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makeste · 5 months

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BnHA Chapter 407: Wait Why Are You Running Away

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan figured out how to control his quirk upgrade and was totally chill and normal about it. Definitely not terrifying at all. He actually spent the entire chapter smiling and laughing like the wholesome little boy he is. I don’t know why Kid For One is so freaked out about it. He even politely introduced himself using his childhood nickname. Clearly he just wants to be friends with you, KFO!

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “sorry to keep you waiting, here’s the AFO and Yoichi flashback you ordered at long last” and proceeds to serve a nightmarish stew of HUMAN MISERY and RATS and STABBING and CARNAGE and SO MUCH MURDER and THE SINGLE MOST FUCKED-UP CASE OF CODEPENDENCY ANYONE HAS EVER WRITTEN. I was not even remotely prepared for any of this, and if anyone else claims that they were, I will call you a liar to your face. If this chapter had a mouth it would scream. Or just sob, ceaselessly and uncontrollably. I’m really glad Horikoshi is on break next week because that man needs to take a fucking nap. My god.

okay WOW

anyone else read the first two words and just immediately say to themselves, “oh okay, so it’s gonna be one of those chapters”? I mean, I guess we were due for a darker chapter after last week’s Kacchan Comedy Tour. but idk, I just wasn’t expecting “homeless sick prostitute with a drinking problem” levels of dark

AND SHE’S PREGNANT?!

what exactly is this manga rated again? doesn’t this backstory seem just a little bit raw for the impressionable kiddos??

has anyone actually checked in on Horikoshi recently? you know, just to make sure he is okay??

what a fun and wholesome manga this is

the lil baby arm covered in blood with the AFO hole on the palm. lying next to the dead mom hand. what an image to sear into our minds. I guess it’s been a while since he killed any dogs. gotta keep us on our toes somehow

also wasn’t expecting AFO and Yoichi to be twins! that puts an interesting spin on their relationship, because it’s usually a closer bond than even regular siblings. especially with all of that delightful shared trauma from a young age!!

yes, exactly

ohhhh this chapter is gonna hurt me, isn’t it. okay. ooooooookay. let’s do this

OH I’M SORRY, THERE’S MORE?!

Horikoshi my dude. you do realize that their mom dying in childbirth and the two of them just barely surviving and growing up as street orphans would have already been MORE than tragic enough, backstory-wise. you did not have to turn this into a freaking horror show with RATS TRYING TO EAT THEIR NEWBORN SELVES jesus christ

and THAT’S where you chose to put a one year timeskip?!

what the fuck am I reading here, you guys. no please tell me, I am actually desperate to understand

so the narrator is saying that some of the quirks manifested later in life, in “pubescent and pre-pubescent stages”, which is interesting because it’s the first time I can recall hearing about someone actually manifesting a quirk that late. maybe Deku’s old OFA cover story was more plausible than I realized

anyway so eventually it occurred to everyone that they should maybe freaking study this shit, idk. and eventually the researchers concluded that the superpowers came from a new gene that apparently isn’t human. and upon hearing that, society apparently lost its freaking mind. which is fascinating to me because it implies that the turning point wasn’t actually the superpowers themselves, but the realization of what it meant

like, so they were apparently fine with it when they thought it was a “mysterious disease”, but somehow it hit different when they learned it wasn’t actually a sickness at all, but instead the Next Step in Evolution. and it became an “us vs them” thing, as opposed to a “we have to cure these poor people” thing. damn

anyway so now Japan is a dystopia and we’re cutting to a big crowd of merc-looking dudes who are getting ready to attack some “meta freaks”, how lovely

but who is this figure in the shadows

I ask politely, as if it wasn’t already beyond obvious that this is AFO about to wreck some people’s shit

ohhhhh my god lmao

hopefully Katsuki and Deku can take the present day AFO out before he winds up looking like this. because this little fella is clearly demonic and idk if anyone can stop him

you all don’t understand. you need to run the fuck away right now

oh shit it’s already too late for them

it’s too late for any of us. it’s over. it’s all fucking over

((((；゜Д゜)))

AFO I am putting the manga down. I am backing away slowly with my hands in the air. I mean you no harm. please for the love of god have mercy

holy

“you see, we told you he wasn’t human” okay Scientific Research Group, you know what?? you win this round I guess

“HE WAS LITERALLY EVIL FROM BIRTH” HORIKOSHI SERIOUSLY ARE YOU OKAY??

HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY is literally the most terrifying sentence I have ever read

what the entire fuck

it’s a gorgeous sunny mid-November afternoon outside my window. but no matter how hard it tries, the light cannot reach this place

what kind of moron would throw a can of soda at him. officially the stupidest person we have ever seen in this manga

OH MY GOD OF COURSE IT’S HIM LMAO

(ETA: how come baby Yoichi has clothes that fit him perfectly but baby AFO is just stomping around wearing a tablecloth.)

BABY YOICHI. OH MY GOD. HOW THE HELL DID YOU GROW UP TO BE SANE AND KIND AND GOOD. THAT’S MY QUESTION THAT I NEED ANSWERED RIGHT NOW. YOU ARE LITERALLY A MIRACLE. YOU ARE AN IMPOSSIBILITY, DO YOU KNOW THAT

small and weak, but also so, so cute. all of the cuteness genes went straight to him. no wonder AFO was jealous

(ETA: just want to press pause for a second to speculate about what type of twins AFO and Yoichi are, since it has some relevance to the story, and especially to the OFA/AFO quirk lore. so! at first glance the two of them would appear to be fraternal twins, just based on the fact that they have very different appearances, and also the fact that Yoichi doesn’t have the AFO quirk – no holes in his hands, etc. identical twins are born from the same fertilized egg, so in theory they would both have the same sequence of DNA, which means Yoichi would have had the same quirk as AFO. but that doesn’t appear to be the case. so all of that points to them being fraternal, not identical.

on the other hand, there is one piece of evidence in this chapter that does support them being identical twins, and that’s the fact that per the narration, AFO absorbed most of the nutrients from their mother. a few minutes of google fu informed me that this condition is relatively rare, and only happens in cases where two twins share a placenta, which typically is only the case for identical twins. HOWEVER, for what it’s worth, there have also been rare instances where two fraternal twin placentas fuse together and become a single placenta. AND this apparently also increases the chances of one of the twins gaining more of the nutrients and causing the other twin to have a lower birth weight.

so based on the evidence here, my conclusion is that the two of them are most likely fraternal twins with a case of placental fusion. besides, you can’t tell me that stealing his baby brother’s placenta while the two of them are literally still in the womb doesn’t sound like exactly the type of BS that fetus!AFO would pull, lol.)

HEY!?!

okay?!?!?! well to be fair he did throw that soda at him

oh my god this is so fucked up. in like the best and worst way possible

I genuinely couldn’t ask for a better AFO backstory. it’s so incredibly twisted, and you actually do feel sorry for him. or at least I do. but it’s also beyond clear that this kid was FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL REASON right from the get go. zero goodness in him. literally doesn’t see other people as people. sees them as possessions only. things to rule over. not other thinking, feeling human beings. and that includes his own little brother

but. even if it’s not actually what I would call love, there’s still... attachment, there. it’s the closest he can get to actually caring about someone. guh. just, somehow they have both managed to humanize him, and at the same time made him less human than ever. this manga, man. this fucking manga, though

lmao and here we go. Captain Hero

you know, all those times that I made fun of AFO for not knowing how to read, I never suspected that the twist in his backstory would be that he LITERALLY DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO READ dfksjdlfkjslkdf

but seriously though. because Yoichi appears to be self-taught, and I can’t see AFO having the patience for that, and CLEARLY no one else was around to teach him, sooooo...

oh my goodness it’s actually getting wholesome up in here

what a good fucking boy. poor AFO. fuck me, I can’t help it. it’s not your fault you’re the world’s greatest monster you poor bastard

now we’re cutting to THREE YEARS LATER. okay

is he going to declare war on the glowing baby

typical teenager concerned about nothing but likes and view counts. AFO you would be so much happier if you stopped worrying about all of that and just focused on your own growth

oh, lol. well that was quick

(ETA: r.i.p. Damien.)

“this guy had more instagram followers than me. so I killed him” honey. sweetie pie. you need therapy

omfg

all this time I was wondering who AFO’s middle school lit teacher was who had failed so spectacularly at teaching him reading comprehension. and it was YOICHI ALL ALONG. omg

“and, presumably, that’s how it always was and always will be.” dude. can you imagine listening to AFO’s oral book report on A Tale of Two Cities. “ahem. it was the Best of Times. the end” buddy noooooooo

it was at that moment when Yoichi knew, etc. etc.

oh my GOD I scrolled down to the next panel right after this one and I just IMMEDIATELY DIED LAUGHING

“WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID” ffffffffffffffff I fucking can’t omfg

NOW THIS HUSSY IS STEALING HIS BROTHER AWAY FROM HIM NOOOOOOO

HE’S HIS!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! THAT’S NOT ALLOWED!!!

oh my god the hands. so wait, is this just the standard symbolic BnHA handholding, or are there More Levels To This. when exactly did Yoichi pass OFA on to Kudou. like is that why the sudden close-up and all that? omg

WHAT!!!!

OH THAT’S THE END, HUH? THAT’S THE END RIGHT THERE, AND THAT’S JUST HOW IT IS. I SEE. OKAY THEN. EXCUSE ME WHILE I PUT MY LAPTOP DOWN AND GO INTO THE NEXT ROOM AND SCREAM INTO A PILLOW

oh my god. and break next week too. this is what you guys have been dealing with this entire time huh. I understand your feelings now. godfuckingdammit lmao

#bnha 407 #all for one #shigaraki yoichi #ofa the first #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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obnoxioussmiley · 2 years

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Seeing Red

Pairings: mainly Jake Lockley X Reader, hints of Marc and Steven X Reader

Warnings: Death, descriptions of blood and gore, hints of a panic attack from reader, fluff with a dash of angst

Summary: After loving you in the shadows of Marc and Steven, Jake finally shows himself to protect you.

There is honestly not enough Jake Lockley content out here I am STARVING but please enjoy

You weren’t supposed to be here. You never should’ve gotten dragged into there, yet there you were. You were Marc and Steven’s weakness, they would always choose you over anything else, and Harrow had taken this to his advantage. In attempt to get the scarab, he put you in the line of danger. And it would’ve worked, if it weren’t for Jake Lockley.

You and Steven had been walking the empty streets of London after your date, well into the night. Marc was contentedly watching, he wished he was fronting, but seeing how happy you were after eating out at your favorite restaurant was enough to satisfy him.

It was barely enough to satisfy Jake, as well. He had been watching from behind the scenes for months, getting to know you just as well as Marc and Steven, without either of them or you knowing. And so he was just as capable as making you happy. When he had the chance to front, he’d leave you gifts and do some of your chores, little things he knew would make you happy without drawing awareness to his existence. Of course, it sucked when you thought it could only be Marc or Steven. He’d tidy up your kitchen, and you would thank one of them, and having no other explanation, they would assume they did it during a lapse of insomnia where they didn’t remember it. It was all worth it for Jake, seeing your face light up with joy, and that stunning smile would appear.

But today, it didn’t matter. When the ambush happened, Steven gave control to Marc, who was better between the two of them to fight off enemies and protect you. And he was doing a good job at keeping up, you shielded behind him a few feet away.

However, one thug managed to sneak around past him and come up behind you. They slammed the hilt of a handgun hard against the back of your head, pulling out a short cry and effectively knocking you ti the ground.

Marc immediately looked back at you from the sound, seeing you holding your head in pain. And your attacker was pointing the gun straight at you.

All three alters felt rage and worry surge through them, but none as violent as Jake’s, giving him the power to take control. He worked fast, taking out the guy behind you and slashing through the rest, not stopping until they were all finished.

When you finally regained your senses, you looked up at him through blurred vision. As you started to focus back in, you immediately became aware of the metallic scent in the air and the red stained area. Bodies were laid out in front of you, blood seeping out of fatal wounds, flesh ripped open and glistening in the moonlight.

Standing in the middle of it all was Jake, heaving deep breaths while giving a satisfied look at the carnage around him. Marc and Steven’s reflections stared up in complete shock and awe from a red puddle at his feet.

“Oh my god…” You muttered out, still shaking from the disorientation and the fear from the situation.

Jake turned towards you, seeing you staring at the mess with wide eyes. Your breathing started to pick up pace and he hastily made his way over, the suit disappearing into thin air. Kneeling down in front of you, he pulled you into his chest, hiding it all from your line of sight and wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re okay,” He whispered, rubbing circles into your back to calm you down, “You’re safe, nothings gonna hurt you, I promise.” The all too familiar scent filled your nose and you closed your eyes, relaxing into his hold.

As your breathing slowed down, your brain started to catch up with what happened. You knew Marc and Steven well enough to tell who was who, and to know this wasn’t either of them. Suddenly aware, you mumbled out, “You’re- you’re not them.” He tensed up and his arms around you tightened, as if preparing for the worse. “You’re not Marc or Steven.”

He sighed, resting his chin in top of your head. “No. No I’m not.” It was silent for a bit, you waiting for him to go on as he figured out what to say. But he didn’t really know the right place to start. “My name is Jake. Jake Lockley.”

You hummed in response. Shifting to wrap your warms around his torso, you melted further into him, silently letting him know you were accepting him. “Thank you, Jake.”

“Don’t thank me.” He wondered if you could hear his heart racing and pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “I’m not letting anyone else lay a finger on you, alright?”

Marc and Steven watched from their reflections, completely dumbfounded at the revelation of a third alter. But also entirely grateful and somewhat proud of what Jake had done.

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #reader imagine #reader is gender neutral #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley

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football-and-fanfics · 4 months

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Decorated - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount Prompt: decorating the Christmas tree together (with a romantic twist). Requested by: as voted for by you! Warnings: none

Setting up and decorating the Christmas tree was traditionally something you and Mason did together. But because of both your busy schedules, this year you only got round to it a few days before Christmas.

"I'm glad we still decided to do this together," you said happily as you filled the Christmas tree's branches with baubles. You were clad in some over the top Christmas jumper and and Elf's hat balancing on your head. "Yeah, so am I." Mason wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He, too, wore a ghastly Christmas jumper and had a Santa's hat on. "Even though it's kind of late this year, I love we didn't skip it," he added. You nodded, feeling his hair brush against your neck. "Absolutely."

Mason released his embrace around you to pick up a string of Christmas lights. "And how do these get so tangled up every time." He held up the big tangle of lights, slowly shaking his head. "It doesn't matter how neatly you put them away, next year it somehow always ends up looking like carnage."

Mason sat down on the floor with a sigh, setting to work on untangling the lights. You watched him for a few seconds. A soft chuckle escaped you as you saw his concentrated face and focus on the knots in the string of lights.

"What's this?" You had turned your attention back to the baubles, and suddenly spotted a bauble in the box you had never seen before. "Oh, I found it, and thought it would be nice to hang it in the tree as well." Mason shrugged nonchalantly, but you couldn't help but notice the blush creeping up on his cheeks and how he suddenly seemed to avoid to look at you.

"What's so special about this bauble?" You asked a little suspiciously. At first glance it didn't look all that unique, until you noticed the bauble could open. You gently pulled the two halves apart, and what you saw there took all your breath away.

"Guess you found out what's so special about it, huh?" That confident smirk was back on Mason's face, but the nervousness was also clearly heard in his voice. You looked from the diamond ring inside the bauble to Mason, completely astounded.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time." Mason slowly rose to his feet and took your hands in his. "I wanted the occasion to be special, but also something that was just us." "Oh..." You gasped, tears now welling up in your eyes as you realized what he was about to do.

"Ever since I met you, my life has been so much more beautiful," Mason continued, "we've been through highs and lows together, but those only made me realize one thing: how much I love you." You smiled through a sob. Hearing these words set a fire of love alight in your chest.

Mason had to swallow back tears of his own before he could continue. "I realized I don't want to spend another day of my life without you, and I hope you feel the same way." "I do, I do!" You confirmed without hesitation.

Mason took a deep, trembling breath, and you knew he was going for the big question. "So..." He hesitated nervously, before slowly going down on one knee in front of you. "Would you do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?" Another sob escaped you upon actually hearing that question being asked to you, even though the answer was a no-brainer.

"Yes!" You exclaimed happily, fresh tears of joy rolling down your cheeks. "Oh, my god!" Mason gasped, overcome with joy as well, as he quickly clambered to his feet. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you long and lovingly, sealing your engagement.

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @juliabrghs, @ella33, @nightlockcornucopia, @hbstre

Mason Mount masterlist | General masterlist | Add me to the tags list

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballandfanficsmasonmount

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ambrossart · 2 years

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DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART SIX

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 3,511 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

You shoveled chocolate cake into your mouth while George Michael crooned “Careless Whisper” into the cold, dark depths of your soul: “I’m never gonna dance again… Guilty feet have got no rhythm…”

You sang along with your mouth full, crumbs spewing from your lips, stopping only to take another bite, another swig of punch. You were drunk on your own misery because nobody had bothered to spike the punch bowl. Yeah, apparently you were attending the one dry prom in the entire country, but that was A-okay because this smooth, melancholy sax was sending you swirling into despair and nothing mattered anymore.

You finished one plate of cake, licked your fork clean, then reached for another. That’s how Chrissy found you: three slices deep in chocolate cake, with frosting smeared all over your face. She came up to you like a mother approaching her paint-splattered toddler and said, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just eating my feelings…”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She surveyed the damage with a frown. “Where’d you get all the cake?”

“I stole it off that table over there.” You gestured with your hand. “Not my proudest moment… and yet, somehow, not my lowest tonight, either.” You sliced through the stolen cake with your fork, another huge chunk, and—down the hatch!—stuffed it all into your mouth.

Chrissy sucked in a breath through her teeth, grimacing as she watched you. “Oh boy,” she said, and sat down beside you. “Okay, sweetie, tell me what happened.”

“I took your advice. I tried to talk to Eddie, I tried to be nice, and I went down hard in a giant blaze of glory. Like, it was cataclysmic, Chris. You should have seen it. We’re talking ‘Mount Vesuvius erupting’ bad, ‘meteor killing all the dinosaurs’ bad. Like, I just single-handedly wiped out an entire civilization in a matter of seconds. Total carnage. No survivors. He yelled at me, Chris. He actually yelled at me, and you know, I always thought I’d be turned on by him yelling, but I wasn’t. Honestly, I’m kinda traumatized by the whole thing, and… uhh, yeah… now I’m sitting here eating cake with my good friend George Michael. He has a lovely voice, don’t you think?”

You went back for more cake, and Chrissy snatched the fork out of your hand. “Okay, that’s enough sugar for you.”

You snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll just throw it up later.”

Chrissy winced.

“Oh—” You slapped your hand over your mouth and sank into your chair, a shameful blush engulfing your face. “Oh my god, Chris, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… you know, all the lactose, it’s gonna make me sick later, that’s all I meant. I swear, I wasn’t trying to…”

Chrissy’s smile was warm and forgiving. “I know. It’s okay.” She scooted closer to you, then handed you a napkin and told you to wipe your face. While you were doing that, she said, “All right, just out of curiosity… when you were talking to Eddie, were you talking to him like you and I talk? Or were you just making a lot of jokes at his expense?”

“That’s not fair, Chris. I’ve known you my whole life.”

“Just answer the question.”

You puffed up your cheeks and blew out. “Fine, I was making jokes, but they weren’t mean or anything. I just…” You hung your head. “I don’t know how to talk to him, Chris. It’s like, he looks at me and my heart starts beating really fast and I just go into panic mode, and I start hurling insults like hand grenades. It’s like World War II in my head, and I’m deep in the trenches. And I know I’m messing it up. I can hear myself messing it up. All the warning bells are going off: Abort mission! Abort mission! But I can’t stop myself! I insult his clothes and his music, and I sacrifice him to demons.”

Chrissy said, “Wait, what? Demons?”

“Yeah… I kinda sacrificed him to a demon back in middle school—well, his character, not him. This didn’t happen in real life or anything. It was in a game: Dungeons & Dragons. I dunno if you’ve heard of it, but… it’s surprisingly fun. You get to make your own character and everything.”

“And sacrifice people to demons, apparently.”

“Yeah—well, no, you aren’t really supposed to do that. I kinda went rogue and ruined the whole game.”

“That sounds more accurate.” Chrissy giggled into her hand, then tipped her head at you and smiled. “Oh… what am I gonna do with you?”

“Trade me in for a newer model?”

Chrissy shook her head. “Nah… I’ve grown kinda attached to you.” She took your napkin and carefully dabbed some frosting off your chin. Then she put her hands on your knees and said in a calm, reassuring voice, “Hey, listen to me: it’s just Eddie. You’re not exactly talking to Steve Perry here.”

“Well, at this point I think I’d have a better shot with Steve Perry.”

“Yeah… he’s a famous rock star, so somehow I doubt that.”

“Well, you don’t know how charming I can be.” You pressed your hand to your chest and fluttered your lashes.

Chrissy laughed at you. “Actually, I know exactly how charming you can be, which is why it breaks my heart to see you like this. Seriously, what are you so afraid of? Him not liking you back?”

“Oh, he definitely doesn’t like me back. Yeah, I’d say him yelling in my face kinda solidified that.”

Chrissy said, “Well, then you have nothing to lose, right?” and you went quiet. “Just talk to him. Don’t overthink it. Don’t make jokes. And please, for the love of God, don’t insult the guy. Just walk up to him and be honest. Say, ‘Eddie, I’m an idiot—I’m an adorable idiot, but an idiot. I’ve been in love with you for six years, but I never knew how to express my feelings. I’d very much like to marry you and have your babies’—Ha!” She absorbed your half-hearted slap, giggling as she did.

“Just talk to him,” she said. “I promise you’ll feel better once you do.”

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You confess to a guy and he’s basically winning the lottery. I do it and it’s like, Sorry, son, there’s been a death in the family.”

“Oh, that’s not true, and you know it. You’re the lottery, too.”

“Yeah, maybe the penny scratcher…”

Chrissy shook her head. “Now you’re just being silly.”

But you weren’t. You weren’t joking at all.

Silence fell over the table as the music seamlessly transitioned into The Dream Academy’s folksy cover of “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths. Another slow, painfully depressing song, but this one was even worse because it carried this pathetic sense of yearning that stabbed and twisted into your heart like a dagger.

You braced yourself for another three minutes of torture when, out of nowhere, a phantom voice said, “Wanna dance?”

You looked to your left and felt your stomach flip. It was Jason Carver, standing beside you with an outstretched hand, looking like a damn Ken doll in his prom tux. (You had made that joke more than once. Chrissy always hated it: “I swear to God, if you call me Barbie, I’ll kill you.”)

You flinched away from him, blushing. “Oh… no thanks, I don’t really—”

“Come on, it’s our last prom. You gotta do at least one slow dance.” Jason’s smile was confident and irresistibly charming.

You stared at his hand for a minute, your stomach twisting into all kinds of knots; then you glared at Chrissy. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

She put up her hands and backed away from the table. “Hey, don’t look at me…”

And before you could further protest, Jason took your hand and effortlessly lifted you out of your chair, making your knees buckle as soon as you put weight on them. The anxiety was hitting you like a train now and dragging your body over the tracks. What if you stepped on his foot? What if you scuffed up his shoes? They looked like some really expensive shoes. Could you actually afford to replace them? What if your breath smelled terrible? What if you had chocolate cake in your teeth? (Oh my god, you definitely had chocolate cake in your teeth!) You two were going to be standing face to face, practically nose to nose. He was going to see everything. The peach fuzz on your face. The huge pores on your nose. What if Jason saw all these glaring imperfections and thought, Wow, she’s somehow even uglier up close?

Well, then you would simply die.

Panicking, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “Wait, Jason, I…”

Jason chased your hand, caught it, and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Hey, come on. Just relax, okay? I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

“Yeah, but I…” You saw your reflection in his dazzling blue-grey eyes and suddenly lost your will to resist.

The next two minutes felt like two hours.

Here you were, slow dancing with Jason Carver in the middle of the dance floor. His hands were around your waist, holding you close like you were his real date and not just some last-minute tagalong. Your arms were draped around his neck, stiff and awkward at first, but gradually loosening as you swayed to the music. It was surreal, being this close to him: feeling his heart beating against yours, feeling the heat of his breath on your face whenever he spoke, whenever he laughed at one of your jokes.

Ten-year-old you would have been so happy right now. She would have floated home on a cloud, spent the rest of the night daydreaming about Jason Carver and gushing about him in her diary. Savor that sweet naivety, kid, because in a few years it’ll all be gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you let yourself daydream, get so caught up in your fantasies that you had to pinch your arm just to bring yourself back to reality. You tried, but you could never seem to get your feet off the ground. They were just so heavy.

Then after a while, you just stopped trying.

“You know, I used to be really jealous of you,” Jason said after a while.

“What?” you said. “Why?”

Jason looked at you like you were insane, like it was so painfully obvious. “You’re Chrissy’s favorite person in the world, and you always will be. Whenever something good happens, you’re her first phone call. When she’s upset, she goes running to you for comfort. And that just kills me because I wanna be that person for her too, and I’m scared I never will be.”

You frowned. “Yeah, we kinda have a weird codependency thing going on. It’s probably really unhealthy, actually…”

Jason laughed. “It’s not, it’s great, and I’m so glad she has you. Honestly, I am.” His smile was so sincere and sad, it broke your heart a little. “Look, Chrissy is amazing, easily the best thing that ever happened to me, but I know she only shows me the good side of her. The happy side. She smiles for me and cries for you. She doesn’t trust me enough to show me her ugly side, and I don’t know how to change that. I’m scared to bring it up because I don’t wanna push her away, but I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Jason, trust me, you’re already doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.” When you said this, you felt your chest tighten. “Maybe I just need to step back a little, give you two some space.”

“What? No, that’s not what I—”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “Jason, it’s fine, really. Honestly, I think that’ll be the best thing for both of us. I mean, we can’t lean on each other forever, right?”

You laid your chin on his shoulder and stared across the dance floor to where your best friend was sitting with a huge smile.

Of course Chrissy wasn’t jealous watching you dance with her boyfriend. No, that hideous emotion was reserved just for you. You were the one who was never satisfied with what you had. You were the one constantly comparing yourself to everyone else. Judging yourself. Weighing yourself. Hating yourself.

Here you were, slow dancing with Jason Carver, being the envy of every girl at prom, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to switch places with Chrissy Cunningham, to be sitting right where she was.

Because that’s where he was going.

As you watched Eddie approach Chrissy, as you watched them talk, Jason started singing under his breath: “Please, please, please… Let me get what I want… Lord knows it will be the first time…” and you buried your face in his shoulder and squeezed your eyes shut real tight.

Chrissy stared at Eddie Munson with knitted brows. “You’re asking me to dance? Why?”

“Uhh… because I want to? I don’t really know how else to answer that.” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, feeling both nervous and bashful as he stood before her in his suit jacket and ripped jeans. “Umm, look, you don’t have to say yes or anything. Seriously, just say the word and I’ll get outta your way and leave you alone. I just thought, y'know, since it’s the last prom and all…”

Chrissy cut him off. “Yeah, but why? I never even talk to you, so why would you wanna dance with me?”

“Well, I uhh…” Eddie cleared his throat a few times, then let out a nervous chuckle. “Wow, you’re really putting me on the spot here, aren’t you? Umm, okay, well… that’s a little difficult to answer, and I’m probably gonna shoot myself in the foot for saying this, but... Wait, are you okay?”

Chrissy was staring off towards the dance floor, where her boyfriend was dancing with her best friend, and as she did, her whole expression just kind of wilted into this guilty, miserable look that cut Eddie to his core.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Hey, look, I’m not trying to get in the way of anything here. I know you have a boyfriend and that’s totally cool. I just…”

Now Chrissy had her hands cupped over her mouth, appearing on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, to seemingly no one at all. Then she looked up at Eddie, her blue eyes sparkling like two gorgeous sapphires, and she said the words he had been dreading most of all. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can’t dance with you tonight.”

She pushed past him and walked away, leaving Eddie gutted and standing alone with his heart in his hand.

“Okay,” he said after the initial shock had worn off, “that was fucking brutal.”

When you finally opened your eyes again, you were facing the opposite side of the room and staring at a wall of familiar faces. But one in particular caught your eye. It stole the breath from your lips and made your face go white with terror… as if you were seeing a ghost.

Your legs felt so heavy as you broke away from Jason and stormed across the dance floor. Once you got close enough, you opened your mouth to yell, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

“I thought you had food poisoning!” You hissed the words like it was a curse, like you were trying to banish his spirit back to the grave.

Chance Gallagher turned toward you with a cup of punch in his hand and a pretty girl at his side. “Oh shit,” he said, looking like a rat caught in a trap. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here? I thought you were sick.”

“Yeah, well, I uhh…”

“You got better, huh?” There was a lump in your throat as you watched Chance fidget with his tie, loosening it so he could breathe more easily. The color of it matched your dress perfectly, but it also matched the dress of his pretty new date, along with the corsage that dangled from her wrist. It was your favorite flower. You figured it was hers, too.

You rubbed your brow furiously, struggling to fully grasp the situation. “Wait, I think I’m a little outta the loop here… If you didn’t actually wanna go to prom with me, why did you even ask me in the first place?”

Chance’s shoulders went up and down uncaringly. “Because Jason asked me to.”

His words hit you like a sucker punch to the jaw. You staggered back and shook your head. “What? Jason asked you to…?”

Of course, you thought. Of course, Jason put him up to it. Why else would someone like Chance Gallagher ask you to prom? Chance was popular, Chance was on the basketball team, and who the hell were you but Chrissy Cunningham’s bitchy best friend? You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you. Hey, you? The guy didn’t even know your name! That little voice in your head tried to warn you—it was practically screaming at you!—but you didn’t listen to it. No, you let yourself wish and dream and get swept up in all the grandeur of prom, but it was all bullshit. Fake, plastic, bullshit. And you shouldn’t have come in the first place.

You ran into Jason and Chrissy on your way out. As soon as you saw Jason, you pointed your finger in his face and screamed at the top of your lungs, “YOU SELFISH SONOFABITCH! YOU TRIED TO PAWN ME OFF TO YOUR FRIEND!”

Chrissy’s face scrunched up with confusion. “What? Jason, what is she talking about?”

Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. His stormy blue eyes were writhing with guilt.

“He forced Chance to ask me to prom, Chris. He made him do it. What, did you have to pay him? How much was I worth, Jason? Twenty bucks? Thirty? Did you get a good deal out of it, at least?”

Jason exploded: “Oh, come on, of course I didn’t pay him! I would never insult you like that!”

“Right, you would just force me onto your friends like some chore!”

Jason shook his head furiously. “No, that’s not what it was! I swear to God it wasn’t. Look, all I did was ask Chance to do me a favor, that’s all. I didn’t know he was gonna flake on you like that. If I’d known, I never would’ve asked him to do it in the first place.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dirty blond roots. “I just wanted everyone to have a good time. That’s all I was trying to do.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said as a tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. “No, you wanna know what I think, Jason? I think you wanted to have a good time, and I was in your way. Well, don’t worry, Jason, I’m getting out of your way now, so you go ahead and enjoy your perfect little prom, okay? I’m done.”

You turned to leave and Chrissy was at your elbow, crying and begging you to stay.

You said to her, “No, please, I don’t wanna be the one that ruins your night, and I really don’t wanna cry anymore. And I know if I’m around you, I’m gonna completely fall apart and… I just need some time by myself, okay? I’ll be fine, I will, I just… I really need to get outta here.”

You tore away from her and saw dozens of eyes bearing down on you. Preps. Jocks. Nerds. Cheerleaders. Sally, Sarah, and Stacy, standing there looking so damn pleased by your misfortune. Like this was just perfect, wasn’t it? Like it was exactly what you deserved.

You squirmed away from their eyes, all of their eyes, and ran up the stairs and out the door.

Now here you were, sitting on the dirty floor of the women’s restroom and crying in your prom dress while "Endless Love" sent you spiraling right back to middle school. All you needed was a bucket of pigs' blood dropped on you, and your night was complete.

You ripped off your corsage and whipped it at the garbage can. Then you slumped down, knocked your head against the wall, wiped some of the mascara off your cheeks, and thought, God, this night can’t possibly get any…

The door burst open and—“Oh shit!”—Eddie Munson came stumbling into the bathroom like a drunken idiot after a bar fight. He spun around, catching himself on the wall, and then pushed his back against the door.

His brown eyes bulged as they locked with yours.

“Uhh… hi. How's your night going?”

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #eddie x chrissy #stranger things 4 #st4 #ambrossart #dancing with myself #dwm #eddie munson imagine #fanfiction

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daddyhausen · 7 months

Text

• you and me, forevermore •

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{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { chuck taylor masterlist }

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{ commission info } | { like my work? buy me a coffee <3 }

{ summary } — dustin has feelings of self doubt after you were forced to watch him get attacked during that parking lot brawl.

{ warnings } — injury, blood, forced to watch, hurt/comfort, soft sex, praise, fingering, shower sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, male + female orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting vaginal creampie, internal cumshot

{ word count } — 4.8k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x chuck taylor

{ genre } — hurt/comfort, smut

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{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie

{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

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your blood ran cold at the sight. the carnage that unfolded behind only a single wall from you. you stared in horror at the monitor, throat running dry upon seeing your brother drenched in his own blood, trent’s eyes glazed over, deep browns seeming so lifeless as his head was slammed into the hood of a car by a vicious jon moxley. you winced, a pseudo-feeling as if your own head had collided with the exterior, watching the blood trickle down your brother's skull.

“oh god, i can’t look…” you muttered to yourself shying away into the shoulder of an equally worried orange cassidy, whose eyes, although covered by his sunglasses, displayed the same expression of shock and horror, his eyebrows knitted together, lips forming into a disgusted scowl. he kept a hand firmly around your shoulder, a comforting, protective hold, squeezing tightly with reassurance.

“jesus…” orange muttered under his breath, the sound mixed with a gasp of some sort. despite the horrors that played out on the monitor, and the desire to keep your eyes averted from the screen, not wanting to face whatever it showed. despite that you looked anyway upon feeling orange’s arm tense up around you.

you peered up, eyes widening and instantly welling over with tears, a gasp barely squeaked from your throat. there dustin laid, his head encapsulated in a pool of his own blood, the crimson mask washed over his peachy-tan skin, eyes half rolled back in his skull, looking half dead himself. an enraged wheeler yuta hovered over him, screwdriver in hand, a gleeful moxley watched on as his protege drove the weapon deeper into dustin’s forehead.

dustin had spared his former student from a beating, he still held love for the boy he once trained. the same could not be said for wheeler, who did not hesitate, fueled by anger and hatred, his former mentor’s blood now dripping through the cracks in his fingers.

“i…i need to go out there-“

“are you insane, what if you get hurt?!” a normally mellow orange cassidy spoke up in a fit of worry, the arm that was once wrapped around your shoulder now tightly clenched around your wrist, holding you back from aiding your brother and your fiancé.

“i could care less about myself right now!”

you ripped your arm from orange’s grasp in a state of panic, desperate in aiding the two men you cared most about in this world. the act left orange perplexed for a moment, watching on as you tried to decipher the halls and corridors that led to the entrance of the parking lot. he admired your courage no matter how stupid the situation seemed, he surely knew that dustin and trent would have his head if anything were to happen to you.

you were on autopilot, vision blurry through a cascading waterfall of tears, mind hazy with possibilities of what horrors could have happened to your brother and beloved. the bellows of the crowd drew closer, a foggy light emitting from the parking lot entrance followed by the thunderous sound of metal clashing against concrete. with a panicked orange cassidy hot on your tail, you turned the corner, greeted by the sight you had witnessed mere moments ago on the monitor. your brother the closest to you, claudio looming over like a dark cloud while trent writhed in his own blood.

you froze, feet felt as if they’d been glued to the floor the only thing that you could do was stare as you brother got beaten to a bloody pulp, how his blood seeped from his skull into the concrete below. sure, you’ve seen your brother beaten and bloody, but never to this extent, not in the way claudio was bludgeoning him.

your eyes burned, breath paralyzed in your chest. a burst of adrenaline hitting you, charging at claudio with all your might, fists balled up throwing careless punches in the direction of the swissman. said punches were merely thuds against his back paying no mind to your desperate, weak attempts at him to stop the assault on trent.

claudio stopped for a mere moment, he stood up, his sizeable frame towering over you like a mighty oak, hands stained red with your brothers blood, the crimson trickle down his knuckles and fingertips to the concrete below. he turned to face you, cocking his head to the side with slight inquisition. you tried to put on a brave face, tried to mask your tears for your brother’s sake. claudio leaned over you slightly with a small chuckle, his breath laboured, lightly fanning your forehead.

“what’s this? come to protect your brother now, have you?

he mockingly pet the top of your head, trent’s blood staining your hair as you gave a frightened whimper.

“aren’t you a brave little thing?”

you did not want to relinquish eye contact, afraid of his next move, although you could not help but notice orange’s pained groans from behind you. you turned your head, catching a mere glimpse of moxley whipping orange with a chain before claudio grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

your body stiffened up, feeling your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at the unwanted contact.

“not so fast, little one.” you mentally cringed at the nickname he anointed you with.

before you could even comprehend his words or even catch a glimpse of your brother laying face down in a pool of his own blood, claudio grabbed you by the wrists, his large hand could easily engulf both at once. he dragged you away from your brother, trent was unconscious, still breathing thank god, but he had not moved since your arrival. and orange…you just hoped mox would stop his assault soon.

claudio’s grip was tight, sure to leave red marks by the time he’d hopefully let go. despite your struggle and silent protest he would not let up. he led you behind a silver car, your mind in a daze, you did not comprehend the situation in front of you until he spoke up again. although his words absent in your ears.

you came to, peering down at your feet, horrified at the sight below. wheeler yuta hovered over your beloved, still continuing to bludgeon him with a screwdriver into that open wound on his forehead. your throat ran dry, feeling an overwhelming sense of nausea washed over you. you thought you’d run out of tears to cry, but seeing dustin in such a state it was heart breaking.

“dustin…” you whimpered. trying to break free from claudio’s grasp, to lunge yourself over your fiance and shield him from their violence. claudio’s grip only tightened, locking your arms behind your back, keeping you secured to his chest.

yuta stopped his assault momentarily, dropping the screwdriver by his side, staring up at you with a sickly grin as dustin reached a hand out in the direction of your voice. yuta’s empathy had been torn to shreds by the BCC; he was no longer that sweet innocent boy dustin helped train; he was a violent, vicious killer, hell bent on causing havoc with every step. once yuta had caught your distress, just as dustin’s fingertips met the tip of your shoe he began to bludgeon him again, using only his fist.

“stop…please…” you begged, voice barely above a whimper, throat hoarse and raw from pleading for mercy. you could feel claudio’s smirk against the nape of your neck, grinning from ear to ear at your lover’s torment.

mox sauntered around the corner with his usual, relaxed demeanour, completely unfazed by the bloodshed he and the rest of the bcc had caused. he threw the fork he’d used to bleed your brother dry. the clink of the metal against the concrete was sickening. he noticed you in claudio’s grasp, begging and pleading over the almost lifeless body of your fiancé. he smirked, a wicked thought conjuring in his mind.

he grabbed your shoulder, forcibly pushing you onto your knees, not quite eye level with dustin but enough that you could see the hope drain from his eyes. the bright green now a steely grey. jon cupped your cheeks directing your head to dustin, making sure that the image of him beaten and battered was permanent in your memory.

“look at him.” jon forced your face closer to dustin as wheeler held him up by the bloody roots of his hair. so close you could actually smell the iron of the crimson.

“he’s pathetic. can’t even protect himself let alone his girl. are you sure this is the guy you wanna marry, miss y/n?”

you remained silent, physically unable to speak as you stared into dustin’s eyes. they were glassy, bloodshot and burning from his own blood leaking into them. they were empty, void of any emotion other than heartbreak and worry. as much as he wanted to hold eye contact with you, a silent reassurance that he was alright, physically he couldn’t, the loss of blood proved too much for him, he was tired, broken, a shell of a man.

“it ain’t too late, dollface. if you wanna change your mind, you just give us a call” jon smirked, rubbing the bloody pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, following the action with a flirtatious wink. you felt sick to your stomach, that and the taste of iron upon your lips did not help.

you bared your teeth, biting down hard on his thumb, as hard as you could muster. not enough to draw blood by any means but strong enough that you hoped it would elicit a reaction from a masochist such as moxley. instead, he only smirked, a sick twisted, almost perverted smile, as if the sick bastard was actually enjoying himself.

“oh would you look at that” jon turned his head, now facing claudio, barely acknowledging the bite. “pretty little thing got some bite to her, she’d be perfect for us”

“i know a way we could put that mouth to better use” yuta chimed in, still holding dustin up by the scalp. dustin made weak attempts to protest the lewd remarks made by his former protege despite the metaphorical nails clawing at the inside of his throat, a disgusting burn that ached every time he swallowed. yuta released his grip, dropping the screwdriver in the process, his body loomed over yours, even more so as he knelt before you, keeping eye contact that you very much would have liked to avoid. he gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“i heard she’s pretty good at using it” that remark from yuta could be a testament to your sharp tongue or something more vulgar. you decided on the latter given his previous comment, which no doubt made you cringe internally with disgust.

jon simply tilted his head, signalling for claudio and yuta to cease their assault. claudio dropped your arms, shoving you to the ground with a rough thud, grazing your elbows against the concrete, you let out a sharp hiss, a sound which made dustin’s ears prick up with panic. yuta let dustin’s head fall to the floor, luckily you were able to place your hand underneath his temple before it made contact with the ground.

yuta said nothing, merely eyeing you as he sauntered off with the other two, offering your brother one last kick before leaving the parking lot. you crawled closer to dustin, managing to make it to your knees and cradle his head securely in your lap. his eyes closed, breathing had slowed. he was a wreck, drained of energy.

“dustin, look at me please…” you whimpered through tears, cupping his bloodstained cheeks in your palms. it took him a few seconds, eventually he let his eyes flutter open. he saw an angel. he saw heaven, he saw you. he opened his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

“shhh, don’t speak. it’s me, i’m right here” your voice shaky, still trying to quell the sobs that raged in your throat. he closed his mouth, instead raising his hand to cup your cheek, caressing the skin. he widened his eyes, horrified at the bloodstain his finger prints had left behind. he gulped thickly trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill, instead grabbing your palm, the one against his cheek, pressing his lips to your engagement ring, letting his lips linger there for a moment before pulling away, a sob rose in his throat, the once crystal white diamond now stained with droplets of ruby red.

it was as if you were an untouched canvas and him a tormented artist, every brushstroke of his skin against yours taints you. how could he let someone as beautiful as you be ruined by his blood?

he remained silent as the doctor stitched up his wound. practically dead to the world, in his own paranoia filled trance only brought back to reality for a short moment by the subtle squeeze of your hand in his. although his vision blurred, head spinning with a possible concussion, in his peripherals, he noticed the spots of red littered throughout the lavender sundress you were wearing. a large stain at the end of its skirt. once again, his blood had tainted your beauty. his eyes panned up, heartbroken as he noticed you were avoiding his gaze, was he really that horrible to look at right now? his eyes continued to scan your figure, your elbows were cut and beginning to bruise.

he was overwhelmed with anger for being so weak as to allow claudio and mox to get their hands on you. he saw red, yet was too overcome with exhaustion to mutter anything more than a whisper.

“you’re hurt…and the blood-” he barely croaked out, there was an unnatural rasp in his voice.

“i’m fine dustin and the blood is not mine” you smoothed over the back of his hand with your thumb in an effort to console him.

“but it’s mine…”

you gave a soft sigh in response, silently thanking the doctor as he finished stitching up dustin’s forehead. you were overcome with emotion yet could not bring yourself to say anything, just basking in the uncomfortable silence as dustin failed to meet your gaze. you’d never seen your love so broken, so fragile, he barely responded to the soft tug on his arm as you tried to rouse him out of his self induced trance.

the door swung open, orange stumbling inside, clutching his ribs with your brother on his arm. an equally worried statlander aiding your brother also. she made eye contact with you, offering a silent, yet apologetic smile for her absence. you turned to dustin, who now finally locked eyes with you, glancing into your teary bloodshot eyes with a minute of love and fear. he titled his heads towards the door, signaling for you to go check on trent. you gave his hand a rough squeeze, a quiet rebuttal to his action.

“go.” he muttered through a broken voice. you sighed softly, planting a gentle kiss to his forehead, right on his newly stitched up wound before going to check on your brother.

orange and kris sat trent down on a crate by the door. offering a parting glance to their teammate before going to check on dustin.

“jesus christ are you alright?” you questioned, panic ranging through your voice. “mom is gonna have a heart attack when she finds out”

“mom will be fine, she’s seen me in much worse condition.” trent’s lightheartedness seemed out of place for this current situation. still you had to commend him for being so chipper despite just receiving the beating of his life.

the room fell silent for a moment as you observed your brothers injuries. a cut to his forehead, near the hairline, the other atop his head. his shoulders and back torn to shreds. he gave a small wince as he placed a haphazardly made ice pack to his left shoulder.

“how’s he holding up?” trent motioned his head toward dustin, who sat at the far end of the room, remaining dead silent as kris and orange tried their best to communicate with him.

“physically he’ll be fine…” you began, turning back to face your love, seeing how he had not raised his head from the ground since you left his side.

“emotionally…i don’t know. he’s barely said a word since everything happened…”

your throat grew tight, sobs threatening to spill.

“do you think he’s mad at me for going out there?” you stuttered through your words, turning back to face your brother. trent bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating his next sentence

“although it was a stupid thing for you to do, he’s not mad at you, he loves you too much, kid”

trent pulled you into his shoulder, despite the seering pain. he hugged you tight, determined to comfort his little sister in her time of anguish.

“now go take care of him, i’ll be fine.”

“are you sure?” you questioned, swiping some of the congealed blood from his cheeks.

“yeah don’t worry about me, i got kris and orange to take care of me”

the drive home from daily’s place was met with uncomfortable silence. you helped dustin into the passenger seat despite his silent protests. opting to drive since the blood loss would prove too dangerous for him to drive. he sat there begrudgingly, staring dead into the road in front of him or on the odd occasion at him twiddling his thumbs in his lap. for hours this went on, you chose not to speak, for the heartbreak in your voice might set off tears for the both of you.

you just wanted to be home with him right now, safe and warm behind the walls that you owned, in your own bed cuddled up with your fiancé. the love of your life, but the drive from jacksonville to kentucky was more than ten hours and you were not going to risk the fatigue. instead opting to book a hotel for the night. dustin could not stop repeating the words moxley had been spouting to you during their conflict, finding himself agreeing with said words

he was pathetic. he did fail to protect you. he wasn’t even sure if he even deserved to be marrying you.

you could sense that he was in his head so you reached over to untangle his fingers to lace them with your own. reminiscent of the taxi ride to the park where he proposed. those three small squeezes of reassurance and comfort.

you pulled up into the hotel parking lot. throwing on your cardigan, wrapping yourself in the thick material so as to not worry any staff with what blood still stained your dress. dustin remained catatonic, only responding with simple yes’s and no’s to any question asked. you managed to secure a room despite the lateness and unexpectedness of your arrival, the both of you still remaining distant to each other inside the elevator as it took you to the third floor.

“are you alright?” you finally broke the silence as the two of you entered the hotel room. dustin set his bag beside the door, chewing his bottom lip anxiously.

“i uh…” he stammered. “i just wanna have a shower”

you nodded in response, taking him by the shoulder lightly, planting a long, delicate kiss to his cheek before letting him go. he offered you a small smile in return before hastily making his way into the bathroom. once you heard the door close you gave a heavy sigh, still trying to hold back tears, swallowing your sobs with a thick gulp. you knew he was hurting right now, you needed to be strong for him.

you removed your cardigan, grabbing your bags to place them into your bedroom for the night, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the small corridor. you stopped in your tracks, eyeing yourself. your favourite dress, stained with the blood of your beloved, your knees bruised and elbows grazed, mascara smeared around your bottom lashes from crying, you looked like a mess but dustin evidently felt much worse.

you stripped yourself. only remaining in your bra and panties as you tossed the dress into the washing machine residing behind a sliding door next to the bathroom. it won’t do much in removing the stain fully but at least it will get most of the blood out.

through the mix of the shower water and the washing machine, soft sniffles could be heard from the bathroom, your heart sank as you pressed your ear against the door, hearing dustin’s muffled sobs from outside.

“dustin..?” you questioned quietly, he ignored you, the sound of his presence could still be heard. you pursed your lips tightly together. stripping off your bra and panties as you entered the bathroom. dustin faced away from you, the water hitting his back as he had his head pressed against the shower wall. small streaks of red flowed down his perfect body, despite the solemn scenario you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

you quietly entered the shower, pressing your body close to his, arms wrapping around his torso as you let the warm water encapsulate you both. you cupped his cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the stubble of his beard as you bared your soul to him through your gaze.

“why are you crying, my love?” he peered down at you, cheeks hot and eyes puffy with tears.

“i’m sorry…” he began “you shouldn’t have had to see me like that”

“like what…? bloody?-“

“no.” he interrupted harshly. a thick gulp rose in his throat.

“weak” he spoke up after a moment of silence.

“dustin you’re not weak-“

“yes i am!” he sobbed. “you heard mox. i’m pathetic! you were the one person in this world i wanted to protect and i couldn’t even do that right!”

he held onto you for dear life, so afraid of letting you go.

“why do you love me, y/n? how can you keep loving me after seeing me lose time and time again?” his breath shaky and hoarse

“you don’t deserve to be married to someone like me. you deserve a winner like claudio, someone who can protect you, like moxley…” he paused for a moment, a look of disdain growing on his handsome features

“hell…even yuta-“

“don’t you even start” you held his gaze when he began to avert his eyes.

“i don’t want claudio mox, and you know yuta would never stand a chance, dustin. i love you, i’ve only ever wanted you. if i were in a room with a hundred men i’d always choose you. i can’t wait to be your wife”

your voice cracked, begging for him to see reason in your words.

“but why?” he stammered. “why do you love me?”

“dustin…” you hummed, pressing your forehead against his.

“your smile brightens up my day, your laugh i could recognise anywhere. the way you scrunch your nose when you’re deep in thought or the way you stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating.”

you continued to praise him with words of your adoration.

“you’re so kind, so caring, to everyone you meet. you’re talented, smart, you’re so unabashedly you.”

you cupped his cheeks firmly in your palms, keeping your gaze fixated on his.

“i love the way the way you love me. you look at me like i’m the only woman in the world, you treat me like a queen even though sometimes i feel i’m not deserving of it. even when we’re at our worst, you never stop loving me. and that is why i love you”

dustin pursed his lips into a thin line, a soft exhale through his nostrils

“and i’ll always be there for you. win or lose. if you’re holding a belt up high or writhing in your own blood-“

dustin winced at the mention of blood.

“i’m never leaving your side”

you pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering there for a moment, feeling his bottom lip quiver, trying to muffle a sob. he gave a shaky exhale through parted lips. removing your hands from his cheeks, gingerly placing them around his neck.

“let me at least prove that i am a man deserving of your love”

“dustin, you don’t need to prove anything-“

“please, y/n!” his voice broke through a slight crack “just let me do the one thing i know how to do right”

you cocked your head in slight confusion, feeling dustin reciprocate your previous actions, cupping your cheeks, pulling you in for a passionate, fiery kiss. he moaned softly against your lips, smoothing the apples of your cheeks with the calloused pads of his thumbs.

“dustin-“ you managed to squeak in between kisses

“shh sweetheart, let me make you feel good”

he angled his hips against yours, swirling them slightly. you felt his cock hardening against your upper thigh, right in the axis of your hip, grinding himself into you. the water covered the both of you, with your eyes closed, it felt as if the two of you were entombed behind the curtains of a magical waterfall. you melted into the kiss, succumbing to the power of him, letting him embrace you tight against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin radiate against yours

“jump.” he demanded softly, breaking the kiss barely for a couple of seconds before diving in once more. you complied, jumping into his arms, your back pressed against the wall as he adjusted himself. his cock teasing your entrance momentarily, his tip tracing circles against your clit, feeling your wetness began to pool against your folds.

you jutted your hips forward slightly, the head of his cock entombed by your warmth, his mouth hung agape against yours, breathing moans of your praise against your skin. he guided himself in, a pleasured groan escaping his lips.

“fuck…so good for me” he breathed out, your warmth finally full with himself your hips guiding his movements with slow gentle swirls, feeling his cock swell inside you with pleasure.

he kept his movements deliberately slow, wanting your pleasure to be drawn out as long as he could hold it. you whimpered into his shoulder, teeth lightly nipping at the skin.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated like a mantra. “i’m sorry i scared you.”

“dustin…” you whined, trying to compose yourself as he slid in and out of you, hips rocking with your movements. “it’s not your fault…”

dustin hooked one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist with ease, the other hooked atop his arm. the sheer size difference between the two of you was enough to complement his strength in holding you up.

“i love you. i love you so fucking much it hurts…”

dustin’s groans increased with the speed of his thrusts, his hands gripped your flesh tighter, his kisses became more intense than before.

“god…i can’t wait to marry you…” he grunted, pressing open mouth kisses to the column of your neck. “fuck if i could marry you right now, i would sweetheart”

you remained silent for the moment, just letting yourself bask in the sound of his moans, letting them ring and reverberate in your ear. your walls clenched around him, a thick pulse rising between your thighs, arousal churning in your stomach as you cling to him. you felt no need to announce your orgasm, dustin already felt the impending gush of your sweetness, letting himself succumb to. his own arousal, muttering a chorus of “i love you”’s against your skin

he released, giving one final thrust, burying himself deep inside you. his cock pulsing against your walls, pumping load after load of hot cum deep into your void. you melted into him at the sensation, the warmth of his seed was enough to send you over the edge with a pleasured cry, making a mess of his cock as wetness drenched your inner thighs.

he held you there for a moment, making sure that he had completely drained himself inside of you before letting you down easy. your thighs weak, having to stabilise yourself between the wall and his broad chest for a moment. dustin rested his forehead against yours, trying to regain his breathing.

“let’s do it then…” you panted breathlessly

“huh?” he questioned, mind still hazy from his orgasm.

“let’s go get married.” you smiled sweetly up at his. he reciprocated the action, mind still coming too with your words

“wait, seriously? like right now?”

“yes, right now! you said you couldn’t wait”

dustin cupped your cheeks once more, peppering sweet kisses to each high point of your face, tears of joy now evident in his eyes, he stared down at you with such unfiltered adoration. such love in its purest form.

“i love you so much, sweetheart. more than you’ll ever know”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#chuck taylor #sexy chuckie t #chuckie t #aew x reader #chuck taylor x reader #best friends #aew #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #aew imagine #aew wrestling #aew fanfiction

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drivelikeiido · 1 year

Text

to dye for

matty dyes the reader's hair in his own chaotic, messy way

matty healy x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: some suggestive mentions but it's all jokey but other than that it's just fluff ! (aka all i seem to write)

notes: this is self indulgent because i dye my hair all the time and i saw a pic of blue haired matty on the dash this morning that inspired me to actually write this ! also shoutout to mads for saying it was similar to the hair dying scene from clueless you were so right and i finally watched clueless because of that so slay

The scene in the bathroom is carnage. Coloured dye and stained towels litter the previously spotless floor. You almost regret putting too much trust into your boyfriend’s capabilities to help you, but he did insist and who were you to resist those chocolate brown eyes?

You're sitting cross-legged on the chair you brought in from the office, one you’re glad neither of you cared about as it’s now irreversibly dyed with memories of this venture. Matty stands behind you, your head at the perfect height for him to apply his ministrations. Normally you adore the feeling of your boyfriend’s slender fingers playing and passing through your hair, but at this current moment in time the feeling just stresses you out, not being able to see the ‘artistic choices’ he’s taking in terms of your appearance worries you. It’s not that you don’t trust him but judging from the sight of the splatters of dye that are dotted all over the bathroom floor he seems to have gotten a little too overenthusiastic to be involved in your makeover, making you worry for the state of your undoubtedly stained scalp.

After a particularly loud sigh from you and a warning of “Matty!” your boyfriend's infectious giggle can be heard from above you, the wholesome sound filling the small space of the bathroom.

“Darling I am helping you know”

“Matty, you’re getting dye everywhere!” you chide, only pretending to be annoyed at him and he knows that.

“You want it all to be covered don’t you?”

You snap your head back to look up at him, his infectious grin already staring back at you, “Yes but not the walls!”. His responding laugh is booming and full of entertainment and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges with how broad his smile is makes you want to kiss every inch of his pretty face, that too which somehow has dots of dye splattered onto it, making him look even more like a work of art than he normally does.

His colourful gloved hands start a shooing motion, telling you to turn around once again so he can finish his job. You slump your shoulders in joking exaggeration, breathing out “You’re gonna make my hair go grey Matthew”. His laugh is immediate, “And then I’ll just dye over it again” his voice proud and smug as he drops a loud, overdramatic kiss to your shoulder, that act alone fracturing your annoyed facade, a large lovestruck smile breaking out onto your face.

“You make me want to scream sometimes”

“Oh I know, love”, you can practically hear the shit-eating grin in his sudden sultry voice as he decides to interpret this as innuendo.

His antics make you sigh once more as you lean your head back, looking up at his playful eyes, “Oh stop, you know I didn't mean it like that”.

His mischievous smile is hypnotising as you look up at him from below, his face upside down due to your awkward angle, “Oh sure you didn’t but I have enough memories of you screaming for me to last a lifetime so forgive me if your threat lacks substance sweetheart”

“Oh my god Matthew!”, the memories of pleasure-filled nights filling your mind and making you blush; even after all these years of dating he still has this effect on you so easily.

His amused laugh echoes in your ears once again, “Please, stop pretending to be innocent, we both know you like it”.

You suddenly feel very vulnerable, covered in hair dye and currently blushing and flustered from your boyfriend’s previous comment, “Behave and finish my hair now please”.

“Anything you say love”.

He maneuvers your head forwards again to allow him to add some finishing touches to the art piece that is your hair, how there’s any part of your head not covered in dye at this point is a mystery to you but you let him entertain himself.

Once Matty had rinsed through your hair until the water ran clear, his fingers soothing as he ran them through the freshly coloured strands as well as the conditioner he had generously applied afterwards.

When that too was rinsed out, he left you sitting on your shared bed like a wet dog while you towel-dry off your hair as he tries to clean up the multicoloured mess he had created in the bathroom. As you take the hairdryer to your hair Matty comes in from the other room, now changed into his ‘comfy clothes’ and wearing those tartan pyjama bottoms he knows you can never take your eyes off of. He walks slowly up to you from behind, wrapping his tattooed arms around your chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, looking at you in the tall mirror you both stand in front of. His eyes and smile are tired as he silently appreciates you and your new look, his thumbs rubbing slowly over your ribs and holding you flush to his cosy chest, an action that always feels like home.

Your hair is finally dry and Matty takes on the responsibility of being the one to brush it, slowly dragging the brush through your fresh hair and afterwards running his fingers through it once more, that motion alone bringing on a wave of sleep causing you to subconsciously lean back into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact. Matty begins carefully swaying you both side to side, still watching you intently in the mirror, leaving feather-light kisses in the crook of your neck, the urge to have them tattooed into your skin a constant desire.

His voice is low as he sleepily mumbles into your skin, “New hair looks good y’know, always knew it would, you’d suit anything”.

Your voice is light and appreciative as you thank him and watch your sleepy man of a boyfriend nuzzle closer into your body, his dark eyes making eye contact with yours as he leans up to drop a kiss to the side of your temple,

“You look beautiful, my perfect little art piece”.

His reference to his pollock-like hairdressing style makes you giggle and turn around to hug him fully, his large arms more than welcoming as he holds you tight against his pyjama-clad torso once again, whispers of sleep swirling around you both and subconsciously dragging you back to bed.

#what are we thinking besties #i wanna write more complex things but fluff is so fun #fluff is my favourite thing to write if you ever want fluff pls ask me lmao #this is a men in tartan pyjama bottoms stan account if you know what i mean ily #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #just became aware of the fact i write 1975 fics jesus christ #k!'s fics

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abiiors · 1 year

Text

Small Comforts

Hello and welcome aboard the self-indulgence train

cw: blood, reader (and the writer) being a bit pathetic

The second your alarm rings in the morning you know something’s wrong.

The wetness between your legs feels sticky and uncomfortable, already running down your thighs. The wheels in your head begin to turn, doing mental calculations hoping against hope that this is not what you think it is. But then the first stab of pain hits and you know you’re doomed. You know once you peel back the duvet, what you will see will be carnage.

And oh god, Ross’s pristine white bedsheets…

You close your eyes tightly as a flush of shame and mortification creeps up your neck. This is the third time you’ve stayed over at his place, the third time you’ve woken up in his bed right next to him. It’s supposed to be romantic and butterfly-inducing, yet here you are, frantically searching for a plan of action.

He turns around, still half-asleep and puts his arm around you, about to pull you close. And you feel yourself flinch away abruptly.

��Good morning?’ Ross cracks an eye open, still sleepy and clearly confused. On any other day, you would have swooned at how beautiful his morning voice is, deep and scratchy from disuse, how cute he looks with his eyes all soft and sleepy. But the panic in your chest compounds.

What if he’s really squeamish about blood? What if he’s easily disgusted by it? What if he’s mad about the bedsheets?

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, ‘it completely slipped my mind, I'm so sorry. I—’

‘Hold on,’ he interrupts, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide open, ‘baby, I have no idea what’s going on.’

Because of course, you gave him no context before launching into your apologies. So you scrunch your eyes tightly and wince as another cramp hits. This doesn’t help matters, not one bit but there’s no time to scramble as he goes the push the duvet off both of you.

‘No, no, no, wait—’ but it’s already too late.

Ross’s eyebrows fly up into his hairline in surprise and it’s almost comical until his face softens in realisation. ‘Oh, love…’ he sighs and smiles sweetly, ‘come on, let's get you cleaned up.’

So this is not the reaction you were expecting. You thought there would be mild disgust, maybe even some annoyance that he would try to quickly cover up, not…concern.

‘You’re not mad?’ you ask tentatively, still fully prepared for him to say something snide or even roll his eyes but all he does is tilt his head slightly.

‘Why would I be mad?’

‘Well,’ you point vaguely at the general area, still unable to directly look at the damage, ‘...this.’

He laughs a bit, then gathers his hair up in a bun. ‘It’s just some blood, baby. I do own a washing machine,’ he tries to joke.

‘I think I got some on your t-shirt too,’ you bite your lip to stop it from wobbling. Pain, embarrassment and hormones is clearly not a fun combination. Your eyes well up slightly, which adds to the humiliation because oh god why is your body betraying you like this today?

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ he moves quickly to pull you into his chest, ‘it’s okay, it’s alright.’ His voice is hushed and soothing, his words quick as he tries to calm you down.

‘Alright how about this,’ Ross speaks gently, ‘how about you get in the shower and I’ll clean this up, okay? And then we can do whatever you want.’

The fact that he’s being so fucking sweet about it chokes you up even more. You nod into his chest, gathering yourself up a bit. ‘Okay, yes.’

‘Check under the sink, okay? I bought some pads and tampons in case you ever needed them,’ he admits shyly, ‘looks like I was right.’

You hug him tighter as you feel your heart melt in your chest. How is this man real? He stays like that for a few moments, giving you as much time as you need, rubbing your back.

‘Come here,’ you mumble and pull his mouth to yours. He sighs happily into the kiss, caressing your cheek with his calloused thumb. The warmth radiating off of him soothes the pain in your stomach, still the cramps are now hitting you full force. You whimper slightly just as a particularly bad one hits and he draws back immediately.

‘Are you in pain?’

‘A little,’ you confess, ‘I think the shower would help.’

And the shower does help. The warm water and being surrounded by the smell of mint and lavender makes the pain dissipate a little. Still, you’re in dire need of a heating pad and some painkillers. By the time you walk back into his room, he’s changed the bedsheets and laid out a fresh, soft t-shirt for you. But Ross is nowhere to be seen. Even as you get changed and get back into bed once again.

You curl up on the bed, desperately willing the pain and nausea away. Ross is somewhere in the house, you can hear him moving but all you need at the moment is to cling to him like a koala and let him baby you. For now, you hug his pillow tightly and groan into it.

‘Oh, no,’ he coos in sympathy as soon as he opens the door and although just his presence is enough to calm you down, it’s the things in his hands that really bring a smile to your face.

He starts setting them down one by one; ginger tea because somehow he guessed you might be nauseous, a heating pad that looks simply perfect, a few books and DVDs and lastly, multiple bars of chocolate.

‘So you just have chocolate stashed around the house?’ you tease weakly and he raises an eyebrow.

‘Of course, I do, love. I’m not a heathen!’

His tone is so matter-of-fact that you can’t stop the sharp, surprised laugh that tumbles out of you. ‘I should start staying over more often then.’

He laughs and gets in bed next to you. ‘So this is what gets you to stay over more? Not me?’ he makes an exaggerated pouty face and begins placing small kisses on your face until you tug him towards you and give him a proper kiss. It’s a slow, sweet kiss. There’s no urgency to it, no sense of desperate need yet it’s intense in its own right. A kiss full of pure indulgence. His hand comes to rest on your stomach, fingers gently kneading and massaging. Even in the middle of an almost makeout, his first instinct is to provide comfort.

‘Come on,’ he says eventually, pulls away with much effort, ‘I don’t want the tea to get cold. And I brought us some books if you feel like reading together, or some movies if that’s what you would rather do.’ Then his hands move to his pockets and he produces a small silver rectangle, ‘and painkillers.’

‘You are so perfect!’ you sigh, on the verge of tears once again, because how did you get lucky enough to deserve this man?

Ross smiles bashfully, turns around to grab the cup of tea but you suspect it’s also to hide the small, adorable blush creeping up on his face.

‘Come on, now,’ he holds the mug in front of you, ‘flirt with me later. Right now, let’s focus on you.’

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mxserish · 1 year

Text

stillness || kurapika kurta

kurapika x reader

genre: angst; no confort

warning: mentioned death; pure sadness; kurapika's mental health is in shambles

With the spiders dead, his vengeance is finally complete. His clan's eyes are now in his possession. The only thing missing is you.

His hands dipped into the icy water, gathering some to splash on his face. Despite the cold, he didn't even flinch; he didn't have the strength to or didn't care. As his hands gripped the sink, he leaned closer to the mirror. he eventually raised his gaze to the mirror in front of him. God, he looked so terrible.

There were noticeable eye bags under his eyes, which added to the dead look on his face. Even the best clothes couldn't hide the obvious sleepless nights. He looked at his eyes, his clan's inheritance, the same eyes that had caused him so much pain. He despised them because every time he looked at them, he was reminded of the carnage he had witnessed. He wished to gauze them out, just as they had done to his family. He rubbed the area between his eyes, a frown on his face and a growing headache settling in.

Never the matter, he had more important things to do. Someone was waiting for him. He turned off the water, dried his face with a clean towel, and walked out the door.

The long corridor was as empty and silent as it had always been. Of course, he was used to it, having walked this path many times before. The only sound that disturbed the quiet was the sound of his steps. The noise could be considered unsettling, but it didn't bother Kurapika. Not anymore. Was this corridor always this long, or was it his imagination?

The sound of laughter from behind him caused him to come to a halt. He recognized the source of the laughter. He'd always remember their laughter, and he'd never forgive himself for forgetting it. Oh, how he missed that sound, that sweet melody. He needed to hear it again. He had a hopeful look and a wide smile on his face. He yelled their name with delight as he hurriedly spun around to find the source of the sound, to find them.

Nothing stood behind him. His expression changed quickly as he realized what was going on. Not this again. His breathing was erratic, his vision was blurry, and he shakily clutched his clothes. He tried everything he could to stop shaking, but his body refused to cooperate. He questioned whether he should have taken the medications that had been prescribed to him.

I'm not crazy. I'm fine. I'm not crazy. He desperately attempted to console himself. He continued his journey through the corridor, his heart pounding.

He was stopped at the end of the eternal corridor by a door. He knew what was behind it because he'd been there before, but it didn't stop the lump from forming in his throat. Keep going, he thought, and he eventually opened the door.

He was met with a shrine he had constructed. It was distinct from the others because it was adorned with the belongings of his deceased clan. His eyes scanned everyone, counting them over and over again, almost as if he was afraid of one of them disappearing, even if it was just one.

Chysta, Martir, mom, Huber, dad... these names flashed through his mind as he moved his gaze from one to the next. Did these names match the true owners of the eyes? He had no way of knowing for sure, but saying them made him feel better. Even if only for a little while. When his gaze fell on the top of the shrine, it immediately softened. Pairo...

He must keep going. He managed to look away and walk to his final destination with some difficulty. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

"You're still as lovely as ever, my love." In front of him was a bed with flowers all around it. There layed you.

"I saw you yesterday, but it feels like an eternity since I last saw you. I've been missing you terribly." His fingers gripped your chin with caution as if he was afraid you would shatter. He lowered himself and placed his lips against your cold ones. He pressed his nose against your ear and smelled the perfume in your hair. A deep sigh escaped his lips, and if you listened closely, you could hear how unstable it was. He was trying very hard to maintain his smile.

"I'm sure you've felt lonely being here by yourself. I'm sorry this has to happen, but it's for your own good." In an attempt to console you, he rested his forehead against yours. Or was it to distract him from his dark thoughts? His hands began to shake, his clothes clung to his body due to sweat, tears pricked his eyes, and despite his best efforts, his walls began to crumble until they were completely demolished.

He could no longer keep up his tough exterior, and he finally broke down in tears. The room was filled with cries of anguish and pain that he had suppressed for many years. His warm tears met your cold expression. As he clung desperately to your clothes, he sobbed. "Why haven't you come back? What do I have to do for you to wake up again?!" His inquiries were met by silence. He needed you so badly.

His cries persisted and lasted a long time. After some time, his cries evolved into laughter, a sign of his growing madness, until everything fell silent. "I know you'll come back to me. I just have to wait, right?" He wondered if this was your punishment for making you wait for him all that time. But don't worry; he'll wait for you until the end of time. He's been doing it for a few months now. You have to come back, or he might just go even more insane.

He kissed you goodbye and walked away, leaving your corpse alone. He tells himself that tomorrow will be the day when you will finally get up, hug him, and kiss him. In the back of his mind, there's this voice that warns him that you won't wake up, that you're gone for good. He chooses to disregard it. He can't, however, ignore the growing emptiness in his heart.

please, wake up.

kurapika needs therapy. we all need therapy.

— posted: march 19, 2023

#kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta #kurapika kurta x reader #hxh #hunter x hunter #kurapika hunter x hunter #kurapika x you #kurapika x y/n #gn!reader #angst #kurapika angst

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 12

“Hearts Don’t Break Around Here”

Joel Miller x f!o/c

A/N: this actually might have been my favorite chapter to write. It’s so beautiful ♡

Summary: just a group of friends/lovers pretending that the horrors that lay outside a white picket fence, no longer exist for a day. No apocalypse, no death, no carnage, no violence. Just good wine, full bellies, laughter and oh, love. Lots and lots of love.

~word count: 7k~

Warnings: implied age gap, established relationship, brief mentions of angst, swearing, soft! joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! joel, fluff, consumption of alcohol, nicknames, so much flirting, teasing, feelings, emotion, comforting themes, light smut, consent, consent, consent, cockwarming. (+18) minors dni!

Songs for this chapter:

“Hearts Don’t Break Around Here” by Ed Sheeran

“Second Chances” by Gregory Alan Isakov

“Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran

“From Eden” by Hozier

“Like Real People Do” by Hozier

“The Last Waltz” by Engelbert Humperdinck

“Heaven” by Niall Horan

“Somethin’ Stupid” by Nancy & Frank Sinatra

“A Man Without Love” by Engelbert Humperdinck

June 2021 : Boston QZ

“Oh my god, she has fuckin turned you into a goddamn marshmallow!” Tess was in absolute disbelief when Joel Miller sat across from her, with chipped purple nail polish on his nails.

He let out a scoff while he tried to hide his small grin. Yeah, okay maybe you had turned this grumpy man into a marshmallow. Soft, fluffy, gooey. All the things that no one would ever believe Joel Miller could actually be. “It’s just a bit of nail polish, Tess. It ain’t that big of a deal.”

The two friends sat across from each other in the community square. It was blazing out. The sun was beating down on them unforgivingly. They each had a cup of homemade hooch in front of them. Joel would have been back at the apartment with you but you had kicked him out. Not permanently, of course. Just for a few hours because as much as you loved having him there every waking moment of the day, you needed your space. Of course, your newfound lover fought you on it at first, until he reluctantly gave in. He supposed that a bit of space from each other wouldn’t do any harm.

Tess had grinned at him over the rim of her cup. It was pretty glaringly obvious that Joel had it bad for you. “Where is she anyway? I Expected you two to be tied at the hip, if you weren’t already.”

“She kicked me out.” He took a sip then before adding, “Not permanently. Think i’ve been suffocating her a bit. She wanted some space to herself. Can’t really blame her, but you know how I am.”

“You’re as stubborn as a mule Joel.”

“You’re right. Ain’t nothin gonna change that either.” He looked around for a moment and felt the sweat dripping down the back of his neck from the blazing sun. “So, what’re you doin out here Tess? You got a hot date you’re waitin for or somethin?”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he raised his brow in her direction. He could see her cheeks heating up and it sure as hell wasn’t from the sun. “Oh my god, was I right on the money with that? No fuckin way. Who is it? You gotta tell me now c’mon.” He was intrigued, and unashamedly excited for her. Tess deserved happiness just as much as he did. Although, he was still getting used to it. Feeling for someone again. Opening his heart up, piece by piece. It wasn’t easy by any means, but he’d do it a 1000 times over for you.

“Yeah, okay. I am waitin for a hot date, but before you say anything–” She had paused when she saw Beatrix approaching and Joel had turned his head to see where she was looking. Using his hand to shield his face from the sun and when he spotted Beatrix. He couldn’t help but slowly look over at Tess, a grin tugging on his lips. “Ohhh. I see now. You and Beatrix, huh? When did that happen?”

“Been happening for a while now, Miller.” Beatrix responded to his question as she stood alongside the makeshift table and looked over her girlfriend, shooting her a little wink.

“Beatrix.” He nodded and gestured to the empty seat. “Makes sense. Considerin Tess has been pretty much absent from the apartment. Y’know it’s uh–it’s nice that y’all have each other I mean–” He rubbed the back of his neck slightly.

Beatrix let out a light laugh and nudged her girl then. “Man, you weren’t kiddin when you said he’s gone completely soft. You alright there Joel? Is the sun starting to get to ya?”

He grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t goin soft. Just think it’s nice y’all are happy.”

“He let her paint his nails, Bea. The man has it down bad.”

“y’know that is actually pretty fuckin sweet. You’re a lucky man, Miller.”

“Oh, you’ve got no idea.” He wanted to say more. It was on the tip of his tongue. All the ways you had made him feel. In a way, it infuriated him because this was never supposed to happen. You had shown up and wrecked all his plans, if he would even call them that. You and your smile, your ferocity, your wit. Hell, he could easily compile a list of all of your attributes. It would end up being a mile long, but he could do it. Yeah, he had it pretty bad.

The three fall into a comfortable chatter. As if they are long-time friends, meeting at the bar for a casual drink. Catching up on one another’s lives. Who’s married, how many kids do you have now? Do you still hate your job? Did you ever find love? Are you happy? Except, there is no bar. There’s the Boston Quarantine Zone, crumbling more and more each day. Crawling with FEDRA, Fireflies, infected, raiders, and cowardly men like Robert.

It’s easy to forget the hardship, violence, and death taking place just outside your window when you’ve found yourself in love. Finding one person who makes it all worth living again. Joel Miller was unashamedly in love. There was no hiding it. It was written across his weathered face, burnished between his two thick brows; melded thoughtfully through the ridges on his forehead. His hardness towards the world was slowly melting away, dripping in a puddle beside his worn boots. You made Joel Miller want to live again.

“Oh, before I forget, Frank radioed in this mornin. Said somethin about a summer solstice get-together? Guess he’s the only one makin an effort to keep track of dates and the seasons. Anyway, figured you wanna go Tess. Oh, and Beatrix. You should come along as well. If you’re lookin for a taste of hospitality.” He had lightly nudged Tess’s boot with his own and shot her a little grin.

“Summer solstice get-together? Yeah, that’s got Frank written all over it.” She looked over at Beatrix and nodded. “Yeah Bea, you should come with us. Only if you want to, that is.”

“Well, I gotta come now cause I'm pretty intrigued to see what exactly a summer solstice get-together really is. I’m all in, babe.”

Joel thought Tess and Beatrix looked good together. Genuinely he was happy for her. For them. They complimented each other nicely and it warmed his heart to see Tess smile again. A real smile, one that finally reached her eyes. He also knew that you would be over the moon that Tess had found someone. You and Tess had learned to put your differences aside. It was a phenomenon to see just how things really changed from the cold, rainy day you met Joel and Tess, 4 years ago.

The last thing you had ever expected to happen was falling for Joel Miller. The slow burn of your feelings intertwined. The intensity, confusion, resentment, forgiveness. It all went by in a blur. The record skipped, screeched, halted. The vinyl of your hearts were torn, and sewn back together. You nurtured one another through it all. You both were rough around the edges, sharp to the touch, walls miles high, impassable. You tore one another’s defenses down till it was just you two, standing in front of a mirror, looking in on yourselves. It was as clear as day that you and Joel were made for eachother, in more ways than one. Whatever soulmates were made up of, whatever the fairytales, and romance novels called falling in love, didn’t compare to how you and Joel felt for eachother. Your connection, devotion, sacrifice for one another was on a completely different plane. Love didn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

The three friends finished what was left of their drinks as the sun sky began to shift. Curfew was approaching. The different pink and orange hues were stunning against the sullen backdrop of the QZ. Joel couldn’t help but embrace Tess then. Giving her a firm hug. Much to his own surprise, he had hugged Beatrix as well. Looking over her shoulder when he caught two QZ residents giving an obvious dirty look to Tess holding Bea’s hand loosely. Joel didn’t even hesitate to stare them down. If anyone were to ever dare fuck with his friends? Well, you could imagine just what he would do.

“We’re leavin first thing in the mornin. Before the sun is up. Hope you’re not as cranky about it as I know Gwen will be.” He gave them both a slight nod before he turned on his heel, leaving the small community center and headed home, to you.

____________

The early morning hours ascended far too soon in your opinion. Despite your grumbled protests of, “five more minutes, please baby just five more.” Joel had ignored them and coaxed you awake with peppered kisses on your face and soft touches. When you didn’t immediately budge, he started tickling your sides and nearly avoided a kick to the balls when you sat up in annoyance. “Mother fucker, you really couldn’t give me 5 more damn minutes?”

“I’m sorry honey, but we gotta get dressed and go. You know I’d love to give ya 5 more minutes but I can’t. Besides, don’t you wanna see Frank? C’mon, sugar. I got coffee waitin for ya too.”

You let out a huff as he grabbed your face in his calloused palms gently. He greeted you with a soft, warm kiss and you playfully swatted at him. “Yeah yeah okay fine I’m up. What was that about coffee?”

He let out a deep chuckle when you had swatted him away and in return, he threw you one of his flannels to throw on. “That’s my pretty girl.”

“Shuddup. It’s too early for flirting.”

“Never too early. I’ll be in the kitchen waitin for ya.”

He left your shared room quietly, waiting for you in the kitchen, loading his and your gun. Once your bags were packed, and you had the steaming thermos of coffee in your grasp, you and Joel headed out.

His natural protective nature washed over him as you made your way through the alleys, and dark corners before reaching the exit point of the QZ where Bea and Tess were waiting. The hike to Bill and Franks was just as you remembered. Surrounded by lush forest while the four of you walked. Joel was leading the way of course, with you tagging by his side. Your fingers brushed against one another a few strides before he grasped your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. You were fucking holding hands and it absolutely warmed your soul. He only let go a few times to readjust his rifle over his shoulder, or if he heard something. Other than that, his palm was constantly on yours.

You arrived just outside Bill and Franks compound by late afternoon. This time, your company was expected, and before Joel even had the chance to punch the code into the metal gate, it was opening.

When you saw Frank up ahead, racing out of the house, you let go of Joel’s hand before running towards your friend that you hadn’t seen in so long. You yelled his name with pure joy radiating from your soul and when you finally met, Frank had scooped you up into his arms and spun you around.

Joel couldn’t help but smile at the exchange. You and Frank truly adored each other.

“Little Bird!” Frank exclaimed as he spun you around, hugging you tightly before he gently set you down on the ground.

“Frank! I’ve missed you!” You giggled softly when he had spun you around.

“Pssh? Me? You missed me? I was absolutely devastated when Joel told me you got sick!” He gently released you from his grasp, only to bring his arm around your shoulders as you started heading towards the house.

“I know, Joel told me, and I’m forever grateful for the medicine and tea.” You wrapped your arm around his middle then as you walked, the smile etched on your features was surely going to be permanent by the end of the day.

Joel, Tess, and Bea followed closely behind as the metal gate clinked shut behind them.

Bill was at the top of the stairs on the porch. Apron on as he was already cooking. He wasn’t a huge fan of you, not that you took it personally because he wasn’t a huge fan of anyone, except for his lover of course.

“Glad to see that you aren’t dead.” He spoke gruffly, arms across his chest.

In mock shock, you brought your hand against your chest and laughed. “No way man, you’re glad to see that I’m not dead? I can’t believe this. I’m going to have to document this exact moment!” You jokingly said.

Bill couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I sure as hell am happy you ain’t dead cause otherwise that one? He pointed to Joel. Would be 10x more insufferable than he already is.”

You leaned in with a small grin on your face and whispered, “yeah he’s pretty awful. No idea how I actually put up with him.”

You could feel Joel’s hand wrapping around your waist then pulling you back slightly. “I’m pretty awful? Hmmm…we’ll see about that honey.” He whispered.

You and Joel were the first to enter the familiar home. Making your way to one of the guests rooms for the night and as you set your bag down, pulling out your pistol and knife, setting them down on the nightstand.

Joel was grabbing you then, grasping your hips as he pulled you flush against his chest. His hand that wasn’t holding you firmly came up to your face, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What was that about me bein pretty awful? I heard that correctly, didn’t I?” His tone was low, teasing.

You immediately brought your arms around his neck and threaded your fingers through his soft curls. “That was nothing, honey. I was just joking. You’re far from awful.”

Before he could steal a kiss, you were slipping out of his grasp like the little tease you were. You had a smirk spread across your lips as you leaned against the doorway. “C’mon, we’re not gonna spend all day up here okay? We’ll have all night for that Joel.” You shot him a wink before slipping past the door and headed back downstairs.

“Minx.” He muttered under his breath before he set down his rifle against his bag and pulled his own pistol out of his pocket and set it down next to yours. “Damn little tease.”

You had planned to take full advantage of the lasting sunlight. Bill and Franks home was surrounded by wildflowers and tall grasses. So that’s where Joel knew he could find you. Boy, were you a sight for sore eyes when he found you. Your back was splayed in the tall grass with your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes shut, blissfully. The sun was warm and inviting up until a shadow was casted over it. Now who the hell—Joel, of course.

You brought your hand up against your face as your eyes opened, shielding them from the sun as you looked up at your lover's tall frame.

“Comfortable?” He mused.

“Yeah, but can you maybe move like..I don’t know, a good inch to the left? You’re blocking my sun, cowboy.”

He chuckled and brought his arms across his chest. “Oh, I’m so sorry sugar. Did you want me to move?”

“You’re such an asshole.” You said with a light laugh as you reached your hand up to him and as soon as he grasped it, you were using all your strength to pull him down next to you.

He let out a grumble out of protest before he let you pull him down into the thick grass with a soft thud. “Was that really necessary?” He let out a grunt as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking over at you.

“It was because you were in the way of MY sun so I had to take matters into my own hands, lover.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he plucked a strand of the tall grass and twirled it between his fingers. You couldn’t help but lean over, grasping his jaw in your hand, and kiss him sweetly. He wasted no time grab ahold of your hips while he maneuvered himself onto his back, coaxing you into his lap so you were straddling him.

“Joel..” you warned. Kissing him deeper because you simply couldn’t help it. His kisses were addictive.

He hummed in response bringing his hand up to the back of your head and threaded his fingers through your hair gently. “What is it honey? Just tryin to get myself comfortable.” he mumbled into your lips.

“Slick mother fucker.” You pulled back from the kiss and looked down at his smug expression while he brought his arms behind his head then. His eyebrow tilted up towards you in a suggestive manner.

“enjoyin the view?” He rasped. You looked so pretty in the sunlight.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” You reached out and lightly booped his nose before climbing off of his hips.

“You really gonna tease me all day like this? What, you tryin to drive me mad? Up a wall? Cause, it’s workin.”

You looked back at him with a small grin, shaking your head. “No, of course not. That would just be pretty awfully mean of me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before he slowly sat up scooting over so he was close to you once more. “Can I sit out here and hold ya at least? Promise I won’t try anything funny.”

“Joel, of course you can honey, you don’t have to ask for that. It’s yours.” You watched as a grin tugged on his lips as he reached for your waist and gently pulled you back against his chest. Letting you get comfortable between his thighs.

Once you were settled, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head while his elbows rested back against the soft earth beneath his palms. He watched you curiously as you began to pluck some of the surrounding wildflowers. All different kinds. He watched as your delicate fingers weaved together the stems and he swore, he caught you humming.

While you were crafting together your flower crown, Joel couldn’t help but lean his head back slightly, his eyes closed, a relaxed expression on his face as the sun warmed his skin. He was at peace, being here with you. He must have dozed off for a few minutes because he didn’t feel your soft grasp on his bicep right away.

“Joel, honey?..” you spoke softly through the warm breeze.

“Hmm?” He mumbled softly, blinking a few times as he tilted his head forward once more and looked at the wildflower crown between your fingers. “Oh, that’s beautiful sugar. You want me to put it on you?”

You turned your head slightly so you could look at him. “I was gonna ask if I could put it on you.”

“Oh? No baby, it’ll look beautiful on you. It’ll look silly on me.”

“No it won’t, Joel. You’ll look handsome, I promise.”

How could he really say no to you? Especially when you looked so carefree, so happy. It was just a little flower crown after all. Maybe he wouldn’t end up looking silly.

“Oh, alright. Go ahead. Lay it on me” he watched as you gently lowered the flower crown on top of his soft curls. Your smile was so soft, so beautiful.

“So, how do I look? Still ruggedly handsome?”

You shook your head, brushing your fingers against his jaw gently. “No, you look beautiful Joel.”

__________

Unbeknownst to either of you, Frank had seen the moment between you two from the open kitchen window. He, of course, already had his vintage Polaroid camera at the ready as he snapped a picture. He knew you would want to always have this memory for safe keeping.

He looked over at Tess and Bea who were helping Bill prep the vegetables. “So, when did this all happen? I always had this feeling that they liked each other. I just never thought it would actually happen.”

Tess set down her knife and wiped her hands on one of the nearby towels. “She almost died this Spring. The three of us were gonna leave the QZ permanently with some other smugglers. We were set up. Robert caught wind of us and sent some of his men. Gwen shot first. I watched her go down. Saw the knife sticking out of her gut and Joel? I’ll never forget the screams he let out.”

Frank's face fell as Tess told him what had happened to you. He was in disbelief.

“She nearly bled out on our kitchen table. I had to keep him calm. There was this moment where I knew he thought he was going to lose her. She was fading and then he just grabbed her face, Frank. He’s got tears streaming down his face and he kisses her. He kissed her because he thought he’d never get the chance to do it again.”

Tess nearly had tears in her eyes from that traumatic night and when she felt Bea grasp her hand gently and give it a squeeze, she took a deep breath.

“He stitched her up, and laid with her on the couch. He literally wouldn’t leave her side. He slept on the floor next to her till she woke up. He was just so—I don’t even know how to explain it. I’ve never seen him get so distraught. I let him go that night, and it probably was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. They’re meant for eachother. I’ve never seen him so fuckin happy. I’m happy for him. I’m happy that someone broke through to him. I’ll always care about him, nothing will ever change that. She’s his person, and he’s hers.”

Frank was already grabbing a bottle of wine. He had his own tears brewing because how fucking beautiful was it to hear that two people, who despised eachother from the beginning, had found eachother. Fallen for one another, and held on tight.

“Jesus fucking Christ. I’m going to need a large glass of wine after that.” He was already unscrewing the bottle and poured himself and Tess and Bea a glass. “You found someone too. You moved on, right?” He gestured to Bea by her side.

Tess took the glass with zero hesitation and took a big sip. “Bea is quite literally the best thing that has ever happened to me. I feel like I’ve gotten a new chance. A fresh start.” She looked over at her lover, who was in disbelief and when Tess saw her tears welling, she reached over and gently wiped them away with her thumb.

“You really..you really feel about me that way?”

“Course I do.”

Frank was already raising his glass in a toast and had to gently kick Bill to grab his own glass, with a disapproving grumble.

“Here’s to good wine, full bellies, laughter with friends and of course, love. Lots and lots of love.”

Tess, Bea, Frank and Bill all clinked their glasses together.

What a sight they all were to the outside world beyond the white picket fence.

________

You and Joel were in your own little world as held you against his chest, he was still wearing the flower crown you crafted him and you were both looking up at the passing clouds, in a comfortable silence. You could hear the birds chirp, the soft breeze through the grass and the humming of buzzards.

A purple butterfly, with delicate papery wings flew above you and landed right on Joel’s nose but before he could shoo it away, you had gently grabbed his wrist then and whispered, “No, don’t. You’ll scare it baby.”

He looked afraid to move then. Staying absolutely still as you gently released your grip on his wrist. The butterfly slowly flapped its wings, revealing the different purple hues, some dark, some light. It flew from its perch on his nose, fluttering for a moment before it landed on the outside of his hand.

“Think it likes you, honey.”

Joel furrowed his brows slightly as he looked down at the delicate insect resting along his hand. Suddenly, the realization hit him. The color purple. Purple nail polish, a purple butterfly.

“Sarah.” He spoke above a whisper.

“Hi baby girl.”

You both watched as the butterfly flapped its wings once more before it flew off his hand, fluttering away.

You saw the tears well in his eyes before he even could feel them and you immediately pulled him into your arms, bringing his head against your chest while his arms draped around your middle, holding you close to him.

Neither of you spoke in those moments. You simply just held each other.

You were both torn away from your thoughts when the back door leading out to the porch opened and Frank stuck his head out and yelled. “Dinner is ready love birds! Hurry up before it gets cold!”

“I’m okay, sugar. C’mon. Let’s go and..what’s that word you like usin? Immerse ourselves with our friends.” He gave your waist a light squeeze, reassuring you that he was okay.

You answered him by gently grabbing his face in your hands, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs, giving him a sweet, loving kiss.

His eyes fluttered shut when your lips met his and he kissed you back, holding you there for a moment before he slowly pulled away and stood to his feet, offering you his hand as he helped you up.

The six of you were comfortably sitting together. Frank spared no expense to the details of the table spread. He had brought out the finest china just for this occasion. It was, after all, the longest day of the year. What better way to celebrate, than with friends? Before you dug into your meals, Frank poured everyone a tall glass of wine and everyone toasted to love, longevity, and good times. Joel was looking right at you, a small grin on his face as he raised his glass in your direction. The only sounds that could be heard was silver lightly clinking on china. The occasional song-bird, or two. You all were enjoying the delicious food that Bill had prepared and by the end of the meal, your bellies were full.

The air was warm, peaceful and for a moment, it was all too easy for you to forget about the cordyceps, the end of the world, the loss you had endured. It was so easy when you were surrounded by friends, and your lover, who couldn’t take his eyes off of you. As more wine was poured, the laughter ensued as old stories of the past flowed past your soft lips with ease. Tess agreed that the Chicago Bean, was pretty fucking cool.

You felt so fucking loved. You could barely contain it.

When the plates were cleared, you all headed inside to help with the dishes and of course, crack open another bottle of wine. By the time that Bill had started a fire in the living room, you could already feel your cheeks getting flushed. A warm, fuzzy feeling washing over you.

Joel was at your side then, his arm lazily draped around your hip as you rested your head against his shoulder. He brought the rim of his own wine glass up to his lips and took a sip, a smile creeping over the delicate china.

Frank was already flipping through his many record albums while everyone else was getting comfortable on the two couches. He had decided on ‘A Man Without Love’ by Engelbert Humperdinck. You learned very quickly that Joel Miller was not a singer. Even a few glasses in, drunk on your love, he would not sing. Frank had pulled you up from the couch and twirled you around playfully while you both belted out the lyrics, “Every day I wake up, then I start to break up, lonely is a man without love. Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out, lonely is man without looooove!” You didn’t particularly have a grammy winning voice either but hell, you were having fun! Joel was enamored while he watched you over the rim of his glass. He loved to see you in these moments. When you let your hair down, you belly laughed, giggled and god, did you smile.

More wine was poured, more songs were played and as the sun began to set, the fire lowly crackled in the background, it was just you and Joel now. Frank had taken Tess and Bea out to the greenhouse to show the wonderful progress his plants had made. You were knackered from the singing and dancing as you plopped down next to your lover with a light giggle.

“You’re drunk, honey.” he looked over at you with a small grin.

“No, I'm happy Joel. I’m so fuckin happy. Okay, and a little drunk too. Just like a tad though.”

He leaned in, his face close to yours. “M’happy that you’re happy ‘darlin. You look beautiful. I love it when you smile. Warms me right up.” He whispered, reaching out and gently cupping your face in his warm palm.

“You’re happy too..right?”

“ m’so happy baby. You have no idea.” He admitted. This was only for you to hear. He was secretly thankful that your friends weren’t in the room. He wanted this moment to only be shared between you two.

“Good. I’m glad honey, you deserve it.”

Before he could answer, the record crackled, transitioning slowly to ‘The Last Waltz’

He surprised you then, reaching for your hand before he helped you up from the couch gently.

“Dance with me?”

“I never thought you’d ask, cowboy.” You took his hand then as he helped you up. You were a little unsteady on your feet, while his free hand was gently splayed across your lower back as he pulled you into chest, holding you as close as he physically could. Your hearts were practically intertwined as he slowly started to sway with you. Your fingers were interlocked between his other hand while you brought your freehand to his shoulder, playing with the worn fabric of his flannel gently. He dipped his head down slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His warm brown eyes, locked on yours. You continued to slowly sway, taking in this private moment as he whispered the lyrics lowly between you. His voice was warm, inviting, deep, and it settled within your bones. “I had the last waltz with you. Two lonely people together. I fell in love with you..the last waltz should last forever..”

He kissed you then. Closing the small gap between you finally. Neither of you pulled away as the record crackled, the song coming to an impending end. You continued to kiss him, tasting the sweet wine on his tongue. His breath hitching, his fingers tightening along the exposed sliver of skin of your lower back. You breathed him in, letting his kiss settle deep within your soul.

The moment had ended when you both heard someone clearing their throat. Joel had let out an annoyed grumble as he tore his lips from yours, looking over your shoulder at a smirking Frank, who was holding the game ‘Monopoly’

“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds. Are you up for a friendly game of monopoly?”

Joel had opened his mouth to speak but before he could, you brought your finger against his lips and looked back at Frank with a sweet smile. “We would absolutely love to play.”

“Who is we–” you shot your lover a playful warning look and he returned it with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, sure we’d love to play.” He grumbled.

“Excellent!”

You slipped out of your lover's grasp, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the living room and into the kitchen.

You found out shortly after the game began, that Bill was an absolute sore loser. He was the first to be out of the game. He cursed out, throwing what was left of his money before he grabbed his gun, heading for the kitchen as he mumbled about how stupid this game really was. “Who the hell thought of inventing this stupid game? I hope they’re rolling in their grave right fuckin now!”

Everyone was trying to hide their laughter then. It was hard with the amount of wine that had been consumed already. As the game continued, Bill had returned shortly after his loss, with a fresh bottle of wine as he topped off his glass and plopped back down into his seat next to Frank. He had a grumpy look on his face, with his arms crossed against his chest. When Frank leaned over and gave him a little kiss on the cheek, his face softened for a moment.

The game continued on for hours. Frank was the next to lose. Joel had secretly slipped you a few of his extra bills under the table, shooting you a little wink as he leaned over and whispered “you’ll find a way to pay me back, sugar.” Which had you lightly swatting his arm for being the flirt that he was, but you loved it. You loved seeing Joel with his guard down, and enjoying the small joys that life had to offer. He looked so beautiful.

Bea and then Tess were the next to lose and soon it was just you and Joel, head to head. Battling to the death. Well, until one of you decides to give in. Your friends had all gone to bed a while ago. The candles on the dining room table were almost melted down completely. You weren’t even sure how much wine you had actually consumed, but by the looks of the empty bottles, you knew you had quite a lot to drink.

“Joel, baby. C’mon can you please surrender. It’s okay, you can admit that you lost like a big man.” You giggled. Your palm was resting along your chin as you looked at him, a drunk sleepy look gracing your features.

“C’mon, honey. We can finish this out. Don’t you wanna win fair and square?” He still had a half glass of wine in front of him and he couldn’t help but reach over and gently brush his thumb against your plush lower lip.

“Joel, I’m tired. Please? Let me win this my way.”

“The dirty way?”

“Nooo. The you’re gonna let me win because otherwise this game will never end, way. I think I will actually lose my mind more than I ever have if we have to keep playing.”

He leaned back against his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, then go on and admit your defeat. Sooner you do, sooner we get to go to bed.”

“Who said anythin about me admitting MY defeat?”

He chuckled and reached for his wine glass, downing the rest of its contents before he set it back down. “You heard me.”

“You’re such an asshole man. Fine, I admit my defeat. If I weren’t so many glasses, excuse me, bottles in, then I would have won. I’m sure of it.”

“Mhm. You keep tellin yourself that ‘darlin.” He blew out what was left of the candles then before he pushed his chair back and slowly stood up.

“I’ll get you back for this Miller. Just you wait and see.” Your chair scraped quietly against the hardwood as you rose from your seat.

“Oh, I have no doubt in my mind that you will honey.”

You let Joel deal with the empty glasses and bottles on the table while you packed up the game, placing the board and all the pieces back into the box.

He let you go in front of him up the stairs. His hand was at your lower back, making sure you wouldn’t fall back when you nearly tripped up one of the steps with a quiet giggle.

Yeah, you were pretty drunk.

Once you were in your shared room for the night and the door softly closed, your arms were around his neck, your fingers playing with the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “Baby..I’m really really drunk right now. Damn Frank and his wine but..I want you. Do you think we can?..” you whispered with a hiccup closely following.

“Honey..” he drawled, bringing his arms around you gently as he pulled you in close.

“We can’t. You’re drunk and I’ve had a bit as well. Plus, we don’t wanna wake anyone up..”

“We can be quiet.”

He gave you a look then. You and Joel did not know the definition of having a quiet fuck. It was pretty much impossible.

“Sugar, you know we can’t be quiet. Even though I wanna fuck you so bad right now honey, so fuckin bad. I gotta put my foot down, m’sorry.”

“Okay, fine. So we can’t fuck. How about..” you trailed off while your fingers slipped from his hair to his face, brushing your fingers against his strong jaw. “what if you were wrapped up in me, all night?..”

He raised his brow at your suggestion and his mouth went a little dry when he realized just exactly what your suggestion entailed.

“You want me to fall asleep, inside of you?”

“Please.” you begged. You were itching to feel him again. All of him.

“Fuck.” He whispered out. The wine was making his mind hazy and your words had him spinning.

“Please, Joel. I understand if you don’t wanna—”

“Shh. Of course I do. Fuck, of course I wanna bury myself inside of ya all goddamn night honey. You’re absolutely sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes. That’s what I really want right now Joel.”

He scooped you up into his arms in response. He carried you to the side of the bed and gently set you down before he reached for the hem of your shirt and gently started to lift it up.

“You wanna wear one of mine?” He already knew the answer.

“Always.”

He slowly lifted your shirt above your head before he reached down into his backpack that was alongside the bed and pulled out one of his spare shirts, slipping it down over your arms. Next, he gently shimmied your pants down your legs, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to your exposed hip bone.

“Can I take these off, sweetness? Or do you wanna keep ‘em on for now?” he rasped out.

“You can take them off baby, it’s fine.”

He slipped his thumb on either side of your panties before he slowly dragged the fabric over your hips, thighs and down your legs and ankles. He pressed another light kiss to your skin. This time it was your thigh.

You had reached for his flannel then and gently pushed it down his arms, tossing it to the side with your discarded clothes. He used his one hand to pull his shirt over his head, shaking his hair out a bit. Soon after, his jeans and boxers were discarded. You could feel the bed slowly dip from his weight as his arms reached around, settling comfortably around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest.

His lips were at the shell of your ear, pressing a soft kiss just below as he whispered, “you let me know if you want me to slip out, okay? I don’t want ya to hesitate.”

You grabbed one of his hands then and brought it up to your lips, pressing a kiss to his palm before interlocking your fingers with his. “I know honey, I got you, you got me. It’s okay. Please, don’t make me beg you.”

“You got me, I got you.” He let out a puff of air against the back of your neck as he slipped his legs between yours. He let his free hand, that wasn’t grasped between your fingers, grab ahold of himself before he gently, and slowly slipped himself between your slick, warm folds.

It took every sheer ounce of willpower inside of him to not jut his hips into yours. He let out a low hiss, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he sank deeper, till he was at the hilt.

“This okay ‘darlin? Not uncomfortable or nothin?”

You felt so full at that moment. With him buried inside you like this. Holding you so close to his chest. It was perfect.

“This is perfect honey. Thank you. Are you good?” You had turned your head slightly to look over your shoulder at him.

“ m’good. This is nice. You feel amazin. So fuckin warm and tight—”

“Joel, baby. Please don’t start something that you know you can’t finish.”

He chuckled and let his head drop to the back of your neck, pressing another kiss there.

“Sorry, don’t wanna get carried away.”

“I know honey, this is torture, and at the same time, I’ve never been more content.”

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckled.

He moved his hips just slightly as he got comfortable, sinking further into the soft mattress.

“I love you.” you whispered quietly. You were unsure if your confession was due to all the wine you consumed. Or if it was your sober thoughts, coming out in drunk words, or a mix of both.

“I love you, always.” He whispered back, tightening his hold around your waist, smiling against your soft skin when he felt your lips brush against his knuckles.

You and Joel slipped off into the dream world with ease. He stayed buried deep in your warmth, all night long. You never wanted him to leave. The closeness, intimacy, warmth you provided each-other so naturally. You wanted to keep him there forever.

How long could forever really last, when the dawn of a new day was always inevitable.

Chapter 13:

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watercolorfreckles · 10 months

Text

What's Mine is Yours (Prompt/Short Snippet)

"You know that I want you." The villain's nails, perfectly manicured, skimmed over the swell of the king's parted lips. His breathing caught somewhere in his throat, stilling at the touch. "But the only thing that I want more than you...is your crown. Don't you love me?"

Beneath the villain's intent gaze, the king upon his throne was certain that he looked far less like the ever-poised ruler, and far more like a smitten puppy. He wet his lips just to watch the villain track the movement. "You know that I do," he answered, settling his hands oh-so-gently, against her waist, as if the villain were a delicate flower and not a weapon capable of carnage and destruction and world-ending bloodshed.

The villain's fingers closed around the king's chin, leaning closer. Her smile rivaled the brilliance of sunsets. "Then prove how devoted you are to me. I know that you want me, too. And you can have me. I only ask one little thing of you." Her voice softened, narrowing the world into just the two of them. "Get down on your knees and offer me your everything, sugar."

The very air around them seemed to hold its breath. The king rose to his feet, straightening to a height a full head above the villain, though there was still no mistaking who was truly in control. He turned and lowered himself to his knees, tender hands brushing her thighs to guide her to sit back atop his throne in his place.

His throne suited her far more than it ever could him. Surrounded by gold and precious jewels, the villain glittered, all the more striking.

The king lifted his crown, heavy and dripping in rubies, to perch it on the top of the villain's head. He sat back on his heels as their eyes met; drawn together with all the dazzling intensity of lightning meeting water. Deadly to those around them. But gods, such a beautiful sight.

"You are everything to me," the king spoke finally. "All that I am is yours. My kingdom, my throne, belongs to you. I only ask one simple thing of you. Take me to be yours too?"

The villain laughed, a little breathless, heady and cheeks flushed a rosy pink on the high of the moment. Some might interpret the action as patronizing.

The king perceived instead that, just maybe, she felt a little smitten too.

She clenched a fist in the front of the king's expensive shirt, yanking him upright to lock him in a searing kiss.

The world was theirs together.

This is a very short snippet, so I don't mind if you use it as a prompt! Just tag me if you do, please, so I can read it! :) A little piece of this dialogue popped into my head earlier and plagued me until I wrote it out lol Hope you like it. I think this makes for a really interesting power dynamic (and yay for female villains!)

PS, sorry for disappearing again lol I'm really going to try to do better! I haven't been reading much at all lately either so i need to catch up on all my faves' writing!!

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

Note

OK, fluffy request lol soooo........

Loki finally works up the courage to ask you out, totally ecstatic when you say yes. And decided he wants to try to make dinner for you....and everything that can go wrong does.......

And when you show up to the utter disaster that is Loki cooking, you just think he couldn't be more adorable 😁😁💚💚

Fluff Drabble Marathon II

A link to my Fluff Library is HERE

Warnings: None. (w/c 900)

A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE [18+]

Seventeen Lemons

There was a soft knock at Wilson’s open door. He looked up to find the god of mischief peering around the corner with what could only be described as abject fear in his eyes.

“Uh-huh? What’s up man?” he said warily, eyeing Loki with suspicion.

“I require...aid, Wilson” Loki mumbled. Was he...blushing?

Sam leant back against the counter of his kitchenette, sipping his green tea pointedly. “Aid, huh?” he chuckled, “What could you possibly need my help for, since you keep reminding us how much better you are all the damn time.”

Loki shuffled into the room, pulling at the edge of his t-shirt. “Wilson you are a modern man of this realm familiar with its technicalities. My predicament relays to cooking and... namely, I have found that I cannot to an adequate level actually...cook anything.”

Loki frowned.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Cooking? Why you cooking, man?” Loki sighed. “In exchange for her company, I ensured Y/N a delicious meal in my chambers, and I fear I may have over-promised…”

“Ah, a date” Sam chuckled, “welcome to the real world, man. Over-promising and under-delivering all the live long day out here.”

As they approached Loki's apartment, the smell of something burning hung heavy in the air. They hurried along the corridor, Loki threw the door open, a flash of seidr dissolving the cloud swirling in his rooms instantly as he walked over and turned off the hob.

“Ok so, where are you up to in your culinary exploits huh?” Sam smiled, folding his arms.

“Well, I am attempting something called...pasta? But I cannot seem to get it to relent from its hard and crunchy state. I believe that is not how it is supposed to be presented. Additionally, the sauce methodology is proving...difficult.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow, “did you...boil the water?” - Loki’s blank stare told him that was a no. He sighed. “Ok dude, I think I gotta go hands on for this one.”

"You left it on? You left the gas on? Unattended? Laufeyson. Steve would shit a brick" he shook his head, observing the utter carnage around him. What Wilson suspected was an attempt at a ragu was bubbling in sticky black patches in a pan on the stove.

Every available surface in the kitchenette was covered in...something. Shells of pasta, half cut tomatoes, basil strewn across the tabletop. Was that...mango? Pans littered the floor where they had been desperately pulled out and inspected. Loki wasn't kidding about having had servants his whole life, apparently.

"Loki why are there like....is that...ten lemons you've cut in half?"

"Seventeen" Loki murmured regretfully. "The recipe called for a teaspoon of lemon-juice but I know not what this tea-spoon requires so I presumed seventeen was as good a number as any. "

"What?" Sam hissed, not bothering to hide the ridicule in his voice. His eyes fell to a gigantic pile of grated parmesan sitting on the dining table in pride of place. "What the hell you planning on doing with all that cheese?"

"Oh, yes..."Loki said smugly," Y/N loves parmesan so I have ensured we will not run out. "

"Ain't that the truth...how about that " Wilson mumbled, regarding the obscenely high triangular pile. "Can you not magic-up something to eat, you know? Cos man...this is pretty bleak, I won't lie" he said, surveying the room again, rubbing his forehead.

"It doesn't work like that" Loki huffed, "and regardless, I wish to make something for Y/N that conveys my excitement to get to know her."

"Seventeen lemons. Seventeen." Sam said incredulously, shaking his head "Loki Laufeyson. I would have bet hard money you would have moves in the kitchen but seventeen lemons" he cackled, doubling over as Loki's frown deepened.

"Your mirth is not welcome here, Wilson" Loki said stiffly, "Y/N arrives in a mere fifteen minutes"

Sam wiped a tear from his eye as they continued to stream down his face. "OK... OK... dude I’ll help you, only because I need to have this story in the bank. I need it." he burst out laughing again. "You clean this place up" he said, grabbing the apron covered in all manner of mess "leave 1/3 of the parmesan and one lemon..."

"One? That hardly seems fitting. " Loki murmured, beginning to clear away the burnt mess from the dirty pans with sweeps of seidr.

Wilson grabbed the clean cookware, twirling it around as he went to work. In ten minutes, a delicious smell of roasted garlic and tomato was sizzling in the air as pasta gently simmered.

He dipped a wooden spoon into the ragu, bringing it to Loki's lips. "Taste" he said, raising his eyebrows in expectation. Loki supped it gently, his eyes widening as the men nodded at each other in mutual appreciation.

"It's just missing one thing, my man" Sam hummed, looking knowingly at the god beside him.

"All you need to do is drain the pasta with this" he said, waving the sieve, "and then put it on a plate...and put the sauce on top... OK?"

Loki picked up a lemon half gleefully, pleased with himself. "I saved the best one" he said haughtily.

"Course you did. Now give it a squeeze over the sauce...that's it." Sam raised the apron over his head, placing it immediately over Loki's.

Loki busied himself at the stove, stirring the sauce that Sam had technically made but that he was an integral part of, naturally. It still counted. Of that, he was sure.

"Wilson" Loki huffed, "I am not entirely hopeless..." as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Seventeen lemons, man..." Wilson said knowingly, another whoop of laughter escaping him as he backed out the door, shaking his head.

"That smells delicious"

Loki turned, his breath hitching as you leant in the doorway. You were absolutely stunning. You walked to the kitchen, admiring his messy apron tied tight around those muscular hips.

"I can't believe you went to all this trouble for me" you whispered in his ear, admiring the flickering candles and soft music tinkling softly behind his shoulder.

"You have no idea, darling" he purred, conjuring a bottle of wine and two glasses theatrically to the immaculately set table. "You are the only one I would go to this trouble for, believe me" he said, swinging the front door shut and locking it with a wave of his hand.

Fluff Tags (reduced)

@lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @vbecker10 @mochie85 @muddyorbs @evelyn-kingsley @123forgottherest @thedistractedagglomeration @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @homesickcassie @yelkmelk @demoiseller @wheredafandomat @michelleleewise @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @xorpsbane @chantsdemarins @ficitve-sl0th @theaudacitytowrite @nightshadelm @ladylovesloki @mcufan72 @gigglingtigger @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @fantasyfan4life

#loki fluff #sam wilson fluff #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson fluff #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

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thefangirlofhp · 6 months

Text

31. what if: croissants and paintings (a short what-if version of apaixonar)

“The toys, too, Winnie.”

“Really?”

“You haven’t ever touched some of these. They’re going in the pile.”

The five year old twists her mouth, dropping the t-shirt she’d been making a sorry job of folding in order to huff and puff her way across the crowded mattress and climb off. Azriel doesn’t comment on her undoing some of the folded piles as she approaches the open closet, and assesses the chaos of remaining clothes, toys and little girl accessories that Azriel never imagined would end up being what bankrupts him but after embarking on this little discovering adventure in his daughter’s room, he’s realized most of his wallet’s emptied itself right here.

“Is this cause I didn’t tidy up?” Winnie cranes her neck as she looks back up at him. He sets down a folded red shirt that she’s probably worn once as a two-year-old and tilts her head back up.

“Will you keep it clean if I say yes?”

Her eyes glimmer. “Maybe.”

It’s only through the grueling and gruesome process of being a single-father every consecutive day for nearly five years now that Azriel manages to steel his facial expression. Of course, prior to this permanent occupation, he’d been just as capable of doing so—for different reasons. Poker games, lies, and the general detachment of society that comes from introversion, but he’s had to learn to keep a particularly tight lock on his reactions in-front this mini-human copying and pasting every behavior of his into her own system.

He’s not sure how happy he’d be if after all this toiling and hardwork, his daughter would follow in her uncle’s footsteps and end up a corporate lawyer. Oh God, he’s terrified of the shark-like gleam in her eyes turning its attention from animal species towards corporate law and finance.

Winnie grins at the flat expression he gives her. At least he still has the I Raised You card in his arsenal.

“I pwomise to keep it clean. Don’t throw away all my things. Petty please?”

Azriel slides a dress off its hanger, tosses the plastic away into the growing pile on the floor and flaps it out. “I’m not punishing you. We’re donating what we don’t need to people who’ll need them. And Aunt Feyre is going to need some of your baby clothes for their baby.”

“Cause of the baby in her tummy?”

“Uhu.”

Winnie steps into the closet, larger than any child’s closet reasonably need be, and crouches before the shelves. “Why won’t they buy?”

“There’s no need, if your clothes are hardly worn. It’s a gesture, and Feyre said she’d love to take some.”

“Gesture?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter for a second as he breathes in. It’s really therapeutic, possibly—maybe. A chore he can turn his mind off whilst doing, to busy his hands without having to think about anything. Until the chatterbox decided she was done with her coloring, and that shadowing him around the flat was much more entertaining.

“Yep,” he rubs his face, assessing the carnage that is his little girl’s room. On a good day, it is akin to a battlefield. A time like this, where she’s taken it as free reign to open everything that had a lid or door or drawer and throw the contents of everything everywhere? He imagines an escape room is simpler.

But if he’s honest with himself, which Azriel likes to think he is, her presence is something that had made him nearly sigh with relief. If he can’t hear himself think, then he won’t think, and then this will just be a trivial cleaning out of a room that is long overdue such treatment. The clothes in his hands are items to fold up, with no sentiment, and put in boxes for donation. They are not Winnie’s first dress, or the outfit she’d worn to her first visit to the lake. They are not one-month old and two-month old clothes that Ellie had cried over, somehow moved by rampant hormones to find such small items tear-jerking.

“Are we gonna give away my drawings?” Winnie suddenly asks fearfully, shooting to her feet after coming across a container of old art-supplies.

“No, no,” he instantly reassures her before her hair can turn grey. “Who’d we give them to?”

Winnie stares intensely at him. “People want ‘em.”

He holds back his mouth from twitching. “Do they?”

It’s eerie, how her eyes get so large and round and earnest. “Right?!”

“O-Of course, yeah. Definitely.”

“Aunnie Fey-Fey said they’re art. And-and people want art, right? We gonna give ‘em away?”

“Well do you want to give them away?”

“NO!”

“We’re not, then. Calm down, Picasso.”

She lets out a comically exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried there for a second!”

“Sure thing, Bunny.”

It’s probably a sad thing, spending his Saturday clearing out his daughter’s room and his own wardrobe for the donation Feyre’s asked him to contribute to, but what is probably sadder is that he’s relieved and very much content with staying in, cleaning and doing chores. Cassian has such an opinion.

“I can’t tell what’s sadder,” his friend remarks on the phone as Azriel loads the washing machine, boxes all taped and labelled and Winnie’s room unrealistically clean. He’d forgotten the color of her carpet was such a beautiful tone after he vacuumed it. “This being the highlight of your day, or the poor kid locked up in there with you.”

“Rhys is going to take her and Felix out in an hour,” Azriel turns the machine on. “They’re having a sleepover.”

“Sweet! Let’s get together and have a drink, then. Come on, night out.”

“Nah, man, I have assignments to mark and an exam to write.”

And isn’t he ecstatic about it. He’s been looking forward to this particular day since such sleepover’s been arranged, and he realized that all his chores and tasks neatly lined up to clear this day for catching up on his job and staying in. Maybe he’ll watch trashy reality television, or an even shittier crime show without having to worry about the Eavesdropper Supreme absorbing everything like a fucking sponge.

The possibilities excite him.

“Every word coming out of you is just sadder than the one before,” Cassian sighs, as if he heard Azriel’s thoughts.

“Give your liver a fucking break,” Azriel snaps, defensive over the impossible breach of his private thoughts. “You’re getting married in two fucking weeks and you’ve drunk more alcohol than your fiancé has in her entire alcoholic years.”

“Hey.”

Azriel takes the call off speakers and puts the phone to his ears as he walks out the room. “Speaking of, have you spoken to the resort?”

“That’s why I called. I did, and they’d be more than happy to keep you lot for a few more days. I think dropping some names did the trick.”

“Whatever gets you there,” he replies, entering the living room and immediately feeling his eye twitch at the sight that greets him. “Oi, Winnie, Rebel, off the iPad. Now. Read a book or something.”

Both girls turn their guilty eyes to him, as Winnie slides the device away underneath a cushion as if she wasn’t just caught red-handed. “Sorry, Daddy.”

He throws himself onto the couch next to them with a rush of breath whooshing out of him. “Are you happy with everything? No-one’s being a menace? Cake’s fine? Venue fine? No hurdles?”

“It’s going perfect,” Cassian answers, with the smile audible in his raspy voice. “Don’t want to jinx it, but there’s nothing to complain about. I really got to thank you properly for that wedding planner—she’s a gift from God.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty good.”

“Didn’t she do your wedding?”

“Mhm.”

Ellie’s best friend, Cressida. It’s Azriel’s genius gift to the couple; instead of having to worry his over-worried mind over a meaningful gift, he got Cressida to plan their wedding from A to Z. Nesta got uncharacteristically quietly when he let them know the famous planner had taken them on—he cannot take entire credit for the idea, even though he knows Cressida to be one of the top sharks in her industry; he’d overheard Nesta and Feyre after the engagement announcement discussing it and, well, for what it's worth he’d always meant to call his late wife’s best-friend.

Azriel breathes in, reaches out a scarred hand that fusses with Winnie’s fine hair as she flops across his lap, listening in on his conversation.

“She did a great job on yours.”

“Mhm.”

He focuses on Winnie’s tresses.

“You all-right?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You’re just sounding a little mono-syllabled.”

“Nah… I’m…Just a little busy. Hey, Bunny, don’t fall asleep. Uncle Rhys will be here any moment.”

“Sure,” Cassian replies smoothly, in a way that says roger that to whatever he’s interpreted in his tone with his freakishly peaked emotional insight. Sometimes Azriel wishes Cassian would spare him some, but then tells himself that what little sensitivity he possesses provides him with enough grief. “Anyway, the resort will have you for the week, same rooms. How’s that sound?”

“Brilliant,” Azriel replies, looking forward to the week following Cassian’s wedding, already feeling himself relax a little at the prospect of napping under the sun at the beach, getting to subtly pass Winnie on to his brother and sister-in-law, finally getting to read that interesting-looking book one of his students left behind in his class that was never collected. Fresh drinks, shorts, loose white shirts and permanently hiding behind a hat and sunglasses to nap all day without being severely judged, everyday. Not having to worry about cooking, washing, or tidying up. He does appreciate some time off, and with the semester he’s had, he’s more than looking forward to it.

___

“What d’you mean you’re closed?”

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Bougainvillea, but some of the kids got sick and it’s protocol to stay home for a few days to prevent it spreading to other children and the staff.”

Azriel can’t believe his ears, or the preschool teacher’s sweet voice. “They’re kids, they’re supposed to have their faces sneezed on.”

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Bougainvillea. After the pandemic, we’ve had to reinforce some stricter protocols.”

He blinks at the fridge covered in magnets holding up drawings, grocery lists and some photographs. Winnie stares at him, unblinking, as she chews on a sliced apple half-heartedly. He turns to his daughter, as the preschool hangs up, and it’s all he can do to not hysterically laugh at his misfortune like a madman.

“Imma stay home?” Winnie hopefully asks.

“Dream on, Bunny,” he mutters, dialing Feyre’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you can have Winnie for the day. Her preschool’s running a self-imposed quarantine because a kid coughed yesterday.”

“Told you not to put her in a pretentious fancy school like Velaris Stars.”

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t; I have meetings with clients and I need to finish a commission before noon.”

Fucking hell.

“Why don’t I call Felix’s school, see if they’ll take her for the day? The principal loves me.”

“Would you, please?” he glances at his wrist-watch, and realizes he’s already cutting it close. “I owe you.”

“No problem.”

He slides his phone into his pocket, gulps down a bitter mouthful of yesterday’s cold coffee and clicks his fingers at his daughter simultaneously while dumping the remaining coffee in the sink. “C’mon. Shoes.”

“I really don’t think we should leave Rebel alone,” Winnie protests as she skips out the kitchen. “She’s sad all alone, maybe I’ll stay with her?”

Azriel snatches his suit jacket off the back of the couch, grabs Winnie’s yellow and green backpack and her lunchbox as he follows her to the front door of the penthouse. “Rebel’s being left alone unsupervised all day in an entire flat, Winnie. I think she’d be sad at you joining her.”

Winnie humphs, taking her sweet time in stomping her feet into her Velcro shoes. “But what if—where am I gonna be all day?”

“Let me worry about that, Bunny, all-right?” he opens the door, and locks it shut behind them quickly. Feyre brings no good news, as Felix’s school has a strict policy against such things and Azriel really wants to write a memo for all preschools and primary schools to remind them not to take such a big fucking piss of themselves—strict policies and protocols, his ass. He wouldn’t bat an eye if a random person sat in on one of his lectures. Back in his day, he wasn’t even in preschool. Preschool was Mom’s shitty two-bedroom apartment and their shitty neighborhood block. And back then, school was an even shittier public school full of kids that no-one noticed if one was missing.

“Hey, heard you’re in a bit of a pickle,” Rhys pipes on the phone, while Azriel and Winnie sit out their options in a quaint familiar coffee shop in the city while Azriel plots his escape. “Preschool bailed on you?”

“Mhm,” Azriel monitors the trickling bleary-eyed morning crowd out in the street, mouth smudged in the palm of his hand. “I’m waiting on Cassian to see if he can help me out. Wait, hold on.”

His friend’s voice trickles in through the second line. “Sorry, man. Schedule booked the entire day, and we don’t have any kid activities before 2pm.”

“Thanks anyway, Cass, sorry to bother you this early, I’ve got Rhys on the other line. I’ll get back to you. Yeah, Rhys, it’s no good with Cassian either.”

His brother-in-law tuts. “Why not take her with you to work? Would your Dean mind?”

“Looks like I’m going to,” Azriel realizes, loathe to let his daughter tag along to his classes which are nowhere near suitable for her to listen in on.

But surely he is overestimating Winnie’s mental capacity to understand university-level criminology classes when his own students struggle on good days to wrap their heads around what he’s teaching? Azriel fucking wishes. The kid soaks up everything she sees, hears and touches, with whatever degree of understanding she’s reconciled it with—he’s terrified what she’ll make of his material. “It’s not the Dean I’m afraid of, Rhys. But having her tag along…”

“Yeah…leave her in your office?”

“I freaked out about leaving her asleep in her crib the first years of her life, you want me to leave her in my office at the university for five hours?”

“Put on a movie, headphones, give her a coloring book and she’s all set for the entire day. Trust me.”

Azriel lets loose a whistling breath, slumping back in his seat and threading his fingers into his hair. “Sure.”

“Hey, you can always bail on your classes.”

“I kind of used all my excuses when she got sick last month and it’s revision week today. The only time these kids actually show up to class.”

“I don’t know what to say, you’re in the deep end, mate.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, I’ll call you later.”

“Say hi to her from me.”

“Bunny, Uncle Rhys says hi.”

“Hi, Uncle Rhys,” Winnie grins. “I miss our sleepover already!”

Rhys laughs. “Me too, kid. We’ll do it again sometime soon.”

Azriel lets his phone clatter on the small table, and rubs his face roughly before standing up abruptly. “C’mon, let’s order.”

Winnie trails after him dutifully, reaching out to grab hold of his scarred hand as they wait in line at the counter and study the glass display in the meantime.

“Daddy, am I a bourbon?” she asks, as her eyes roam over all sorts of muffins and pastries.

“Come again?”

“A bourbon,” she repeats, looking up. He frowns. She raises her eyebrows. “You know, like-like a problem.”

“Oh, you mean burden.”

She stares up at him. “That’s what I say.”

“No, no, you’re not,” he stops himself from smiling. “Why’d you think so?”

“Cause I’m giving you a headache.”

He lets his smile loose. “Your socks are a problem. But Daddy’s just cursed with constant cluster headaches, so don’t take it personally.”

“You look kinda mad,” she points out. “And sad.”

“I didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all,” he turns to the barista taking orders and gives her a smile. “Morning, Cer.”

“Morning, Az,” Cerridwen smiles, and leans over to give Winnie one. “And good morning to you too, Winnie. How’re you?”

“I’m good today,” Winnie nods seriously, thumbs hooked into the straps of her backpack as she assesses the pastries. “But Daddy stayed up all night watching bad movies and didn’t get sleep so now I’m his bourbon.”

Cerridwen’s dark glimmering eyes turn to him, begging for an explanation as she holds back a full-blown grin.

He shrugs. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Well, Winnie, what would you like today?”

His kid tilts her head. “Not sure. What do you condom, Cer?”

“Recommend,” Azriel hisses immediately, feeling himself flush hot and red, and pointedly ignores the stare from the old lady waiting behind them.

Cerridwen, to her credit, only softly giggles. “I like the lemon tarts.”

Winnie’s eyes widen. “Uncle Rhys says that’s a bad word!”

“Oh that he told you not to say?” Azriel grits his teeth. “Black coffee for me, Cer, and a chocolate croissant. Bunny?”

“I wanna cold milk and that one.”

“Coming up.”

Azriel promptly steers his kid back to their table after paying and collecting their order, and plops her straight in her chair without a word. Winnie swings her legs back and forth patiently while he cuts up her puff pastry into manageable pieces, looking around her. All of a sudden, she gasps, and points at the front door. “Daddy, look!”

He looks over, instinctively, to see her pointing at two women walking into the café and he’s about to tell her not to point or stare, but somehow the words slip his mind. His everything slips his mind, as he watches Nuala stride in through a door held open by —quite frankly—the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

Father and daughter ogle as the pair walk up to the counter, chatting animatedly together, and greeting Nuala’s twin cheerfully—a sin some would say, as no dignified person is allowed to be so cheerful, even on a bright and sunny morning such as this. The other woman’s taller than average, with a couple of inches on Nuala, her golden-brown hair tumbling in gentle waves from a ponytail down her back. Azriel doesn’t know when his mouth eased open, but he promptly snaps it shut and turns his attention back to the task at hand, while Winnie continues to openly stare.

He blinks the remnant image from his eyes, shakes the snug black leather jacket and skinny blue jeans out his mind and tells himself he’s just sleep-deprived.

Then, Winnie beams and does the worst thing a child can do in a public space. Calls out.

“Nain!”

Azriel freezes, and looks over his shoulder again to find that the woman had turned at the call, and that her brown eyes were fixed on them. His stomach flips on itself at the smile that blooms on her lips, before she briefly squeezes Nuala’s elbow with a word and comes over.

Comes over.

“Hi,” Elain Archeron, Feyre’s sister, greets with a soft sweet voice. She hasn’t got any makeup on that Azriel can see, and he thinks that it’s surely witchcraft how good she looks. “How are you doing, Winnie?”

“I’m good today,” his daughter reports seriously. “But Daddy—“

“Is pleased to see you again, Elain,” Azriel quickly cuts in, standing up abruptly, discovering that Elain’s taller-than-average height still means she’s quite shorter than him. “Uh, Azriel, Winnie’s dad. We ran into each other a few times.”

“Oh I remember you,” she pleasantly says, shaking the hand he absent-mindedly stretched out. “Wow, it’s been, how many years since I last saw you? I think Felix’s second birthday party?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. Probably too much. He stops his head. “This one was just a baby.”

Elain’s eyes soften, glancing at his daughter. “Time really flies. You should have seen my shock when I ran into her at Feyre’s place the other night. They were having a sleepover.”

“We colored dinos!” Winnie excitedly says. “Nain said I’m an artist, Daddy.”

“That you are, Bunny. So, uh, what-what brings you to town?”

Elain’s brows furrow in confusion for a brief second. “I work here. The precinct down the street?”

He blinks. Right. Criminal investigator—Nuala’s co-worker. “Right, sorry. It’s been a day.”

Her eyes dart to the clock on the wall. “It’s not 7:40 yet,” her lips faintly smile.

“And I’m ready to call it quits,” he nods. “So, uh, Nesta’s wedding—are you a… bridesmaid? Cassian mentioned something about the rehearsal—are you my bridesmaid?”

Elain tucks her lower lip between her teeth and slowly tugs on it, her face sobering slowly. “Ah…No, I’m not. Nesta didn’t ask me.”

He’s just going to have a quick lie-down in this grave he’s dug for himself.

“Oh,” why the fuck did he even ask? He didn’t give two shits about the groomsmen and bridesmaid pairing. He didn’t give a shit, point blank, about anything beyond his friend’s happiness. “Sorry, I don’t even give a shit about the wedding.”

Winnie gasps. “Bad word!”

“Put it on the tab,” he absent-mindedly tells her, followed by Winnie’s rustling through her bag for a little notebook into which she draws a new shaky strike. “Uhm, it was lovely to run into you, Elain. I don’t want to keep you.”

Elain sticks her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans and shrugs her shoulders. “Nu and I are actually bailing on the morning briefing. Shouldn’t you be taking her to school?”

“They cancelled,” Winnie answers, tucking her little flip notebook back into her bag. “Cause someone coughed.”

Elain blinks. “That seems…precautious.”

“Paranoid,” Azriel sighs.

“Where are you putting her then? You’re a lecturer at VU, right?”

He nods. “I’m taking her with me.”

Elain glances at his daughter, warily. “Don’t you teach criminology and penology?”

He grimly smiles. “Yeah. It’s…not ideal. I’ll ask one of the staff to keep an eye on her during my classes.”

Elain tilts her head then blinks. “I could do it for you.”

He freezes.

Winnie’s head snaps up, eyes wide as full-moons. “Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Pretty, pretty, prettiest please, Daddy?!”

“Sorry?”

Elain’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intervene. I was just offering to help out. I could watch her for you on campus. I’ve been meaning to check out some books from the library there, anyway.”

Is this what angels look like?

“I…aren’t you busy?”

“Honestly, it’s been a little slow, not to jinx it. And I was the detective on call last night, so I’ve got no intentions of hanging around for Helion to assign me any new cases.”

“You know, not to sound desperate or anything, but you could ask for my liver right now and I’d hand it over, no questions asked.”

Elain grins, something gorgeous and wide, and one that makes Azriel’s heart thump erratically against his will and he feels physically ill. “How ‘bout a coffee, instead?”

________________________________

the end. October 2023

#apaixonar what if #see this was meant to come out months ago but I forgot about it #:D #and with this we conclude fictober 2023 lads #flufftober 2023 #fictober23 #elriel fic #winnie archeron #rhysand #cassian #elriel #azriel #apaixonar #goodbye

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