a moment of hesitation as the weight of your earlier conversation looms on the edge of your thoughts. The alcohol and weed have softened the edges, but the heaviness is still there.

Eris shifts slightly, his hand moving a bit closer in the process. Whether it was intentional or not, you don’t know. “You know,” he says gently, “it’s not every day you find someone willing to listen without judgment. You should take advantage of that.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes. “Cassian… he’s been nothing but loving, nothing but kind to me. And it kills me, Eris. It kills me to look at him and know that I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way. Multiple times.” You feel the lump in your throat as you continue, the warmth of the alcohol making it easier to let your words flow. “I keep trying to think of ways to fix it, to find some sort of answer or way to redeem myself. But...” Your eyes search the dim room as if trying to find some clarity in the shadows.

“I keep going over every moment, every decision, wondering where things went so fucking wrong. It’s like replaying a movie where I know the ending is tragic, but I can’t look away. I did this shit to myself…

“The hardest part is that he saw everything. He didn’t even need me to confess; he saw it with his own eyes. And everytime I replay that night, I think about how coldly he looked at me. He’s never looked at me like that before. Not that I don’t deserve it.” You glance at Eris, the weight of your emotions clear in your eyes. “I’m trapped in this cycle of guilt and regret, and it’s suffocating. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore—whether it’s forgiveness, understanding, or just a way to get rid of all this guilt. The thought of facing Cass again… God, I can’t…”

Eris’s eyes narrow slightly as he takes it all in, draping an arm across the back of the couch. You aren’t quite close enough for it to wrap around you.

You mentally chastise yourself for wishing you were. Thinking like that is what got you into this mess.

His voice is low but steady when he speaks. “You’re human. You made choices. Bad ones, sure, but it doesn’t make you a monster.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “It’s easy to get lost in guilt. But you’re not doing anyone any favors by going MIA. Especially not Cassian.”

You scoff. “Cass doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“How are you so sure?” he asks, his fingers drumming lightly against the couch, the rhythm steady and patient, unlike the chaos unleashed in your mind by the simple question.

The Facetime with Nesta shoves itself to the forefront of your mind as if your subconscious has been holding it back all this time. You’d heard Elain’s voice in the background, imagined her laughter mingling with Cassian’s, imagined him sharing her breath, his tongue deep in—

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, just as the air had been knocked out of your lungs the moment you’d put the pieces together.

“I’m pretty sure Cassian is fucking Elain,” you blurt out, your voice shaking with the weight of the confession.

Eris’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen. “Why do you think that?” he asks calmly, though there’s a new edge to his voice.

You swallow hard, the memory still raw. “When I was on a call with Nesta, I heard Elain in the background. She was trying to listen in on me ranting about this all to Nesta… She didn’t even say hi to me, didn’t let me know she was there. Why would she do that unless she was hiding something?”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “You might be reading too much into this,” he says, but the sharpness of your gaze makes him backtrack quickly. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… how are you so sure they’re involved?”

You exhale sharply, frustration evident. “Cassian is incredibly vindictive in bed,” you say, thinking back to all the times he’d gone hard on you just for catching you making eyes at one of the guys. “I’ve been through his friends, I’d be more shocked if he didn’t try to go through mine.”

Eris’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Most of his friends.” He doesn’t elaborate but the implication is clear. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but it’s not always best to assume the worst.”

A fleeting thought crosses your mind. Eris is right. You and he never crossed that line, despite the heated moments over the years, despite the events the night of Ianthe’s party. If Cassian is dropping you off on your mom’s doorstep just to go after your friends, maybe it’s time for you to stop moping around and start embracing some fun yourself. Why should you sit at home and stew when he’s out there doing who knows what? Who knows who? For all you knew, Nesta had fucked him too. And, honestly, Eris doesn’t look half bad in that black, fitted t-shirt and tailored jeans, the thin silver chain around his neck glinting in the low light. There’s a roguish charm about him, just as there’s always been. It’s something that makes him undeniably tempting.

You look down at your lap with a sigh, a feigned sadness in your eyes, and a playful pout on your lips. “Well, if Cassian’s going to do whatever he wants, maybe I should too.” You look up, letting your gaze linger on him, lowering to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

Eris’s eyes flicker with surprise, but he maintains his cool as he raises a brow. “Is this where we’re headed now? I thought we were in the middle of something a bit more serious.”

You scoot closer to him, close enough for the hand on the back of the couch to rest on your shoulder if he wanted it to. “Maybe I’m tired of pitying myself. Or maybe I’m feeling adventurous.” A glint of mischief sparkles in your eyes before you slip back into your act.

Eris chuckles, a faint smile curling his lips. “A distraction, huh? You know that won’t fix anything.”

You shrug, maintaining your demeanor. “Who says it has to be about fixing anything? Sometimes a little distraction is just what you need,” you level. Tired of the theatrics, you scoot even closer and grab that god-forsaken hand, placing it gently on the back of your neck.

Eris’s fingers linger there, his expression shifting from playful to intrigued before he traces soft patterns on your skin. “Is that right? And here I thought you were just looking for a friendly ear.”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a softer, more flirtatious tone. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have any other intentions? Not a single fleeting thought?”

Eris’s gaze drops to your lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “So, what are you suggesting? Are we breaking some rules tonight?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, something like that. A night of enjoyment. No strings attached, just...”

Your words trail off as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a slow, heated kiss. His hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It starts slow, almost exploratory, but quickly deepens as you both lose yourselves in the moment. The taste of liquor lingers on his tongue, a heady mix of rum and something uniquely Eris. You savor it, letting the alcohol-infused warmth of the kiss sweep over you. Your lips move against his with increasing urgency, and you gently tug at his lower lip, pulling him closer.

Eris’s hand tightens around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair as he angles his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue meets yours with a bold, almost possessive stroke, and you pull back just slightly, your breath mingling with his. Your eyes lock, the heat still palpable between you. “I like the taste of you,” you murmur, a playful glint in your eyes.

He exhales, a low, throaty sound that’s part groan, part sigh, as if you’re unraveling him with every word, every touch. It’s the kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, making you feel like you’ve got him right where you want him. His eyes darken with desire and amusement before he leans back in to capture your lips again. This time, the kiss is more intense, a dance of passion and need. His hands roam to your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside seems to fade away as you both lose yourselves in each other.

Eris’s lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You arch into him, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. You let out a soft moan as he kisses a sensitive spot just below your ear, making your pulse race. You’re left feeling lightheaded from the drinks and the smoke, and every touch, every caress feels electrifying. His hands slide up to your back, pulling you tighter against him, if possible.

His lips return to yours, and this time, the kiss is unrestrained, filled with a raw, urgent need. You can feel the strength in his arms, the way he holds you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment slip away. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. There’s a breathless pause, the intensity of the moment hanging between you. “You said you were feeling adventurous,” he says, and you shrug. “How adventurous?” His voice is low and his words are laced with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost breathless from the heated kiss. “You’re not planning on taking me out back and murdering me, are you?” you joke, looking out the large windows at the sea of tree silhouettes around you.

Eris’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it…”

You nudge him playfully, your smile widening.

Eris’s expression turns serious again, though the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I promise, nothing like that. But I do have something in mind that might be a bit… beyond what you’re used to.”

You look into his eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement. “I sincerely doubt that,” you say, your voice steady. You’ve had more than your fair share of sexual escapades, indulging in all kinds of experiences in past relationships. And with Cassian, the bedroom was never without a spark—rarely did things stay simple.

Eris’s eyes brighten with satisfaction. “Good to hear.”

He stands and grabs another joint he’d rolled earlier, offering you a hand to help you up. You take it with a playful smile and follow him.

The music fades as you follow Eris down a short flight of steps. The hallway is lined with eclectic art and framed photos. One with Eris surrounded by a bunch of dogs, a grin on his face that’s more genuine than you’ve ever seen. Another with the Vipers, his arm slung casually around Azriel, all of their faces flushed with victory. You have to talk yourself out of paying too much attention to Cassian in that one. There’s even one of him with who you assume is his family, standing in front of a cabin, all smiles and warmth. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and it makes you see him in a different light—one that’s more personal, more real.

At the end of the hall, a large bookshelf stands against the wall. Eris pauses, throwing you a sly glance before reaching for one of the books. He pulls it, then pushes the bookshelf open, revealing a short set of steps leading down into a hidden space below. How cliché.

“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to step inside.

You look at him with creased eyebrows, to which he only gestures his arm in again. You find a lounge, set slightly lower than the rest of the house, with five or so steps leading down into it. The room is richly decorated, with dark wood paneling, plush seating, and warm, ambient lighting that adds to the intimate, secluded atmosphere.

Eris follows you inside, closing the bookshelf door behind him. The room is completely private, a hidden sanctuary within his home. He steps closer, holding the joint he rolled earlier between his fingers. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of quiet pride.

You take a moment to absorb the space, your eyes drifting over the rich details—the king-size bed on the far wall, the soft glow of the lighting, the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall, the smooth texture of the dark wood, the way the room seems to envelop you in warmth. It's intimate without being suffocating, luxurious without feeling ostentatious. You notice cabinets discreetly integrated into the walls, their contents hidden behind polished doors. A smirk tugs at your lips as you turn to face him. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Eris. A sex dungeon? Really?”

Eris arches a brow, looking mildly offended. “Dungeon? That’s what you’d call it?”

You raise an eyebrow in response, your teasing tone unwavering as you gesture around the room. “Isn’t that what it is? Hidden room, dark wood, all the ambiance… seems like a dungeon to me.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Dungeons are cold and grimey. This is a private lounge, a sanctuary, carefully curated for… specific tastes.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing softly in the room. “A curated sanctuary, huh? You really do have a way with words.”

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Words, among other things.”

He lets the words hang in the air, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. You arch an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as if challenging him. “Among other things?” you echo, your tone playful. “Care to elaborate?

He steps closer, his gaze steady and full of intent. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. “But first, I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

Your heart skips a beat, not out of fear but from the thrill of the unknown. You’re no stranger to pushing boundaries, and something about Eris’s confident, almost predatory demeanor only heightens your anticipation.

Instead of answering directly, you take a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you. “You really think this kind of thing is—What was it you said? ‘Beyond what I’m used to’, was it?” you tease, your lips curving into a smirk.

Eris’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Alright, alright,” he murmurs before he pulls you in by the small of your back for another heated kiss, and he speaks against your lips. “You have full say in how this goes, I don’t want to go any further than you’re okay with.”

You pull him off by the hair on the nape of his neck, and the muted hiss that escapes him shoots straight to your core. “Oh, well if I’ve got full say,” you say, sarcasm lacing your words. “Give me whatever you think I can take, and then some.” You give him a dazzling smile, but he can only look at you in wonder.

His hands find your waist, giving the flesh there a tight, possessive squeeze. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your ear. “C’mon, pretty girl, strip for me.” His voice is low, almost coaxing, with a soft yet commanding tone that makes your skin tingle.

Though you’re surprised at his suddenness, you don’t hesitate. As you begin to strip away your clothes, Eris steps away, moving toward a large set of deep drawers. He looks back at you as he goes, drinking in your every movement as you peel off each item of clothing. First you shed your shirt, then the shorts, followed by your socks, underwear, and even the scrunchie on your wrist. The air thickens with anticipation as you wait, rather impatiently, to see what he’s looking for.

“Y’know, most guys wouldn’t have their back turned to the beautiful, naked woman in their basement,” you muse, examining your nails as you stand perfectly tall.

“First, it’s not a basement.” He turns to you, black rope in hand, his smirk tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. “But you’re right, baby. I’m sorry. How about I make it up to you?”

You have to suppress a shiver at his words, or maybe it’s because of the cool air on your bare skin. He takes you in like it’s his first time seeing you, like he didn’t have you practically grinding against the heel of his hand two weeks ago. You’re not sure if it’s the substances in your system or the prospect of doing whatever he can imagine to you, but he feels different today than he had then.

Eris reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out a small, sleek controller. With a quick press of a button, a rig begins to descend from the ceiling, the soft hum of the motor filling the room. He keeps his eyes on you, holding the controller loosely in one hand as the rig stops at around eye level.

His tone is almost casual as he walks back towards you with the rope, the controller goes into his pocket. “Ever use one of these before?” You can only shake your head in response as you walk around the metal hook, thinking for the first time that you may be in over your head. “Good. Go ahead and kneel there for me.”

Eris moves behind you as you kneel, working the rope through the rig and instructing you to place your hands behind your back. The rope isn’t as rough against your skin as you anticipated. His hands work with practiced ease, securing your wrists together. He steps back, watching you with a satisfied expression. Then, with deliberate slowness, he begins to raise the rig, the rope tugging your wrists upward. The position forces you to stand as it continues to rise, his eyes narrowing as you do.

Once you’re in position, bent forward with your arms forced behind you, Eris steps closer again, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs against your ear. His fingers skim up your arm, lingering at the nape of your neck. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Is it okay if I–”

“Do whatever you want,” you interrupt, your voice steady even as your heart races. “If I don’t like it, I’ll let you know. Just do something, please…” You needed a distraction from your thoughts, and the newness of this all was sobering you up.

A slow, approving smile spreads across his lips as he nods. Without another word, he goes to a cabinet, selecting a few items with deliberate care. When he returns, the scent of him envelops you as he carefully ties a blindfold around your head, plunging you into darkness.

You hear the soft rustle of fabric and the click of something plastic. Before you can dwell on it, the world goes silent as something is placed over your ears. The shift is sudden, disorienting. The subtle hum of the room, even the sound of your own breathing, everything fades away, leaving you in an almost eerie stillness.

The rope tugs uncomfortably, but not painfully, at your wrists, the tension in your arms pulling you taut. Your heart pounds, each beat echoing in your chest, reminding you of the vulnerability you’re allowing yourself. Then you feel it—a gentle tap on your jaw, followed by his thumb brushing against your lower lip, pulling it down slightly. You take the hint, opening your mouth for him. The next thing you feel is cool metal pressing against your lip as he slides a ring gag into place.

“If you need to stop,” he says after raising an ear of the sound-canceling headphones, “shake your head and I’ll check on you. Nod if you understand.”

Just as you do, the pad is back over your ear.

You feel the air shift as he moves around you. Deprived of your sight and sound, your body becomes hypersensitive to every touch, every brush of fabric, every subtle shift in temperature. The tension in the air is palpable, your anticipation growing with each passing second.

A light touch trails down your spine, causing you to shiver involuntarily. The sensation is followed by the warmth of his hand as it settles on your hip, steadying you. You can barely hear your own breath, the sound muffled and distant, heightening the sense of isolation. Then, a gentle tap against your inner thigh. You instinctively spread your legs, the vulnerability of the action sending a rush of heat through your body as his touch lingers, waiting.

Then, without warning, a sharp sting lands across your ass. Your body jerks in response, the sting quickly dissolving into a low, throbbing heat. The unexpected strike pulls a soft whimper from your gagged mouth, but before you can even process it, another comes, and then another, each one precise and measured.

The blows alternate with the soft caress of his hand, the contrast between pleasure and pain pushing you deeper into the headspace he’s crafting for you. The strikes aren’t overwhelming, but each one is enough to remind you of the power he holds in this moment, the control you’ve willingly surrendered.

You lose track of time, each sharp strike followed by soothing touches, the rhythm lulling you into a dazed, almost meditative state. The gag keeps your mouth open, forcing you to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhale and exhale carrying a mix of adrenaline and endorphins. The warmth of saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth. The rhythmic stinging across your ass slowly transforms into a heated, throbbing warmth that radiates through your body. Each strike, followed by the soft caress of his hand, leaves you in a heightened state of arousal and anticipation, melding into pain and pleasure that lull you deeper into the experience.

Suddenly, the warmth of his touch disappears, and you’re left in disorienting solitude. The absence of his presence makes you acutely aware of the emptiness left behind, amplifying your anticipation. Without warning, you feel something cool against your inner thigh, followed by the unmistakable sensation of a vibrator pressed against your dripping cunt. It’s startling, and though you can’t hear it, you moan, loud and needy.

His hand is on your hip, steadying you as the vibrations increase in intensity. The buzzing becomes loud and clear as he gently pulls the headphones off, and you hear them thud as they fall somewhere. The sudden reintroduction to sound is jarring as the room’s noises flood back in—the loud hum of the vibrator, the sounds you hadn’t realized you were making, the now husky tone in his voice. Each sound is more vivid than before.

Eris’s voice breaks through this new sensory flood, warm and approving. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone a soothing balm. After being spanked, then paddled for God knows how long, between his calm, reassuring voice and the relentless vibrations against your cunt, you aren’t sure how long you’ll last.

His fingers replace the vibrator, brushing lightly against your clit. He teases your folds, just enough to drive you wild with need. You squirm against the rope, desperate for more contact, for release.

“You want more, don’t you?” Eris’s voice is low, almost a purr as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

He rubs slow circles against you, his fingers like fire against your skin. You try to articulate what you need, but the gag muffles your words into incoherent sounds. The frustration of being so close and unable to finish draws an exasperated groan from you, and he responds with a deep, dark chuckle. Eris’s touch withdraws entirely, leaving you in aching anticipation. The sudden absence of his touch is maddening, your body craving the completion he’s denying you. You can’t see him, but you can feel the warmth of his presence lingering near.

Minutes pass, or maybe just seconds—time has lost all meaning in this swirling haze of sensations. Without warning, you feel the sharp sting of a flogger grazing your inner thighs, just enough to remind you of his control. The flogger’s strikes alternate between gentle taps and more forceful hits, never quite enough to satisfy your growing desperation, but enough to keep you on edge. Each touch pulls you further into the comforting fog he’s woven, and your whimpers morph into sharp yelps of pain, each one more urgent than the last.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Does it hurt, baby?” His tone is tender, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it that promises much more pain.

You groan, the sound a mix of frustration and need, but Eris’s expression hardens. The flogger lands on your skin again, a sharp crack that reverberates through your body. He grips the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, yanking you closer until your breath mingles with his. You can feel the heat of him, the solid presence that’s both terrifying and intoxicating. His lips hover near your ear, his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

“Do you have something to say?” he asks, his tone noticeably darker and more dangerous. There’s a tense, almost impatient edge to it, a sign that stepping out of line is not an option. “A complaint? Are you ungrateful for what I’m giving you?”

The flogger’s strikes become more deliberate, more vicious. Each one lands with a stinging, biting pain that blossoms across your skin, the sensations mingling with the ache of your muscles straining to hold the position he’s put you in. He’s toying with you, savoring your helplessness, the way your body trembles and arches under his control, the way your breath hitches in anticipation of each new strike.

“Who’s in charge?” he whispers in a slow, deep voice, every word dripping with malice. You try to answer, but the gag in your mouth turns your response into a pathetic, muffled sound. Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration, tears of helplessness welling up and quickly absorbed by the blindfold. You can’t form the words, can’t tell him what he wants to hear, and that only makes it worse.

He clicks his tongue, a sound of feigned disappointment, and tugs your hair again, forcing your head back. “Ah, couldn’t quite catch that,” he sneers, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

You whimper, the sound a pitiful mix of plea and frustration, and he chuckles, a dark, cruel sound that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. He’s enjoying this — enjoying how easily you bend to his will, how every strike of the flogger makes you jerk forward with a cry. He wants to see it all, the way you crumble under his touch, the way you surrender every last shred of control and hand your worries away to him.

“I control how this goes,” he growls. “You said you’d be good for me, baby. Did you lie? Do I need to stop treating you like a good girl? Because I can do that if that’s what you want.” The flogger strikes down in the middle of your back with a crack that feels like it splits you open, and you cry out, the sound desperate. Your body lurches forward, but Eris’s hand is still in your hair, holding you in place, forcing you to stay still, to take every single lash he’s giving you.

“Look at you,” he hisses, his voice dripping with condescension. “So fucking needy. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy, something I can break however I feel like.”

The words cut deep, the filth of them sending shockwaves through you. You hate how true they feel, how much you crave the pain, the degradation he’s giving you. The flogger strikes again, harder this time, and your knees almost buckle from the force of it. But you don’t fall. He won’t let you.

“Oh, you like when I treat you like this. You like this a lot better than before, I can tell. You’re just a fucking hole, aren’t you?” he continues. “A pretty little slut who’ll do anything to please me. Do you even have any shame left, or do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” The flogger descends again, and again, each strike punctuating his filthy words. “I’m going to break you, baby. Turn you into the perfect little slut who’ll take everything I give and then beg for more. And you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love being nothing but my whore, thinking about nothing except wanting my cock.”

Each word, each degrading, filthy word, sinks into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of submission. The pain of the flogger, the sting of his words, they’re all you can think about. Your world narrows to just him — his voice, his hands, the way he’s tearing you apart and building you back up, molding you into what he wants, what you need.

He pauses, the flogger still resting against your skin, the rough leather a reminder of what’s coming next. He drags it slowly down your back, letting it scrape over the welts he’s already raised. The sensation is entirely new, a subtle pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone a bit gentler now, but still laced with that underlying cruelty. The change gives you whiplash. “I can see it. You want to be good for me, don’t you? You want to show me just how perfect you can be.”

The flogger strikes again, and you gasp, the sound a desperate cry. But this time, he doesn’t stop. He strikes again, and again, the rhythm relentless. Each lash pulls you further from the chaos of your thoughts, dragging you into a dark, twisted place where nothing exists but him. The pain and pleasure blend together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

“You’re going to remember this, baby,” he promises. “You’re going to remember how it feels to be mine, to be owned. And you’re going to beg me for it again, aren’t you? You’re going to come crawling back desperate for me to use you, to turn that pretty little mind off and break you all over again.”

He’s right. You can feel it, deep in your bones, in the way your body responds to him, in the way your mind clings to every word he says.

Eris’s eyes never leave your face, his gaze predatory as he watches you fall apart for him, unraveling under the weight of his dominance. You’re exactly where he wants you — lost in the moment, completely detached from anything and everything happening outside these walls. As the flogger comes down one last time, sending a final, searing wave of pain through your body, you know that this is exactly where you need to be tonight.

Finally, when you’re trembling, he lowers the flogger and returns to your clit, the light, teasing touch of his fingers reigniting the fire within you. “You feel that, baby?” he whispers, his tone teasing. “Feel how wet you are for me? You like when I hit you, don’t you?” He drags two fingers up your center, gathering your slickness on them before bringing them up to your open mouth. “How badly do you want to come?”

You nod, desperate to show him how much you need this, but he’s not finished with you yet. “Tongue out,” he purrs, his voice a low, silky command that sends a shiver through your already trembling body. Without a moment’s hesitation, you obey, sticking your tongue through the cold metal of the ring gag. A string of saliva spills out at the motion, glistening in the low light, and you hear a soft, satisfied exhale from him.

Eris drags his fingers down your tongue, cleans them off inside your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. “Can you taste how badly you want it?” His voice is a dark, teasing caress, each word wrapping around your mind, sinking deeper into that place where only his voice and touch matter.

You can’t respond, not even attempt to, but the question is rhetorical anyway. He doesn’t need an answer; he knows. He withdraws his fingers, leaving your mouth empty, yearning for more. The loss makes you whimper, as does the ache in your jaw — a pitiful sound that he savors as he continues, his tone a mix of mockery and care.

“You can taste how good I’m making you feel, how much you love it when I hurt you. You want to taste something better, baby?”

Before you can process what he means, you hear the familiar flick of a lighter, the soft his as the flame catches. Your heart thumps in anticipation. A moment later, the smell of weed fills the air, earthy and heady.

Eris takes a slow, deep drag from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he leans in close. His lips brush against the edge of the gag as he exhales, blowing the smoke directly into your mouth. It’s so unexpected, so sudden, that you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you try to inhale and cough at the same time.

The thick, pungent smoke fills your lungs, burning them and reigniting your high. You can feel him watching you intently, relishing the way your body reacts.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively gentle. “I want to see how much you can take.”

Your chest heaves as you fight to draw in air through the second cloud of smoke he blows your way. He chuckles, and with an almost casual motion, he reaches up and unfastens the gag, pulling it away from your mouth. The relief is immediate, but it’s laced with the residue of his control, the taste of smoke lingering on your tongue.

“There we go,” he coos, running his thumb over your wet, trembling lips. “Such a good fucking girl, taking what I give you. But we’re not done yet, are we? No, you’re going to give me more, right?”

His thumb presses against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly, and you instinctively suck on it, the action almost automatic. Your body responds to him without thought, driven purely by the need to please, to submit, to give him everything.

When he finally, finally begins to untie you, his hands are gentle but firm, his touch careful as he releases the ropes one by one. The sensation of freedom is almost overwhelming after being bound for so long. But before you can fully process it, his hands are on you — supporting you and guiding your arms back down slowly and carefully. He pulls the blindfold from your eyes, and you try to readjust to the lighting.

He’s taking another pull, holding the joint between his lips as he takes you in. But that isn’t what stops you in your tracks. At some point during your immobility, he’d rid himself of his shirt, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from taking him in. His hair is tied back into a bun, strands having fallen loose around his face, and his chest is covered in a glistening layer of sweat. Images of Eris spanking you, walking around you and assessing where to land the next blow, of the muscles in his arms flexing as he strikes. The hungry look in his eyes and the tightness of his jeans as he watches you writhe under his touch.

“How do you feel, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. “Did I get you there? That nice little headspace where it’s just you and me?”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge of satisfaction in it as if he already knows the answer. “Did it help?” he continues, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Did I get you out of that busy little head of yours?”

You nod, still dazed by the intensity of the experience. You’d felt blissful before, sure, but this was entirely different. This was unadulterated endorphins and adrenaline. He grins, the expression both proud and wicked. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering sensations.

But he doesn’t stop there. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now, let’s see how long I can keep you floating, yeah? You’re not done yet.” Eris tosses the flogger in the general direction of the shelf it goes on, and guides you with a commanding yet gentle touch to a mat on the other side of the room, placed in front of full-length mirrors. The surface underfoot is soft and inviting, and he helps you kneel in the center, the plush cushioning molding to your knees. He moves behind you, his hands brushing along your arms until they rest on your shoulders, a comforting weight as he leans in close. He hands you the joint, inviting you to take a few hits before handing it back. The smoke in your mouth, in your lungs, it only boosts the floating feeling you have from the experience of this all.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety whisper that wraps around you like a warm embrace. “So beautiful, so ready. But I need you to understand something, sweetheart.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your wrists, guiding them up to the back of your head. “I need you to be ready to trust me completely. How far I push you now is all about helping you relax, so you can completely lose yourself.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, his breath warm against your ear. “This isn’t about making things difficult, not for either of us. It’s about you letting me guide you through this. I want you to be my good girl, to follow my lead and take everything I give you.”

His hands rest on your shoulders again, squeezing you lightly. “You’re going to do everything I ask, aren’t you? You’ll be obedient, you’ll let me push you, because you know I’m going to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice is soothing, like honey, and you can’t help but melt into it. “You’re going to give me all of you, every last bit, and in return, I’ll give you everything you need. Remember how you begged for this last time we were together? I want you to be that good girl for me again.”

As his words echo in your mind, you recall the last time you were with him, at Ianthe’s party. The memory is all too vivid — your desperate need, your willingness to surrender completely. You had been so open, so eager, voicing all your desires and pleas. The way you had let go of all inhibitions, the intensity of your submission, and the way your words had spilled out in a fervent, almost frenzied confession. The memory is as intoxicating now as it was then, all things considered.

His words are a gentle invitation, luring you in with a calm confidence that makes it impossible to say anything but yes. You feel hesitant as you consider the depth of your commitment. The tension in your chest tightens for a moment, but then you nod slowly, your voice soft. “Yes,” you murmur, the word barely a whisper but laden with an unspoken promise to embrace whatever he asks of you.

Eris’s fingers brush lightly over your hands, guiding you to interlace your fingers. He steps back to observe you, his eyes raking over your form, taking in every detail. The floor beneath you is hard, unforgiving, but his presence—his authority—keeps you grounded. The anticipation builds as he circles you slowly, like a predator assessing his prey.

“Knees wider," he orders, his voice still soft but with a firm undertone that brooks no disobedience. You adjust, spreading them further apart, feeling the strain as your muscles stretch. You watch him through the mirror, watch how he gives a satisfied smirk as you obey. You finally see how blissed out you look. A dewy sheen of sweat covers your body, your chest rises and falls deliciously with each breath, and your skin is red where you remember him flogging you. You couldn’t imagine what your ass and thighs looked like; red as fire, you imagined, if the lingering, stinging pain was anything to go by.

“Arch your back for me.” His hand is at the small of your back, applying gentle pressure until you curve just the way he wants. The uncomfortable position has you on edge, completely exposed, and yet there’s a strange comfort in the way he controls you, in how thoroughly he’s taking over your body and mind.

Eris takes his time, relishing the sight. “Look at you, already so perfect for me,” he purrs, his hand trailing down your spine in a slow caress that sends shivers through you. “You’re going to stay just like this, sweet girl, you hear me?”

You nod as he runs a hand over your head in a soft caress, trails that hand down your spine. Then, without warning, his touch sharpens—a sudden, firm grip on your hips, followed by the sting of his hand against your ass. The first slap is light, almost playful, but it quickly escalates. The next one lands harder, and he pauses to run his hand over the reddened skin, soothing it briefly before delivering another, even harder.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he teases, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Or does it just make you want more?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he continues, alternating between sharp spanks and gentle caresses, pushing you to embrace the pain, to find pleasure in the way he’s handling you.

"You’re so good for me," he continues, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Taking everything I give you. I bet you love it, don’t you? The way I’m making you feel?" He chuckles a bit at your lack of response. “You can speak now, sweetheart, I took the gag off for a reason.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath. “Hurts…” you manage to whimper, your muscles shaking. “Hurts really good. I want more.” He spanks you again. Hard.

“Is that how good girls get what they want?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and you recover from the sting of pain.

“No, I’m sorry,” you rush out, wincing from the pain of the spank, the soreness in your legs and arms. It’s too much. “Please, will you give me more?”

He takes one last, long drag from the joint, finishing it off and throwing the roach towards a bin. He drags his fingers down your back again, only to grip your hips and pull you further back, adjusting your position until you’re even more exposed, your knees straining to hold you up. The discomfort is intense, but the way he’s pushing you has you on the brink of something deeper, something more primal.

Finally, he moves in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He cups your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "If you want more you’ll have to work for it, baby.” You nod eagerly and he smiles endearingly. “You’re going to show me just how badly you want me," he says, his voice a mix of tender command and raw desire. "And you’re going to do it the way I like."

He steps closer, guiding your face until your lips hover just in front of the zipper of his jeans. "Open that mouth wide for me," he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pressing it down. "That’s it. Nice and wide."

You obey without hesitation, the need to please him overwhelming everything else. He pulls you into him, his hand resting over your interlaced ones, rubbing your face and mouth into the denim. You feel pride at the way his cock grows stiffer without having taken him into your mouth. You can only imagine how good it must feel to get fucked by that cock, to have it slam into you from below when you ride him, to take it so deep down your throat you can’t even taste his release. A low ‘Now, look at that’ pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t even have to ask you to keep going,” he says, his voice laced with arrogance. Your ears turn red with embarrassment when you realize you’ve been practically nuzzling your face against his cock, but oddly, there’s a twisted sense of contentment mingled with it.

He takes his time undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, mere centimeters from your still-open mouth. No one can make taking jeans off hot. No one except Eris, apparently. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, but not too much—just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His cock is hard and throbbing, a rich, warm shade of pink with a slight flush at the tip. The girth is impressive, making your mouth water with anticipation. It stands proudly, the pre-cum at the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. You lean in, ready to take him into your mouth. The heat and tension in the air are palpable, and you’re just about to close your lips around him when he gently but firmly grips your hair.

"Not yet,” he murmurs, a playful edge in his voice. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t you? I haven’t given you permission yet.”

You pause, your lips hovering inches away from him. Your eyes flick up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in your gaze. “You’re cruel, you know that?” You drop your arms, the strain of holding them there finally too much. He notices the shift, but to your relief, he doesn’t say anything, letting it slide.

Eris smirks. “Cruel? I prefer to think of it as… thorough. You wouldn’t want me to rush, would you? A little patience never hurt anyone.”

Your eyes narrow playfully. “Patience, huh? I expect a good reward afterward.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grip on your hair loosening slightly. “Is that so? And what kind of reward are you hoping for, baby?”

“Something a little more satisfying than just this,” you say with a teasing smirk, your wit finally returning after being silenced for so long. “I’m thinking you could make all this worth my while.”

Eris chuckles softly, looking down and relishing the view of his cock hovering over your face. “I will, without a doubt. But you need to be patient,” he repeats. His eyes linger on you as he shifts, rubbing his cock slowly against your cheeks and lips. The touch of his skin is warm and firm, and each movement is calculated, gliding with a teasing pressure. The pre-cum at the tip leaves a subtle, slick trail that only adds to your arousal.

You feel the ridges and veins of his cock brushing against your skin. His touch is firm but purposeful, making sure you feel every bit of his arousal. He takes pleasure in the way your lips part involuntarily, the way your breath hitches with each stroke. Eris’s breathing grows a bit heavier, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions, savoring the build-up and the control he exerts.

As he continues, he lightly traces his cock along your jawline and over your closed eyelids, creating a delicious blend of sensations. The warmth of him mingles with the coolness of the room, heightening the contrast between the two. He pauses occasionally, teasingly pressing his cock against your lips or rubbing it against your forehead, only to shift and start again.

Your need intensifies with each passing moment, the teasing just shy of maddening. You try to keep your composure, but the craving to have him in your mouth is overwhelming. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you whisper, “Please… let me.”

Eris’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with your plea. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly in your hair as he guides you closer. “Go on, baby.”

With a soft breath, you lean in, finally closing the small distance between you and him. The moment your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a soft groan escapes him, and it sends a thrill through your body.

Slowly, you take him deeper, your tongue gliding along his length, savoring the warmth and the weight of him. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easier to slide him into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks as you move. His fingers thread through your hair, guiding your rhythm, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely contained control he holds over himself.

You focus on the sounds he makes—the low, husky breaths, the occasional hitch in his voice when you find a particularly sensitive spot. Each reaction spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, to push the limits of your own control. Eris’s voice, rougher now with desire, breaks through the haze of your focus. “That’s it, just like that,” he praises, his grip on your hair loosening slightly to let you set the pace.

His hips start to move in time with your motions, a slow, steady thrust that matches the rhythm you’ve established. You relax your throat, taking him in further, feeling the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat. The sensation is overwhelming, yet you revel in it, the sheer intimacy of this act, the way you’re entirely at his mercy, yet completely in control of the pleasure you’re giving him.

Eris’s breathing grows more ragged, the tension coiling tighter within him. He watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to see how much he’s holding back. The knowledge that you’re the one drawing out these reactions from him makes you bolder, urging you to take him deeper, to drive him closer to the edge.

But just as you think he’s about to let go, he pulls back slightly, halting your movements. “Not yet,” he breathes, voice strained but firm. “I’m not done with you.” His words are a promise, and though you’re aching to continue, you obey, releasing him with a mix of anticipation and frustration.

Eris's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, his touch gentle now. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a brief, almost tender kiss before he straightens up. Without a word, he helps you to your feet, his hands steady and reassuring as they guide you toward the bed.

He lowers you onto the soft sheets with care. The roughness from before has melted away, replaced by something softer, almost reverent. As you settle onto the bed, Eris kneels at the edge, his hands gliding over your thighs, spreading them slowly.

He looks up at you, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart stutter. But just as quickly as it appeared, it fades away. He’s silent as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment before he continues, trailing soft, slow kisses up your leg. Each touch is feather light, as if he’s savoring every inch of you.

When he reaches your core, he pauses, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. But instead of diving in, Eris takes his time, pressing a soft kiss just above your clit, then another, slightly lower. His lips are gentle, tender.

Finally, his mouth closes around you, and he begins to work with a slow, deliberate pace, his tongue moving in languid strokes that send waves of pleasure through you. There’s no rush, no urgency—just a steady, sweet rhythm that makes you feel cherished in a way that takes your breath away.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly as he brings you closer to his mouth, his tongue swirling in a way that’s both gentle and utterly consuming. Each movement is tender, every touch filled with a quiet, unspoken affection. He takes his time, coaxing soft moans from your lips with each delicate flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle.

The pleasure builds slowly, like a tide rising within you, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, not from overwhelming intensity, but from the sheer tenderness of it all. Eris’s name escapes your lips in a soft, breathy moan, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of sensation coursing through you.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush you to the peak, but lets you linger in the sweet, tender pleasure for as long as possible. It’s only when your body begins to tremble, when you’re right on the brink, that he finally picks up the pace, his tongue moving with a little more pressure, a little more focus, guiding you gently toward the release you’ve been craving.

And when you do fall, it’s into the softest, most blissful release, the kind that leaves you feeling weightless and utterly at peace. Eris stays with you through it all, his mouth never leaving you until the last tremor of pleasure has faded, and then he pulls back, pressing one final, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. When he does pull away, it’s with a soft, almost reluctant sigh. He moves up your body with the same tender care, his hands trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a softness there.

Eris doesn’t rush. He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that’s more about comfort than urgency, more about reassurance than demand. His mouth moves slowly, languidly, tasting you as if he has all the time in the world.

Your hands find their way to his back, sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches instinctively toward his. There’s a quiet, almost reverent intensity in the way he touches you, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours.

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard, insistent press of him against you, the heat of his skin melding with yours, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft.

You nod, breathless, your eyes meeting his with a trust that’s unspoken but absolute.

Eris presses a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and comfort, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he begins to move.

He sets a gentle pace, his hips rolling in slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping. There’s no rush, no frantic rhythm — just a steady, measured movement that builds a different kind of tension. Eris’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he watches you, his gaze never leaving yours. Each thrust is accompanied by a whispered word of encouragement, a soft murmur of praise that only heightens the intimacy between you.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, each roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the softness of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of his body above you, and the gentle rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Eris leans down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his breath warm and ragged as he moves inside you. “You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice husky, laced with a deep sense of awe. “So perfect.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both.

He shifts his angle slightly, his hips pressing deeper, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, each thrust making your toes curl with pleasure. “Eris…” you moan, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to spur him on.

“Right there?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand trails down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drives into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “I want to hear you, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you gasp, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “You’re perfect, Eris, just like that.”

His pace increases slightly, still measured but with a growing urgency that matches the heat building between you. Each thrust is powerful, and precise, and sends waves of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You can feel the sweat starting to slick your skin, your breaths coming out in short, desperate gasps as he brings you closer to the edge with every movement.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice gentle yet firm, and when you do, you find his gaze locked on yours, his amber eyes dark with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart stutter. “I want to see you when you come,” he adds, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek as his other hand slides between your bodies to find your clit.

The moment his fingers touch you, you’re lost. He circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes that match the rhythm of his thrusts, his gaze never leaving yours, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he watches your reaction.

“Please…” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts, your body arching into his touch as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“Please, what?” Eris’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of intensity there, a deep desire to hear you say it, to have you begging for him. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.”

“Please, I want to come,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. “I need it, Eris, please.”

His eyes darken with satisfaction, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “Then come for me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. The combination of his words, his touch, and the deep, steady thrusts of his cock send you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body clenches around him, your back arching off the bed as you cry out his name, the pleasure so intense it’s almost too much to bear.

Eris doesn’t let up, driving you through the waves of your orgasm with steady, unrelenting thrusts, his fingers never leaving your clit until you’re trembling beneath him, completely spent. He watches you the entire time, his gaze heated and possessive, a soft groan escaping his lips as he feels you come undone around him.

As your orgasm begins to subside, he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his hips still moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “So fucking perfect.”

You’re barely able to respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you manage to whisper his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to move inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent.

Eris doesn’t hesitate, sensing the way your body melts beneath him, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. With a smooth, practiced motion, he flips the two of you over, his hands guiding you to straddle his waist. Your limbs feel like jelly, weak and trembling, but he shushes you softly, his hands firm on your hips.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he brushes your hair away from your face. “Just lay on me. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls you down gently, your chest pressed against his as your head rests on his shoulder. His hands slide up and down your back, grounding you, before they settle on your hips again, holding you steady. You barely have time to catch your breath before he starts moving, his hips thrusting upward with powerful, controlled strokes.

The sensation is overwhelming as he fills you completely, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You can feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the strength of his body beneath you, and the way his cock drives up into you with unrelenting intensity.

“Eris…” you moan, your voice muffled against his neck as your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he takes control.

“Shh, just feel me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he continues to thrust up into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your body responds instinctively, your hips moving in time with his as he drives into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and his low groans, the intensity of it all threatening to unravel you once again.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his pace relentless as he chases your pleasure. His hands roam your body, one sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pressing your face against his neck, while the other grips your waist, pulling you down onto him with every thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so perfect. You’re gonna make me come, baby. Just like that.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as you feel yourself spiraling toward another climax. The intensity of his thrusts, the way he holds you so close, the deep, reverent way he whispers your name — it’s all too much.

“Eris, I’m…” you start, but the words dissolve into a moan as he slams up into you with a particularly hard thrust, your vision going white as another orgasm crashes over you, more intense than the last.

“Oh, you giving me another one, sweetheart?” he growls as he feels you tighten around him. “Let me feel you.”

Your body convulses in his arms as you shatter, the pleasure ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Eris’s grip on you tightens, his own release just seconds behind yours as he thrusts up into you one last time, pulling out as he comes with a low, guttural groan, his cum spilling over your ass in hot, erratic bursts.

He holds you there, both of you trembling, your bodies entwined as you come down from the high together. His hands are gentle now, soothing as they trace patterns on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

After the intensity of your release subsides, Eris’s touch becomes gentle and soothing. He cradles you in his arms, his fingers brushing tenderly over your back and sides as he presses soft kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern. “You did so well, you know that?”

You nod, your body still shivering slightly from the aftershocks, but a soft smile plays on your lips. “I’m okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

Eris gives you a reassuring smile, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “I’m here. Just relax, let me take care of you.”

He carefully disentangles himself from you, his movements slow to avoid startling you. As he rises from the bed, he gently helps you shift so that you’re on your stomach, your hips slightly elevated. “Just a second,” he says softly.

Eris heads to a nearby cupboard, opening it to reveal a small, built-in towel warmer. He retrieves a warm, damp towel from inside, the comforting heat emanating from it as he brings it back to you.

He returns to the bed and carefully unfolds the towel, its warmth a welcome sensation. “I’m going to clean you up now, okay?” he asks gently but doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to dab at your skin. The warmth of the towel is soothing, easing any lingering tension.

His hands are gentle as he tends to you. “You’re doing great,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all clean and comfortable.”

Once he’s finished, he places the damp towel aside and returns to your side, pulling the comforter over you both. He settles next to you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. His arms are steady and reassuring around you, and his murmurs of affection make you feel cherished and adored.

You finally find your voice, looking up at him with a tired but content smile. “That was incredible. I didn’t expect to feel so…” So good? So much? So intimate?

Eris grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You snuggle closer, your head resting against his chest. “I feel like I’m floating. In a good way.” You mentally kick yourself — of course, it was in a good way. Who says floating in a bad way?

Eris wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “You deserve to feel this good. Just know I’m always here for you, not just for things like this, for whatever. Whatever you need, (y/n).”

You sink deeper into Eris’s embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. The comforting weight of his arms and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of serene contentment. The intensity of the earlier moments fades into a gentle afterglow.

As you relax, your thoughts begin to wander, drifting back to the complexities of your life outside this moment. Cassian's name surfaces in your mind, but it's quickly followed by the image of him with Elain. The idea of them together interrupts your peace. It should sting, but somehow, it doesn’t.

Instead, the memory of Cassian and Elain feels distant, almost abstract, overshadowed. You'll deal with it another time.

You shift slightly, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. The world outside, with its complications and unresolved emotions, feels like it’s receding. In this moment, the only thing that matters is the warmth between you, the sense of being cared for, and the gentle hum of satisfaction that lingers from your shared intimacy.

Eris’s soft breathing and the comforting pressure of his touch anchor you, and you let yourself drift in the quiet aftermath, content that you’ve found a moment of peace and connection that you can hold onto.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@blessthepizzaman @celear @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @girl-math-aint-mathing @halo-hanging @julesvanslutta @lilah-asteria @meeperthejeeper @paleidiot @panther-girl-124 @secretlyhers @starlightazriel @scarsandallaz @uncxmfxrtablex @xxemmarldxx

[the-record]

kissing lessons: 3

synopsis: it was like she’d never left as you settled back into friendship, but how you wished there was more to it.

song: kissing lessons - lucy dacus

pairing: college!ellie x reader

warnings: nothing??

a/n: getting juicy now 😊😊

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

“move in with me.”

was she crazy? you couldnt just move in with her.

“im sorry?”

ellie laughed, you looked at her like she was crazy. “move in with me! ive got an apartment like 10 minutes from here.”

“ellie, respectfully, i haven’t seen you for a decade, and you think im just gonna move in with you to an apartment ive never seen? that you don’t even live in?” you stood up, arms crossed over your chest and paced. “and, even if i wanted to, im still 17, i dont turn 18 until september. i cant just move out. my mom would, like, i don’t know… she’d probably call the police.”

ellie smiled was you through out every possibility under the sun. “she’d disown me. take back my car. she pays for it, not me. and i don’t know if my job even pays enough for me to pay rent.” your threw your hands in the air and finally saw ellie’s small laugh. “what are you laughing at?”

she shrugged, pulling you back down to her bed. “i don’t even move in until the end of september. and only someone who was considering it would come up with all that in two minutes.” she sighed when you rolled your eyes at her. “you keep rolling those eyes and they’re gonna get stuck.”

“oh my god, shut up.” she watched you try to hide a smile.

ellie couldn’t help but wonder about you even as you sat in front of her. what did you love and what did you hate? what made you tick? did you remember everything she taught you in her old room? on the mattress you sat on now. how to kiss, and how to get cole or justin or whatever guy had a crush on you.

she wondered what you wanted to do in life. who you were friends with at school. if you wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss you. like old times.

your heads both turned as the street lights flicked on.

“i better get going.”

“stay for dinner.”

your voices overlapped before silence.

“okay.”

ellie smiled, getting up and holding a hand out to you. you took and she pulled you up but didn’t let go as she led you back downstairs.

god it was gonna be hard to be just friends.

“so,” joel sat down his fork and looked at you. “have you thought about college? where you wanna go? what you’d like to study.”

you nodded, copying joel and putting down your own fork. “yeah, i was planning to stay here actually. instate tuition and all that.” you took a sip of water before continuing. “i think i’d like to be a teacher? maybe. i just know i want to work with kids.”

“wouldn’t even have to learn about them, considering you are one,” ellie teased. you kicked her shin under the table. “ow, fuck.”

“ellie no cursing at the dinner table.” joel winked at you as ellie scoffed. “what’s happened since we’ve been gone?”

you sat back in your chair, thinking about everything of sustenance. “honestly nothing. it’s incredibly boring.” you gasped as you remembered. “mel got pregnant last year.”

ellie nearly spit out her food. “no way.” you nodded, picking up your fork again. “with who? what’d her parents do?”

“owen.” ellie gasped as you nodded. “who, mind you, at the time was dating abby.”

“good god.” joel stood up, taking his plate with him. “thats enough for me.” you and ellie laughed as he left.

ellie cleared her throat as you took a bite. “20 questions?” you nodded and set down your fork before getting comfortable. “favorite song?”

you hummed, “kyoto, phoebe bridgers.” ellie nodded approvingly. “favorite movie?”

“the outsiders.” you groaned and ellies jaw dropped. “excuse me? whats your favorite then?”

“practical magic, duh.” you smirked as she rolled her eyes. “you keep rolling those eyes and they’re gonna get stuck.” you echoed her comment from earlier.

“you’re so annoying.” ellie flicked a pea at you.

you threw one back, hitting her forehead. “favorite book?”

she thought for a moment before she answered. “catcher in the rye.”

“good one.” she nodded. “wanna get slushies?”

ellie bolted up with a smile, “god i thought you’d never ask.”

“i can’t believe you dont get cherry and blue raspberry.” you shouldered ellie as you walked back to your car.

ellie scoffed. “i can’t believe you do.” she pulled at the passenger door. “unlock the car.” you got in, closing your door and locking it. “angel.”

you smiled at her and turned on music, singing along between sips. ellie walked around to your window and knocked. your pretended to be shocked, turning down the radio and rolling down the window. “what can i do for you this fine evening?”

ellie leaned her arms on the car door with an innocent smile. “can i kiss you?”

“what?” your face and mind blanked long enough for ellie to unlock the door and pull it open. you barely realized before she was clambering over you to the passenger seat. “oh fuck you.”

ellie gasped, “how unladylike. you just sip your slushy and get me home safely,” she teased as she buckled her seat belt.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you shut your door and put the car in reverse.

how badly you wanted to have said yes.

[manofbeskar]

i’m so obsessed with mishanks because they’re so opposite and will fight and divorce, but there’s nobody they know better than each other. they are yin and yang. they share a birthday. shanks is probably the only person who can convince mihawk to party spontaneously because he knows shanks enjoys it. mihawk is probably the only person shanks would set aside his pacifism for to fight because he knows mihawk enjoys it. red hair and black hair, black coats and capes that are red inside.

i’m also obsessed with how mihawk, someone so isolationist and cold, loves shanks. if he sees shanks on the opposite side of a war, he is no longer in that war. in fact, the rest of you should quit, too. i don’t remember the face of every insect i crush, but i remember the name of the little boy he told me about once a decade ago. he’s a pacifist but i make the trip to duel him every single day because i know he’ll humour me. i don’t try to lay a mark on him because i want to come back tomorrow—he doesn’t try to lay a mark on me because he wants me to come back tomorrow. i will cross the grand line with a poster of this kid if it will make him smile. yes, he would have seen this anyway, but i want to see him smile. in fact, i’ll just keep staying out of this kid’s way because that’s what shanks wants. i have been looking for someone who excites me more than him, and i have failed. there is nobody who excites me more than him. i have his vivre card so i always know where to find him; he will welcome me if i arrive; he will invite me to drink horrible ale from his cup and i will accept because he likes ale and it tastes like him; if i am ever without a home, i tear a corner of his vivre card and know that home is there.

don’t even fucking talk to me about the way shanks loves mihawk. openly passionate and unashamedly loving shanks. yes i know mihawk is not that kind of guy and that’s ok. i can be affectionate for the both of us. if he ever decides he doesn’t want to be alone, i will be there with a shitty drink. it’s not red wine but i know he’ll drink it anyway because it’s my cup. i hate fighting but if he enjoys it, then i’ll entertain him. at least i get to spend time with him every day. i think i’ve told him everything about myself by now; he still remembers the name of that kid i saved a decade ago; he remembers which of my hands was my dominant one; he remembers all my favourite spots. i gave him my vivre card because i know he’d never use it to harm me; i know if he arrives that our fight will be fun; i know if he arrives that he is looking for me. if he is looking for me, i will welcome him home. is he a moody guy who could lighten up every once in a while? sure. i’d love to see him smile more; i know he likes seeing me smile—he came all this way to bring me the poster of a boy i mentioned to him once a decade ago. he is cold and i know he loves me, because we’ve been divorced and he crossed the grand line to see me because he saw my hat. he doesn’t need to tell me he loves me because he wouldn’t make all that effort for a poster if he didn’t.

mishanks is so!!! i think you’re the most insufferable person ever but you’re so fucking exciting. you’re nothing like me but there’s nobody i know better. i don’t understand you but i love the way you think. i hate this thing you did a week ago and i’m divorcing you for it, but if you showed up right now, i’d forgive you. it was stupid anyway. even if we’re fighting, please look for me if you need me. i’ll welcome you. it was stupid anyway. we can go a few months, even years, without meeting, but if i see something that reminds me of you, i have to come see you. i haven’t seen you in a year. i think about you on our birthday. there’s nobody i understand and misunderstand more. i wish you told me you loved me more often. i wish you gave me more space. we fought every single day but i had no desire to defeat you. i am happy to be your equal. it was stupid anyway. come home. i’ll be here.

[thatsdemko]

something blue - l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lance stroll x bridesmaid!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + some teasing here and there

a/n: look at me finally finishing this fic!

“you’ll really like him! I promise you times have changed he’s super nice now.” Chloe’s on your tail, begging you to do her a favor. she claims it to be a bridesmaid duty suited perfectly for you.

that’s right, she wants you to be lances date.

Lance stroll and you did not have a nice history. he picked on you during your childhood and was mainly the reasons for your own beauty insecurities. you tried everything possible to erase that man from your life.

“that doesn’t excuse the fact that he called me fat when we were twelve.” you narrow your eyes on her when you finally whip around. you watch her eyes close, she nods in agreement muttering it was unacceptable of him to not understand the female body at pre-teen years.

“I promise you,” she takes your hands in hers, “if you want to back out you can, but its only for rehearsal and the wedding. after that? you can go back to hating each other.”

you sigh. over her shoulder is Scotty begging and pleading you with his hands and mouthing the words “please please” repeatedly until you finally give in.

“he owes me more than just paddock passes.”

“yes thank you! whatever you want, I will make sure you get it.”

what you really want is to never see or speak to Lance stroll ever again.

—

Lance places a hand on the chair you’re about to pull out. he looks up into your eyes, you’re practically unrecognizable to him, “oh this seat is taken.” he sends a small apologetic look that makes you roll your eyes and want to take the butter knife beside him and stab your eyes.

“god Chloe is so wrong about you, you haven’t changed one bit.” you slide into the chair beside him and purposefully push your chair closer to Daniels.

his expression changes when he finally connects the dots. high school you and you now, are two different people. you were unrecognizable and it wasn’t because of the makeup, you’d certainly changed since the last time you’d seen Lance stroll.

it had to have been during his karting days. that was probably the final time he saw you. you wore an oversized t-shirt and leggings for the warm weather of Monaco. back then you had braces and religiously wore your hair up in ponytails. it was no wonder he had all of the slightest clue.

“I’m sorry, you just look different,” he pauses gesturing to your hair, the tight midi dress that hugged your curves and breasts, “I’ve never seen you like this before. you look amazing.”

you’re not sure how to take the compliment. for the first time it wasn’t backhanded or his father, Lawrence, forcing him to be kind. this time for once, Lance seemed to genuinely give a thought about his words. so maybe that had changed.

“you look good yourself.” you comment on the blue crisp suit he’s sporting. the jacket snug around his broad shoulders, and the pants just cut above his ankle bone.

he catches your eyes grazing up his body. you can’t help but check him out, your weakness was a man in a good suit and you know a good looking man in one when you see it.

“how come you never looked at me like this before?” he whispers, but it comes out louder than he expects. he blames the music and the constant chatter for his need to scream over the music.

“because you were an asshole, Lance.” you remind him of your childhood. how he’d shut down any opportunity to sit beside you or even have to share twenty minutes alone with you. he missed those chances to really know who you were.

“an asshole? what did I do?” he sits upward, a twist in his stomach that doesn’t settle in him. he reached his hand out against your knee, “y/n, I’m so sorry. whatever I did, I apologize.”

you nod, accepting his apology. you realize it’s ridiculous to hold on to a decades long grudge. if Chloe is truly right he’s changed, you’re willing to let go. you can move on from it.

“so you want more than paddock passes? what can I get you?”

“right now? a cocktail would be lovely.” you hold up your empty wine glass. he stands right up from his seat and is off towards the open bar leaving you alone at the table.

scotty plops down into lances chair, a giddy smile on his face that seemingly can’t be wiped away begs for details on your conversation.

“shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?”

he lets out a puff of air waving his hand in the air dismissing your concern, “come on, tell me, I saw you checking him out.” he playful presses his hands against your arm giving you a little shove, “he’s into you, I can tell.”

it’s your turn to let out a puff of air and shake your head. Scotty can you read just like Chloe can, it’s an ability of his he’s picked up, and he knows right now you’re flustered, but you may have some feelings for Lance coming through.

“I’m rooting for this. go get ‘em.” Scotty gets out of lances chair, he kindly pushes Lance inward toward the table and is whisked off by a family member asking for a photo. he glances over his shoulder to send you a wink that, luckily, goes unnoticed by Lance.

“can you believe tomorrow is the wedding?” you look over at lance. you hadn’t heard much from the grooms side about the wedding, you’d only paid attention to Chloe’s needs and wishes, but you’re sure things were much more calm on the other end.

“it seems like just yesterday Daniel was introducing Scotty to Chloe.” he leans back into his chair, his eyes glance over at you for a second, and he takes the chance to very obviously scan you up and down. he notices how your dress clings to your curves and hips, he likes how they dip right before your pelvis line. he could see his fingers easily tracing the outline of your body.

“Lance, stop eye fucking me.”

his cheeks flush red as he takes a sip of the red wine in his glass, “it’s hard not to, you’re beautiful.”

you roll your eyes. you remember he was the same guy who made fun of your stomach when you were pre-teens. what was his obsession with thick thighs and beautiful curves now? maybe a change of heart? you’re hoping it’s that, because you can’t help but acknowledge the pulsating rhythm in your center.

you look over into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, his fingers are rubbing over the rim of the wine glass that’s now empty. he takes the opportunity first to break the rather uncomfortable silenced you’d fallen into, “so what did you hate about me when we were kids?”

you can’t help but chuckle, it just was a response you couldn’t help before you finally tell him, “you were a prick and might I add annoying.”

he places a hand over his heart, “a prick?! you were little miss tattle-tail! I couldn’t do anything without getting in trouble.”

it’s your turn for your cheeks to flush red. you spent most of your childhood mad at Lance for how he treated you that you took up tattling his bad behavior to his parents. you’re not proud of it, but he needed to be put into check more often than not.

“yeah I’m not proud of that, I’m sorry.”

“all is forgiven, I needed it anyway. you kept me in check all summer.”

“maybe that’s why Chloe hired me as your date, to keep you in check during the wedding.” you send him a wink that makes him throw his head back. you get a peak of his chain that’s tucked well under his dress shirt, you can make out the silver ridges.

“with you around, I’ll be misbehaving. I’ll need a good punishment.” he licks his bottom lips, his eyebrows lift upwards before settling back into their place. you know exactly what’s on his mind, you know the punishment well before you can speak it.

“I’ll try my best.” your shaky hands reach for your wine glass and do your best to show you’re grounded, but the throbbing and butterflies in your pussy sure are there to remind you otherwise.

—

the knock on the closed wood door is followed by the familiar voice of last night, “it’s just me, Lance! can I come in?” he calls from behind the door.

one of the other bridesmaids rushes up from her spot on the couch and is quick to open the door slowly before allowing Lance all the way inside. “tight security you run around here.” he jokes making Chloe roll her eyes.

you watch Lance move across the room from where you’re seated, and if you’re being totally honest so does about half the other bridesmaids. you can’t help but feel a little jealous watching some of them nearly fan themselves over his beauty.

“you look beautiful, we should go take pictures.” Lance gestures to the other end of the room where multiple camera men are situated. they haven’t stopped taking pictures since she stepped in her dress, and you can’t blame them. Chloe looks stunning.

“when did Lance get hot?” one of them asks in a hushed voice, she’s practically undressing him with her eyes, and you’re sure Lance noticed by the way he turns his back towards the group of you all.

but he takes another glance over his shoulder.

his eyes land on you, a wink sent your way that had all the other girls fighting for his attention. you knew the wink wasn’t for them, it was for you. while he made it his mission to see Chloe, his eyes did take the chance to scan you in the beautiful caramel colored dress. he can’t wait for that dress to be on the floor of his hotel room.

chloe comes over to the couch, she takes your hands in here and guides you up off of the cushions, “come on my dad will love it if we have a picture of all of us!” she leads you to where the cameras are, and situates you beside lance. his arm carefully wraps around your lower half, hand gripping your hip, his thumb caresses the dips he was eyeing all last night.

you just smile. you can feel the butterflies and warmth fill your chest as his hand lingers behind your, fingers tapping along your backend. if it wasn’t for such a crowded space you would’ve taken Lance there, but you know he wants that punishment. he’s doing all he can to rile you up.

“beautiful!” chloe claps her hands together before running over to the cameras to look at the pictures, “you guys look so cute together! if anything ever happens you have to thank Scotty and I.”

—

“blue is your color.”

“what are you doing in here?” you whip around, arms covering your exposed breasts. you’d barely gotten the dress to zip leaving the top part of your chest exposed.

“turn around,” he gestures and you hesitantly do so. he moves your hair out of the way and carefully zips the rest of your dress up. you feel your breath caught in your lungs, he’s got one hand on your hip, the other rested against your back. you can feel his hot breath against your neck, chills are constantly running down your spine.

“did I ever tell you, how beautiful you looked tonight?”

you shake your head. looking up at him in the mirror, your eyes catch each others. his hand that’s rested against your hip moves across your stomach, his fingers pull up the tight material of your dress to reveal the lacy panties, “every part of you,” he whispers down your neck, his lips dangerously close, “is fucking beautiful.”

your body leans backwards against his. you can feel his hardness against your butt. your head leans back against his shoulder, lips press a soft tender kiss against his jawline, “please,” you whisper a beg that has him letting go of your body. he moves across the room to lock the bathroom door, it’s just you two now.

“what do you want from me? vocalize it.”

the words get stuck in your throat. your left staring at Lance bug eyed while his fingers work underneath your panties. his finger gently runs across your folds, he picks up on the moisture making him chuckle, “who’s all this for?” he whispers in your ear, his breath once again sending a wave of chills down your spine.

“you.” you breathe out feeling your knees weaken at his touch, your body collapses against his chest. once again, you feel his hardness against your backend.

his finger slips inside your entrance, a throaty whine exits your lips that he covers with his hand, “quiet.” he hisses. his finger is long, taking deep strokes you can feel him in your center.

he adds another finger stretching you out. another whine comes from your lips that is masked by lances hand.

“I think the devil sent you as my punishment. there’s no reason for you to walk around like you are.” he pulls his fingers out, pushing your body against the edge of the sink. your fingers are gripping the surface, basically white knuckled waiting for him to unzip his pants.

his palms rest against your ass cheeks giving them a squeeze, you’re not sure when it happened but you noticed you were bare. he had ripped your panties right off from underneath you.

“fuck you,” you mutter to yourself. you feel his tip before all of him inside of you. his fingernails are dug into the skin of your ass, he moves slow, you can feel those same fingers move to grip your hips, he’s guiding your body while his strokes become more sporadic and wild.

you can feel the tears brim your eyes, vision of your white knuckles become a blur while he rams into your clit more than a couple of times earning choked moans. he finds it sexy that you can’t hold it in, he goes in again just to hear that sweet sound one more time.

“fuck, you kill me.” he pulls out, and you can hear him zipping up his pants. he helps you stand up straight, a devilish smile on his lips you want to kiss right off his mouth.

you adjust the blue silk against your body, your panties were discarded on the floor, and no longer needed. you were ready to toss them in the trash when you turn around to Lance, you remove his handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and replace your lace with it, “now you have your something blue.”

“you kill me just like you did then and now.”

a smirk forms against your lips before you press a kiss to his cheek, “come on, lancey I want to dance.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee

want to be apart of my tag list? let me know here!

[wintaerbaer]

things we don't say: part 5.5 (interlude) (kth) (m)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 2.1k

chapter warnings: maya and jk are fighting again :( , and also SMUT in the form of: lots of kissing, light/brief breastplay, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), missionary, creampie, a throwback to part 2, they’re so vanilla but it suits them

a/n: a huge thank you to @btsborahaee for beta-ing on extremely short notice! you’re the best! and an extra thank you, too, to everyone who has shown this series love. it truly means the world <3

listening rec: pieces by andrew belle

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST

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The night is beginning to wind down, thick summer air turning cool and the noise from inside the venue softening with every passing moment. It’s peaceful—the kind of pleasant exhaustion that marks the end of a big day. Jungkook stretches out at the patio table, resting his hands behind his head. As much as he enjoys a party—loves the pounding of music and the press of bodies—he has to admit that this is pretty nice too, the ease that comes with good company and a more intimate setting.

It also helps that Maya and Mingyu have rejoined the group, settling his imagination, which had been running rampant while they were gone.

“Tae and Y/N haven’t come back this way, have they?” Jimin wonders, peering around as if he thinks that saying your names will cause you to appear.

“I haven’t seen them since dinner,” Maya says.

Joshua shifts in his seat, tilting his head out of curiosity. “What’s their deal anyway?”

It’s like a collective sigh passes through half the table. A heavy breath that’s half amusement, half exasperation. “You noticed?” Jimin asks with a smirk.

Wonwoo coughs out a laugh—a loud bark that draws all eyes to him.

He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“He’s in love with her,” Maya says, ever-direct. “Has been for as long as I’ve known them. Probably longer. But he’s too afraid to make a move.”

Mingyu sighs in understanding at her side. “Ahh, been there.”

“You have?”

He turns his head and regards her warily, like he didn’t quite mean to say that and he’s just remembered that he’s in the presence of a relative stranger. “Uh, yeah. With one of my friends in high school.”

“What happened?”

He hesitates, picking through his words carefully. “I spent freshman year of college gathering up the courage to tell her how I felt once we were both home for summer break.” A shrug flows down his back. “She rejected me.”

“Aw, Mingyu, I’m sorry,” Maya coos, and the enamored look on her face makes Jungkook nauseous.

“It’s fine. I moved on,” Mingyu says (A shame, Jungkook thinks). “But I can understand your friend’s predicament. Maybe it will work out for him though.”

A rush of boldness floods Jungkook’s veins, and he leans forward, looking deliberately at Maya. “It could definitely work out for him,” he insists, “because Y/N has been hurt in the past, and Tae understands that. He wants her to know that things could be different, but she just needs to let him in. That’s the problem.”

Maya’s eyes flash, clearly catching the double entendre of what he’s saying. “The problem,” she spits, “is that people have a pattern. And Tae’s pattern is that he’s far too scared to take a risk. Abandonment issues run deep, but some people don’t understand and respect that.”

“I und—“

“Tae has his reasons,” Jimin jumps in, defending his friend. “He just needs time.”

Maya snorts, and Jungkook can tell he’s hit a nerve as she continues her rant, the rest of the group quietly looking on in a mix of unease or confusion. “Time? Give me a break. He’s had almost twenty years worth of time.” She crosses her arms as she rolls her eyes to the heavens, scoffing a laugh of defeat. “Honestly? If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that people don’t change. People who sleep around will continue to sleep around.” She pierces Jungkook with a look he feels in the marrow of his bones. “And guys like Tae will always have a reason to be afraid.”

Her head shakes, and Jungkook thinks she might be holding back tears.

“At this rate, we’ll all be dead before he makes a move.”

Taehyung’s mouth is relentless.

From the moment you lean forward, his lips chase yours—desperately seeking—and barely even give you the time and space to breathe. Like he no longer sees use for oxygen.

If someone had asked you a week ago what you thought kissing Taehyung would be like, you would've said careful and calculated, just like he usually is during the day-to-day. But instead, you're getting all fire and a hunger you didn't know he was capable of—urgency in the rough pace of his mouth and the frantic ministrations of his hands digging into the nape of your neck, angling you towards him.

For what it's worth, you meet him beat for beat, nipping at his lower lip, sliding your tongue against his, and tangling your fingers into the thick mane of his hair. A groan emanates from someone's throat—you're not even sure whose—and suddenly, he's gripping you around the waist to drag you across his lap with a growl until you're straddling his hips, crowding him against the headboard as he clutches you to him tightly.

You press closer, closer, closer, crushing your lips together for a bruising kiss and savoring the feel of his arms banded across your back, and the only thing you can think is that you can’t believe you didn’t do this sooner. He’s heaven incarnate, the taste of him ambrosia and nectar, and you can’t get enough.

It’s not enough.

You finally pull away for air, and his lips, still seeking skin, trace a path across your jawline and down the column of your neck as your fingers find their way to the buttons on his shirt. You’re frenzied, fumbling as you undo them one-by-one and let out a gasp of relief as the fabric falls open and allows you access to the warm skin underneath. You greedily run your hands over his chest and stomach, desperate for more, more, more, and he responds in kind, slipping his own palms under the cotton of your pajamas as he continues to nibble at your neck and groaning when he finds you bra-less.

Warm palms cup your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over perked nipples, and you move to push his shirt down his shoulders, immediately leaning in to bite and suck at the protrusion of his collarbone.

His head falls back against the headboard, and for the first time since you kissed him, he rasps out, “Y/N, my God.”

It sets your blood on fire, the guttural, fucked-out sound of his voice. But you miss the feel of his lips. “Don’t stop,” you murmur, stripping yourself of your own top and diving forward to kiss him again.

He moans once more, the vibrations dancing along your tongue, and the thought repeats that you should’ve been kissing this man every damn day. Should’ve been embracing him at every chance like your life depended on it.

From here on out, you think it just might.

You trail your hands down his torso, and he bucks his hips underneath you, drawing your attention to the hardness pressed against your pelvis.

“Tae,” you gasp, breaking away, and he takes the opportunity to arch his back and pull a nipple into his mouth. “Taehyung.”

But he’s not listening, purely focused on the mounds of your breasts, and so you take it upon yourself to torque your body, flipping the two of you until you’re on your back, and his weight is digging you into the mattress.

The change in position causes a temporary slow in movement, affording you new skin to explore as you roam the expanse of his back, Taehyung’s fingers reverently tracing the lines of your ribcage. It’s not long, however, before your motions ramp back up as you work to shimmy off your pants and clumsily free him of his own.

Finally bare to him, you slow down for real this time as his own touches become tentative, the warm air of the hotel room on his skin seeming to sober him up a fraction. He pauses with a hand on your hip, his other arm braced at the side of your head, not seeming to know what to do next.

Bold and eager—yet sure of your next move—you wrap your fingers around the smooth length of him, relishing the sharp intake of breath you feel at your ear.

“Need you,” you whisper. “Need you, Tae.”

He hesitates only a second longer before his fingers are dipping down between your legs, the two of you sighing in sync at the feeling. You line him up, raising your head to brush a gentle kiss to his mouth, trying to transmit confidence as you fold your legs around his waist.

A stoppage in time as he bumps his nose against yours. Flutters soft breath across your cheeks.

And then he pushes in.

Your lungs cease to function, every cell in your body focused on that single point of connection. You're whole. Full. Complete. Amazed at the ease with which you fit together—two puzzle pieces finding their match. And Taehyung is certainly not unaffected himself as he pulls back to look at you, emotion swimming in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours, his lips still ghosting your skin. And it could be a trick of the light, a haze brought on by the hormones currently coursing through your body, but his eyes look wet. “My angel.”

He kisses you then, slow and deep, taking his time as you both adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You've never felt this comfortable with anyone before, never trusted someone so fully to see you at your most intimate and vulnerable. And he may have called you an angel, but with him above you like this—hovering, ethereal, and burning against you—you think it might actually be him who's heaven-sent. Your beautiful, beautiful man.

His hand charts a course up your body, guiding your arm upwards until it's resting by your head and he can lace your fingers together with a sigh. One more press of his mouth to yours, a gentle nip at your ear, and then he pulls his hips back—only to gradually ease back in centimeter by centimeter.

The process repeats, the pace slow but not lazy, deliberate intent behind every controlled thrust of his hips. It drives you crazy—the unhurried drag of him, the way he's allowing both of you to savor every nerve and inch of flesh until nothing is taken for granted. Your free hand maps his back, legs wrapping around him even more tightly, and he hitches your thigh to his waist so he can push deeper.

Stars circle through your vision, every sense overwhelmed by him: the press of his hips, the scattered kisses across your neck, the symphony of your mewls and his moans.

It's perfect—he's perfect—and before you even realize it, you're riding the edge of your high, entire body tensing in anticipation.

He notices, dropping his hand low again to rub at your clit and turning the stars you're seeing into constellations.

“Let go. I've got you, baby,” he murmurs. “I've got you.”

It's the low timbre of his voice that ultimately does it, and you fall apart, trembling so forcefully that he releases your hand to wrap his arms around your torso, locking the two of you together. He rides it out with you until he tips over the edge himself, spilling inside with a rumble in his chest like thunder.

One, two, three breaths in.

And it’s over.

Everything stills, the two of you a heaping pile of sweaty skin and heaving chests. And while your head is mostly empty, wiped clean by the experience you just shared with him—perhaps, now, the most important thing you've ever shared with him—a single fact of your new reality persists.

You want him. You need him.

You love him.

He pulls out with a groan and rolls off you, tugging you into his side. You know you should head to the bathroom, should clean up, but the emotional and physical exhaustion and the lure of his skin has you cuddling at his chest.

As your eyelids droop, the promise of sleep looming, he mumbles something, the words blending together in a tangle. You lift your head, heart jolting at the sight of his blissed out face.

“What?”

But he's already fallen asleep, tiny puffs of air slipping through his lips.

You think about nudging him back awake, think about asking him what he just said, where this leaves you, what you’re feeling yourself. But you decide against it, the expression on his face too peaceful to disturb.

It’s been seventeen years leading to this moment, right?

What’s one more day?

a/n: they finally got there :) but there's still a lot of story left! pls consider liking, reblogging, leaving a comment, or sending an ask in the meantime!

[linderosse]

Hi! I love your art and your Wisdom AU. I have a question about it. Are you still keeping Legend and Fable siblings after Jojo said they weren’t related in the Q and A, or are you sticking with Linked Universe canon?

Thank you!!! Glad you like it!

Hm, I haven’t seen this Q&A! Can I get a link to it? :)

The reason some Zelda fans believe ALttP Link and Zelda are related is this:

Those are the dying words of Link’s uncle. Some English fans (Edit: choose to)(Edit: nowadays) believe the end of this sentence was supposed to be “sister,” since nothing else really fits (I’ve heard “soulmate” (Edit: or “destiny”) as an option, but it seems strange for Link’s uncle to be telling him who he’s supposed to end up with). Thus the headcanon of ALttP Link and Zelda being siblings.

The Japanese text is even more ambiguous, since it reads something along the lines of “You are the princess’s…” This means the line was probably meant to say something like “You are the princess’ only hope.” Unfortunately, this version doesn’t seem to work as well with the English translation, while the “sister” line still works with the Japanese text. The intention is different from the way some fans choose to interpret it. :)

To complicate matters further, the remake (2003) removed the line from that scene, although the line is still present elsewhere in the game— Blind the Bandit disguises himself as Link’s dying uncle and repeats the same lines, and he says the original phrase (Edit: ending with, “You are the princess’…”). The devs are definitely aware of the original line. (Edit: And they’ve fixed the translation, lol.)

So there’s the background info!

Now, on to the main part: regarding following LU canon. The truth is: I am already changing a few things from Linked Universe, the most important of which are these:

Legend and Fable are siblings

Tetra and Wind are not Phantom and Spirit

Shadow and the Four Swords manga are canon

Time and Wind (and other relevant characters) remember Hyrule Warriors

Why am I making these changes for my AU?

Discussed above!

I’m much more of a Spirit Tracks fan than Jojo seems to be :). And when considering the Zeldas, Phantom is markedly different from Tetra in both personality and skills. I’m sticking to LoZ canon over LU canon here. Phantom deserves to be her own character!

I’ve been a fan of the FSA manga for a decade and a half now, so it has long affected the way I see the Zelda series. I also love Shadow and Four’s history— it adds a unique twist to the classic Zelda formula. Shadow is therefore canon in Wielders of Wisdom and the parallel LU story, The Secrets We Keep. Expect Shadow’s backstory to play a role somewhere in the combined Wisdomverse :)

I’m new to the Hyrule Warriors fandom, but I love the connection it gives Warriors with Time and Wind— and other characters :). This is also going to be addressed in The Secrets We Keep. Check that out for more info!

Many of you who write/read fanfics for LU have seen these ideas before. Interpreting canon in different ways has always been an integral part of the Zelda fandom, because canon is itself can be contradictory. That’s one of the things that makes this fandom so fun <3.

And the most important thing is that these changes fit the story I want to tell better.

I’m going to do my best to stick to LU whenever possible, but I want to tell a fun, engaging story, and sometimes that will mean taking a different path: sometimes following LoZ canon more closely, sometimes interpreting things my own way :).

So, to answer your question: I will probably be keeping Legend and Fable as siblings. It’s a popular headcanon among fans. I believe the story I’m telling for Fable works better with other romantic interests for Legend. And I want to stress that he and Fable are just as fiercely loyal to each other.

That said, I definitely don’t mind if you believe differently! I don’t really emphasize romance anyways, and I’m not here to police the fandom. Please feel free to read the references to Legend calling Fable “sister” as friendship, or just ignore it, or whatever you wish! I don’t mind who you ship with who.

Only preference is: please don’t ship the Wielders with each other, since they’re canonically related by blood and spirit :). Other than that, anything goes as far as I’m concerned.

Anyways. This got really long, didn’t it?

I wanted to answer the question as thoroughly as I could. Please feel free to ask more questions, or stop by my quiet little art streams and ask me live if you want an immediate answer! I will always do my best to respond :)

You can find all previous responses under the tag: #lin responds !

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling Ch. 18 - Reverse

Joel leaves for a longer patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-17 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7.7k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was surprisingly easy to fall into a life with Joel. 

It probably helped that he was the person you spent the most time with, anyway. Since you’d started borrowing the guitar, you were at his house nearly as much as you were at your own. You’d had to earmark time to spend with Ellie - who wanted so little to do with Joel that even sitting on his front porch was out of the question - but otherwise, you were at least near him a lot. Add in patrol time, the fact that he talked you into movie nights and mess hall dinners and you realized, suddenly, that you were already living alongside him. 

It just became more purposeful now.

You were dreading the next time Joel went on patrol - he went out far more frequently than you did - because it would mean a change in this new, comfortable but somehow still exciting way of being. 

“I’m only gonna be gone three days, baby,” Joel said as you leaned against him over lunch at the stables, the two of you sitting on the ground with your backs against a wall, your legs straight in front of you so the toe of your boot would brush his leg when you moved. You frowned, eating another berry. 

“I know,” you sighed. “Still gonna miss you.” 

“Careful,” you could hear the smile on his voice. “Might think you like me or something.” 

“Ugh,” you smiled a little. “Can’t have that. It’ll go right to your head, you’ll be insufferable.” 

“According to Tommy I’m that already.” 

You laughed a little. 

“What’s the movie tonight?” You asked. “If I’m giving up alone time with you just before you leave, it had better be worth it.” 

“Might have talked Maria into Titanic…” 

You shot up off his shoulder to look at him and he smiled. 

“Really?” You asked. 

“Really,” he smiled a little bigger. 

“I haven’t seen that movie since before the outbreak!” You were damn near giddy. Joel laughed. “Hey, don’t make fun of me, not all of us had the luxury of fuckin’ electricity over the last two decades alright?” 

“Not making fun,” he was still chuckling and you glared. “Swear I’m not, Sweetheart. You’re just very cute when you’re excited.” 

“OK first of all, I ain’t cute,” you said, getting on your knees next to him. “I’m intimidating.” 

“Very,” he agreed, trying not to laugh. 

“I am!” 

“Not arguin’, Baby,” he said. “You’re very intimidating. Just also very cute and very sexy.” 

You snorted. 

“Now you’re making fun,” he said, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. “Don’t get to just make fun of my woman without consequences.” 

“Oh, I’m your woman now?” You raised your eyebrows but your heart swelled with it. 

“Ain’t you?” He cocked his head, his hands moved to your thighs, the wide spread of them sinking into your flesh through your jeans. 

You kissed him instead of replying and he stretched up into it, tugging you closer, your arms going around his neck, his tongue sliding past your lips to meet yours. 

“Alright,” he panted after a minute. “Not sure the movie is worth it now, should just get you home as quick as possible…” 

You laughed and kissed him again, lighter this time. 

“Brought this on yourself,” you said, smiling against him. “Shouldn’t have tried to be so nice to me.” 

“No good deed,” he kissed you and you laughed before you sat back from him, lacing your fingers with Joel’s. 

“Now that you’ve promised me Titanic, we have to go,” you toyed with this hands. He smiled. 

“Not THAT good a movie…” he teased. 

“Excuse you,” you said. “It has action and history and romance. It’s the perfect movie!” 

You leaned forward so the tip of your nose brushed his. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” you smiled. 

He laughed a little. 

“Never thought you’d be talkin’ me into movie night,” he said. “But since you really wanna go that bad…” You smiled. “Can’t go drooling over that Leonardo whatever the fuck his name is, though. Gotta draw the line somewhere.” 

“That’s fine,” you smiled wider and kissed him one more time, grinning mischievously when you were done. “Always thought Kate was hotter, anyway.” 

You got up and helped him off the ground before he slung an arm over your shoulders and pulled you close enough to kiss your cheek and you smiled again. Smiled because it was Joel and anything with him seemed to make you happy. Smiled because you wanted to do so much more than kiss him. Smiled because touching him like this didn’t scare you. 

Proximity and touch still set you off with almost everyone else - Ellie the only other notable exception - but with Joel, it was a comfort. It meant he was close and you knew he was safe, so different from the men who had tormented you he may as well be a separate species. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life with at least one of his hands on you all the damn time, some physical representation of the connection you felt toward him there for you to ground yourself in. 

“Meet you at yours before dinner?” He asked and you nodded. 

He separated from you before you got to the door of the stable. With the exception of Tommy, no one knew that you and Joel were together now. Jackson was a small town, you’d rather everyone wasn’t talking about you behind your back. It felt too new to share with all these people. You hadn’t even bothered to label it yourselves, never explicitly discussing any of it. You’d just both assumed that you’d be spending as much time as possible together now and touching when you did. That was fine by you. It was nice, having the feelings be quiet and private. You didn’t want to share them before you had a chance to fully understand them yourself. 

“See you then, Sweetheart.” 

Joel looked at you for a moment before he went to go back to work, a soft look in his eyes that made your heart race and heat pool low in your stomach. Like he wanted to just keep looking at you for a while, like he wanted to do nothing more than just be next to you. 

You watched him go, his broad shoulders and shaggy hair, and a thought settled comfortably into your skin. You loved him. You likely had for a while, you realized, just too afraid of what that meant to see it properly. 

You’d never loved someone you hadn’t lost. You’d just started to accept it with Justin when you had to kill him. Marisa moved on while you stayed behind, heart aching and desperately lonely, praying that she’d made it, that she was safe and happy and had found someone who could love her the way she deserved. Mark you’d never even had a chance to say goodbye to. 

The love you had for Joel felt different and the life you led here felt different, too. You’d only ever been in love during the end of the world, all of it tinged in desperation and fear, knowing there was a very real chance that the two of you might get torn apart or shot or changed into an infected, mindless thing. It made things desperate and needy and intense. 

Jackson was different. It had given you the space to start to come back into yourself, find the version of you that had been buried by fear and pain for years. It let you feel secure enough that you could grow to love Joel instead of being thrown into affection only to have no choice than to fight against drowning in it. 

But you were still apprehensive of it. You were in love with Joel. More in love with him than you’d been with anyone else. What if fate decided to take him, too? What if Jackson had lulled you into a false sense of security and he was in just as much danger here as he would be in the wilderness? 

You tried not to think about it as you got back to work. You’d lost so much, you weren’t sure you could survive losing Joel, too. 

You tried to focus on movie night, on taking Joel to bed after and not on the fact that he was going to be leaving Jackson to look for trouble. 

It was Joel. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be. 

*** 

“You’re pushin’ it,” Joel whispered in your ear as you pressed closer, your hand on the inside of his thigh. 

“No idea what you mean,” you whispered back. “Watch the movie, Rose is about to get naked, don’t want to miss that…” 

His lips trailed over your cheek, your temple until they were close enough that they brushed your ear when he spoke.

“Be better if it was you.” 

You turned and raised your eyebrows at him. 

“Bullshit I’m hotter than Kate Winslet.” 

He didn’t respond - even though you were. Instead, he lifted your chin and kissed you, trying not to think about undressing you, sinking into your wet heat, swallowing your desperate little sounds as you came. 

He was still amazed that he had you. He hadn’t even really considered something like this before you. That part of his life seemed long over. But he’d never imagined someone like you and now he couldn’t imagine life without you. He didn’t want to. 

You pulled away from him and he could just make out the needy look in your eyes in the light from the projector. 

“Wearing only this,” the movie said and you elbowed him. 

“Stop distracting me.” 

“Not doing a damn thing.” 

He tried to not kiss you again, just let his hand trail up and down your bare arm as you pressed closer to him but after a few minutes you twisted in his arms and reached up, your fingers knotting in his hair and pulling Joel’s lips to your own. 

“Thought you wanted to watch the movie,” he said quietly between kisses, happy the two of you had sat tucked in a slightly more private corner. 

“Shut up.” 

He laughed and kissed you one more time before you turned back to the screen. 

As much as he wanted to get you home and get you naked, it was almost as fun to watch you watch the movie. You were more relaxed than he’d ever seen you at movie night, the usual tension in your body nowhere to be found. He couldn’t help but look at you, your eyes wide and bright as you watched, every emotion playing out, unguarded, on your face. 

Definitely better than Kate Winslet naked. 

He walked to your house with an arm slung around your shoulders, your hand dangling from his like being against him wasn’t quite enough for you. 

“As good as you remember?” He asked and you laughed. 

“So fucking good. I’d forgotten a lot of it, almost like watching it for the first time. Shouldn’t have been too surprised about that, though. Lot about life here is like that.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, looking at you and fuck you were so damn pretty.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I heard the electricity in the walls for the first week or so I was here. Weird as fuck and then one day I woke up and I’d just gotten used to it, my brain learned how to tune it out again. Took a while to remember that I could just flip a light switch when it was dark, that I have a fridge to keep things cold and that I don’t need a fire if I want to heat something up.” 

You made it to your door, the light on in your entry way, a little stained glass lamp that glowed in the night. You unlocked the door and pulled Joel inside, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your warm, soft body against him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that, the feel of you against him, wanting and beautiful. 

“Lot of that with you, too,” you said, your eyes gentle and earnest. It was a look, Joel thought, that was reserved just for him. You looked only at him with your guard down, looked only at him in a way that made you vulnerable and open. He liked that part of you seemed to belong only to him. It felt like so much of him belonged only to you. 

He kissed you, slow and easy. 

“For me, too,” his nose brushed yours and you turned out the light before taking him upstairs. 

Joel liked undressing you, more than he remembered liking it with anyone else before. He liked that he took his shirts off your body, sliding the sleeves down your arms after untying it from your waist, revealing the smooth skin of your shoulders and neck, just the hint of your breasts spilling over the top of your tank top below. 

Your breaths got needy, panting around quiet little moans as your fingers deftly opened Joel’s shirt, movements getting rougher as you shoved it down his arms, frustrated groans when you couldn’t get it off right away. 

“In such a hurry,” he said quietly, breathlessly. 

You nipped at his lower lip. 

“Want you,” you said. “Can’t help it.” 

You gave up on the shirt, instead moving to his jeans, unbuttoning them, your hand reaching inside, finding his hard length with a contented sigh. Your thumb brushed his head and he moaned into your mouth, your touch sending a shudder through him, the hot ache of want flowing out from the root of his cock through the center of him, through his limbs, his fingers, his whole body driven toward you. 

You gently spread the precome leaking from his head over his cock and he had to fight to focus on something else - anything else - to avoid the risk of spilling into your hand. 

It took effort, conscious fucking effort, to not come too fast with you. Part of it, he was sure, was the fact that no one but himself had touched him in years. But the fact that it was you made it worse. You’d overwhelmed him on a level he’d never known before, in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible. The lightest touch from you was more intense, like he was hyperaware of it, every sensation reaching more than just his skin but instead to the very center of him. 

He’d backed you into your bed and you pulled your mouth from his, eyes wide and needy. 

“Can I try something?” You panted. 

“Course,” his hand went to your face, his thumb tight along the ridge of your cheekbone, his fingers slipping into your hair. “Told you before, you can do whatever you want with me.” 

You nodded and and turned with him, so he was against the bed instead of you. You pulled away from him enough to push his shirt down his arms and cast it aside before sliding off his pants, too. He stood, bare and exposed, in front of you as you looked into his eyes before you kissed him, nudging him down into sitting up on the edge of the bed. 

You followed him down, your hands going to his thighs to spread them and settle yourself between them. Your lips left his and trailed down his neck, his chest as you knelt in front of him, kisses cutting a burning path to the root of him. 

“Baby,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Don’t have to do this…” 

“Thought you said I could do whatever I want?” You looked up at him, sitting back on your heels. You pulled your tank top up and over your head before you unhooked your bra, revealing your full breasts, nipples peaked with need. “Well, I want to taste you.” 

Your hand wrapped around his length before you brought your mouth to his tip, pressing just your tongue to it and giving the head of him a delicate lick, your eyes on his the entire time. 

“Fuck,” he panted, his hands clutching onto your blankets. The edges of your lips curved up, almost smiling before taking the head of him in your mouth with a delicious moan. He watched, enthralled, as you took him into you, your tongue pressing into the thick underside of him as you went. Joel resisted the urge to move his hips, to fuck into your soft, warm, wet mouth, fought to let you take him at your own pace. And then you were damn near swallowing him, his head pushing into your throat as you moaned around him, the vibration of your pleasure igniting the heat deep inside him. “Jesus Christ…” 

You sucked him harder for a moment before you started moving over him, sliding your mouth up and down his shaft. He had to stop looking at you for a moment, had to tilt his head back to look up at the ceiling, the sight of your lips stretched around him too much for him to take. He fought the drive to tangle his fingers in your hair and guide your mouth over him. 

But it was like you read his mind, your hand leaving his thigh and finding his, guiding it to your head and leaving it there as your hand returned to his leg. 

“God damn,” he managed. “Just… fuck, squeeze my legs if it’s too much.” 

You moaned in response and his fingers latched onto you, moving you up and down his cock at his own pace. You sucked and worked your tongue around him as he did, pressing into the thick vein along the bottom of him. He was getting dangerously close to coming in your mouth, right where he didn’t want to come. He needed to be inside you, needed to feel you coming around him, needed to fill your pussy with him, so much of him that you’d feel him inside of you for the days he was gone. 

When it felt like he was inches away from finishing he pulled you from him, whole body tense and aching. You looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together. 

“Don’t want to come before I properly have you,” he panted. “Need inside you.” 

“Good,” you wiped your mouth on the back of your wrist, messy with your spit and his precome. “Because I need you, too.” 

You stood between his legs and went to take your pants off but he brushed your hands aside, pulling you close so he could kiss your stomach, your hips, your scars as he unbuttoned your jeans and slid them and your underwear down together. He heard your breath catch as his hands slid around the back of you, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he looked up at you, his lips against your skin. 

You moved to straddle him, your knees bracketing his hips and you aligned his head with your entrance, your wet heat so close he could feel you over him. Your eyes searched his for a moment as he held you close, the sensation of you threatening to overwhelm him. You kissed him with a moan, hard and deep, as you sank onto his cock. 

“Fuck Baby,” he moaned, feeling you stretch over him, the velvet vise of you as you made room for him inside of you. “Fuck, you feel… Jesus Christ.” 

You took him fully in you and settled on him for a moment. He could feel every twitch of your muscles as you adjusted to his size, feel the thrum of your pulse, the wetness that covered and enveloped him. You were heaven incarnate and it was impossible to not feel like a trespasser inside something as good as you. 

He watched you as you started to move over him, slow at first, steady, the rise and fall of you in line with your shaking breaths. Joel couldn’t help but marvel at you, that you trusted him enough to be with him this way, that you were willing to share yourself with him this way. 

He knew this was no small thing. That you used to shock away from his touch and that now you reached for him, took him inside yourself into your most intimate and vulnerable place seemed nothing short of miraculous and something in him, even now, was terrified of losing this with you. Joel wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people to trust but he was going to do everything he could to keep it. 

You increased your pace, your hips moving over him so his head was catching against a soft place deep inside you, a place that made your breaths stutter. 

“Joel,” you moaned, pressing your ass back into his hands and his grip got tighter. “Fuck, you’re so deep…” 

He helped leverage your thrust down and he felt your core tighten around him, a sharp little spasm, as he did. 

“I know Baby,” he groaned. “Can feel you getting close, feel you wanting to come on me.” 

“I do,” you almost winced as you came down hard on him again. “Fuck, I’m so close. Want you to come too, Joel, want to feel you…” 

“I’ll come when you do,” he said, his teeth gritted, his hold on you tightening. “Just come for me, come for me and I’ll fill you up so good, Sweetheart, promise I will, just come for me.” 

You rode him faster and harder for a moment before you thrust him deep and he felt you come apart around him, your walls fluttering over him as you cried out with it. 

“Atta girl, fuck,” he thrust his hips up to press himself ever so slightly deeper as you milked his cock and he gave himself over to the orgasm it felt like he’d been holding off for an eternity, spilling into you deep and hard. 

Joel collapsed back onto your bed, taking you with him so you were draped over him, his softening cock still deep inside you. 

“Think you should talk Tommy into letting you stay home,” you said, voice sleepy. 

Joel laughed a little, his hands splayed wide over your back. 

“Only a few days,” he kissed the top of your head, feeling the weight of you on his chest as he breathed, the reassurance that you were close. 

“I know,” you sighed. “Just gotten used to you being here. I like you in my bed. Or being in yours.” 

“Me too,” he said softly, moving to trace the line of your spine. 

“You’ll be safe?” You lifted your head from his chest enough to look at him, your eyes wide. 

“I’ll be safe,” he tucked you back against his chest and kissed your head. “Nothing gonna stop me from comin’ home to you.” 

The next morning, you stayed closer than usual as the two of you got ready to go. You pulled him into shower with you, pressing your body tight to him, working his cock with your hand as he gently circled your clit until he came on your stomach and you all but collapsed with the force of your orgasm, Joel holding you close, keeping you both from falling to the tile floor. 

But after, it shifted. He washed your hair, fingers gentle on your scalp as he worked the shampoo through it. You cleaned his chest, your soapy hands running over his skin, tracing little patterns on him. Once you were both clean, you pressed yourself against him, the hot water running over both of you, and you reached up to knot your fingers in his hair and kiss him, seemingly just happy to touch him with nothing between you for a while. 

“You go on ahead to the stables,” he said as the two of you left your house, your still damp hair braided, one of Joel’s shirts on with the sleeves rolled up and the bottom knotted around your waist. “Know you’ve got a lot to do and I’ll be a few minutes, too busy spendin’ time with you to get packed.” 

“But…” you frowned but he kissed your forehead. 

“See you in a few.” 

Joel watched you continue on to the stables before he went inside. 

He really did need to get packed but there was one other thing he wanted to check on, one you didn’t know about and he didn’t want you to until it was done. 

Joel packed his bag quickly and went into the small workshop on the back of the house. The guitar he’d been making for you for months now was sitting there, propped up so the finish he’d applied had a chance to dry. He delicately tested the wood and his finger didn’t stick. He smiled a little. He’d cut it close but it was done. 

You so loved playing, it seemed wrong that you didn’t have a guitar of your own. But Joel still wanted you to have some connection to him when you played, even if you weren’t using his instrument anymore. So he made you one. It had been slow going, things seeming not quite right or just not good enough for you. But he’d focused on getting it finished up for you, spending what seemed like every second he wasn’t with you or working finishing it up. 

He got some strings he’d set aside for it and the tuning pegs and bridge pins before heading for the stables, finding you there saddling up horses for the patrol team. 

“Still the first one here,” you smiled over your shoulder at him. 

“Good,” he said, coming over and kissing your temple. “Like getting another few minutes with you. Think I can have your attention for a minute?” 

“Think I can manage that,” you smiled, turning to properly face him, your hands in your back pockets. “Don’t think we can get up to much trouble in here, though, no time…” 

“Not lookin’ for trouble,” he said, lifting the guitar by the neck and holding it out to you. You frowned and took it. “Thought you’d like something to play while I’m gone.”

“This isn’t your guitar,” you said, your eyebrows knitted together as you looked over the instrument in your hands. 

“No,” Joel smiled. “It’s yours.” 

Your head flew up, eyes wide. 

“You’re joking.” 

“M’not,” he smiled. “Made it for you.” 

“You made this?” You gaped at him. He laughed and nodded. “Joel… I… this is…” 

“You get it on one condition,” he said. You nodded eagerly and he tried not to laugh again. “You still come by even though you don’t need to borrow mine anymore.” 

“Think that can be arranged,” you said, misty eyed as you looked back down at the guitar. “This is so… Joel…” 

“Just take care of yourself while I’m gone,” he said. “I’m comin’ back to you as quick as I can.” 

You threw the arm not holding the neck of the guitar around his neck and kissed him. 

“You better come back in one piece,” you said, breathless. “Gotta thank you properly for this.” 

Joel felt good as the patrols got underway, the pairs of horses leaving Jackson with him and Tommy bringing up the rear. Just a few days and he’d be back. Back to you and the life he was finding with you here. 

“Joel!” 

Ellie’s sharp voice stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder to see her standing at the gate, her arms crossed, looking upset. 

“One minute,” he told Tommy, riding back to Ellie and dismounting. “Baby Girl, everything OK?” 

“You just had to take her from me, didn’t you?” She stared him down. 

“What…” he frowned but she cut him off. 

“You know how many people I have that aren’t yours in some way?” She demanded. “People who can help me who aren’t also just trying to fucking figure everything out?” 

“Ellie, I don’t…” 

“I had someone!” She looked hurt. “Bambi was mine, she was my fucking friend and now that you’re doing… whatever the fuck it is you’re doing, she’ll pick you and she’ll leave me.” 

Joel sighed and closed his eyes for a second. This wasn’t how he’d wanted Ellie to find out, he should have been more careful at the movies the night before instead of making out with you like some damn teenager in the back row, he was sure that’s what had done it. 

“Kiddo, I know how much she cares about you, she wouldn’t…” 

“Does she know?” Ellie snapped cutting him off. “Does she know about all the shit you’ve done? Does she know everything you did in that fucking hospital?” Something on Joel’s face must have told Ellie the answer, the horror there. She smirked. “Didn’t think so. You really think she’ll still want you after that? After everything you’ve done? Because I don’t.” 

His heart sank. He’d never told you about what he’d done for Ellie, didn’t want you to know the whole truth of what he’d been before he went to the QZ. He wanted to be something different for you, something better, wanted to pretend like who he’d been before was dead and gone because, in so many ways, it felt like he was. 

“Ellie.” 

“Good luck on patrol,” she turned on her heel and walked away. 

“Joel!” Tommy yelled as he watched Ellie leave. “Let’s go, you’re holdin’ everything up!” 

He debated, for a moment, telling Tommy that he couldn’t go. That something had come up, that he had to stay and handle it. 

But the patrol needed to happen. Things had gone too long already, the new horses only recently to the point that the further flung checks could happen. Him staying back would leave a vital place unchecked. 

He got back on his horse and followed Tommy, trying not to think about Ellie’s unspoken threat. She might hate him but she wasn’t cruel, would she really do something like that just to hurt him? 

It was all he could think about. How to fix the damaged relationship with the girl he felt was his daughter, how to tell you the truth of everything he’d done, how he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost you the way he’d lost her. 

He didn’t sleep well the first night out on patrol and he was still distracted the next day. 

Distracted enough that he was missing things, Tommy the only one of the two of them catching any signs of infected. 

Distracted enough that he didn’t know anyone else was there until the shooting started. 

***

Joel made you a guitar. 

He made you a fucking guitar. 

A whole instrument, just made it for you. Because he wanted to give you something you so desperately wanted. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever been so touched by anything. 

Once you were done at the stables for the day, you went straight home to string your guitar and play it. You’d had to force yourself to actually do your job for the first time since you’d started working at the stables, the instrument sitting in the corner, a constant reminder of what you’d rather be doing. 

You’d already decided to skip dinner, didn’t care much about doing anything but this. You just got the guitar set, started playing the first chords the instrument had ever had, when there was a sharp knock on your door. You groaned and considered ignoring it before you set the guitar next to you on the couch and headed for the door, Ellie looking upset through the glass. 

“Hey Kid,” you frowned. “Everything OK? I know Joel’s gone but I can help if…” 

“Can I talk to you?” She asked. “Inside?” 

“Sure,” you stepped aside and opened the door. “Come on in.” 

You led the way to the living room and picked the guitar back up, playing random chords as Ellie paced. She stopped after a moment, looking at you. 

“Nice guitar.” 

“Joel made it,” you smiled, couldn’t help it. “Just now breaking it in…” 

“So you and Joel,” she cut you off. You froze for a second, your hand hovering over the strings. “Thought you said you weren’t fucking him.” 

“Pretty sure I also said that whatever and whoever I did in bed was none of your business,” you replied. 

“There’s shit about him you don’t know,” she said. 

You shrugged. 

“Shit about me he doesn’t know, too. We’ve both lived a lot of life, I’ll never know everything about him.” 

“You should know this,” she said, sitting next to you on the couch. “You deserve to know the kind of person he is.” 

You frowned, the look on her face making your stomach clench. 

If it had been anyone else, you’d have brushed it off. It was Joel. You knew Joel. He was a good man, the kind of man who loved a child who wasn’t his, who hadn’t judged you for everything that had happened to you. 

But you also knew Ellie and you’d never seen her like this. She was a kid but she was a smart kid, a kid who had survived a lot. 

And something had driven her and Joel apart. 

“Alright,” you said, setting the guitar down gently on your coffee table. “Tell me.” 

She looked at you for a moment before she took a deep breath and rolled up her sleeve. You frowned and she held it out to you, her wrist to her elbow covered in scar tissue. 

“What did Joel tell you about me?” She asked. 

“That you’re from Boston, an orphan,” you said. “Had some family out west, he was hired to get you to them, they were dead before you got here…” 

“He lied.” 

She took your hand and guided it to a spot on the scarring, making you trace it with your fingertips. 

“What’s that feel like?” 

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Like scar tissue… Ellie, did Joel do this to you?” 

“No,” she almost laughed. “No, I did this to myself. Most of it. Except the part your touching.” 

“What?” You frowned, looking at her. “Why would you do this to yourself, I don’t…” 

“Does that feel like a bite?” She asked. Your frown deepened. “Because that’s what it is. It’s a bite from an infected.” 

You took your hand back and you glared at her. 

“That shit isn’t funny, Kid,” you said, probably sterner than you should have. “You weren’t alive yet during the outbreak but I lost people to shit like bites, everyone fucking did, it’s not a goddamn joke.” 

“I know it’s not,” she said, her face open and honest. She took your hands. “I know it’s not a joke, it’s not a joke to me either, I lost people, too, OK? That’s how I got bit in the first place, I was goofing off in a place I shouldn’t have been with… we got bit. She turned. I didn’t.” 

You just stared at her for a moment. 

“Ellie,” you shook your head. “No, that… that’s not possible, you’re wrong, you weren’t really bit or…” 

“Trust me, I was bit,” she said. “I’ve been bit twice now, actually. I get bit, it hurts but nothing happens. I don’t change. I’m immune.” 

“You’re…” 

You couldn’t say it. Instead you just looked at her arm again, gingerly reaching your hand out to trace your thumb over the odd pattern of bumps below the scarring. The one that was shaped like a bite. 

“No one knows,” she said. “No one except Joel and Tommy. I have to keep it a secret, who knows what people would do if they knew. So I gave myself a chemical burn to cover the bites.” 

You looked at her again. Whether this was true or not, you weren’t sure, but Ellie believed it was. That you could tell, that was the part that mattered. 

“What does this have to do with you and Joel?” You asked, taking your hands back again. 

“Joel was hired to take me across the country,” she said. “But not to my family. He was hired to bring me to a research facility where they were developing a cure, they wanted to use me to fix everything. They had a doctor who knew how to do it, who could find a way to set everything right.” 

“That’s incredible,” you said. You knew nothing about medicine beyond basic first aid to keep yourself alive but it sounded impossible. If it was doable, it seemed like someone would have done it by now. “So what happened? There’s not a cure floating around out there, right? I’ve been pretty out of the loop but…” 

“He got me this far,” she said, her jaw clenched tight. “And we found the facility. We went through a lot to get there, we almost died so many fucking times, I had to keep him from fucking bleeding to death on the floor of a goddamn basement, I… The point is, we came all that way. We went through all that shit and…” 

She took a deep breath, like she was centering herself. 

“We found the facility,” she said again. “And the doctor was there, he was ready to take what he needed from me and ready to make a cure. I don’t know how but he was. And Joel stopped him.” 

You stared, your mouth open, trying to process what she was saying. 

“That…” you began but stopped. “What do you mean Joel stopped them? That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Ellie, why would he stop them? What do you mean he stopped them?” 

“I mean there’s no fucking cure now because of Joel,” she said, her voice hot. 

“Why,” you said it more than asked it. “Ellie, there has to be a reason, there has to be, he wouldn’t have stopped them for no reason there has to be a reason. Was it going to hurt you or…” 

She looked down, her jaw tense. You could see the muscle of it twitching near her ear. 

“That’s it, isn’t it?” You asked. “It would have hurt you and he wouldn’t let them.” 

“It would have killed me, OK?” She snapped. “They needed my brain, my brain has cordyceps and they needed them to make it and Joel wouldn’t let them take my stupid brain.” 

You just looked at her for a moment. 

“Ellie,” you said quietly. “Is that why you hate Joel? Is that why you won’t speak to him, because he saved your life?” 

“He saved me from doing something that would have fucking mattered!” She yelled it, tears in her eyes. “My life would have fucking meant something! Instead I’m just here, going to fucking school and playing fucking music and…” 

“You’re living a life, Kid,” you said gently. “You think that doesn’t matter? That it’s not important?” 

“Know what he did to get me out of there?” She was crying now, not even trying to stop it. She yanked her sleeve back down, covering the burn on her arm. “I’ll tell you what he did, he killed them. Dozens of people, he murdered them. Including the doctor who could have made the cure. He’s dead. He’s dead and there’s no hope for a cure because of fucking Joel.” 

“Oh honey,” you pulled her against you, her head dropping to your chest, her tears soaking your shirt. You just held her for a bit. “It’s OK, Kid. You’re alright.” 

After a few minutes, she sat up, wiping her tears on the backs of her sleeves. 

“You can’t think what he did was right,” she said. “It’s fucking evil, he can’t…” 

“Ellie,” you said, keeping your voice calm and even. “That’s not evil, that’s what a parent does. They do everything they can - everything - to keep their child alive.” 

“But…” 

“Doesn’t matter what it is,” you said. “You’re Joel’s kid. Of course he did whatever was necessary to keep you safe, that includes killing. It would include killing before, too, but especially now.” 

“No,” she shook her head. “No, I wanted them to make a cure, I don’t care that it would have killed me, I wanted to do it! He took that from me!” 

“You really think there’s any part of Joel that would have just let them kill you, no matter what it meant?” You asked. “That he’d let someone hurt you?” 

“To save the fucking world?” She snapped. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” 

You smiled a little sadly at her, trying not to cry yourself. You tried not to think of the pain Joel must have been in, thinking he brought his child to someplace that was going to hurt her, kill her. That he’d led her to the end and given her to people who would destroy her. 

Your chest was tight. 

“That’s not how it works, Kid,” you said. “You think you’re saying that he had a choice but you’re not. He didn’t, he never did. When you love someone that much, it doesn’t matter what the other choice is. If one side is that person’s life, you do whatever it takes to save them. It doesn’t matter what it costs.”

“But…” 

You cut her off. 

“Do you think he could picture a world without you?” You asked. “Do you think he’d see anything worth saving without you? He was never going to be able to save the world, not unless you were part of it.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I am,” you shrugged. She opened her mouth to argue but didn’t seem to come up with something to say. You kept going. “Do you think I’d do anything different? That I wouldn’t kill to keep you alive? That I wouldn’t do the same in a second for my kid? That’s how it works. You love someone enough, you do anything for them.” 

Her eyes looked a little glassy and she dabbed at them with the insides of her wrists. 

“You’re close with Tommy and Maria, right?” You asked. “With William?” 

“Yeah,” she sniffed. 

“If someone came to you and said they could save the world as long as you would let them kill William, would you let them?” You asked. “Would you hand him over to them? Or would you fight to protect him?” 

“That’s….” She shook her head. “That’s different, he’s just a little kid, that’s different.” 

“Is it?” You asked. “Do you really think it would be different in 10 years? That there’s a magic number where you’d let someone hurt him? Kill him?

“What if it was reversed?” You kept going. “If it was Joel, do you think you’d have let them murder him? Done nothing if you were in his position? Kid, if this is the reason you’re mad at him, I think you need to think about it more. You may not be able to fully understand it but I know him. He loves you so much, I don’t think he could have survived you dying. I’m not sure any parent really does if they lose a child. And you are his child, Ellie. Hate him or not, that’s who you are to him. And there isn’t a single parent on this planet who wouldn’t have done the exact same thing he did.” 

She slumped back on the couch. She looked exhausted. You settled in next to her and her head dropped to your shoulder before she sighed. 

“How do I forgive him for taking that from me?” She asked. “The chance to matter?” 

“He didn’t take that from you,” you said. “You always mattered. Still do. You don’t have to save the world to matter.” 

She sighed and looked numb. 

“Hungry?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” she laughed a little. “Yeah, I am.” 

You left her on the couch and got some jerky and fruit from the kitchen, handing some of it to her before flopping back next to her. She bit into some jerky and sighed. 

“How you feeling?” You asked, taking a bite of jerky yourself. 

She sighed again.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know that I can forgive him.” 

“Do you need to?” You asked. 

She frowned. 

“What if you just tried to think about why he did what he did,” you said. “Don’t worry about if it was good or bad, just think about what it would have been like for him then. It’s over and done with, Kid. Can’t go back and change it now. But do you really want to spend the rest of your life pissed at the man who loves you so much that you’re the whole world to him? After everything you went through, I’m pretty sure you care about him, too. Don’t make your life any harder than it has to be. Don’t try to fuck up the thing he did all that just to give you.” 

You convinced Ellie to dance party with you and listened through some albums before she decided she wanted to sleep over instead of going home to be alone. 

“Wait,” she said after the two of you were in your bed. “Have you two fucked in here?” 

“Kid.” 

“Ugh ew,” she groaned. You laughed at that. “He told me he was leaving and when he was getting back but I kind of blocked it out. Guessing you know since you guys are all… gross now.” 

“He’s back day after tomorrow,” you smiled a little, even though it was too dark for her to see it. 

She sighed heavily. 

“I guess I can maybe think about talking to him then,” she said. “And before you get too excited, I said I’d think about it. I might still hate him.” 

You didn’t think she’d ever really hated him. 

“Sure, Kid.”

Ellie rolled over and pressed her back against your front. You froze for a moment before putting your arm around her. 

“Thanks, Bambi,” she said quietly. 

“Any time,” you replied. “Love you, Kid. And I know Joel, does, too.” 

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.” 

You drifted off, counting down to when Joel came home. Hoping he’d come back safe, ignoring the nervous pull in your stomach that told you he might not. 

It was Joel. He had to be OK. 

He just had to.

Next Chapter

A/N: Y'all, I promise this isn't the big angsty bit yet. Just a little angst. As a treat.

Thanks for putting up with me and for being here and spending your time with these characters. It truly means so much to me.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

[nekropsii]

what do you see in equius ?? genuine question i don't mean to sound rude but to me she's just really offputting. she gives me such creep vibes that i can't seem to get over and every time i read a page with her it just gets worse..... like when i first read nep & eq's chats i was sitting there wondering if this was outright abuse or at least bullying of some kind??? it felt like it idk.......

but honestly i do wanna see an equius liker's opinion on him because i can't understand it like at all and i'm probably just missing something that all the equius likers saw and i didnt LMAO

Well, considering I’m an Alpha Trolls Enthusiast and have been for, like, a decade, as well as having Horror as a Special Interest since age… What, 3? I’d say I personally have a pretty strong stomach for Weird and Offputting in fiction, lol. Stronger than most. Equius isn’t a very palatable character at all, I’ll be the first to admit that - a lot of the characters I enjoy the most in Homestuck aren’t very palatable… But I find ‘em real interesting, personally. The fact that they aren’t palatable adds to the intrigue for me, and poor execution tends to be a total weakness of mine. Again, Alpha Trolls Enthusiast for a decade straight.

I have a post here that talks a bit about my reading of Equius, I’d recommend giving it a read. I see Eridan and Equius as being very similar characters - not necessarily due to their shared hemoloyalty, but because they’re both teens falling down online pipelines. They’re very prevalent Kinds Of Guy that no one wants to talk about.

But people talk about Eridan plenty even to this day - he was even a fandom favorite for a while, being the fandom’s first Prettyboy Sad Gay Anime Prince long before Dirk… So he doesn’t reel in as much interest for me as the chronically overlooked Equius.

If there’s anything to know about me, it’s that I love a good underdog.

Equius-Likers, from my experience, are very aware of his issues. It’s part of the draw. Enjoyment of him tends to be an analytical fixation. I haven’t met a single Equius-Liker that hasn’t had some very complex thoughts on him. They’re just kinda quiet about it. Fitting.

Unfortunately, I’m Aranea But Real, so. No quietness here.

Your response to Equius is valid. It’s also intended, I feel. To specifically address the bits about concerns of his relationship with Nepeta not being healthy… I mean, it’s not abusive, but it’s definitely more complicated than fan art would lead you to believe, as always. “Complicated” is to be expected from a Moirallegiance - remember what they exist for?

Nepeta is very much so in control of the things going on, and their relationship is pretty equal, all things considered, so I wouldn’t be worrying too much about that. She very distinctly does not lack agency here - Nepeta is the one who has a leash on Equius, not the other way around. Equius is mean, because that’s the way she is to… Everyone, more or less, but she’s not of any danger to Nepeta. They have a fine Moirallegiance. 1,000% more functional than whatever the fuck Karkat and Gamzee had going on.

Anyway. I think Equius is neat, and has both missed and oft overlooked potential. One of the very few characters I’d be 100% down to have seen more content of in the comic.

Once again, check out this post. I still think it’s decent. Maybe you will, too.

[lakesouperior]

🐻🐤🐰🦊 just some thoughts on the fnaf movie

🐻the attention to detail that was put into it, with all it’s little details and easter eggs. the posters in the background, (and i haven’t seen anyone bring this up), the guy who got face-mauled by the cupcake wearing a midnight motorist t-shirt. the spring lock scene. the fact that scariest of all the jumpscares (of which there weren’t a lot but it’s kind of for the younger demographic ig they can’t make it too bad) was freaking balloon boy. the highest kill count going to MVP Carl the Cupcake. this is what i mean when i say movies from established franchises should be made by fans, for fans.

AND THE MATPAT CAMEO. HIS ACTING ISNT EVEN BAD AND EVEN IF IT WAS I EOULD STILL LOEV ITTT DVDNFB

🐤 you can tell they put a lot of thought into the child actors. abby is phenomenal. the five missing children? properly creepy and sad looking.

🐰 characters were all really well written and entertaining. the karen aunt, for all that she is an antagonist and very much hateable, still manages to be funny. even background characters are hilarious, like Doug for example, and don’t even get me started on the friggin matpat cameo i nearly screamed in the movie theater.

🦊 vanessa and mike are naturally each other’s narrative foils (and stand-ins for respectively Michael Afton/Elizabeth Afton (MichaElizabeth if you will) and Charlotte Emily imo), and them saying the same line, the “that’s two jobs”, mike at the beginning, and vanessa at the end, TO THE SAME CHARACTER?? TO THE BIG FUCKIN BAD HIMSELF??? WHO THEY BOTH HAVE DEEP HISTORY WITH???? literally this is good writing. i’m not saying the movie is perfect because it isn’t, but this is good writing.

🐻 and vanessa, as much as she kind of is, doesn’t feel like a coward because her worst fear does come true. her own father, the person who she thought the world of, tries to kill her as soon as she steps out of line. her fear wasn’t unjustified. she spent her entire life under his control — has literally never known anything else, and to still rebel after so long must’ve been the hardest, most terrifying thing in the world but she still did it because she’d grown to care for mike and abby.

and this is what i mean when i quote that one post: “strong female characters ≠ characters who are female and punch good, but strong female characters = well-written female characters” like yeah, vanessa’s an antagonist, or an anti-hero i suppose, but she’s still, once again, likeable and mysterious and funny. and the “bring her here again and i’ll fucking shoot you”?? that was probably her first act of true rebellion, aside from telling mike more than she should’ve about the pizzeria.

🐤 mikes arc is a very obvious “let go of the past and learn to cherish the present” which isn’t exactly revolutionary, but i think it’s done quite well though it could be improved a bit. and as much as you think he is an absolute cabbage head for telling them they could have abby for even a second, but you still, once again, get it.

our man’s running on like two hours of sleep and also meds, finally getting to see his baby brother up-close and even touch his face for the first time in probably more than a decade of blaming himself, and then getting told he could go back and see his parents again, the grief over who he probably hasn’t been able to process since he had to take care of abby when they died (possibly even took his own life in the father’s case if he’s supposed to be a henry stand-in like i think and doesn’t that just make it fifty times worse)

and it’s set up that he wants that perfect family back, the kind that he had during his childhood, that abby never got to experience.

and maybe he feels guilty for that. maybe he thinks, in his sleep-deprived and grief-ridden mind, for only a moment, that she would be better off, since she seems to like the animatronics and their ghost children better than him and he still feels like he doesn’t know how to raise a kid.

🐰 speaking of abby, for once Child Character in the horror movie isn’t just there to do some stupid shit for Plot Reasons (cough, The Curse of La Llorona, cough cough). i mean yes, she does go with them at the climax, but she has been given no reason not to trust them and considering the fact that they are other children, it would honestly be more suspicious if she didn’t trust them (also we’ve been shown she doesn’t really have friends before the end, so they’re also her first and only friends, no wonder she’s clinging to them) plus she’s been left alone with the aunt she does not like, possibly still believing mike is abandoning her. you get it.

she’s also very entertaining in her sassiness. like “are you here to arrest my brother?” or “yeah, love you too bro, kinda don’t wanna die tho, can we leave?” literally i can’t stand kids in general, but especially so in in horror movies, but i would give my life for abby.

🦊and the drawing thing? it’s beautiful and sad and really hammers home the fact that these monsters, however scary they have been made by their brutal and cruel deaths, they were, and are, just children who didn’t deserve to die and communicate the same way children like abby do. it also makes abby herself relevant to the plot and actually useful.

🐻and about abby; i have my own Theory there. we know she wasn’t in the picture during Garrett’s disappearance, which means she’s at least twelve years younger than mike. it’s actually quite common for couples who are going through a rough patch to have kids to try to fix it, which i think is what happened here, made even more possible if they also had her as a sort of replacement for Garrett. this, as i said earlier, makes mike’s indecision all the more understandable — if abby doesn’t just look a lot like Garrett, but was actually supposed to be him and would’ve never existed if not for the tragedy.

but that’s Just A Theory. 🐻🐤🐰🦊

[ms-scarletwings]

Endearing through the Alien Lens: A Clue About the Primitive Irken?

I love literary xenobiology. I love it a whole lot, in fact. There’s a paradoxical line I dance across, between criticizing intelligent fictional aliens for their likeness to our species, and criticizing them for their unlikeness. It’s a pretentious and laughable dance between “Come on, the sky’s the limit, there’s no real reason for a bucket of different extraterrestrial races to just all be more flavors of quirky humanoids! Boring, show me something actually alien!!” and the yearn for the use of alien races as a funhouse mirror of mankind’s own evolution. I think the way Irkens nonchalantly dwell somewhere on that subjective tightrope is a good part of why I can’t seem to stop thinking about them.

They are inspired and yet creatively original. They are truly alien, and yet, they can still play foil to the bottomlessly decadent humanity that Vasquez’s Earth has set the stage for.

Before, in the very first brain dump I let loose about them, I noted a few of their parallels to the worst in Homo sapiens and the insects they resemble. This time, something is chewing on me that i haven’t seen another put into perspective. A something that seems contradictory to our collective view of the heartless, sexless, atomized conquerors that all of the cosmos will fear:

They… have parental instincts.

I didn’t necessarily say drives or wants; however, they undeniably havewhat seems to be an actual, instinctual “cuteness response”. Like us, like social pack animals which invest a great deal of resources and time into their young. Given that the closest thing that 100% of smeets born on the home world get to call a parental figure is a literal cold, unfeeling, automated machine, this seems kind of weird, doesn’t it? They’re not even born like mammals or nested like birds, they’re mass produced, like hived wasps or ants, miles beneath their actual society and out of the business of the adults. So, what the heck with them being written to be humanized with this baseless, arbitrary trait?

But, ah ah ah, nitpicker Scarlet, it’s not baseless. It’s only ✨vestigial✨

Y’all could probably make a good guess to what the cuteness response is and why it exists in Homo sapiens, but to sum up- it’s the phenomenon of when we see something we find “cute” and it makes us react to it in a protective, nurturing fashion- or also want to bite/squeeze things, weirdly, if it’s just too damn cute. Well, what do humans find cute? Things that resemble human infants, basically. It’s a biological reflex that makes us want to defend and provide care for our kind’s absurdly dependent and slow-developing young, rather than abandon them in the shrubbery like they’re just screamy, food-leeching paperweights.

“Pff, really? Well I must be special cause I don’t even LIKE babies. I think babies are icky gross, not cute! So, genetic instinct my ass!”

I hear you, sure, but what about… harp seals? Or koalas, or pandas and puppies and fawns and kittens? Or funny little cartoon blorbos? At bare minimum you’d have to be an alien yourself to feel nothing looking at photos of young hedgehogs

See, the fact that a lot of us may often find baby animals a great amount more endearing than even humans’ is not even in conflict with this understanding of cuteness.

The concept of the “baby schema” was formally proposed in 1943 by Konrad Lorenz, an Austrian ethologist. Fun fact is he was also the same researcher who originally observed and described imprinting behaviors, as seen in newly hatched waterfowl. Point is that his “Kindchenschema” idea grouped together a handful of infantile traits that make fireworks go off in the parts of your brain that wants to keep things alive and baby-talk to them. Included on the list were features like proportionally large heads, big eyes, round faces, short noses, etc. despite the name, the baby schema’s effect is something applied not to just actual babies, but children generally, and even in our reactions to non-human animals.

It’s the hypothesis behind both why we’ve jacked up the skulls of so many small dog breeds in the name of aesthetics and why we generally find the portraits on the left side of this image more appealing to look at than the ones on the right.

The consistency of these features across many species may also give some hint that they experience a similar phenonemon, especially given that these are traits shared among bird or mammalian offspring which require significant attention and protection to survive. And, it may also explain why this image likewise gives me a huge dose of that sweet, sweet response.

Awww, look at that lil’ mans! Look at his teeny noodle arms!! I just wanna pinch him like a marshmallow!

YOU are not immune to cuteness psychology, and neither are the proud Irken warriors. I’m going to cite Zim’s proclivity to what I can only describe as paternal bonding as a demonstration of this response, but before you go reminding me about his pak defects, it’s far from the only evidence that this is a natural Irken trait.

Check out little Timmy (importantly, the surrounding response to him), a hilariously out of place youngster who appeared briefly in the trial transcript for the sole purpose of a dark gag and to get us some lore revealed.

Take further note of the complimentary nature of smeets themselves.

Suddenly finding themselves alive, fresh Irken babies too, like the hatched gosling, begin to immediately seek an emotional attachment with the first animate thing they see. While mobile and fast learners, smeets are far from being able to truly fend for themselves. They’re tiny and naive and they need lots of mental enrichment/teaching. They also play and form something akin to friendships, much like human children. In the bygone era before Irkens were so reliant on Paks and all of the advanced technology of the modern empire, smeets would have been exceedingly vulnerable. All signs point to a phase in Irk’s natural history where they were once nurtured after by adults of their own kind, and commonly bonded with their caretakers. This could mean compact family units, or maybe even a communal raising situation, akin to penguin crèches (Personally I like to headcanon that the tallests/queens were traditionally the only breeding members of the population but that’s neither here or now). Either sense, the evolutionary remnants of a parental creature are still around.

Taking all that to note, instead of perceiving Zim as the bizarre outlier to the Irken condition when it comes to having this soft spot, I instead see him as an opportunity to see natural behaviors in action without the suppression of his militarized society and its distractions. Even someone as warped and selfish as he can be is still very, very full of love to give that he doesn’t even understand enough language to describe. He pretty clearly shows he has no cultural understanding or reference of cuteness, and still, he’s not so different in this “weakness” than the very humans he manipulated into fawning over Ultra Peepi. It just took an example his own sensibilities could relate to instead of an unfamiliar, repulsive alien rodent.

And when he’s given the rare circumstance to show that potential, well-

*(With the rough shape/size down, no nose, and huge, bug-like eyes, Li’l Meat man may actually be a great approximation of the key “smeet schema” features. More importantly, it was made to specifically resemble Zim himself)

- I feel that’s downright adorable.

[gunnrblze]

hiiii!!!! I just wanted to say that I literally adore your obsessed hesh & logan series, I was wondering if you could write a some jealous hc's for the boys who started to notice that reader is slowly drifting away from them and they started to hang out with other soldiers? if not, I completely understand!!! have a good rest of your day, lovely <3

Thank you my dear!!🤍 I’m so sorry this took a million decades for me to get around to lol, but here ya go :) Obsessed AND jealous Hesh and Logan? Oh me oh my

CW: jealousy and obsession of course, toxic behavior, some more slight stalker-ish behavior, nothing intense or anything, ur on base with the both of them in these scenarios again.

Hesh- oh dear, a jealous Hesh is an irritable one I think. I imagine he could hide it well, he’s probably used to hiding jealousy (looking at you Elias family dynamic👀), but it eats him alive, really.

Seeing his precious friend//lover/obsession slowly distance themselves is like a knife to the gut, and he knows exactly how that feels. He’s a little more snarky, a little more hotheaded at times than usual, because what’s going on? Has he done something? Said something to upset you? His darling from above, what’s gotten into you?

He won’t interfere much on your end, but he’d do anything if you’d just come back, sweetheart. Sit with him during mealtimes again instead of with whatever mangy soldiers there are on base. Take walks with him again, clean your guns or do whatever it is that you’ve slowly started to do with others.

His jealously is obvious to those that know him well. Logan and Elias can tell what his deal is, and most of the other Ghosts can tell something’s up with him regardless, but only he can truly understand how consumed his thoughts are. Thankfully he’s busy a lot, but his down time thoughts are riddled with doubt and worry. Was it really all in his head? Do you not appreciate him as much as he you? Are you toying with him? No, you’re too precious to do such a wicked thing, right? He knows you’re too sweet to upset him on purpose. Do you know what jealousy does to a person? Surely you do.

So maybe it’s not you, he reasons. It’s those mutts you’ve been hanging out with more. He doesn’t like those soldiers, regardless of what they have or haven’t done. Because they’ve taken you from him, in his jealousy addled mind. He can’t see it any other way. If they’re his subordinates, he uses intimidation to mess with them, whether he really means to or not. If they’re his superiors, he’s cold, distanced. Only doing and saying the absolute necessity to avoid any repercussions.

He’s smart though, he can handle this even if it bothers him. He may start to take after Logan a bit and follow you around base a little, see exactly what it is you’re doing. He’ll ‘accidentally’ start running into you more, start needing more from you, for work related reasons, and that’s it. If you go on ops with him, you’re basically attached at the hip, only letting you part if necessary. And his voice will still flood your ear on comms, so how far away are you really? You may drift, but he’ll be the life raft that pulls you right back to shore. His jealousy is like an infected wound, sometimes it starts to heal whenever he gets you alone, gets you in his sights, get your attention on him. But when you ultimately keep straying, it flares and festers.

You may be distancing yourself, he may see you with others more than with himself. But no matter how far you you go, you could never get that far, sweetheart. He’s always gonna care for you.

You’re in his heart, whether you wanna be or not.

Logan- now this one I think would let his jealousy shine a bit more. He’s a little younger, not as emotionally developed as Hesh just yet. But like his brother, he gets cranky. You brightened up his days and now they’ve been clouded by some other idiots. So when he sees his darling starting to stray, he does ask.

Asks if you’re okay, at first. He hasn’t seen you around as much, where’ve you been? Are you alright? Did he upset you? It may be the most you’ve heard him talk at once. It doesn’t matter what you say or don’t say, it doesn’t feel like enough of an explanation for him because you still distance yourself. And your mere presence is what he used to thrive on.

His thoughts may take that even more juvenile approach, and he makes it personal whether it is or not. You must hate him now, huh? He must’ve done something to you, angel. Why else would you hang out with people who don’t even know your favorite snacks and drinks or if you prefer sleeping with or without socks? He knows you, do they?

And he goes a little up the wall. Hearing your voice, the smell of you that wafted in the air start to disappear more and more was like someone dangling a carrot in front of him. He was annoyed by you, a bit. He couldn’t stay mad at you, not you, god no. But his feelings were hurt, and he wasn’t too sure how to handle it.

He asked Hesh of course, who gave him an answer that didn’t lead you back to him, ultimately, therefore he didn’t take any of it to heart. He missed you, and watching you around base with other soldiers made his jealousy grow. It felt like vines wrapping around his ribcage, ready to crush them all inward and puncture his poor heart with the shards.

Logan’s approach though is to insert himself once more into your life, he’s not shy. Having lunch with other soldiers? Now you’re having lunch with him too, invite or not. Training? Now you’re training with him. Now you’re walking back to the barracks with him, on ops with him, with him with him with him. He can’t help it.

He’ll still follow you around base like a poor puppy too, and maybe you know he does and maybe you don’t. Perhaps it’s from a distance, the man is a silent giant after all.

You’d have to explicitly tell him to back off if you wanted him too. Until then? You’re still his favorite person, darling, he’s just being a friend.

Even if you’re starting to lack in that department. Don’t worry, he’ll maintain it enough for the both of you.

[ghostofnoir]

WIP Snip

Thank you for the tag @faiell *I’m still thinking about yours. What a gift you are 🥹

An excerpt from the slowest writer on earth. Who is grinding out this long WIP one overwritten paragraph at a time 💪🏻 Sharing is so vulnerable!

———

Draco turned to face Harry. Harry did the same.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Draco whispered, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. Harry could feel it ache in his chest.

He didn’t know what the look on his own face betrayed; maybe Draco thought it was pity. But Harry thought it might be closer to the look of a man who knew with absolute certainty in that moment that he was fucked. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over Draco’s face as he took him in fully, standing face to face. The flickering picture lights bounced the saturated colours from the painting Draco stood next to onto his pale skin, highlighting his sharp angles and dipping into his hollow, concave shadows.

“You know, I’ve never seen you outside of London,” Harry mussed as his eyes roamed, as if Draco himself were a newly unearthed classical portrait to be appreciated for the first time.

“You haven’t seen me in almost a decade.” Draco unfolded his sleek black coat from his arm and pulled it on. The collar stood high and stiff on his neck, elegant and impenetrable, softened only by the plaid cashmere scarf he layered. The scarf’s varying shades of grey brought out his silver, midnight-misty eyes and made them more poignant. Harry realised then that they were a singular colour that he had never witnessed on anyone else. “Do you find I’m easier to tolerate on foreign soil?”

“Draco, I think I can help you–”

“Help me?” Draco scoffed. “There’s a reason people go untraceable, Potter. You shouldn’t have even been able to find me in the first place.”

“I also shouldn’t have been able to defeat Voldemort,” Harry responded calmly without missing a beat. Draco didn’t flinch at the name, which was at least refreshing. “Or be one of the few known Wizards in history to have resisted a powerful Imperius Curse before I even finished puberty. Or mastered the complex nature of wandless magic by eighteen. Or have an eight-year-long seamless Curse Breaking record, never once having broken my hold over volatile dark magic, but here we are.”

Something flashed in Draco’s eyes. He opened his mouth to say something. Harry had no doubt that he was about to be on the receiving end of a scathing retort to what Draco had probably perceived as Harry’s inflated ego, in need of being brought down a few notches. He had just simply stated the facts though, and that had been the shortlist.

Instead, Draco frowned, put his head down, and withdrew a pair of black leather gloves from his coat pocket. Harry watched, transfixed by Draco’s refined hands gripping the supple material. Even Draco’s veined knuckles somehow managed to be attractive. A single onyx-stoned gold ring was the only thing that disrupted the slender lines of his fingers, catching Harry’s attention like an alarm and bringing him back to the moment.

“Why did you go untraceable, Draco?”

“To be left alone.” His voice was flat as he carefully pulled on his gloves. “I thought that should have been pretty obvious, even to you. But if it wasn’t, it is now. And it might be a hard concept for you to grasp, but you need to respect that.” He dropped his hands by his side and turned to walk away.

“Go back to London, Potter,” he added without turning back; his long strides had already taken him halfway down the corridor, his voice echoing in the cavernous room behind him.

“But I’ve already booked my stay,” Harry called after him.

Harry stood and watched Draco’s tall, stark figure disappear like a phantom through the museum’s back doors into the frigid January afternoon.

———

Tagging to share if you like @dracoandthehounds @romaine2424 @greattemptation @roseharpermaxwell @drarrymyheart @starquestingfordrarry @fluxweeed @garagepaperback @apricitydays-lazynights @hoko-onchi-writes @elskanellis @gotoemopunk @annanother-thing -and anyone else who would like to join 🤍🤍