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sunflowersteves · 1 year

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only for you || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x fem!reader

summary || there was one routine that you and Joel never broke, not even when the world goes up in flames.

author's note || a part two to singing in the shower! but also can be read as a stand alone. this was supposed to be posted two sunday’s ago but um procrastination kicked in. hope you enjoy <3

warnings || angst, some fluff, mentions of death, canon typical violence mentions, reader is five years younger, soft!joel, hurt/comfort, joel with wet hair, SMUT, vaginal sex, praise kink, soft sex, creampie, soft dom!joel, [18+ only]

Joel wasn’t as soft as he used to be.

His calm, gentle smile that shined when you and Sarah danced around in the kitchen, listening to Johnny Cash, had faded into hard lines and gray stubble. His movements were brash and jarring, almost threatening with his hard-set glare that bore into everyone around him.

He never smiled anymore, not really.

His lips would quirk slightly upwards in amusement from your insults to other people in the QZ that deserved it, or his lips would curl in delight from the safe haven of his apartment, but that was all you really got. You didn’t complain much, though. It wasn't like you smiled that often either.

Only with him. Only with each other.

Instead, Joel tended to show his affection toward you in ways of touch.

He was protective—that much is true. Any time you had to leave the albeit protection of Boston for whatever reason, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. He would have his hand guiding you by the small of your back. His arm would reach out to stop you from walking any further to the dangerous depths of the unknown.

He always squeezed your wrist in anticipation of what was to come. He never lets you walk behind him, ever. You are always first. He would make hard-set rules with you on outing trips, despite the grit of your teeth from irritation.

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself. No, he knew that. He has watched you decapitate a shambler or two over the years. He has seen you take on about five men at a time and make it out with only a couple of stab wounds. He knows you can handle yourself just fine.

He just couldn't bear to lose you. Not on his watch. He has lost a fuck ton in his life, and the thought of losing something that is keeping him on his last thread and something so pure and good to him—well, it terrifies him.

You are the only thing that matters to him.

So, his only way of truly showing affection, to know nothing has changed with how he truly feels about you, was through his feather-light touches and protective manner.

It was endearing, really. You knew he still loves, and fuck, did you still love too.

There was one guarantee, though, through all of his overbearing protectiveness and crinkled wrinkles of menacingly deadly eyes that you knew Joel was still enamored by you. There was one constant—a routine that never changed. If there was one thing he could look forward to, it was that constant. It was you that he could rely on.

It was simple, really. It almost seemed stupid that there was one moment in time every single day that the two of you could count on one another.

You both always showered together. Always.

It didn’t matter if the water was cold or if there was barely even any water, to begin with. It didn’t even matter if you weren’t in the QZ. Overgrown hot springs and vastly green rivers still counted as getting clean. The shower walls of your shared apartment weren't the biggest, either, but the two of you made it work.

But that one constant that he could always look forward to was holding you in the shower and pressing gentle kisses against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He craved it.

Joel would always walk through the front door with a grunt after getting home from smuggling Oxy to some FEDRA soldier with Tess. He was tired, absolutely exhausted. He was like that pretty much every day, and he could feel his age catching up with him.

You were sitting criss crossed on the beat-up couch, reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He could feel something beat and sprout across his chest at the sight. You have read that book probably about ten times by now, and yet you read it all the same with an immersed furrowed brow.

He had gotten the book for your birthday a couple of years ago. He watched you unwrap the shitty old newspaper with animated eyes as you stared at the cover.

He could’ve sworn he saw tears on your lash line. You enveloped him into a hug—hands pressing tightly against his back to keep him close and you kept him there. You both sat like that for a long time.

He always loved watching you read. He didn’t pay that much attention before everything went to shit, but now, it was his favorite pastime.

Your lips would lick the corner of your mouth in concentration, and your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page as if you were hanging on the edge of your seat. It was always a heartfelt reminder for him of you—of how much he truly cherishes you.

Before the outbreak, you had been a philosophy professor at UT Austin. It’s how you met, actually. You were grading papers in a coffee shop when you saw the two of them walk in. Sarah had begged him for a chocolate chip muffin, and since it was a special occasion to be in the heart of the city, he couldn’t resist saying yes. He had accidentally bumped into your table, causing the three of you to have a lengthy conversation as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Long day, handsome?”

His eyes focus back on you. It was like his thoughts had put him in a trance until your soft voice punctured the air.

You were peering through the dusty book, and a ghost of a smile wrapped around your lips. He nodded, stretching out his hand for you to take it. You dog-eared the book and placed it face down on the couch. You took his hand—feeling the dry calluses and rough skin.

“Long fuckin’ day.”

He guided you to the cramped bathroom, and you squeezed his hand. He turned on the shower head while you took off your shirt and pants. A shiver ran through your body from the lack of isolated heat. He did the same, unbuttoning his plaid shirt and tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

He stepped into the shower to place his hand under the water to test it as if he didn’t know that the water was barely even warm. He did it every single time you two bathed. Every time. It was all routine.

You let him guide you into the shower, eyes noticing his own trailing down your figure. Every single day, he couldn’t help but look at your beautiful curves and supple skin.

He wanted to admire you for the rest of his days. He wanted the scene of you washing your body of dirt and grime to be seared into his brain like a farmer branding some cattle. You close the curtain behind you and watch as his eyes never leave you.

“Pretty girl.” He whispered into your ear. You felt yourself softly smile—something you hadn’t done in hours, not since Joel woke you up with a kiss on your cheek.

You let the feeling of him wash over your body and soul, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. He smelled earthy and bold, with a hint of cedar from his own musk. You could feel his chest fall and rise against your shoulder blades, and his chin dug into your shoulder—endearingly.

You let out a hum before untangling his arms. As much as you love these moments, you know you shouldn't waste too much water. You rubbed a shampoo bar into your hands and lathered them together to create a sudsy mess. Joel felt his eyes flutter close in anticipation for your hands to dig into his hair.

He lets out a soft moan when your hands finally grab hold of his hair. His jaw slacks open, and you try to suppress a smile from his relaxed state. Your hands scratched against his scalp to clean all of the dirt and oil off of him. Joel’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head from the euphoric emotions that sunk deep within his chest.

His eyes snap open in disbelief when he feels your hands leave his hair, and you almost laughed aloud. He could see the amused expression radiate off of you, and he felt himself heat up—you never failed to make him feel a certain way.

You gasped as you felt his hand harshly grip your hips, but you saw a bright smile wrapping around his face that almost made you freeze. His smile. It punctured the air and made your head feel dizzy with delight. Your eyes rake over his pearly teeth and deep wrinkled lines on his cheeks. It was ethereal. He was ethereal.

“What you starin’ at, pretty girl?”

You pressed your thumb into the crevasse of his dimple, and his eyes fluttered back closed. “I think you’re the pretty one.”

He lets out a small snort. “Not a day in hell.” His Texas accent was gruff against the planes of your ear. His hand trailed itself up to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping so soft and caring that it brought a bigger smile to your lips. “Ain’t pretty at all.”

“I beg to differ, Miller.” His eyes crinkled in a smile at the use of his last name—knowing you were super serious now. But the teasing gleam of your eyes told him otherwise. “You’re too pretty.”

He clicks his tongue. “Too pretty, huh? Think I’m takin’ a run for your money?”

You shake your head in bubbled-up laughter—adoration spreading from your shoulders to your toes. Throughout all of the tragedy and suffering this world has put the two of you through, you are so elated to have each other.

“Oh, handsome, you took it and buried it deep.” He rolled his eyes and gently pinched your cheek to get you to stop teasing. Although, if there’s one dynamic that never changed, it was giving each other shit.

He lets out a huff. “Whatever you say.”

You gently guided him under the stream of water and rinsed out all of the shampoo. You cupped a hand over his eyes to avoid any product from stinging his eyes. You turn to pump some expired conditioner in your hands, but his rough fingertips halt you to a stop.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

After Joel relaxed in the lukewarm shower with you, he always got a little soft. Even if the shower was no less than five minutes, you could always tell how much he enjoyed it.

It reminded him of home. It reminded him a little bit of what once was or what could be.

He always stares—lovingly—at your newly clean body. He watched your chest rise and fall so gently from the calm atmosphere of your apartment.

His soft brown eyes skated across your figure with such love—such hope and elation. He felt like he was in pure bliss just from the exhilarated feeling of the thrill of your gentle touches caressing his skin.

He felt whole in these moments with you.

He watched you gently rub expired lotion onto your skin. Boston was always humid and lacked the airy feel of dry Texas winters, but the frigid cold of light snowfall always broke out your skin. Joel loved to feel your soft curves, and his hands would spread across your legs to relish in the feeling. He was obsessed with your thighs, too, gripping and nipping at them until you had to tug his hands away.

You stood near the bed to find that his eyes were already on you—his naked form sitting on the uncomfortable mattress. His wet hair glistened underneath the yellow glow of the overhead light. He looked so handsome like that. The gray hairs poked loudly against his soft brown ones, and you watched as the water dripped down his neck.

“C’mere.” You didn’t need to be told twice before taking your seat onto his legs—straddling his waist and your hands gripping his shoulder. His thighs were tense and hard, muscles flexing underneath your own.

“Y’smell so sweet—” He whispered into the frizz of your hair. His hands rested on your hips, while his fingertips squeezed around your love handles. “Could eat you right up.”

You looked into those grumpy brown eyes, and pure adoration sprouted from your chest and into your lungs. He was intoxicating in each and every way, from his rough exterior to his soft lingering touches that send love aches into your bones.

“Joel.” You whispered.

You pressed your lips against him, tasting burnt coffee and of him, that lingered in your mouth. Your lips were molding together with each open-mouthed kiss and teeth clashing to be closer and closer. You could feel yourself start to squirm in his lap, and he had to have a tight grip just to keep you somewhat still.

Your hands pushed themselves into his damp hair, spreading your fingers across each strand. You pulled gently at the base of his neck, and a moan vibrated against your lips.

He pulled away from you—much to your dismay—to reach and pull down your underwear. The material pooled around your ankles, and you anticipatingly shrugged them off.

“Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.”

You shivered from the suspense of what was to come, but you wanted to stop him from taking control. He deserved to be loved on too. He deserved to feel the euphoric dance that pooled in his stomach just like you did.

You shook your head. “W-Wanna ride you, Joel. Please.” He let out a shaky breath because god, he could never say no to you. You could ask for all the stars in the sky, and he would give them to you in a heartbeat.

He finally nodded after gaining composure and re-adjusted his hands to rest more gently on your torso. You could tell your wetness dripped from your lips and spread to your hood. Your walls ache and plead for the sweet stretch of his cock.

You watched his cock twitch from your glistening cunt. He knew you were wet. He always knew. He could practically taste it on his tongue if he thought hard enough, but his brain couldn’t catch up. Not when you take your hand to position his length and slowly sink down onto him.

He let out a groan as he listened to your sweet whimpers. “S-Shit.”

You both stayed still for a moment while you caught your breath from the long stretch of his cock. No matter the twenty or so years you have been together, you could never get used to his thick cock filling you up to the brim.

“Fuck, baby, feel so fuckin’ tight.” And you always did. You always hugged him completely and squeezed until your juices ran down his thighs. You were always fucking heaven.

The gentlest of moans left your throat, and as if he wanted to capture them, Joel started pressing kisses up and down your neck. “Y’take me so well, darlin’.”

You grind up and sink your way back down, a whine escaping you. His eyes are glued to watching himself disappear inside of you—hands tightening once again around your love handles. “Goddamn, baby—”

“Fuck, Joel. Yes—”

Your thighs spread even wider as you snapped back down his length—the soft cushion of the bedspread flushed against your knees. “You like this hmm? Like bein’ in control?” His words slurred together, and he took in every snap and roll of your hips.

You nodded. “Love when you’re a mess for me, Joel.” Your head lulled back, and he groaned—sultry and deep as it hit your ears. “Yeah, Joel, Yes—”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek in the softest of ways and it made Joel’s brain short-circuit. He whimpered at the contact of your skin and the simultaneous rock of your hips. You could barely make out the next sentence he says because you squeezed his cock, and Joel became too drunk off of you.

“Fuck, d-darlin’, baby—shit—” He gasped and puffed—chest heaving from the pure sensation of your spongey walls. You started to feel that familiar coil wrap against your stomach, pushing yourself to find that angle.

You started to lean more toward the side to grind and swirl your hips as fast as you could. You could tell the angle wasn’t quite right, so you tried again—gasping and moaning in the process. You almost wanted to groan in frustration alone when you still couldn’t find it.

Joel just watched in amusement as you tried to find the spot he was always able to find. He almost didn’t say anything from your adorable expression until he saw the frown across your face.

“You want me to help, darlin’?” You looked down to see a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. You almost wanted to say no, but you ground your hips again, causing the two of you to moan, and you gave in.

You mewled out. “Please, Joel. I-I need you.”

In one swift movement, Joel flipped you over so that your back was pressed up against the mattress. He presses a kiss to your calf as if it gave you any warning. He swung your leg right over his shoulder and thrust so deep inside you; you had to hold onto the bedroom wall behind you. “Fuck! Joel!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” His cock pounded into you, and he hit that spot over and over and over. You screamed into the night air and chanted his name as if it was the only thing on your mind—and it was. All you could think about was Joel.

“Joel! P-Please! Oh, Fuck—”

“Yeah? Gonna cum, sweet girl?” You couldn't even respond back to him because his thumb presses up against your clit, and your jaw slacks in a silent scream. “Cum for me. Please, pretty girl. Cum.”

With a “JoelJoelJoel” and a clench of your walls, your juices flood around yours and his own thighs. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he thrusts through your climax. “Yeah. That’s it, darlin’. Look at you. Pretty thing.” He almost coos. He could watch you cum around his cock until it was the only thing he thought about.

One, two, three thrusts into your sweet ecstasy, and Joel sighs out your name as he spills inside of you. Thick ropes of his cum filled your walls, and it caused you to clench once more. He pumped his cock to feel the sticky mess of his cum and yours as they swirled together inside of you.

“So good for takin’ care of me, huh?” He joked, breathless. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

You fought the urge to punch his arm. Instead, you rolled over so your back was facing him.

“Shut the fuck up, Miller.”

He pulled you close and wrapped his arm around your torso. You reach around to squeeze his hand, causing a shadow of a smile to stretch his cheeks. You both always cuddled silently before having to take another, very cold, shower.

“Yes, ma’am.”

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honeyedmiller · 4 months

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A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days.

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being.

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way.

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye.

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line.

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner.

So he was a firefighter.

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around.

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink.

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks.

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you.

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest.

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café.

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall.

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties.

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out.

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all.

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee.

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.”

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt.

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious.

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around.

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close.

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting.

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that.

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically.

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?”

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.”

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips.

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along.

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him.

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.”

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness.

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.”

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly.

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.”

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.”

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door.

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment.

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver.

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper.

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.”

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.”

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that.

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks.

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home.

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.”

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead.

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you.

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it.

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.”

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile.

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!”

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off.

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number.

Unknown number:

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response.

You:

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use?

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text.

Joel:

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake.

You:

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it?

Joel:

Stupid how?

You:

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself?

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning.

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again.

You:

I’m glad we did too, Joel.

Joel:

Watcha up to right now?

You:

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going?

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out.

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip.

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red.

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car.

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens.

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head.

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene.

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see.

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass.

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.”

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.”

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws.

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man.

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him.

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.”

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face.

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad.

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly.

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving.

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods.

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene.

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve.

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap.

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that.

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire.

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion.

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest.

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you.

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well.

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised.

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off.

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away.

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him.

His eyebrows raise in shock.

“To who?” He asks.

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more.

“She said I should give it a shot with you.”

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway.

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat.

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller.

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #firefighter!joel #Joel Miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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belovedmusings · 6 months

Text

Lay me down tonight.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

You were loyal to your boyfriend, Megumi, before you met his estranged father at the yearly family get-together. The second you met Toji, however, the righteous and innocent person you were died, and in their place, an insatiable monster was born. Toji ruined you, and even now, you keep allowing him to ruin you, all behind Megumi’s back.

Relevant tags: shameless smut, infidelity, cheating, Toji is rough and dominant, Megumi is clueless, reader are a good liar, reader is a little depraved, everyone addresses you without the usage of “y/n” for better immersion, Megumi is aged up so that you’re both of age, ‘cause we are not gonna have Toji catchin’ a case up in here, that said, age gap between reader & Toji, minimal gendered language though reader is AFAB, Toji is a horrible father

Recommended songs while reading: older (Isabel LaRosa), Unholy (Hey Violet), Fucked My Way Up To The Top (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: infidelity is NOT the answer but this is a lil smut just for funsies so enjoy!

Read below the cut:

You remember exactly how it had first happened. It was a year ago.

You were meeting tons of Megumi’s family members at once, flying through greetings to cousins and aunts and uncles and distant cousins and great-grandparents—no one stood out to you until he showed up.

The large hotel banquet room the Zenin family had rented out sort of got quiet as he walked in. Your eyes caught on him, and after he scanned the room, unbothered by the staring, his eyes zeroed in on you and Megumi.

He’d tilted his head to the side in interest and then made his way towards the two of you. You heard mumbles and whispers about him.

“He wasn’t invited,” Megumi muttered under his breath in annoyance.

“Who is that?” You whispered back.

“He’s…well, I wouldn’t call him—”

“What are we whispering about?” The burly man said loudly, now in front of you. He looked amused and completely shameless. Now that you had seen him up close, he looked sort of familiar.

“I was just wondering who you were,” you told him, looking around. The family was watching with various degrees of surprise and disdain. The man laughed haughtily.

“Oh, I see. Megumi didn’t tell you who I was?” He asked with a salacious grin. “He didn’t tell me who you are, either. You’re holding out on us both, Megumi.”

Your boyfriend huffed beside you. “That man is technically my father.”

Your lips parted in recognition. That made sense. You’d heard a little bit about him, enough to know he’s a dead-beat and that Megumi never speaks to him nor gets along with him. The family doesn’t like him as a whole.

“What are you doing here?” Asked Megumi with narrowed eyes.

“Relax,” the man chuckled, leaning against a chair. “I just came to see my dear family.”

“You weren’t invited.”

The man just held his wolfish grin on his face. “I don’t care.”

His steel gray eyes found yours, and he raised a brow. “Now, I still don’t know who you are.”

You introduced yourself, along with your relationship to Megumi, and the man hummed. “Well, it looks like Megumi has good taste. The name’s Toji. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He gave you an unconcealed appraisal and it made you feel hot. Megumi scowled.

“Don’t overstep a boundary,” he spit at his father, arm winding around your waist in attempt to intimidate.

The longer you looked at Toji, the more you realized how hot he was. He seemed so buff his muscles were practically bursting through the black t-shirt he had on. He was tall too. So tall. And his dark hair fell in layered strands around his ears and chin—his face was handsome as hell, too. You could tell where Megumi got his looks from. He smirked at you with all of the confidence in the world. He was like a more mature, more experienced version of your boyfriend.

He was really attractive.

“‘Course not,” Toji grinned, rolling his eyes. He’s amused. “I just wanted to greet my son. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Please do.”

Please don’t, you thought, but he turned on his heel and walked towards some other family members, already starting to talk at them instead.

Megumi sighed heavily. “Damn bastard. I had hoped you never had the displeasure of meeting him.”

The pleasure is all mine, you truthfully thought to yourself.

You felt a bad desire growing inside of you, and it wasn’t long before what you wanted came to fruition.

You and Megumi had had to travel to get to the family reunion. As such, you were staying in the hotel they booked the venue in for one night before you went back home.

You were restless, and Megumi was sound asleep in bed. You’d never been to this area, so you figured you’d walk around the hotel, maybe get some melatonin from the convenience shop on the first level to help you sleep. Truthfully, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Toji and how hot he was. You wondered where he went. You and Megumi had left the reunion a little early because he was tired, and you hadn’t seen him again after your brief meeting.

You slipped on some sweatpants and a crewneck before putting your slides on and leaving a note for Megumi in case he woke up.

‘Went to get melatonin and maybe a snack. Be back soon.’

With that, you slipped out of the hotel room and walked down the hallway. It was the middle of the night, so you kept quiet, padding towards the elevator. You pressed the button to go down, and after a few moments, the doors slid open.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

Toji.

A grin instantly spread across his face. “Hey. Goin' somewhere?”

Your blood pounded through your veins as you entered the elevator. “Uh…I can’t sleep.”

“You can't?” He asked, putting a hand on his hip. Bluntly, he replied, “I can fix that.”

Your mouth went dry.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened next, but soon the two of you were stumbling into his hotel room a floor below yours, the door slamming and locking behind you as Toji took you into a bruising kiss. Your arms were wrapped around his neck the second he lifted you into his arms like a weightless pillow, tossing you down onto the hotel bed in the center of the room.

He kissed you again and it was like he was trying to eat you whole. The things he would murmur to you in between lip locks had your head spinning with guilty pleasure.

“Megumi don’t know how to treat you right.”

“I’ll bet he ain’t fuckin’ you properly.”

“I’ll show you how a real man does it.”

Each kiss, each word, each touch drew you closer to insanity. You both had your clothes off faster than you could comprehend, and Toji was spitting dirtily onto your mound, starting to rub circles into the pearl at the apex with flattened fingers.

You writhed beneath him as he scraped his teeth over your neck and chest, only stopping to lick the hand that was rubbing at you to coat it with more saliva before dipping it back down and slipping two fingers inside of you at once.

He finger-fucked you fast and hard.

Megumi never did that to you. Sex with him was always very vanilla and straightforward. Kissing counted as foreplay and then he was inside of you, always in missionary or sometimes spooning you from behind. That was it.

God, you had no idea sex could be this wild and mind-blowing.

You had cum on Toji’s fingers with a cry, not caring if the people next to you heard, and then he kept fucking you through it, adding a third finger and spitting over it again to get you loose and sloppy.

He had a giant cock. That was why he opened you up manually, because it would have done damage had he just fucked into you from the get-go.

When he did enter you, it still stretched you out past your limits, both impossibly thick and long, and you wondered how the hell anyone took a dick that big.

You quickly found out how.

He simply made you take it.

He held you up by your hips, suspending your lower half with the strength of his arms while he pounded into you. You could hardly even recognize your own voice. It was reaching pitches you’d never heard from yourself before, sounding so debauched and wanton you’d think he found some hooker off the street and paid her to moan like a porn star.

You swore you could feel his cock in your womb. With how big he is, you wouldn’t doubt it.

“Megumi doesn’t have a damn clue,” he had grinned to himself, looking at you as he split you open repeatedly. “Sleepin’ like a little bitch while his daddy takes care of you for him.”

You moaned loudly. “Toji…”

“That’s right,” he praised, “Whose cock is inside you right now?”

“Yours, oh—yours…”

“Say my name,” he growled, slapping your mound. You jolted, shivering at the harsh pleasure it gave you.

“Toji,” you mewled, scratching at the bed comforter. He was fucking you hard enough you knew you were going to cum from brute force alone.

“You belong to me now,” he told you. “You’re mine.”

That had sent you over.

“Oh my god!” It was a shout as you orgasmed, creaming all over his cock and onto the bed. He groaned deeply, shoving himself in harshly as he emptied his load inside of you, squeezing your hips so tightly they bruised.

When he’d pulled out, he watched his own seed drip from inside of you, sucking in a breath.

“You should do something about that,” he said. “Unless you wanna give your boyfriend a sibling.”

You shivered. Toji really didn’t give a shit about his son.

At that point, you knew you couldn’t pretend like you had any moral high ground either. You slept with your boyfriend’s dad. You cheated willingly. There was no sugar-coating it.

You had limped your way back to your room and cleaned up in the bathroom, falling asleep next to a still-sleeping, oblivious Megumi.

What’s worse is that a year later you’re still going back for more.

You and Megumi are still together.

He has no clue about Toji, and you want to keep it that way. The two of you barely mention him. He only talked about him the day after you met him once to say that he left when he was seven and never bothered to return.

You hide your affair like it’s your job. So much so that now you’re on birth control. Beforehand Megumi had just been fine with condoms, never making a fuss about them. Toji, as you had quickly found out, doesn’t like them. The largest available size is too small, he had told you, and besides that fact he likes feeling you bare. He doesn’t bother to pull out either, so not wanting to risk pregnancy as well as not wanting to spend fortunes on emergency contraceptives like you had the first time, you just get on birth control instead. You also only ever meet Toji at his place, since you know Megumi doesn’t know where he lives and you currently live with your boyfriend. Having Toji over could easily end awfully. You don’t take chances.

Tonight, you’re seated in Toji’s lap at his apartment. Megumi is away on a business trip, and you’ve been staying at Toji’s place for the past few nights. You’ve had so much sex you can barely think straight, at this point. Since you walked in he was on you, and you’ve christened every surface in his small apartment. The doorway, the living room, the wall of the hallway, the bedroom, the bathroom shower, bent over the sink, the kitchen counter, the table, too…everywhere is free reign.

Right now, you’re facing away from Toji, back to his chest while he bounces you on his cock, burly hands clamped down on your wrists to keep you upright and prevent you from falling forward.

The lewd wet slap of your bodies connecting, his heavy breathing and groans as well as the desperate gasps you keep giving him are all you hear. You two hadn’t even managed to turn the television on before he pulled you in and slipped inside, only his t-shirt and nothing else on you giving him easy access to what he wanted.

Every time your body collides with his, his tip kisses your cervix and it gives you a jolt of pleasure. He’s so deep inside it feels like he’s rearranging your guts.

Then, from his slow and hard pace he suddenly switches up and starts ramming into you harshly, punching mewls from your throat.

“Toji!” You gasp, “Oh god, Toji!”

Your knees are bent and your legs are tucked under them, split apart by his own, and if he wasn’t holding you up right now you’d face-plant right into the floor. The danger and the trust it involves has your head spinning. How did you get here? This isn’t who you used to be—but you wouldn’t go back and stop yourself if you could. It’s too good.

He’s too good.

His right hand is clamping down on your neck from behind abruptly, other hand switching to your waist, wrapping around the front to forcibly arch your back, and you gasp as your air gets restricted, cock getting deeper inside with the new angle.

“Toji,” you rasp, hands covering both of his wrists just to hold onto something as the force of his thrusts start forcing an orgasm through your system. You sputter, body spasming as it begins to take over, building from the spot his tip keeps hammering and undulating through every one of your nerves, yanking a high-pitched whine from your compressed vocal chords. “Toji!”

You tighten around him as you finish, mouth falling open, eyelids fluttering as your vision unfocuses, covering his cock on your essence. He groans deeply, letting your neck go and instead pulling you flush against his chest, pressing your hips down as far as they can go so he can pump his load into you.

With a few sloppy thrusts, he’s cumming, coating your walls in what must be the millionth round this week. He groans deeply into your ear, keeping you pushed down on him, sensitive length throbbing inside of you with the aftershocks.

You then feel his rough lips dragging over your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any skin he can touch, his heavy breaths fanning over your flesh hotly.

“So good for me,” his voice is hoarse and fucked out, and it makes your stomach flutter. Sex with your boyfriend is never this intimate—you’re never pushed to your limits. Toji does it every time and then praises you when you’ve pleased him. It’s so addictive.

You turn your face towards him and he covers your lips with his own, initiating a messy make out session that only ends when you need air. If you didn’t require oxygen, you’d have loved to keep Toji’s tongue in your mouth forever—you think that it could be your only form of sustenance if you had your way.

“When’s he comin’ back again?” Asks Toji. You draw in a breath to steady yourself. It takes you a moment to think.

“Two days from now.”

“Good,” his grin is beastlike. “I get to keep you longer.”

You grin, nodding, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. The position is a little uncomfortable though, so you end it quickly, pulling off of him.

He grabs your hips and turns you around, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Who said you could get off?” He asks, and you take a look at him, noticing that he’s half-hard again already. His stamina is seriously unmatched.

Before you can reply, he pulls you back towards him, this time your chest to his.

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he says, and it’s done in such a way that you sort of feel like Little Red Riding Hood about to be devoured by the Big Bad Wolf—it thrills you.

And you’ll continue to go back for more.

—-

A/N: MAPPA better whore Toji out like they’ve done for Satoru, Kento, and Choso next week or istg

Please don’t repost or translate but feel free to reblog & share!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x you #jjk x y/n

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historiaxvanserra · 2 months

Text

Every Exquisite Thing | A Regency AU

Summary: The first of the season brings with it so many things; new friends, new enemies, a masquerade ball, and a rakish young gentleman with eyes like burnished gold.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (Regency AU)

Word Count: 3.1k

This is the first part of a series that had been consuming my thoughs day and night for about two weeks. We don't meet Eris yet but we get glimpses and I like what I see 👀 I just wanted to give a feel for the regency vibe and see if we're feeling it or not! Next chapter well get Eris in all his regency glory and I promise you, he's worth the wait.

The townhouse that your family occupies on the main street of the Ton is unusually quiet this morning, you think. The first of the season typically brings with it an air of frivolity; the ladies in their Spring colors, gentlemen riding horse-drawn carriages through the cobblestone streets and the hum of the city beyond. A myriad of color -- lilacs and honeysuckle, dappled with the greenery that climbs along the facades of the townhouses -- a colorful oasis from the bleak gray and green of a Winter spent in the country.

However, today, the main square, where Pryhtian’s most ancient and noble families convalesce during the fairer months, is blanketed in an oppressive palette of indigo and gray as the last of the Winter’s storms ravages the world beyond Crescent House.

The sound of the howling wind as it rages like a great tempest through the streets rouses you from your perch on the chaise near the dying hearth.

The street below the parlor is veiled in the shadowed hues of the storm and not a soul in town has dared brave the wrath of the elements since the dourpour began. Hail patters dismally against the window panes of your families townhouse and an ice-kissed wind crawls its way along the exposed planes of your shoulders and collarbones and in the distance you hear the distinctive draw of a carriage along the main square, near Forest House. As you near the window you observe the hail as it falls like pearls from the darkening sky onto wet, cobbled streets.

From the oppressive darkness a carriage emerges; a considerable vehicle of polished wood, lacquered with dark emerald paint, the trim and doors are framed with delicate golden embellishments and the doors and rear bear a family crest, obscured by the gloom of the afternoon. The cart itself is drawn by four bay stallions with long, dark manes, sodden with the downpour. From the cabin steps a shadowy figure of a man, once obscured by the oppressive darkness, now illuminated by the lamplight; he’s all dressed in black, save for the white collar of a linen shirt and his long hair, curls away from his face in tousled, auburn waves. He burns most ardent against the bleak afternoon, even in the din of the oil lamps, he looks like something out of one of Feyre��s paintings. Or perhaps the formidable and brooding romantic lead of the romance novels Nesta so adores. Either way he cuts an intimidating figure in the dark streets of the main square. Tall and broad-shouldered, and rather rakish as he stalks up the steps of the townhouse opposite yours.

From your perch overlooking the street you see him turn outward; admiring the graceful planes of his face, the aquiline nose and high-cheekbones falling to the slender cut of his waist and hips and the broad spread of his shoulders and sculpted arms.

It occurs to you then that you have been all too obvious in your voyeurism.

You are watching him.

And he is watching you in return.

The very thought elicits something in you; something dark and sentimental and terribly anxious. It is a cruel, coiling thing, in the pit of your stomach. Some ill-fated omen. A harbinger of your own downfall. The ghost at the feast, or a raven in the night that spells your undoing. Whatever it is, there is a deep sense of foreboding in you at the prospect of what this dark figure might herald in with him.

The tolling of the city bells brings with it a flurry of movement on the street and your eyes meet his strange amber gaze across the way and he scowls. A deep furrow of a brow; the firm set of his jaw, the flex of a pale hand, before retreating into the house.

“Come away from the window girl,” Your mother chastises in her usual cutting tone as she eyes you from her place in front of the hearth. Her gloved hand inspects the fine silk fabric of the dresses the modiste had sent to her. She holds the fabric between those fine-boned fingers and drapes each swatch over the pale skin of her slender arm with a rehearsed ease as she takes the time to scrutinize every hand-sewn seam and embroidered adornment.

“Yes mama.” You say absentmindedly, casting one last longing glance towards the dark facade of the townhouse across the street, where the orange flicker of candlelight illuminates the window..

Your mother is an austere woman with a cutting sort of beauty rather unlike your own. Her eyes are cold and grey and her features, angular; feline in a way that is almost unnerving to look at. Though even in her age, she bares fine, high cheekbones, unblemished skin, and her long golden hair falls over the delicate slope of her shoulder in coiffed ringlets. She had been quite a remarkable beauty in her youth, it had been said. Now all that remains of her lost youth is an oil painting hung above the hearth-- the paint, yellowed and cracked with age-- and the legacy of her ancient and most-noble lineage.

Her piercing gaze falls onto you again as you take a turn about the room, perching on the cushioned bench in front of the pianoforte. You run a hand over the untuned keys and in your wake dust mites filter through the stagnant air.

That piano had once been the beating heart of this room; a symphony of high arching notes that rang through the halls of this house.

It has not been touched since Nesta left.

“You look drawn, my dear,” She says simply, her eyes cruel and unyielding as she looks over you and the fine silk draped over her arm, “green does so very little for your complexion.”

She considers you for a moment longer before turning to the modiste with a quirked brow. The seamstress at least, has the good grace to look apologetically between you and your youngest sister before nodding in agreement to your mother. She murmurs that a deeper shade of green would suit you better, though your mother ignores her entirely.

“Perhaps an emerald tone would suit better” she muses to no one in particular.

“It would make you look more…tempting” The modiste decides with a sly smile to you when your mother looses a shrill gasp. Your mother hums her disapproval once more from her spot in the armchair before turning her attention towards Feyre on the modiste’s podium as the slender woman takes her measurements for the last alterations to her gown.

“You look beautiful Fey,” You say lightly, pulling at your own faded sage gown as you regard your youngest sister, “the silver looks exquisite on you.” Feyre smiles brightly at you from her place on the podium and pulls a few strands of her long, golden hair to frame her face. She looks as though she is wreathed in starlight in the silver gown; the high bust lays perfectly over her chest and the cuffed sleeves are trimmed with silver thread and sheer lace and accentuate the slope of her strong shoulders, the skirts fall in a swathe of silk and chiffon and the pearls and opal sewn into the skirts catch like moonglow in the blue light. She smooths the skirts with a flair of her gloved hand and admires the matching slippers that peek out from the long hem.

“Hmm,” Your mother murmurs lowly, bringing a slender hand to her painted mouth as she assesses the garment carefully, “Yes - the silver favors you, my darling.” Your mother purses her lips once more and nods decisively at the modiste who offers a courteous bow in response.

“I have hopes that the Lady of Autumn might name you her ‘incomparable’, afterall.” Your mother’s voice is frightfully wistful as she casts a look up to her portrait hung above the dying fire. Beside it, on the mantle Nesta’s painted face stares back impassively at you and you feel anxiety twisting within you again. Feyre laughs. A small, disbelieving thing as she thanks the modiste and exits the parlor in favor of her sketchbook.

“She did so love Nesta when she was first presented,” You mother recalls, her eyes glassy as she sips at her cold tea with a grimace, “and your sister does so remind me of her.”

You smile fondly at the thought of your eldest sister; painfully absent for the last few years but missed dearly. Nesta had always bore the brunt of your mother’s cruelty -- until she could bare it no more -- and then you took her place.

“Yes mama, she will do very well at court.” You say genuinely, though your mother can’t bring herself to acknowledge you. You bite down the bitter taste of jealousy when her eyes linger on the portrait of Nesta hung along the mantel. The way her brows dip in a moment of fleeting grief for her favorite daughter.

When she looks at you again you get the sense that looking at you now -- in the pallid light of the storm -- is like looking in a mirror.

It is a mother’s curse you think.

A daughter’s burden.

Breathing deeply as the modiste pins the hem of the dress you find yourself thinking of the happy recollections of your childhood; you think perhaps your mother is reminiscing on those times too.

She had been the only daughter of an Earl somewhere on the continent once. Beautiful and graceful. Green and foolhardy. Named the incomparable of her own social season; she had dreams of an idyllic life in the countryside, summers shaded in the laughter of her many sons, and measured in the unyielding smiles of a good husband.

Of course, as was the way of things, her girlhood ideations had been nought but that-- dreams. Dashed and divided like stardust in a vast twilight abyss.

A series of scandals and bad investments led her to Pryhtian as the sole heir to an old name. A lamb to the slaughter by her own mother, to be the docile wife of some dull Lord, almost two decades her senior

In time, she did the same to her own daughters.

Time is a cruel mistress; and the woman she is now is one tarnished by the years. Imposing and cynical; demanding in a way that it was impossible to please her. In your youth you recall her endless cruelty towards you all, though none more than Nesta.

Her prodigy.

Her pride and joy.

It was that ceaseless need for perfection that drove Nesta away in the end.

So with the wave of her hand she gestures to you to take to the podium.

An ill-fated replacement for the daughter she lost.

Her perpetual disappointment.

The modiste is a young woman, who hails from the continent with beautiful dark hair that fell in coiled ringlets over her shoulders, she speaks to you in a low, velvet tenor and has a thick accent that distinguishes her to the natives of this land. She is favored by many of the young ladies of the Ton for her exquisite garments; each made with richly adorned and embroidered fabrics imported from her homeland. You watch impassively as she records your measurements and swatches a few scraps of fabric against your skin. The woman quickly discards the silver that Feyre had worn and opts instead for gold and offers your mother a few other options for your dresses this season; sapphire and cerulean, emerald and ruby, topaz and onyx.

Then selects a beautiful emerald gown, trimmed with jade and adorned with matching beads and crystals that shine with the glittering darkness of some forgotten forest when the light of the storm outside refacts in their many surfaces. The modiste admires the garment as she holds it up to you; her keen eyes finding yours and smiling brightly and nodding deliberately.

“This is the one,” She says, her accent so thick with delight that it is difficult to fully understand the words, “perhaps the Lady of Autumn might name you her favorite in your sisters place” She offers it jovially, almost in jest but your mother’s face twists nonetheless.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Your mother laughs cruelly as she regards you in the beautiful garment. You think perhaps that in you she sees all the things she hates about herself. Your mother takes a moment to scrutinize you; her eyes reap over every curve and divot of the skirts as they fall against you, every minute details to find fault where she can.

It is a mothers’s curse, not to know a daughter’s pain.

You imagine it is also a mercy too when she looks at you like you are her own reflection.

Her perpetual disappointment.

After another silent moment she nods her head to the modiste and rises to her feet. The tea cup rattles and rings viscously through icy air as she sets it down and wanders towards the doors.

“Oh Feyre darling, you look exquisite!” Your mothers voice is shrill and dripping with pride that elicits a strange sort of jealousy and you swallow down its bitter taste. In the foyer your sister glides down the marble staircase dressed in all her finery.

Feyre has the type of beauty reminiscent of a falling star; all pale skin, that looks like porcelain, dappled with the iridescent stardust that falls from the sky around her birthday each year. Her dress is one of flowing indigo and complemented by intricate silver embroidery along the cuffs and bust, the long line of her neck is adorned with pearls and diamonds that refract in the light of the chandelier; dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky.

She smiles brightly and her laugh echoes like birdsong around the hall as your mother takes her hand. And almost like an afterthought, your mother regards you with thinly veiled horror at the garment that clings to you like a plate of armor.

A deep merlot gown, inlaid with rubies and pearls; that cast a bloody halo as you step into the light of the chandelier. The skirts bleed into a train made of gossamer thin spidersilk that has a metallic quality to it that makes you feel as though you are some ancient Goddess of love and war.

Aphrodite perhaps, as deadly as she is beautiful.

Your hands, though they tremble, bare many gold rings, each polished to the heavens so that she sees her face distorted in their many unblemished surfaces. There is a part of you that hopes craves your mothers love more than you long to insight her ire.

But that part of you died the day Nesta went away.

“How do you suppose you’re going to tempt a man into marrying you dressed like that,” She chastices, pulling at the skirts of your wine red dress, “you look like a common whore.”

“At least a whore is paid to abide the insipid company of boring men.” you counter under your breath as your mother strides out into the street. You catch Feyre’s eye and she smiles at you like a feral cat.

The rest of the carriage ride is spent in solemn silence as the facade of The town hall draws ever closer. You mother’s idle gossip about one Lord of the other hardly seems the rouse you from though as you watch the world beyond this cart pass you by.

The storm had broken sometime around midday and the tempest gave way to sunlight; soft ochre and gold as it filtered through the open windows of your father’s library, where you had spent the afternoon. Nestled into the worn armchair favored by your father and a quiet comfort when he is away. There, in the confines of your father’s study, you allow yourself to dream; of debauched gentlemen and tortured artists. Stories painted with the vivid imaginings of Gothic heroines and vast and sweeping landscapes. Of temptation and sacrifice.

It is a hobby inherited from your sister and one much discouraged by your mother.

But as afternoon bled into night you were called away from the pages of manuscripts written in some foreign tongue. For, the Lady of Autumn’s masquerade ball marks the true commencement of the social season each year. It is a night of mystery and secrets; of dark romance and all things fanciful.

It is the one night a year that you allow yourself to be swept up in the excitement of the season and tonight every eligible Lord and Lady will don their finery for a night of high-arching orchestral music and sweeping dances that herald in the social season.

It is tonight of all nights where the Lady of Autumn will name the incomparable of the season; a young woman both fair and accomplished that will inspire awe and ire in equal measure. For her troubles she might hope to tempt an eligible gentleman into marriage by summer’s end. And as your mother gives Feyre one more adoring look you know that she is hoping that your sister will insight that awe tonight.

The carriage draws to a tumultuous halt outside the doors of the grand town hall and you hear the distant laughter of courtiers. The chatter of the ladies distracts you momentarily and you catch their idle chatter; something about the new Duke and his wicked beauty. A beauty as cruel as he is, they say. Their chatter dies when they meet your eyes and they devolve into mean-spirited whispers about the poor Archeron girls and their absent sister.

“Quickly girls, we mustn't be late.” Your mother instructs and steps from the carriage turning expectantly as you disembark from the vehicle with all the grace you can manage. Your stomach twists in knots and the anxiety is so consuming that it addles your mind. So much so that any intelligent thought you might have had seems to abandon you.

The gardens of the town hallare saturated in the light of the last shadowed sunbeams as they are obliterated by the rapidly falling night; veins of indigo and amethyst that streak across the black. The air is heady and thick with the smell of wildflowers and wine and every now and again you catch the scent of half-burned oak and bergamot’s on the evening breeze.

The first of the season is in full swing and the courtiers look like a jewel toned fire in their finery; swathes of ruby and topaz, dappled with emerald and carnelian. You had felt the shift in the air when the sun had begun to set in the sky; that anticipation so palpable you could taste it. It tastes like wood and wildflowers, undercut with something darker.

You abandon yourself to the thought of it; what he might taste like.

Hedonism; earthy and dangerous as you swallow it back.

In an hour or two, when the stars materialize like a million quarts against the velvet abyss, the Ladies will retreat into the mazes, in twos or threes and their Lords, like hungry wolves will begin the hunt.

A hunt that will last the season

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris acotar #eris vandaddy

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cannibalhellhound · 2 months

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Wings AU character bits

Hi this is me trying to get a grip on writing again and getting the characters while also adding the wing bits.

Ice Harpy Eagle

Likes having long nails (harpy eagles have fuckin huge talons), keeps them shaped and neatly painted if he's in the mood when on leave

Likes to keep his nest cool and clean (comfy but practical)

Tall nesting! He always claims the top bunk!

His childhood bedroom had one of those tall beds with a desk under them because he kept piling stuff up to sleep atop of them and it could fit multiple people

Sad because Navy bunk beds are small :(

Strong as fuck (he's smaller than Sli but can bench press almost as much) (harpy eagles grab animals as big as them like sloths and carry them) (can carry others while flying if needed just not for lengthy flights)

Very keen eyesight so sunglasses for light sensitivity (maybe reading glasses for near sight focus? I like him with glasses)

Very good hearing (don't shit talk near him he'll definitely hear it)

Hair moves very slightly, similar to feathers (kinda like their facial disk and feather crest)

*Baby feathers are almost all white with some light gray. They molt usually once a year (sometimes twice) and it takes 5 years to get the adult coloring

Ice's stayed in a middle coloring and he got insecure. His mom suggested matching his hair and that's how the frosted tips came to exist :D

He's a provider by nature but his little sisters have made him very nurturing and affectionate too (Slider knows this firsthand and thinks it's hilarious how fussy Ice can get)(the others learn with time but first baby goose)

Leaves feathers around the house (perfectly placed thank you very much)

Slider Bearded Vulture

Lämmergeier means “Lamb vulture” (wrong because they don't prey on sheep but shhhhh). Slider calls Maverick “Little lamb” as a joke because he loves annoying him and wants to eat him up

CAN ACTUALLY EAT BONES!!! (Bone soup is a thing!) Will chew on them till it's painful to watch and will take anyone's bones off their plates to pick the marrow off them

The bone dropping shows a lot in him just throwing stuff. He does it. A LOT.

He also likes to have a tennis ball around to fidget dropping it and catching it when it bounces

Has an actual nest bed. The mattress is on the harder side but it has a shit ton of blankets and pillows (to the point you can't feel the mattress)

There are old feathers around the nest tucked in between pillows (don't tell Ice!!) ⁠(⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠)

Very involved into the life of the ones he loves (helpful, affectionate, etc) (this includes parenting looks at baby goose)

His feathers only dye red when visiting his family or on vacation with family because they frequent iron rich waters (his mom loves her red feathers and looking at her baby look like her makes her teary eyed)

Maverick Peregrine Falcon

Very lightweight!!!

He's beauty, he's grace, he'll dive down and kick you in the face (literally, peregrine falcons kill prey by punching them with their closed talons when dividing)

Very keen reflexes (both at ground and on air), will grab anything you throw at him even if distracted

Very! Good! At courting!!!! (Looking at the beginning bar scene)

Small but comfy nest. Very soft and also bunk bed! is perfect

Has a favorite blanket that he will ALWAYS take everywhere, even on deployment

Cracking his head fuckin open more than once as a kid because he's a menace and small and tried to dive from places he climbed (not his best idea)

crying because he's so small he can't carry goose after the accident and can just grab at him until they get rescued

Now this would be for trans! Mav

To everyone's surprise Mav is as big as he can get (Female birds of prey are bigger than males= bigger wingspan, human height is genetic so for avians is a bit mixed)

Wings don't allow binding (for obvious reasons) but kinesiology tape exists!

He already used KTape before joining the navy and top surgery so he's used to just strutting around shirtless (we stan a short confident king! It's honestly so freeing to tape and be shirtless I might just leave him pre surgery for next fanart pieces)

Goose Emden Goose

Literally a Mother Goose™

Has learned to deal with Maverick and not only does he not get surprised by his antics, he can predict them and is already prepared for them (aka get ready to scoop tiny ass Mav if he gets in trouble or hurts himself)

The good part is that it has made him baby proof. He can deal with a child he's been dealing with Mav!

Terrified. Absolutely terrified. Because his beautiful baby gosling is as much a little shit as his wife and best friend. If his wings weren't already white they'd for sure be by now ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

I need to think more about Mav and Goose but that involves looking for Peregrine Falcon and Geese facts

Edit to take out the divider because I don't like it

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misscinnamonroll16 · 2 months

Text

Some more headcanons

For breakfast, JD is good at eggs, bacon, and sausage, hearty breakfast foods. Bruce is good at sweets, pancakes, crepes and french toast. Clay usually doesn't make breakfast but has gotten cinnamon rolls down to a science. Floyd didn't improve his cooking skills that much over the years, being able to cook a scrambled egg

Floyd, Clay and Branch are one of those people who just have coffee for breakfast (or tea in Floyd's case)

All the brothers are protective of each other but John and Floyd are the worst. JD is most likely to fight someone. Floyd has a sharp wit, turning his silver tongue into a dagger. Clay is also quick witted but will not hesitate to fight someone.

Clay sometimes overworks himself

Bruce and Brandy give Gomez and Morticia vibes but the tropical version

All the bros (besides Branch) know how to play an instrument. Floyd knows guitar, John Dory knows guitar and bass. Clay knows keyboard/piano. And Bruce knows drums

Bruce sometimes plays the bongos for his kids

My personal headcanons about their ages. JD is 38, Bruce is 36, Clay is 33, Floyd is 31 and Branch is 24

John still puts himself between his bros and danger

Despite JD being the oldest, Bruce is the first to go gray. But he embraces it, playing himself off as a silver fox

The band breaking up was inevitable. It was going to happen no matter what, whether it was when Branch was 4 or 15 (random number)

Floyd subconsciously leans against his brothers when they're near. John wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer. Bruce loosely wraps an arm around him. Clay leans back so the two of them are leaning against each other.

Each of the brothers are close in different ways. JD and Bruce are close from being the older ones, talking about how annoying the others are and reminiscing about how little they used to be. Bruce and Clay have a unique dynamic, they're both stuck in the middle and hated how John bosses them around. Clay and Floyd are definitely annoying little brothers, when put together they're all jokes and silliness. Floyd and Branch are close because Floyd took a special interest in Branch, in being a big brother

Floyd leans against people when he's laughing really hard, mostly against Clay (Dan from the ten minute power hour)

Floyd met and performed with Queen Barb. He thinks she doesn't remember him because they were never properly introduced but she does. She remembers him as the most hardcore pop trolls she's ever met

Floyd has a crap ton of stuffed animals on his bed

Branch, like John Dory, sleeps in his underwear

Bruce sleeps naked, unless one of his kids is in bed with them

Clay often falls asleep at his desk

Floyd and John are the creative ones of the family

Floyd is a decent artist

Bruce used to throw food and other things into Clay's hair when he was either sleeping or not paying attention. Clay never did figure it out but John Dory knew and scolded him for it

Although JD is not a dad, he has a dad voice. It was the voice he'd use when telling his brothers to clean up or go to bed. The first time he uses it after the reunite is when he's telling Branch to go bed. But he didn't say Branch directly so the other three think 'oh no, I have to go to bed' bc they immediately fall back into that mentality

#trolls #brozone #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #branch trolls #trolls headcanon

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lixxen · 3 months

Text

Idk how well text posts do on Trolls Tumblr, but I have so many thoughts rn and want to talk about feral Branch details.

Feral Branch HC:

Branch has fur, claws on both his feet and hands, his ears move like a cat, and he can see better in the dark

"Feral Trolls" are gray trolls who have adapted from being away from others. Trolls have a built in instinct that recognizes strength in numbers. You see this with rainbow trolls being able to change their colors/auras, and all trolls being able to manipulate their hair. Gray trolls cannot change their aura, but they are around others so they can stay normal

But isolated gray trolls biologically change due to them not being around others. This happens over years, and not automatic. Once a troll changes like this, they cannot undo it. So this is why Branch cannot go back to "normal" physically, even tho he isn't gray and around others

(there's also a psychological/self actualization part. Gray trolls tend to see themselves as the problem and rainbow trolls end up more likely to becoming "feral" looking due to their ability to change their aspects.)

All genres have feral trolls, all presenting differently. Rock and pop are the most similar since they are the two physically closest looks wise

Normal trolls are omnivores, but eat more plants since their digestive systems and body needs focus more on plants. Feral trolls need more meat, but are still omnivorses

If I can get psychological, a lot of their "feral tendencies" are actually just trauma responses and bad socialization issues due to isolation. A lot of responses are stemmed from fear and anger, so lashing out/growling/swiping at others is normally out of fear or response. Plus having to survive in the wild, y'know?

Okay. Done with that part, let's get into Branch!

Branch likes to be in trees and high ground. It comes from living in a pod in the troll tree, but he lives in the bunker because it's safer. So you'll find him in trees normally because he likes being high

Branch normally hibernates during the winter, but ever since he met Poppy he stopped hibernating. This makes him horribly grumpy during the snow season

Not shown: Branch loving his ears to be scratched. Her more sensitive than normal and he loves them being pet. He also loves to lay on top of people. It comes from the need of warmth and him thinking that others need warmth.

He wouldn't lick others, since they don't have fur. But if he's around other feral trolls he'd definitely lick them.

His parents were both half rock and half pop trolls. They both looked like rainbow pop trolls, and the rock parent (dad) did not live in the troll tree. Grandma Rosiepuff was the maternal grandmother and a pop troll

The parents names were Briar and Melody

Branch has the need to burrow all the time. It comes from years in the bunker and from hiding from danger in the earlier years. You will see him burried in someone's bed probably.

Branch is really good at math and science once he starts learning and back into the village. It comes naturally to him. He wants to be a pod architect because it comes naturally to him

Clay and Bruce follow the same thing, where Clay really likes accounting and Bruce loves to run business.

Floyd is the best at performing, with JD behind him. JD though is actually really good at taking care of others and survival. Surprisingly JD can garden and keep a ton of plants alive to feed himself.

Branch and Clay are autistic with different levels of support needed. Branch needs less support while Clay needs more. Thought I'd mention this.

Clay and Viva were best friends before the Troll Tree attack. The others did not know this. Viva and JD are the ones that helped Clay learn better coping mechanisms when the band started to sour

Branch is more sensitive to sound and light. He hates fireworks and doesn't like to be touched unless he knows the person

Ablaze is the one who mainly is teaching Branch coping mechanisms for his PTSD. Poppy is his support throughout everything, but she doesn't know how to help someone heal.

Branch mandates Kismet group cuddles. This dude it touched starved and they’re the only ones he is comfortable like that other than Poppy

Even after Branch is able to speak again, as he was nonverbal when he met Poppy and by Trolls 2 he is speaking again, he prefers to be quiet and doesn't talk as much. It is simply preference at this point

Branch likes to interlock his tail with Poppy's when they're not touching, but close enough :)

I might do more later, but I am about to go into work :)

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #trolls 3 #brozone #trolls brozone #trolls poppy #broppy #trolls broppy #feral branch #feral branch au #feral au

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cameronspecial · 3 months

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hiii!!🤍 idk if you are taking requests at the moment but yesterday i had this idea of fem!reader and rafe fic inspired on the song maniac by conan gray lmaoo

in my head this sounds like a good idea but idk lol

love uuuuu<333

Maniac

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Accusations of Being a Stalker

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Rafe sets eyes on the one person he doesn’t really want to see. The one person he loves, but who is too good for him. So he let her go. By the time he notices her in the crowd, he is on his sixth cup of whiskey and the alcohol is getting to his head. He shouldn’t do it, yet he does. He stumbles through the crowd to get close to her and his finger points at her in accusation. “I wish you were dead. Maybe then you’d stop popping up everywhere I go like a stalker,” he slurs, his finger wavering a little. She chuckles, “You wish I cared enough about you to stalk you. Except I know you need this so can go tell all your friends that I’m a stalker, a watcher or that I drive you mad. I really don’t care.” She flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns to go back to her friends. Their break-up was anything but friendly. Rafe had to resort to cruelty to get it to set into her mind that there was no salvation for them by talking through their problems. She was too good for him and he was just going to bring her down with him. That’s why he had to do it. As she goes to her friends, he catches a whiff of her perfume and he is dying to be able to properly take the scent in before she leaves again.

Later in the night, Y/N hears rustling in the backyard. She gets up from her bed to spot a familiar figure on the grass through her window. She groans; the irony of him calling her a stalker when he is the one at the back of her house late into the night. She goes downstairs and swings the backdoor open to get rid of him before her parents can wake up. She has to laugh at the sight of him stumbling through with a rose and a shovel in his hand. He holds both items up in his hands like he is balancing out the weight between the two. He comes to a decision and throws the shovel to the side. “Take me back,” he pleas. She chuckles, slamming the door in his face. “You are such a maniac.”

———

A few weeks later, her phone rings from her nightstand in the middle of the night. She presses the phone to her ear and rolls her eyes at who is on the other side. She puts some clothes on, heading to her car to make another mistake. She swears up a storm at the sight of the car smashed against the tree. She sets her car in park and runs over to the driver’s side to make sure he is okay. “You came,” he mumbles, looking at her with a dopey look. He reaches out to pet her hair. She jerks out of his touch. “What do you want me to do about this Rafe? You wrecked your car,” she states in frustration. His lips pout, “You always know how to fix my problems. Because you are perfect. That’s why I had to break up with you because you are too perfect.” His eyes start to pool with tears and she wipes the salty water away. “I’m going to call the police and they are going to take care of it,” she informs, pulling out her phone.

“No, please, don’t. I need you. I need you to stay.”

“It’s all I can do, Rafe. Look what we had was magic, but you turned it tragic. So I really don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to say that you are going to take me back.”

She lets out a low laugh, “You are a maniac.” Y/N leaves his side, listening to him whine as she goes to call the police. She couldn’t take any more of his bullshit. It breaks her heart that all he ever wants to do is use her for help and pretend like he really wants her to stay. He doesn’t love her. He made that clear when they broke up.

———

The next time he calls is during the day. He had just snorted a shit ton of coke and he was feeling his regret at a tenfold. “Come on, Y/N. Pick up. Pick up, Beautiful,” he begs into the phone at the continual sound of the call dialling. One ring. Two rings. After the third ring, he is sent to voice mail.

She looks down at the phone, pressing the red button with a shake of her head. “He’s a maniac if he thinks I’m going to come back.”

Rafe throws the phone against the wall, screaming as this is sinking in. He lost her and he was never going to get her back. This thought is enough to turn him into a maniac.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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kiyoomi-levin · 4 months

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No Sense (Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader)

summary::: sakusa has never encountered a clean object, much less a clean human being. so why is it that you, the first-year new manager of Itachiyama's volleyball club is? word count::: 3.4k music rec::: love 119 - riize warning?::: sakusa's kind of an ass & can't communicate

This really isn't like him. It really isn't like the one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi to find someone attractive at first sight. More alarmingly, it really isn’t like him to find someone clean.

He's always known he was different. While other kids chased each other and rolled around the dirt pavement of the playground, Sakusa refused to step into the sandbox or touch the playset. It was disgusting. Couldn't they see? It was only when he entered elementary school that he learned he was the only one with this ability: being able to physically see germs.

The dirtier something was--and unfortunately, most things in this universe are really fucking dirty-- the darker the glow around them became. The subway seats, the door handle to his classroom, the reusable utensils from restaurants were all surrounded by darkness, so dark he felt sick. His backpack, the clock hanging above the chalkboard, and Motoya Komori, his closest friend and cousin, all classified as semi-dirty, with a light gray surrounding them. In his life, he's only seen two things without a ring of germs. His body after a nice, long, 40 minute shower and… you.

It doesn't make sense. Even newly bought scissors still inside their packaging are slightly dirty (from being exposed to the particles of the factory they're from, duh). So why? Why is it that a random first-year didn't have that dark glow around her? New people (whose hygiene habits were a mystery) were always especially dirty, surrounded by a shadow composed of gray and black.

It just doesn't make sense.

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

"Hey, they're introducing the new manager today!" Ito Asahi, the 2nd-year outsider hitter, calls out as Sakusa and Komori walks in.

Sakusa takes a glance around the gym. Today, it’s especially clean, uplifting his sour mood from being touched intentionally by some girl from class 2-B. Komori notices and smiles playfully.

"Looks like you can forgive and forget Nakamura now, right?" He murmurs.

"Who?"

Komori sighs, feeling sorry for the short-haired girl in love with his brainless cousin.

"Never mind."

"We're welcoming our new manager. She just transferred," Iizuna, Itachiyama’s captain, says as he rolls out the volleyball cart from the closet.

"Be nice,” he says, glaring at the club’s center.

Sakusa frowns under his mask, forehead wrinkling.

"You're the reason why Azuma-san quit. I'll be watching you."

Sakusa grimaces harder. Nothing escapes Iizuna's line of sight, unfortunately. It pays off during matches, but outside the court it’s nothing but a hindrance.

Besides, it wasn't his fault that the grubby-handed manager had repeatedly mixed his jersey with everyone else's, loaned his water bottle to the new first-year players, and, worst of all, used his phone to make a call.

The final straw was when the 3rd-year girl had handed him a used towel. Less than 30 seconds after the exchange, Sakusa had her pressed against the wall and whispered some not-so-kind, germ related insults that led to her filing for her retirement the next morning.

"Who is it?" Komori asks, flopping onto the floor and beginning his stretches. Iizuna grins, rolling a ball in his hands. Iizuna knew you well as a distant family friend, and knows you'll fit in well.

"She's a first-year with a ton of experience as the former manager of Ushimi Middle School," Haga, the backup setter, cuts in, leaning over to help Komori reach his toes.

Iizuna’s response fades out as Sakusa's mental encyclopedia goes to work.

"Ushimi Middle. Bokuto Kotaro," He says, taking off his mask. Haga smirks, knowing the wing spiker had memorized the magazine introducing the top Japanese high school players.

"Yeah, she's close with Bokuto. They apparently dated," Hirota chimes in, emerging from the stands. Hirota, never one to shy away from gossip, watches as Sakusa raises his eyebrows.

Disgusting. You dated that energetic, owl-freak who looks like someone who doesn't wash their hands after eating? You must be at his level of contamination. Internally groaning, Sakusa can only hope you'd wear gloves around him.

"Relax," Komori says, “we don’t know if that’s true.”

"That means she likes older guys, huh... think I have a chance?" Asahi says, promptly being slapped on the back of the head by Iizuna.

"Group up!" A shout from their coach, Hirata-sensei, gets the boys to line up in three rows. Aces and third years at the front, first years at the back. Iizuna walks next to the coach, holding a new manager jacket.

It's silent for a moment, and the door swings open as Sakusa picks at his thin cotton shirt. Why is there lint on it? He should get a new lint roller, this brand wasn't cutting it. And switching detergent brands was also a mistake, this new one makes his skin itch…

The first years begin murmuring behind him.

Sakusa refuses to look up, though. He's not ready to see the grime surrounding you.

"Hello," a voice calls out. "I'm l/n y/n. I'm a first year, and I transferred this semester. I previously was manager of Ushimi Middle. I'll try my best... If you have any concerns or special requests, please don't be shy to talk to me."

Cheers, and Sakusa hears Iizuna welcoming you and passing you the jacket. Coach suddenly calls him out.

"This is Sakusa Kiyoomi, our ace. Be wary as you approach him and his belongings."

Sakusa looks up to glare at his coach and the newbie.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times just in case.

You're clean. Clean. There's no ring of germs floating around you. It's what he sees after getting out of the shower. It's not possible.

"Kiyoomi?" Coach says. Sakusa blinks. What?

"Uh. I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi." He hears his teammates behind him whispering and giggling, no doubt misunderstanding his shock.

You smile, and he feels his gut twisting.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sakusa. I look forward to working with you! I'll take care of your things."

You're kind of cute. He doesn't know how else to describe you, he's never examined a girl. He's seen many girls in his life, more than a dozen have approached him in just this past year-- all quickly rebuked. He's not a virgin (thinking about his past experiences makes him gag), but something makes him feel like a shy boy experiencing his first love.

Your eyes are bright and your smile is almost blinding. When has he gotten so cheesy?

As coach introduces the other aces, Sakusa can't take his eyes off of you as you giggle at Komori's stupid introduction (he suddenly feels a surge of anger towards his innocent cousin).

It doesn't make sense.

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

It's been almost a month since you've begun your duties as manager, and it's going great! You couldn't have asked for a better group of players.

And yet, despite the easy-going attitude of the overall team, one thing (yes, he doesn't even qualify as a human) always messes with you.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

The only student who you were not able to warm up to. Everyone else on the team was incredibly friendly, requesting you call them by their first names. Tsukasa takes good care of you, Motoya purchases the always-sold-out cafeteria sandwiches for you, and Asahi helps you prepare for exams. But Sakusa refuses to even look your way and snaps when you touch his towel or water bottle (even with the disposable gloves you purchased at the mini-mart).

It hurts, being shunned by someone who you admire so much. You've known about him and his skills since middle school, and when you were accepted into Itachiyama, you were thrilled at the prospect of supporting someone so dedicated to his passion. But this player (who you curse internally) glares at you, watching as you head towards the benches.

I won't touch your stuff, relax, you think to yourself as you pick up Haga's bag. What more could you do? You've tried different methods to approach him, washing your hands more often than usual, using hand sanitizer as you approach him, and even changing your shampoo and body wash to a brand he prefers (thanks to Motoya’s intel).

And yet, he still stares at you like you’re a freak.

“Hey, be careful.” You jump as Sakusa presses up behind you, staring at his sports tape in your gloved hand. You frown. For a germaphobe who despises you, he sure gets close sometimes.

“I am!” You snap, and despite your anger, you gently place the tape into his bag. With that, you turn away quickly, running off to refill his water.

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“Yeah, you’re an asshole.” Komori says, sighing. “You’re acting like a fucking first grader, Kiyoomi, one of those kids who teases the girl they like.”

Sakusa nearly drops his sandwich.

Really? Is that how he comes across?

“Is it obvious?”

Komori’s mouth drops. He had simply been teasing. Who had replaced his cold and calculated cousin with this honest and socially-conscious Kiyoomi?

“Wait, really? You really like her?” Komori leans in.

Ugh. Sakusa pulls away quickly, packing up his belongings as the bell rings.

No. He’s just interested in why you’re clean.

That’s the only reason.

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

“y/n!” Sakusa barks. You flinch. He’s in an especially prickly mood thanks to the upcoming practice match with Nekoma.

Without hesitation, you begin to sanitize your hands as you rush over to where he’s sitting.

“Wipe my face for me,” he demands, much to your shock as you near him. His gorgeous face (sculpted by God himself, no doubt) is covered in a light layer of sweat.

You gape, eyeing the towel folded perfectly on top of his bag. Never in the past three months have you seen anyone touching Sakusa, not even with gloves on. Even Sakusa himself rarely touches his own face, only to put on and take off his mask.

“Hurry up,” Sakusa breathes impatiently, placing his bottle on the floor.

Wait, are you really allowed to touch him? What’s going on? Are you in an alternate universe?

“Uh–” you fumble as your scattered mind tries to collect itself. “Let me get my glov-”

“Shut up. Just wipe it off,” he says, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“Idiot,” he murmurs. That snaps you back, and a rush of adrenaline fills your body as you gulp.

Time’s moving in slow motion.

You carefully pick up his towel, a soft, red item that always smells of Sakusa’s laundry detergent and is free of lint.

You reach up, gently patting his face. Starting from his chin, then above his thin lips, the sides of his nose, his forehead where those adorable two moles lie.

“Done,” you whisper, taking a step back. You let out a huge sigh of relief, realizing you’ve been holding your breath this whole time.

Sakusa’s eyes slide open and he peers down directly into yours.

Again, time stops.

As he wordlessly turns away, you feel your stomach fluttering.

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

Why does he treat you different?

Your friends can only think of a few logical explanations to his strange behavior over this past month.

“He’s warmed up to you,” one of your friends proposes.

Another one scoffs.

“He probably got scolded by the coach for being rude to you.”

Your best friend, Yuyuka, has the most realistic theory.

“He was replaced by aliens.”

Yes, that must be it. Because wiping his sweat for him, refilling his water bottle gloveless, and handling his club jacket and jersey has become your responsibility.

You so badly want to ask Sakusa–no, Kiyoomi, which he casually demanded you to refer to him as, why.

Why does he let you do these things? Why does he allow you to use his precious phone to make emergency calls? Why do the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at the sight of you scrubbing his favorite volleyball clean?

Why did he hug you secretly after the team’s victory against Aoba Johsai last week?

You still can’t forget the way his slightly damp body held you for one, two, three seconds behind the gym before he gently shoved you away.

“What could it be, Komori…” you breathe aloud, head clouded with thoughts of Kiyoomi and his gorgeous face.

Your trusty informant, Komori, internally gags. While he loves you and Kiyoomi, it sure is irritating to have you gush about Kiyoomi to him in one ear and Kiyoomi ranting about you in the other.

Could you two just confess already? Komori thinks, sighing.

“Honestly? You’re basically dating already,” Komori retorts, glancing through the door to make sure his gossip-hungry teammates are out of range.

“Just ask him out. I swear it’ll go well.”

Your head snaps up towards the talented libero.

“No! I mean, I just can’t be sure… It’s just so weird! Like he hates me and sometimes he’s nice, but then he just pushes me away…”

Komori rubs his temples. That stupid ass tsundere.

“Oh! By the way… y/n, are you also… a germaphobe?” You frown.

“Of course not. Why? Has he asked? Does he ask about me?” You ask, eyes brightening. Komori shakes his head.

“It’s just weird. I mean, Kiyoomi said that you’re clean.” Your eyebrows furrow.

What does that mean?

As if reading your thoughts, Komori begins to explain.

“That guy… he can see germs. It’s weird. I mean, he thinks even I’m dirty, but he said from the start that you’re–”

“Komori!” A furious Sakusa shouts from the court. “Break’s been over for 29 seconds!”

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

“Listen, I’ve figured it out,” Yuyuka says in a whisper. The two of you are hiding at the top of the stairwell, plotting the ‘ultimate Sakusa Kiyoomi x l/n y/n plan.’

“Men… they require a push-and-pull. You’ve always been at his mercy, right? Since the beginning you’ve always admired him.” You nod intently.

“Exactly! So now you’re gonna ignore him.”

You squeeze your hands together. Could you really do that, though? Wouldn’t that just irritate him? But more importantly, you didn’t want to do anything to hinder his athletic performance on court–

“Stop overthinking!” Yuyuka scolds as you pout.

“But…”

“You got this! I swear, this’ll work. If he likes you, he’ll ask you directly what the problem is.”

As you head down the stairs and towards the volleyball gymnasium, you can’t help but wonder why, despite her romantic wisdom, Yuyuka has never been in a relationship.

–-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks. That’s how long it’s been since you’ve talked to Sakusa, touched his face, handled his water bottle and ball and had your hands on his sports tape.

Since you’ve begun this ignore-Kiyoomi-until-he-confesses nothing has happened, other than him glaring at you from across the court every moment you’re in his sight.

Yuyuka’s words ring in your mind. See, he doesn’t like you. You’re always the one to initiate! He doesn’t care about you, girl. Just let him go.

You feel tears welling in your eyes as you mop. Seriously, why are you even this upset over a situationship? Pathetic. He never liked you in the first place. It was just a one-sided misunderstanding. Even when you had walked home together, after all, it was at Komori’s insistence.

But then why had he purchased a Christmas gift for you?

Wait, it couldn’t have been that he had just received those chocolates from other girls and pawned them off to you, right? That sounds like something he'd do.

Fucking asshole.

“I can find someone else,” you mutter to yourself. “Yeah… I can find anyone else, stupid Kiyoomi…”

Lost in your thoughts, you envision yourself dumping him into a pit of mud. That makes you smile.

“Watch out!”

You don’t get the chance to react as a blue volleyball flies towards you at what looks like 500 mph.

“Oof!”

The ball collides with your left shoulder, sending you backwards. You stumble and fall on your butt, humiliated and in pain.

Stupid Kiyoomi!

Now you know he really hates you– no one on the team hits this hard!

“y/n!” The team is rushing towards you as you clench your shoulder.

“I’ll take you–” Iizuna calls out, but he reaches you first.

“Kiyoomi.” You whimper.

Sakusa’s panting, and bright red, but without hesitation, leans down and sweeps you into his arms, bridal-carry style.

“Here we go,” he mumbles as he takes you away, towards the back of the gym.

You close your eyes, burying your head in your hands, shoulder throbbing. God! Anyone but Kiyoomi would have been fine, why’d it have to be him, and why’d they all have to see you being wiped out by a single ball, so embarrassing…

“You’re a dumbass, huh,” Sakusa says as he lowers you onto the bench. Your eyes burn. It’s his fault, and he’s degrading you?

“Seriously. How many times have we told you not to fucking stand there, it’s dangerous, and watch your positioning on court–”

“It’s your fault!” You shout at him. The loud gym awkwardly goes quiet.

Sakusa’s eyes widen, but you just can’t stop yourself.

“You hit it! Why’s it my fault? You’ve been ignoring me!”

Now tears are really streaming down your face.

Your bottom lip is quivering, and Sakusa hates himself that even in your vulnerable state, he’s only consumed with thoughts of biting it.

“But it wasn’t– I didn’t–” Panicked, he looks around wildly, making eye contact with his cousin, who shakes his head as he ushers the rest of the team out of the gym.

Now, in silence, it feels like for the first time, Sakusa can really see you. Not as just the strangely clean manager, but as a confused and heartbroken girl.

“Sorry.”

You take in a small inhale, wiping your eyes. Sakusa reaches forward, grasping your hands. He gently taps your tears away with the sleeve of his sweater. In a shift motion, you suddenly find yourself in his lap, to your surprise.

“Kiyoomi! I’m not clean,” you mumble, “I fell on the floor of the gym, in a spot where I haven’t mopped yet–”

“I don’t care.”

You sit here awkwardly, relishing the feeling of the body heat radiating from his chest.

“Um… ” you start, squeezing your hands into fists.

“I like you. Sorry. I’ve– well, I’m an asshole. I know. And I’ve tried really hard to be more open. But it’s really hard. Not that that’s an excuse, Komori already chewed me out, so I know already. I fucked up, but since the start–”

You can’t help it, you’re pressing your lips against his.

“Wait, y/n, I–” You lean in again, twisting your body carefully so you’re sitting sideways.

You reach up, taking his face into your hands. His curly hair is even softer than you anticipated, no doubt thanks to his carefully selected conditioner.

Sakusa takes a deep breath, looking into your clear eyes. It’s like you’re seeing into him, through him, at the real him– a socially restricted germaphobe riddled with flaws.

But it’s as if you don’t care.

He’ll tell you about his problems later, but for now, he closes his eyes and lets you steal his lips again.

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

“Ooh, it’s so loud,” You whisper to your boyfriend, grasping his hand tightly. As you glance over, you can’t help but smile as you study Sakusa masked up and wrapped up in his hoodie.

It’s the Spring Tournament opening ceremony, meaning that there’s a hell ton of dirty, dirty people. He feels like throwing up, typically he stands in the corner, away from the masses of excited athletes and viewers, but he just doesn’t want to leave your side, especially because who he knows is here– the team’s first opponent, Fukurodani, that boasts a dirty simpleton who also happens to be your ex.

“y/n, I feel sick,” he groans, slumping against you. You giggle, massaging the top of his head with your fingertips.

“y/nnn!” A loud shout rings down the hallway. A familiar silhouette–

“Kotaro!” A grin spreads across your face as your ex and trusty partner in crime, Bokuto Kotaro, skips down the hall towards where you’re standing with Sakusa.

“Aw, it’s been so long, y/n, I’ve missed you!” Bokuto shouts, excitable as ever, inching closer. “Seriously, why’d you have to switch districts? Lemme get a hug!”

You’re shaking off your boyfriend’s arm when Sakusa suddenly shifts, creating a barrier between you and the owl-headed athlete.

“Gross.”

Bokuto looks taken aback, frowning as he identifies the grumpy man on your shoulder.

“Sure, sure, I’ll go wash my hands before touching her,” he grumbles, spinning on his heels.

“No need,” Sakusa says, pulling you closer as Bokuto marches away, arms folded.

“You can ask for a hug when she has to console your loss.”

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a/n urgh i give up. sorry this is so shit. i give up. i've been working on this for so fucking long and it's just so bad. so cringe. but hope you liked or this helped you pass your time LOL this is probably the worst thing i've ever written

*i hate this so much i just skimmed thru it in my final read-through so there may be errors if there are just lemme know pls*

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x reader #hq kiyoomi #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x you

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tw1l1te · 2 months

Text

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼- 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 1

These are from the FinalPromise!Au. Some will be directly from the og Linked Universe, as I don't envision my story as straying tooooo far from the original. I might add more in the future, but these are the ones that I am thinking of for now! This is part 1/3, which includes Time, Twilight, and Wild! :3

Warnings: mention of scars

⋆｡°✩

𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊

Mans in his early 30s in terms of appearance (actual age is unclear)

Speaks Hylian well but writing? Not so much. Growing up in Kokiri Forest doesn't really help in terms of school smarts, so he had Wars and Sky teach him a bit later down the line.

Has a slight Southern accent, way less prominent than Twilight's though. It comes out more when he's tired or being more flirty (Or doing it on purpose to fluster Y/n.)

Him and Malon are exes? It was a situationship, they didn't really put a word on it. She was there after his quest to support him and keep a roof over his head. They're more like family/friends now

Very tall. We're talking over 6 foot here, and he will also use that to tower over Y/n. They're into that

Also pretty muscular. He was more lean muscle when he was a teen/young adult, but he's bulked up especially since donning the armor.

Has rib tattoos, similar to the Deity markings on his face.

Only has his lobes pierced, however he wants to experiment with more piercings like Twilight.

Has some scarring on his stomach from the battle at the Water Temple, its faded over the years but its still noticeable if you look hard enough

Doesn't sleep well, so takes over night watch a lot. Twilight has to stop him from not sleeping for over 48-hours as that gets him into dangerous mental space territory.

I wanna say he's one of the first member of the chain to feel something for Y/n. I see a lot of pics placing him last usually, but I feel like he's one of the first, especially having tons of time to think about it at night and being the eldest.

Although he's one of the earliest to reveal his feelings to Y/n, he's still processing and taking it slow in terms of bringing it up to the rest of the group.

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Time's his great great grandfather?? Some great, he's not quite sure

Twilight's in his early/mid 20's

His hair is a brown-gray mix, the grey becoming more prominent ever since his first time shifting into his Wolf form.

Southern drawl, need I say more

Ears are pierced, has double lobe piercings and an upper cartilage piecing

Pretty tall, close to 6 foot, maybe 5' 11"

Other than the Twili markings on his face, he has a small tattoo of a hoof to commemorate for Epona on his ankle

His markings do extend down his spine and upper arms which make a delicious sight when he's training or above Y/n

Some scarring on his legs and arms from his journey, one longer scar on his right ear from a close call with a Twilight creature once.

Senses are like tripled ever since becoming Wolfie, mr. cowboy can smell things like a mile away.

Similar to Time in terms of build, maybe slightly leaner because of his height

However his voice is the deepest of the group. Mans got the range in octaves and that sexy rasp that he will use to his advantage

Like his ancestor, one of the first to have/admit feelings toward Y/n

However, having a Wolf form also speeds up the feelings of protectiveness obsessiveness... and certain other things.

Has such a sweet tooth.

Loves chocolate so much but ever since Wolfie happened, he can barely eat any 'cause he got that dog in him

Protective of Wild too, other than Y/n, he's probably the only other person that knows what he's been through

𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉

18-19 years old, his adventure has just recently finished

His hair is longer than in his quest to save the princess, though definitely more choppy and wolf cut-like when not in his ponytail

Definitely more lean muscle in terms of build, and is probably average in height

Has triple pieced lobes and a few cartilage piercings, plans on getting more

Left side of his body is heavily scarred, partially deaf in his left ear. Also tends to lose feeling in his left arm and leg, so he prefers to use his right side

Can actually read and speak Hylian How do you think he read everyone's diaries

As we all know, he's one of the best cooks in Hyrule and can cook almost anything, but his favorite thing to make has got to be meat curry and a simple nut cake.

After you came along and introduced him to your foods??? Oh boy he's never been so excited-

Somehow made your favorite foods better than they already were

Closer with Twilight and Legend

Takes longer to catch feelings for you, as the mere concept of feeling toward another person is still a confusing topic for him since his slumber

One of the last ones to catch feelings for you, partially in denial because his belief of not being good enough for you/being very harsh on himself

Twilight almost immediately catches onto Wild's attraction towards you, Wild's not the best at masking nervousness around you

⋆｡°✩

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #linked universe headcanons #final promise au

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gabessquishytum · 1 month

Note

Dream is a bird watcher on a trip with other birders to see exotic birds. The trip is cool, Dream has seen tons of rare birds for the first time live and not just in books, but there is. something. weird going on - Dream thinks that he has a bird following him, that none of the other people on the tour can see, and of which he can't get a clear picture.

The bird is golden - reds and yellows and oranges in so many different shades color its feathers; if Dream wasn't living in the 21st century he would think it was a phoenix - which don't exist and even if they did exist it wouldn't be following Dream around on a birding tour of tropical forests!

At the very least, Dream is going to go out alone and try to get a picture! Then while he's out in the afternoon light all alone, the bird lands on his head. Soon after it jumps down to perch on his forearm; Dream slow reaches out with his other hand to touch this beautiful (stalker) of a bird.

Dream with awed pets: Hello 🤩

Phoenix: Hello. You're lovely 😍 I'm Hob.

Well, it's not every day that what is obviously a mythical creature talks to you and thinks you're pretty, and Dream's just going to roll with it, but ...... WOW!

Hob likes the pretty man - he's all blacks and grays and bone white against the forest greens. Hob wants to keep him, but knows enough of the human world to know that his pretty boy probably can't live in Hob's forest. Hob hasn't played at being human in a long time.

Omg this is fantastic.

One moment Dream is trying to get over the fact that there's a talking bird perched and preening on his arm - and the next moment he's tumbling backwards with his arms full of a whole entire man. Golden skin covered in soft hair, deep brown eyes gazing at him, so much warm flesh under his hands instead of feathers! The man grins mischievously. He practically shimmers with magic, but he really does look like a perfectly normal person. Before Dream can blink, the man isn't even naked anymore - he's appropriately dressed as a tourist in a colourful shirt (the same colours as his wings were, of course) and some indecently tiny shorts.

Dream is stunned. And incredibly curious. So when Hob loops their arms together and happily leads the way out of the forest and back to the resort where the other birders are staying, Dream doesn't complain. Nor does he complain when Hob confidently refers to himself as "Dream's boyfriend, just arrived to join him on this lovely trip".

If Dream didn't know better he'd say he was going mad. But the large golden bird happily nesting in the duvet of his hotel bed, shedding feathers everywhere... he couldn't possibly be imagining that.

Or the kisses that Hob gave him before smugly transforming back into bird form for a nap. Definitely not Dream’s imagination...

#the sandman #dreamling

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soobpricity · 4 months

Text

sweet dreams - kang taehyun

hubby!tyun, use of the word : princess. yn’s family is very 🤨

spend a happy christmas with taehyun. even though yn has been on the verge of a breakdown due to work and family, taehyun is always there to listen and to wish you sweet dreams and a goodnight.

taehyun’s eyes lingered on your body, noticing the way that your line of interest was directed to the couch. he also couldn’t help but noticed that your greeting to him… it wasn’t as lovely as usual. taehyun ran his mind through the past few days, the two of you definitely haven’t gotten into any fights.

he continued to scrub the dirty dishes with the soapy sponge, although he still kept an eye on you, constantly turning around to check up if you were still… alive. he noticed the way that your eyes were closed, but he could tell that you weren’t exactly asleep.

“tyun..” you called out, voice barely even reaching his ears. he turned all the knobs off, water coming to a stop, taking off his gloves. and setting them on the counter.

“yes, love.” he came and sat down at the end of the couch right next to your head, he was careful to not sit on any part of your body including your hair.

“you should take a break, you’ve been at it since the morning.” you spoke up, voice grumbling and your right cheek pressed against the couch. you laid on your right side, pillow underneath your head.

“mm.. i have but i’ve taken a ton of breaks, i just feel pretty energized.. do you need me to do anything for you, princess..?” he questioned, moving a bit closer to you, only to see a wet drop run down your cheek.

“i’m fine, tyun.. i just need to get my laptop out, but it’s right here in my bag.” you replied, touching the bag that was leaned onto the leg of the sofa. taehyun felt quite sad to see you in such a difficult state.

“can you follow me for a second, yn.” he patiently waited for your answer, catching sight as you nodded your head. opening your eyes, you sat up and taehyun could see the sheer sorrow in your face. he offered you his hand, which you were happy to take. he led you into your shared room, he sat you down onto the soft bed that was in the center of the room but against the wall. he looked through your dresser, finding you the christmas pajama that was meant to match with his, but he had an apron on at the moment. “can you change real quickly, and then i’ll be back.. mkay ?”

“mhmm..” you hummed in response, looking at the pajama set that was now in your lap. you had no idea what taehyun was up to, nor was he going to let you find out what he was going to do. you put on the set, opening the door that taehyun had shut to give you some privacy. “tyun…”

taehyun was convinced that he had some kind of superhuman hearing, after all this entire time the volume in your voice hadn’t been very loud. he turned around, seeing you peeking out of your shared bedroom. he simply sent you a soft smile, walking over to you, he grabbed two headbands. one had black cat ears on it and the other was a gray bunny one, he put on the black cat one, pushing back his hair. handing you the remaining one, as you followed his steps.

he led you into the bathroom. your hand in his, before he let you go, taking out your oil cleanser and applying it to your face, before he did the same to his own face, he waited for you to wash your face before he washed his. you couldn’t help but feel your spirits slowly lifted as taehyun did the best he could to make you feel happy.

“what kind of face mask do you want to do today ?” he asked, caressing your cheeks as he noticed the way that your lips started to turn upwards.

“whichever one you’d like, as long as i get to put it on you !” you exclaimed excitement and energy slowly returning to your body. he pressed a kiss to your cheek, picking out a face mask. the two of you took turns placing the mask on each other. which only ends up with you sitting on top of the counter and taehyun’s face looking up at you as you took off the mask after making sure that enough time has passed. he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up as you instinctively clung onto him, your legs embracing his torso. “be careful, tyun !”

“of course i have to be careful, i wouldn’t want to hurt my princess..” he replied, carrying you into the living room where a bunch of snacks were waiting on the coffee table which filled the space between the couch and the tv. “y’know i only really even work out just for you… just so i can treat you like the princess that you are.”

he teased, bringing his lips up to his your cheek, a subtle red blush settling on your face. you were happy to have a partner that showed nothing but love for you. you wished that you could be as affectionate as taehyun, and you do try your best. but taehyun just goes an extra mile.

“maybe i should start going to the gym and treating you like a prince ! i’ll carry you all over the place, hyun !”

“ah, but i love treating you like a princess. you deserve all the love in the world and luckily for you, i’m just the right person to do that for you.” taehyun couldn’t help but smirk, settling himself down on the couch as you practically melted into his arms since he had been carrying you. he grabbed the tv remote, turning on the tv and playing a random christmas movie. he threw a blanket on top of the two of you as you snuggled closer to him.

“tyun…” you called out, eyes still on the screen watching as snow began to fall, introducing the movie’s main character to viewers. taehyun only hummed as a reply, his arm around your waist, his hand caressing your hand. “can we.. or do you want to go visit your family for christmas ?”

“i thought we were going to go see your family ?” taehyun questioned, pausing the movie so that he could put all of his attention on you.

“well… yeah.. we were, but-..”

he heard your small stuttering voice, worried for you. he knew that your family situation wasn’t the best, in fact he fell victim to one of their little accidents. taehyun.. wasn’t supposed to marry you, you were supposed to marry your mother’s friend’s son. so when taehyun proposed to you, he didn’t really have permission to marry, he did it anyways.. and when the two of you showed up to your family’s house for christmas, let’s just say you got a lot of unnecessary comments and nasty stares. however, you made the right choice by getting engaged to taehyun. he spent all night and the day after, making sure that you were okay and that you had no regrets about him. which you didn’t, you also spent that day making sure to show him all of your love, sure you were the prime target of all the rude behavior, but it was bound to hurt taehyun too.

“do you want to spend it here, just with me or with my family ?”

“why don’t we spend the 24th with your family and then on the 25th it can just be us.” you replied, smiling up to your husband, eyes full of love and adoration.

“sounds like a great plan, my princess.”

“by the way… thank you…” you turn your head to look at taehyun.

“for what ?”

“for cheering me up !! you saw that i didn’t have a really good day today and instead of avoiding me.. you took really great care of me, tyun.. you really are the right person to give me all the love in the world, and i’ll try my best to be the person to give you all the love in the universe.”

“of course, i can’t just sit back seeing you so down, you can always talk to me, you can even take out all of your frustrations on me..”

“i wouldn’t ever do that.. you shouldn’t have to live through the consequences of other people. it’s their fault that i felt down so they’ll face the consequences for doing so !” he chuckled, scratching the top of your head, running his hands through your hair.

“should we go to bed ?”

“oooh ! yes, please.”

the two of you moved to your shared bedroom, turning off the tv, realizing that the two of you only even got through 2 minutes of the movie which was barely even the beginning of the movie. you laid down on the right side of the bed, pulling the duvet over your body, as taehyun did the same thing but on the left side of the bed. you immediately moved over to him.

“i really do love you and cherish you, taehyun.”

“i love and cherish you, too.. sweet dreams, my yn.”

©️soobpricity

taglist : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @ye0nvibezzn @yutacchin @kittyhyuka (send asks !!)

#neko’s christmas special 🎄⛄️#tomorrow x together #txt #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt taehyun #tomorrow x together imagine #txt x reader #kang taehyun imagine #kang taehyun imagines #tomorrow x together taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagine #taehyun scenarios #taehyun #taehyun imagines #kang taehyun

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justagirlwholikesadam · 4 months

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Farmer! Sandor Clegane Headcanon

don't own these pics

Summary: Just a few headcanon of Sandor Clegane as a farmer.

A/N: Thinking about this man as a farmer has me down on my knees. Comment and like below, maybe I can do next farmer Sandor meeting reader. Enjoy-L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Warning: SFW, sad childhood, Sandor being himself, dog dad,

Farmer!Sandor always knew he wanted to be a farmer from a young age. He liked working with his hands and moving around. He never wanted a desk job, he couldn't imagine his 6 '6 self sitting on a small computer chair for nine hours a day, five days a week. He had low patience dealing with idiot people, so retail was out of the question, any job that required dealing with people was a no. So far the only thing talking back to him were the animals on the farm and he was content with that.

Farmer!Sandor isn't much of a people person but he will sometimes invite Tormund, a worker from the market he goes to for groceries once in a while over to watch the game or just for a beer. Sandor only does it because Tormund doesn't shut up about coming over. After two six-packs, Tormund isn't so bad to be around and he doesn’t ask him about his scars.

Farmer!Sandor gets up right before the rooster crow at dawn. He likes to watch the sunrise while drinking black coffee. He nibbles on some toast or some corn muffins. On Sunday, he makes a big breakfast meal since it's the only day he rest. Eggs, bacon sometimes with ham and grits.

Farmer!Sandor wears a white beater shirt and his dark coarse chest hair peeks out. It shows off his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, it was all thanks to the hard manual labor he does. He ties his long hair with a black hair band, he keeps a spare around his wrist. He wears old blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Sometimes he wears a flannel shirt, when it gets too hot, he takes it off and wraps it around his hips. He wears these heavy size 12 boots with rubber outsoles on them.

Farmer!Sandor sweats alot after a long day of work. He uses the flannel to wipe the sweat off his forehead, neck and tone arms. He showers immediately after walking into the house. He leaves the boots outside and goes into the shower to clean the dirt and sweat off of his body. He makes sure he cleans himself, rubbing the body wash thoroughly through his chest hair and his long hair.

Farmer!Sandor walks out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. His burn scars are a bit red from being out in the sun all day. He reminds himself for tomorrow to wear his hat. He grabs face cream from the medicine cabinet to help with the redness. Some days Sandor can't stand the sight of him, that's why he liked being alone in his farmhouse. He dislikes the stares and pointing he got when going into town.

Farmer!Sandor still has issues about his face, it has gotten much better after going to the doctors. He has even done surgery for his hair to grow a bit, he usually combs his hair over to cover the slightly bald spot. He applies oils on his beard regularly and it helped his beard grow a bit back. His right brow has grown a bit as well, but the burn scars on his cheek and ear are still very visible.

Farmer!Sandor dresses comfy to get started on dinner. He walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio or sometimes the tv. He's listening to the news while cutting some veggies he has grown from his garden in the backyard. He usually grills his steak in the backyard when he's not tired. Opening a beer, he sits down and eats in silence. Sometimes he eats in front of the tv and watches whatever is playing. He's not picky on what to watch on tv.

Farmer!Sandor was on the field the next day on the tractor when he heard barking. He turns it off and looks over his shoulders to see it was a dog a few feet away from him. There isn't usually strays around, he makes sure of it since he has some chickens and pigs. He walks towards the dog, its shaggy fur is white and gray. Its ears are floppy and its tongue is hanging out as it pants.

“You alright, pup?” He asked, not really expecting it to answer but to his surprise. It barks at him, making him smile.

He carefully stretches his hand out when he notices it wasn't going to bite. He pats its head and even scratches behind its ears. Asking if it wants to eat, the dog’s tail starts wagging like crazy. Sandor decides he’ll have lunch early that day. He smiles once more when he notices it’s following him all the way to the house. He sits outside on the porch swing as he eats his sandwich and drinks a cold glass of ice tea. He watches the dog eat the leftover steak from dinner last night.

Farmer!Sandor decides to keep the dog after it kept following him everywhere for the past week. When he finds out it’s a girl, he decides to name it after his little sister, Ellie. The dog didn’t seem to mind, it followed him whenever he said it. He liked having company, it was less lonely when he wasn’t working. He lets Ellie sleep on the foot of his bed.

Farmer!Sandor doesn't smoke that much, he really only does it when he has a rough day. He’s sitting on the porch swing with a beer in one hand and the cigarette in the other. Since he’s alone, he does alot of thinking as he watches the sunset. He thinks about his life before he started to farm. He has been thinking about his little sister lately since the dog came around. His little sister was his best friend when he was younger. He had told her about his dream of having a farm. He smiles to himself as he remembers her telling him that he had to have horses for her to ride. He promised her that he would when he was a kid he had even promised her that he would have two horses so they could ride together.

Farmer!Sandor didn't have a good childhood, his parents were never around and his older brother was a bully. His older brother was the one to burn him when he was a kid. While holding his face on the hot coals, his little sister tried to help him. She hit the older brother on the back with her tiny fist. Furious that she was hitting him, he had smacked her. He hit her so hard that she fell back and slammed her head on the coffee table. Ellie lost a lot of blood on the way to the hospital and did not survive. His older brother was 18 at the time and was sentenced to prison. Parents couldn't handle it and left Sandor, who was placed in foster care.

Farmer!Sandor gets brought back to reality when he feels Ellie rubbing her head against his knee. He threw the cigarette out and placed the beer on the small table near him. He pats the seat next to him and makes sure that the swing doesn't move as Ellie jumps up next to him. He leans back as she rests her head on his lap. Sandor pats her head softly as he looks over across the field and stares at the half built stable he was building, he was going to get those horses and complete his promise to his sister.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #rory mccann #sandor clegane fanfic #games of thrones #sandor the hound clegane #ua sandor clegane #modern au sandor clegane #rorymccann

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mysticallystilinski · 5 months

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ROSES [ coriolanus x fem!reader ]

desc. EVERY DAY CORYO GAVE YOU ROSES, BUT ONE WAS DELIVERED TO A SONG-BIRD

has : angst, jealousy, unloyal coryo, ooc!coryo (kind)

a new day meant a new delivery of roses. coriolanus stopped by your house away from the capital to hand deliver his fresh picked roses from grand’mam. she has especially started to plant just for you, since she knew it was coryos specialty.

a knock was brought upon your door at exactly 12:00 pm sharp each day. this day in hand, coryo had been running a little late. you knew it was the arrival of the hunger games tributes so he had tons of pressure upon him.

you had decided to venture to try to find him, he was supposed to be back at your place by 11:00 am. your first stop was the train station. it had been worn down, and only used in the most certain of cases. it was known that all the tributes would have been dropped off there and then taken away.

coryo wasn’t supposed to be there, he was supposed to be with the other mentors at the capital. you arrived at the station to find guards surrounding the platform. they knew you as you were the daughter of panems president. you approached them slowly, not batting an eye. “hello miss y/n, what are you doing here?”, they questioned.

you were faced with a problem, either lie to them, or face the truth. “father said i could take a look at the tributes before they are set up” you responded. it was an obvious lie, but they had to believe you. “go right ahead”, they motioned towards the platform.

farther down the platform, you could see a tall figure with bleach blonde hair. you smiled in relief as coryo was just waiting for his tribute, lucy gray. the train slowly approached and came to a sudden stop. the guards stayed positioned at their designated places. a few of the guards opened the train doors to reveal the tributes.

out stepped lucy gray, the song-bird. her long black hair flowed in the wind, and coryo had stopped in his tracks. your face contorted when he was met with her. a bright smile appeared on his face as he dug into his pocket. “for you”, he stated handing over a bright white rose. she had plucked a petal from its bud, “when i was little, my momma used to bathe me in butter milk and rose petals.”

lucy slightly smiled when faced with the memory. her smile caused coryo to light up at the thought. another tribute fell upon the platform from the height of the train. “goodluck with that gorgeous”, she smirked. she took the rose from him and headed off to where the guards directed her. he stared at her as she made her way past you and gave a devilish smirk.

it was known that you and coriolanus had been together, even by the tributes. it wasn’t a coincident that lucy had been flirting with coryo. he locked eyes with you as soon as lucy had brushed her way upon you. you looked down when you heard footsteps approach you at once.

the color of your dress, a light pink became blurry as your eyes filled with tears. you felt coryos hand grasp upon yours. you lifted your head up to be astonished with an angry coriolanus. “what are you doing here”, he hushed. he tightened your hand and took you to a private corner. “i was just trying to look for you.” he looked around as your voice cracked through your sobs.

“why did you give her that rose?”, you looked up at him. “i was just trying to be nice y/n, she is my tribute after all”, he whispered harshly. your eyes swelled up as your tears began to dry. “i have to leave y/n, i need to go help lucy.” you felt him ungrasp your hand. you looked up upon him, and stared into his eyes.

he unlocked eye contact with you and was gone in a flash. you saw him headed towards the carriage full of tributes. when the guards weren’t looking, he hopped in and the back was instantly shut. it was hard dealing with coryo sometimes, you thought while standing alone in the corner. he isn’t the same as he used to be.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games master list #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games fic #hunger games fandom #tom blyth #president snow #coriolanus x y/n

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 3 months

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Never Say Never

Chapter 9

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 8.4K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

“Would you stop stressing? You look like a million bucks,” Dustin told Steve. He leaned back against the bathroom wall, watching Steve in the mirror as he ran his fingers through his hair for the twelfth time. “She already knows what you look like, dude. This isn’t your first time meeting.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, lips pressing together as he surveyed his reflection. “Do you think the button-down is too much? It’s too much, isn’t it? I should change into something more casual.”

“No, man,” Lucas groaned. “That’s the seventh shirt you’ve put on. It’s not too much. It’s perfect for a first date. It’s a button-down but it’s loose and short sleeved.” He stepped up, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders and turning him around. He unbuttoned the top two buttons, revealing a bit of the undershirt. “There. Now it’s nice but also casual. It says this is important to you but also that it’s going to be an easygoing and fun time. Best of both worlds.”

“Plus, she gets a little peek of the chest hair.” Dustin rolled his eyes, snorting. “I still don’t get it but apparently, the ladies dig the jungle you’ve got going on. Maybe it takes them back to their primal instincts. You know, caveman days? The hairier, the more manly, the better they’ll be able to conk things over the head and provide?”

Steve sighed, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling, “Seriously, Henderson? This seems like a good time to compare me to a caveman?”

“Yeah, you can’t be doing that,” Lucas teased, ruffling Steve’s hair.

“Dude! Seriously!?” Steve protested, shoving him off before turning back to the mirror, fingers working to fix it once again.

“Calm down,” laughed Lucas. “Our Stevie’s all nervous and you’re only making it worse, Dustin. He’s got a mad crush on hot single mom. I mean, our man has got it bad and he’s Steve which means he has a high probability of being a doofus and potentially destroying his only shot at his soulmate. Then our poor Steve would be doomed to spend eternity all alone and pathetic with nothing but Miles to keep him warm at night.”

“Jesus, you guys suck, you know that? I really don’t know why I keep you around.”

“Because you love us and your life would be a barren wasteland of boredom and monotony without the pleasure of our company,” stated Dustin.

“Come on, Steve,” Lucas snorted, throwing his shoulder into him. “You know we’re just messing with you. You’re going to be fine. From what we saw, this girl likes you just as much as you like her. She wouldn’t have agreed to go out with you otherwise.”

“Yeah. You two have already spent tons of time together. You really think she’d agree to hang out with you as much as she has if she didn’t like you? Do you really think she would have agreed to a date if she wasn’t crushing too? Trust me. This date is going to go great.”

Steve turned back to the mirror, assessing his image one more time. His hair was definitely working for him tonight, swooping to the side perfectly. Herbal Essences Flexible Airspray wasn’t quite like the Farrah Fawcett spray used to be for him but it did an okay job. He wore a yellow linen button down, short sleeved to keep cool with the weather that was quickly moving more toward summer temps. Nothing said unsexy like nasty pit stains and body odor. He’d paired it with a white tank underneath and gray dress slacks.

His body hummed with anticipation but also with nerves. He couldn’t wait to pick you up but he also couldn’t help dreading it a bit. All of this time he’d spent hoping, wondering if it would ever actually happen, and now was the big moment. He would either soar or fall flat on his face. This was going to be the moment of truth. He wanted to make a good impression. He wanted this to be successful. He wanted you to want to go for date number two.

The other night had been perfect. You'd ordered pizza and watched Air Bud with the boys. Steve had set up sleeping bags on the living room floor to make it a true sleepover. But he hadn’t gotten much sleep, continually waking to ensure that you were still breathing. Robin might be neurotic but her words had gotten to him as he watched your chest closely to ensure it was still rising and falling. Miles, who’d chosen to sleep on your feet on the couch, kept giving him a look that said calm down, man. I’m right here. I got her.

Steve had made everyone french toast for breakfast and put coffee in a thermos for you before you headed back home to get ready for work. The scene in front of him had done a number on his head. Steve plopping hot bacon on their plates while the boys chattered about a new superhero scenario they were going to play at recess, you grinning at them, was picture perfect. The hugs as you headed out the door, Jeremiah even running forward to hug your legs and tell you he was so happy you were okay, sent him reeling. Not because it was weird but because it wasn’t. When you hugged him, kissed his cheek, thanking him for the coffee and taking care of you, he realized he could get used to this. Mornings with you. Evenings with you. Your little families together and while it was a bit scary that he was thinking this so quickly, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted it.

Jeremiah came walking into the bathroom, Mike right on his heels. The guys had all agreed to watch him tonight so Steve could go out. They were planning on some DnD, a campaign they’d started with him a couple weeks ago and his son had been overjoyed when he’d found out that not only was his dad going out with Eli’s mom but that he was getting to hang with his uncles.

Steve turned to his son, spreading his arms out, “What do you think, Jere? Do I look good?”

His son pressed his thumb and forefingers together, giving him the okay sign along with a wink, “You look great daddy. Eli’s mommy is going to think you’re super handsome.”

“Thanks, kid.” He lifted Jeremiah up into his arms, mourning for a moment how big his son was getting, how time was slipping away like sands through a sieve that he couldn’t catch no matter how hard he tried. It wouldn’t be too much longer before he didn’t want to be picked up anymore, didn’t want to climb in his lap, didn’t want to snuggle down in his bed with a book at bedtime. Steve found himself grasping at his son’s childhood, willing it to just slow down a bit.

“Remember to be a gentleman, daddy,” Jeremiah reminded him. “Open the door for her and pull out her chair. And make sure you listen when she’s talking and ask questions about her. Ladies like when guys listen.”

Steve’s head darted back, looking in surprise at his kid. “And how exactly do you know that?”

“I heard Aunt Max and Aunt El saying they hate when Uncle Lucas and Uncle Mike don’t listen to them,” he answered with a shrug. “Aunt Max said she talks to a wall. I don’t really know why. That seems kind of silly because a wall can’t talk but she was definitely annoyed that Uncle Lucas doesn’t listen.”

Lucas and Mike shared a look, eyes wide, clearly realizing that they were being called out by a seven year old. Steve laughed, setting his son back on the ground. Jeremiah was a little too observant for his own good sometimes. He was always listening to everything around him and knew far more than he should for only being seven.

“Hmm, sounds like maybe Uncle Lucas and Uncle Mike need to be less worried about my date and more worried about their own love lives. How are you going to give me advice when your own wives are complaining about you?”

“I listen!” Lucas argued, his hand coming to his chest in offense. “But sometimes she wants to talk to me when a basketball game is on and come on. You know what that’s like. Would you be listening if you were watching a game?”

“If the woman I loved had something to say, absolutely,” Steve stated. “Your wife should come above everything, my friend. And you are damn lucky to have Max. If you’re not listening to her, the next thing you know you’re going to be losing her.”

“I’m not losing her,” scoffed Lucas. “If anyone should be worried about losing their wife, it’s Mike. He’s got El working herself to the bone because he’s too much of a pussy to send his book out.”

“Whoa!” Steve yelled, covering his son’s ears with his hands. “Language, dude. Come on.”

“I am not a pussy!” Mike snapped, causing Steve to yell again as he pressed harder. Jeremiah swatted at his hands but he held them firm. “I am polishing it, okay? It’s not as simple as just sending it out. Do you know how many people try to get a book published every year? It has to stand out. It has to be great. It has to be perfect. I’m just…”

“Just what? You’ve been polishing that thing for over a year. Come on, Mike. We all know you’re scared of rejection.”

“I…what…no!”

Dustin sighed, “Guys, seriously? Come on. No one’s wife is leaving them. And Mike, you’re scared and you know it but rejection is part of the process. John Grisham had his first novel rejected thirty times before someone decided to give it a shot and look at him now. You have to shit or get off the pot at this point because El can’t keep supporting you both forever. At this rate you’re going to be fifty and still working on the same damn book. And Lucas, just mute the damn game and listen to your wife. It’s not that hard. And Steve, you’re going to be fine so stop turning this around on these guys because you don’t want to talk about you. Get your nerves under control, man, or you’re going to be a spaz on your date. Jesus Christ, bunch of children.”

“Who are you to talk? You don’t even have a girl so how are you giving us advice?” challenged Mike. “Suzie dumped you.”

“It was mutual!” Dustin seethed. “She couldn’t walk away from her family and her faith so it was impossible for us to be together. I wasn’t willing to move there and she wasn’t willing to move here and after all that time, long distance was too damn hard. We both decided it was for the best but when I had her, I listened and I was a damn good boyfriend so I have plenty of room to talk.”

“Daddy!” Jeremiah yelled, pulling at his hands.

“Oh, sorry bud.” He removed his hands, placing them on his shoulders. “Alright, everybody needs to just take a breath and calm down or I’m not leaving you with my kid. I can give Robin a call if all of you need to go home and take a time out from each other.”

“No…we’re fine,” Dustin told him. “Right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” shrugged Lucas.

Mike sighed, “We’re good.”

Steve released a long breath, shaking his head. He loved these guys but they still had a lot of growing up to do. They might be twenty-six but they were still figuring out life. Hell, he was still figuring out life and he was thirty-two. Dustin wasn’t entirely wrong. He had to get out of his own head or he’d be a mess tonight.

Nervous energy still radiated through his body. He was doing this. He was going to go for it. He was going to try opening up, allowing himself to be vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been since Nance. He wanted this to work and if it was going to work then he had to allow you in, to see all of it, the good and the bad. You might not think he had any flaws but he had plenty and you were bound to notice them if the two of you crossed this line. He only hoped you were willing to try in spite of them.

“Alright. I have to get going if I am going to be on time picking her up. Are you guys going to behave while I’m gone or do I need to ask Robin to come check up on you?”

“No, man. We’re fine,” snorted Mike. “Besides, she’s with El and Max. They were going out to dinner and then to a movie. If you call her then they’ll show up too and they’ll be annoyed as hell.”

“Yeah and then we’ll never hear the end of it,” Lucas told him. “Max already thinks I’m a giant child. I don’t need her having any more ammunition.”

“Good. Then you kids have fun playing your game and I will see you later, okay?”

“We’re hoping not,” Dustin grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as a purring sound rolled through his throat, causing the others to grimace. “We can always stay the night if the date goes really well.”

“Come on,” Steve groaned, wrinkling his nose. “One, don’t make that noise. How many times do we have to tell you that it's not cute like you think it is? Two, I am a gentleman and I respect her and I am not going to be doing that on the first date. And three, don’t even insinuate about my sex life, man. That’s gross.”

“What’s sex?”

Steve’s hand covered his face at the sound of his son’s voice. Shit.

“And you ear muffed him because of us?” Lucas teased with a smile.

“Shut it,” warned Steve, jabbing his finger into his chest. “It’s nothing for you to worry about Jere. It’s grown-up stuff.”

“Grown-up stuff? Is it like when you kiss with your tongue?”

“How do you know about that!?”

Jeremiah shrugged, “I saw it on tv. Aunt Robin was watching a movie and they were kissing and then their tongues were in each other’s mouth and it looked gross. Why would you want someone else’s spit in your mouth?” The little boy shuddered.

“Oh kiddo,” mused Lucas, an arm coming around his shoulders. “You have so much yet to learn.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, “Nothing he better learn any time soon and Aunt Robin and I need to have a conversation about what she has on the television when she’s watching you.” He glanced over at the clock. “Jesus. I need to go. Seriously…” He pointed at each guy in turn. “If I get home and Jere informs me of anything else he’s learned, your ass is grass, do you understand me?”

Dustin held his hands up, “He won’t learn anything from me.”

Mike shook his head, “Me either.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t teach him anything…until he’s a bit older,” Lucas said, lifting his eyebrows. “What’s an uncle for if not to guide him in the ways of women?”

“I think Max would argue that your guidance is unnecessary,” Steve snorted. “Seriously, just…behave!”

“Yes sir!” they all mocked, two fingers coming to their foreheads in a salute.

__________________________________________________________

“Absolutely not,” Janice declared, shaking her head as you held up a blue dress.

“Why? It’s a dress.”

“It’s a dress that screams I am a good, pious girl who goes to church every Sunday and does not believe in premarital sex.”

Your eyes rolled towards the heavens, “I don’t even go to church, Janice, and I was having sex long before Justin and I got married. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

“Exactly,” your friend stated, pulling a burgundy dress from your closet, presenting it in front of you. “So, let’s not give off the wrong vibe. This dress has a plunging neckline and a short hem. It screams kiss me, touch me, ravish me, and that is exactly the kind of vibe we want to give Mr. Perfect tonight.”

Hands on your hips, your head tilted, “So you want me to give the impression that I’m cheap and easy?”

“Cheap? Absolutely not. Easy? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“It’s a first date!”

“Is it, though? I mean, you guys have already hung out quite a few times. Like four already or something. You are well beyond the third date rule at this point.”

“Those weren’t dates,” you argued. “We were just hanging out.”

“Together. You have already gotten to know each other a bit and you know you like him.”

“Yeah because his son and all his friends told me.”

“And thank god for them!” Janice exclaimed. “Who knows how long it would have taken you two to finally admit the burning sexual desire that’s been pulsing between your legs for weeks. I would say those are some damn good friends because now you two can finally stop dancing around each other and do the horizontal mambo already.”

“Jesus. Janice, I am not having sex with him on the first date.”

“Honey, that vagina hasn’t seen any action in over two years. I can practically hear her begging for some relief.” She bent forward, hand next to her ear. “Yup. Can you hear that? She’s telling you she needs this. If not for you, do it for her.”

“You’re insane,” you mumbled, shoving her head away.

“No, I’m not. Can you honestly stand there and tell me you haven’t thought about jumping in the sheets with that man?”

Your face reddened, your eyes dropping to your bare feet. No, you couldn’t say that, not honestly. Of course you'd thought about what he’d be like in bed. What woman wouldn’t? Of course you'd envisioned your hands gripping those strong arms, your fingers tangled in that luscious hair, those lips…those fucking perfect lips and what they could make you feel.

But that didn’t mean you were going to jump into bed with him after date one. What kind of signal did that send? You were hoping this would become something, something meaningful, something lasting. You didn’t want to be some one-night stand or some friend with benefits. You weren't even sure how the two of you would handle being on a date, completely alone, without the kids as a buffer.

“You have! You so have!”

“Obviously I have. I’m attracted to him so obviously I’ve thought about him like that but it doesn’t mean I have to act on it right now. It’s…look, it’s been a while. I’ve only been with Justin for the last decade of my life. I’m a bit out of practice and he is definitely not out of practice. It sounds like he’s dated quite a few of the women in this town.”

“Oh girl, there is no such thing as out of practice. From what you told me, you and Justin had an excellent sex life. Besides, men are really not that hard to please. You need to be more worried about your pleasure. If he’s been around the block, maybe he’s not that good.”

“Jesus Christ!” you smacked her in the arm.

Janice shrugged with a smirk, “I’m just saying. Maybe you’re not the one you should be worried about. But no worries. You can always train him.”

“He’s not a puppy.”

“You sure? The way you describe him kind of makes him sound like he is. Ugh. I cannot wait to finally set eyes on this man. I have been dying to see if he is as damn hot as you claim.”

“He is. I assure you. He is.”

“I will be the judge of that. Now come on, get that dress on so we can get your hair and make-up done. Your man’s going to be here in an hour.”

One hour. One hour before you headed out on your first date with Steve, your first, first date in over a decade. One hour before Steve decided whether he actually wanted you or just liked the idea of you. One hour to see if the course of your life was heading in an entirely new direction.

____________________________________________________________

“Mommy, you look beautiful,” Eli said, Matt whistling, as you descended down the steps after Janice finally deemed you ready for your date.

You flashed your teeth, sweeping your arms out as you did a little bow, “Why, thank you. You can actually thank your Aunt Janice for that. She basically dressed me and styled me like I was her doll.”

Janice huffed from behind you, “I had to. You should have seen what she was trying to wear out with this man. You would have thought she was heading off to teach Sunday School instead of locking down this deal.”

“What deal?” asked Eli.

Matt laughed, “Your aunt just means that she wanted to make sure your mom looked really pretty for Steve.”

“But Steve already thinks my Mommy is pretty even when she wears jeans. I don’t think he cares if she has all kinds of colors on her face.”

You smiled at your son, placing your hand on top of his head, “Thank you little man. That’s what I was trying to get your aunt to understand. The man saw me first thing in the morning. If that didn’t scare him away, I don’t think a more conservative dress would have.”

“I’m not saying you’d scare him away but you want to send the message that you’re open for business.”

“What kind of business? I thought you helped kids. Are you starting a business, mommy?”

Matt let out an uproarious laugh as Janice cringed, shrugging, you shooting daggers at both of them. It was amazing your son didn’t know all about the birds and the bees with the best friend you had. Janice would learn soon enough with her and Matt trying for a baby. Once she had a little one around maybe she’d be a bit more discreet but you doubted it. Her kid would be the one explaining human anatomy to all the other kids on the playground.

“Mommy is not starting a business,” you stated, hoping he’d let it drop there as you leaned over, your hands on his shoulders. “Now, you be good for Aunt Janice and Uncle Matt, okay? I probably won’t be home before your bedtime.”

“We can always stay over if things go really well,” sang Janice.

“Are you having a sleepover with Steve?” Eli asked with a wide grin. “Sleepovers are the most fun!”

“Sleepovers are the most fun!” shrieked Janice.

“No,” you stated, glaring at your best friend. “No. I am not. I will be here in the morning when you wake up.”

“Dream crusher,” muttered Janice.

“You know, you could just let her take this at her own pace,” her husband told her.

“If I let her take this at her own pace, it will never happen. His friends had to basically tell them to go on this date or these two would still be dancing around each other like middle schoolers with crushes. Punching each other in the arm and running away instead of announcing their feelings and getting on with it.”

“Mommy and Steve have never punched each other. That wouldn’t be very nice. Friends don’t hurt each other.”

“Oh kid, you have so much still to learn,” guffawed Matt, ruffling his hair. “Lucky for you, you’ve got me.” He winked, leaving your son looking even more confused just as three firm raps sounded at the door.

You straightened, spinning around. Janice beamed, bouncing up and down on her heels. Eli let out a clap and a squeal. Matt just laughed again, shaking his head at all of them.

“Is someone actually going to answer the door or are we going to leave the poor man standing on the porch?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, trying to get the lump of nerves that was currently lodged in your throat down. You wanted to tell all of them to go away but that was never going to happen. Janice had been dying to lay eyes on him from the moment you had told her about him. Your best friend was not going to be convinced to leave.

This was it. Moment of truth. You stepped forward, hand on the doorknob, inhaling deeply through your nose. You were doing this. Either it would go well and your life would become infinitely different but you had to believe also better or it wouldn’t and everything would stay the same. Same wasn’t so bad. Different would be amazing…better would be even more amazing, but the worst case scenario wasn’t so bad. If Steve didn’t want to pursue anything after tonight you would survive. Of course you would. You'd survived so much worse already. You could handle one small date, dinner, possibly drinks, maybe some dessert.

You swung open the door, the air from the outside rushing in just as the air in your body rushed out. Steve seemed to have that effect on you. It was hard not to when he always looked so damn handsome but god, he looked even better tonight. Yellow was his color, bringing out the green and gold in those heavenly eyes. He flashed you a smile and your knees wobbled as he produced a bouquet of bright pink peonies from behind his back.

“Wow,” he breathed, his eyes running from the top of your head to the tip of your toes and back again. “You look…incredible.”

“You too,” you managed, taking the flowers as he held them out to you. “Thank you. These are beautiful. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. First date, right? It’s kind of a requirement and, you know, I have to make a good impression.”

Eli pointed at him and winked with a big smile and Steve returned the gesture.

“Oh, you’ve got that locked down,” came Janice’s voice from behind you as she stepped forward, looking over Steve appreciatively. “Damn. She told me you were gorgeous enough to be on television. I thought she was exaggerating but she definitely wasn’t. Look at that hair. Jesus, what products do you use to get it to do that?”

Your stomach rolled with embarrassment, a flash of heat creeping up your neck and across your cheeks. Janice was extremely candid and blunt without ever feeling an ounce of shame. But the words that came out of her mouth often caused you to feel just that.

“Uh…thanks. It’s Herbal Essences. I use the Flexible Airspray to get it exactly where I want it,” he stammered.

“Well, it works. Have you seen how thick it is? Jesus, you just want to run your fingers through it, don’t you?” Janice murmured, rising on her tiptoes, her eyes glued to his hair. “And those eyes and wow, look at that chest hair. Damn girl. You done good.”

“Excuse my wife,” Matt sighed, stepping in, placing his arm around her waist as he gently eased her back and away from Steve. You shot him a look of gratitude and he winked. “She just says whatever she’s thinking.”

“Oh, I have a friend who does the same thing,” chuckled Steve with a wave of his hand. “No big deal. I’m used to it. You must be Janice and Matt. She's told me a lot about you.”

“She’s told me a lot about you too,” Janice smirked. “And you sound like a pretty great guy. You better be exactly how you sound. You take care of my girl because if you hurt her…”

“Steve won’t hurt my mommy. He took good care of her when she fell down,” Eli interrupted angrily.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “And on that note, how about we get going before they humiliate me more or Janice has a chance to threaten you any further?”

“Sounds good,” agreed Steve with a nod. “Have fun tonight, little man.”

“Have fun!” Eli yelled, waving.

You closed the door behind you with a relieved sigh, offering Steve a smile as he offered you his hand, leading you toward his car. You loved your friend but Steve would never want to see you again if he was threatened with the pain of death if anything went wrong.

“I am so sorry about all of that,” you muttered as he opened your door for you and you slid inside.

“No worries,” he assured with a laugh, sliding into the driver's seat. “Are you forgetting how embarrassing my friends are? She’s just looking out for you like they were for me. I get it. Although she was oddly obsessed with my hair.”

“Who isn’t obsessed with your hair?” you teased as he pulled away from the house. This was it. It was happening. You were about to have your first date in over a decade that wasn't Justin. Glancing out the window, you willed your body to relax. This was going to be fine. You could do this.

___________________________________________________________

Steve opened the door to Sage and Salt, his hand finding its way to your lower back as he guided you into the restaurant. The place was a tiny oasis of elegance and charm in the otherwise small-town feel of Hawkins, providing a little taste of what luxury felt like, which was precisely what the owner had been going for. The decor was a mixture of old-world charm and modern sophistication. Lighting made softer as it shone through stained glass fixtures created a romantic atmosphere.

Prior to its opening, the only restaurant that would be considered nice was Enzo’s, a popular Italian place just down the block. After seven first dates there, Steve couldn’t have choked down another breadstick if he’d wanted to. The whole town had rejoiced when a new dining option had opened.

“Steve!”

His head turned, giving the caller of his name a wide, warm smile as she swooped in, wrapping him in a hug, the only motherly hug he’d ever truly experienced in his life. The tiny woman held on tightly before turning to you, her smile getting even wider.

“And who is this vision of loveliness?”

“Joyce, this is Y/N,” he introduced, his arm coming around his date, hand lightly wrapping around your bicep. “And this is Joyce. She’s basically Hawkins mama.”

“Really? The whole town’s mama?” you asked with a breezy chuckle, the sound filling Steve’s head like a song he just wanted to listen to over and over again. “That’s quite a responsibility.”

Joyce rolled her eyes, “Well, you know, when your son brings home half the town, what are you going to do? It started with the boys. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas and all their DnD stuff. Then came the girls, Max and El. Lucas’s little sister Erica was deemed cool enough to join at one point. And then this one started dating Mike’s sister and became Dustin’s honorary big brother so he and Robin joined the crew. I swear my house was constantly filled to the brim. They barely fit inside that little place. And of course now, with my son married to Nancy and step-dad to Steve’s little boy…” She shrugged. “We’re all just family now.”

You looked over at Steve, wide-eyed. He had not warned you or prepared you for this. Sure, from the outside looking in, he could see how strange it would be that he was so close to his ex-wife’s new husband’s mom but he’d been close to Joyce for years. That wasn’t going to change. He’d had two choices when everything went to shit and then Nancy and Jonathan had grown closer. He could accept it and make the best of it or he could be bitter and make things difficult for everyone. The choice seemed pretty obvious to him.

“Wow, that’s…incredible. And do you own this place?” you inquired.

“Me? No. I just help out around here doing whatever needs doing. My son, Will, is the one who owns it. He opened it a few years ago. Have you met him?”

“No. I haven’t. Not yet.”

“He’s here tonight. He’s in the back right now working on the schedule but ’ll send him out to say hi. His husband, Nolan, is our chef,” Joyce beamed. “That’s how they met. It’s a cute story but I’ll let him tell it. Now, why don’t you two take that table over there in the back?” She winked at you. “We save that table just for our special guests and I’ll have Will head on out to take your order in a bit.” She elbowed Steve gently, mouthing, “She’s gorgeous!”

She didn’t have to tell him that. He was surprised to find he was still standing, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from under him, when the front door opened. That red dress hugged you in all the right places and the color was spectacular on you. You were always beautiful but you were absolutely stunning tonight.

The table Joyce had directed you to was a small rounded booth set in the back of the restaurant, a little space where the two of you couldn’t be seen by the other diners thanks to a small wooden wall that raised up behind it. Joyce knew how chatty the residents of Hawkins could be and he sent her a silent thank you for allowing you privacy. The minute anyone caught sight of you both, they would be the talk of the town. And that, he didn’t mind. But he didn’t want people feeling the need to approach your table, interrupting your dinner to gush over how cute you two were. And having been raised here, that is exactly what some of these residents would do.

“So,” you began as he slid in next to you, “you failed to mention that your ex-wife married your friend.”

“Well, it hadn’t really come up,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t know if anyone would have qualified Jonathan and I as friends. I mean, definitely not in high school. He was the weird, loner kid. He did photography for the school paper. That was how he and Nance knew each other. But I guess we became friends the more I hung out with the little twerps. We all just kind of got thrown together and then, yeah, we all hung out. I needed people my own age sometimes. Anyway, when Nance and I split, he was just around for her, you know? Just as a friend at first but then they started feeling more and they were really honest with me about it.”

“And you weren’t upset?”

Steve’s fingers drummed over the table, “Actually, no. You’d think I would be. I suppose I had a right to be. Of all the people she could find, she chose someone who was already so intricately woven into our lives. But I wasn’t. If anything, I guess I thought it was better that way. Jere already knew him. Jonathan’s been a part of everything. I think it made it easier for him to just slide right in. And he’s never expected Jere to call him dad. He’s just Jonathan to him and that’s alright with everyone. But he loves my kid and he’s damn good to him. I mean, what more could I possibly ask for?”

“You have got to be the most mature man to ever exist,” you commented, tucking a strand of hair, the exact same strand he’d been longing to push back, behind your ear.

“I don’t know about that but it works for us, you know? We’re a family. Nance and I are connected forever because we have a kid. We might have failed at the marriage part but we created one perfect boy. I love that kid more than anything so why wouldn’t I want the best for him? And what’s best for him is everyone he loves working together in his best interests. Trust me, it’s so nice to have a third person to help.”

“I’ll have to trust you on that one. I don’t even have a second person…”

Your voice trailed off softly and before he could consider what he was doing, Steve’s hand was on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Your skin was so soft. It was like running his fingers across silk. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, raising a kid alone. He knew you had your friend but to not have a true partner, someone who was just as invested in this kid you’d created as you were…it had to be so damn hard.

Everything that happened with him was on you. Every emotion you had to bear on your own. Every triumph Eli experienced you celebrated alone. Every injury or illness, you worried alone. Every heartbreak he would experience you would have to heal on your own. But maybe not. Maybe not if this thing went the way he hoped.

“You do now,” he assured you, swallowing down his desire to press his lips against yours, the way he’d been wanting to since that first moment he’d turned around and your mouth had formed that perfect little o, that small gasp that fell from those lips creating a need in him to swallow it down.

“That’s really sweet of you but we don’t even know how this is…”

Steve cut you off, “I told you. It doesn’t matter how this goes. I mean, it does. I want it to go well but even if it doesn’t, I am not going anywhere. Jere loves Eli so regardless of what happens with us, the two of us are going to stay a part of your lives.”

“Steve,” you began but you were interrupted when a young guy approached your table.

“Hey. Mom said you were here and told me I needed to come over and say hello,” he said with a shy smile, offering his hand out to you. “I’m Will.”

“Y/N,” you grinned, taking his hand. “It’s so good to meet you.”

“You too. I’ve already heard all about you from everyone else.”

“Oh, great. That’s just great. Including my embarrassing fall complete with passing out, I assume?”

He laughed, “Yeah. But if it makes it any better, they did tell me they were mostly at fault for that. Sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong is kind of their speciality.”

“So I’ve noticed.” And there was that laugh again. “This is your restaurant? I’m sorry to say that I’ve never been here before. I guess I didn’t really have a reason to…” That sadness passed over your face again and without thinking, Steve’s hand covered yours, wishing he could take it from you, absorb it into his own skin so you never had to look like that again. You shook your head, smile firmly back in place. “Anyway, it’s amazing in here. I love the feel of the place.”

“Thanks. If you love the feel, just wait until you taste the food. Nolan is an artist when it comes to cooking.”

“And speaking of artists, our Will here is an artist. All the artwork on the walls is his,” Steve told you, gesturing around them to the eclectic variety of paintings that adorned the space.

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening, taking in the various canvases around the space. Steve warmed at the way Will’s cheeks pinkened, his mouth curving up slightly. He might struggle with taking compliments but it didn’t mean he didn’t deserve all of them. Will was an amazing artist. It wasn’t something that was bringing in big income but Steve loved that he never gave it up. The kid needed the outlet. He always had.

“You painted these? Are you kidding me? These are amazing.”

Will shrugged, “Thanks. It’s just…I don’t know, a hobby I guess.”

“Oh, don’t be modest. You’ve sold quite a few paintings over the years,” Steve reminded him.

“I guess. June bought a few for the coffee shop. I have one hanging in Enzo’s. And I actually was featured in an art show in Indianapolis last year and sold six of them. But it’s just a side thing. The restaurant is my real job.”

“Sounds to me like you have two jobs,” you replied. “Both you get to be your own boss and having this still allows you to do what you love. You’re living the dream!”

“I guess,” he grinned. “I never looked at it like that, but yeah. I am pretty much living my dream.” Will cleared his throat, winking at Steve. “Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your meal any further. I will make sure Nolan whips up something amazing for you both, on the house. You two enjoy your dinner.”

“Thanks. And you two better make it over soon. I haven’t seen your faces in far too long, kid.”

“We will. We will,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes. “It was really nice meeting you. Enjoy guys.”

“Thanks Will,” you smiled. “It was so nice to meet you.” Resting your chin on top of your fist, you turned those beautiful eyes on Steve. “Are you just friends with all the nicest people?”

“In Hawkins? Possibly.”

“It explains so much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve inquired with a chuckle, pausing to thank the waiter when he deposited a bottle of wine, compliments of the owner. The man poured you both a small glass, waiting for your approval before moving along.

“Well, you can tell a lot about a person based on the people he has around him. You have to be one of the kindest, most generous, and patient people I have ever met. The more I see of your world around you, the more it makes sense.”

“You’ve met Robin, right?” he scoffed, lifting his glass to his lips. “I have to have the patience of a saint to be best friends with her.”

“But you don’t. You don’t have to be friends with her. You didn’t have to step in as honorary big brother to Dustin. You certainly didn’t need to then become honorary big brother to a bunch of other kids. You didn’t have to be kind to Nancy and stay friends when you split. You didn’t have to maintain friendships with all of these people who are intricately tied to what was possibly the biggest heartbreak of your life. But you did and you do because they’re worth it. You saw in them what you wanted for yourself. Steve Harrington, you have created a family around you, something it sounds like you were missing growing up. You’ve surrounded your son with a warm family and so much support and love, the kind you didn’t have growing up.” You tilted your head, analyzing him in a way that made him nervous. “You’re kind of amazing.”

“Amazing enough for a second date?”

“Well, we’ll have to see how the rest of dinner goes but I have to say, I really like your chances so far,” you teased, eyes twinkling under the low light.

____________________________________________________________

Your entire body hummed pleasantly as Steve drove toward your house. For all of your concern, your date could not have gone more perfectly. The conversation flowed easily, the food had been excellent, and Steve had continually found little moments to touch you in some fashion. His hand on yours, his fingers brushing over your arm, his palm coming to rest on your knee. Even now, his fingers were locked with yours, your hands resting on your thigh. It felt so easy, so natural and it shouldn’t, should it?

The gentle spring breeze blew through your hair, Jewel’s voice radiating from the speakers, and your stomach clenched. Because it really shouldn’t be this easy. It shouldn’t feel this simple with a man you'd only known for a couple of weeks. It shouldn’t feel this natural to just move on after losing the love of your life. You feared it was too easy. You feared it would inevitably all come crashing down around you because something had to go wrong, surely. The universe couldn’t possibly make it this effortless, couldn’t allow you to experience this kind of happiness twice when some people never got it once.

“So,” Steve mused, breaking through your thoughts of doom and gloom, “what do you think?”

“About what?”

He smirked, pulling into your driveway, turning off the car. His torso turned toward you, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other still tightly wrapped around yours. God, he was so damn beautiful. He was the kind of beautiful that left a deep ache inside of you.

“Did the night go well enough for a second date?”

“Oh!” Your lips pressed together, looking down at your hands, the way his completely consumed yours, your fingers all but disappearing in his grasp. “Yeah. This night went…I mean, it was perfect.”

“Perfect? I don’t know about that.”

“No. It was.”

“Nah, it can’t be perfect yet. There’s a very pivotal detail that’s missing.”

“What’s what?” you chuckled.

“A goodnight kiss,” he answered, those hazel eyes blazing, gold and green burning you straight to your core. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you from the moment I saw you on the baseball field.”

There went all your oxygen again but this time it wasn’t from an anxiety attack. It was from a deep wanting, a desire that had been rumbling within you, frothing beneath the surface from the moment he’d turned and laid that smile on you.

“Can I kiss you, honey?”

There he went with that honey again. It oozed through you, just like the sticky sweet concoction, pooling in all the right places. Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you nodded, wondering if this moment could possibly live up to the expectation you'd created in your mind of what his lips against yours would feel like.

Steve’s fingers slid through your hair, tenderly gripping the back of your neck. Your breath caught as he leaned forward, pausing for just a beat, his breath brushing across your cheek. His nose nuzzled yours, his lips finding yours, soft and sweet, barely grazing before applying more pressure, molding to your own.

It was a free fall into a sweet abyss of nothingness. It was every scar, wound, ache slowly knitting itself together. It was healing your heart and your soul. It was magic dancing across your skin, igniting you from within. It was both embarking on the greatest adventure and coming home to the comfort of what was safe. It was so much better than your brain could have conjured. It was terrifying and exciting and soothing all at the same time because you already knew you wanted to do it again and again. There was no way you would ever get enough of this.

“Damn…” Steve gasped as you pulled apart, his smile stretching his face, looking as blown away as you felt. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished, unsure what to do with this information that was blowing your mind. How could your first kiss be so damn good? Shouldn’t it have at least been awkward?

“I…want…I want to do that again,” he stammered.

Then his hands were cupping your face and his lips were devouring yours. With just a kiss, you felt like you were coming undone, heat gathering in your center until you thought you would spontaneously combust right there, in the passenger seat of his car.

You leaned into him, fighting back the urge to climb over the console and into his lap. His tongue slid over the seam of your lips and you opened for him, welcoming the spicy tang of red wine and cardamom that invaded your senses. He was everywhere at once, completely consuming you and still, you couldn’t get enough.

Snapping back to reality, you placed a hand on his chest, pushing yourself back a bit. No. You were not going to cross that line on the first date. Damn, you wanted to. You really wanted to as you took in the sight of his swollen lips, eyelids heavy with the same desire you felt. It took everything in you not to tell him to drive you somewhere private.

“I should…Jesus…I should really get inside…” you muttered.

“Yeah. Yeah. Let me, uh…I’ll walk you to…”

“No. That’s okay,” you protested, needing to put distance between the two of you before you did something you could never take back. It was one thing to go on a date, even share a few kisses, and decide things weren’t working out. It was something entirely different to cross that line, to share your body and soul, to be as intimate as you could be, and manage to be logical about it. “I…I’ll see you Thursday, right?”

“Thursday?” he questioned, flustered.

“Baking?”

“Oh yeah. Baking. Yeah. I’ll be there.” As you moved to get out of the car, his hand grasped your arm and you swallowed hard, fighting back the surging desire that roared within you once again at his touch. “Hey. We okay?”

“We’re good,” you assured him, offering a smile. And you were but you would not be if you did not get the hell out of this car. “Really. This night has been…well, it’s been perfect now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, teeth scraping over his kiss bitten lip. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? “It was perfect. I can’t wait for Thursday to have more alone time with you.”

Your stomach rolled. He was coming to your house while the kids were at school. Your house where there was a couch, a bed, a table…a variety of spaces where…no, you were not going to let that happen. Not yet. It was a horrible idea. Way too soon, right?

“Me neither.”

You darted from the car, turning back to wave as you reached the porch. You dug in your purse for your keys but before you could find them the door swung open, Janice waiting on the other side looking like the cat that caught the canary.

“God damn,” she squealed, wiggling her fingers in Steve’s direction as he backed out of the driveway. “I mean, seriously…goddamn. That was…”

Your mouth dropped open, “Were you spying?”

“Of course I was spying! That was hot as hell! You have been well and truly kissed my friend.”

“Jesus Janice! Creeper much?”

“Oh come on! I had to watch. And that was…god, was it as good as it looked?”

“It was better,” you smiled, jumping when your friend shrieked.

“Now we just need to get you well and truly fucked which shouldn’t be hard based on what I just saw.”

Chapter 10

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