Tumgik
#and we smooched plenty
rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months
Text
good boy
Tumblr media
words: 1.5k
warnings: established relationship, marriage, protective!rafe, (guard??) dog, fluffy
“rafe, it's literally two weeks. ill be fine!” you say, folding his clothes, having dumped out his suitcase onto the bed to reorganize it when you saw how he packed it, just chucking things in.
“two weeks where im a hours away from you by plane.” rafe sighs, watching you carefully repack his suitcase as he pouts on the bed, not wanting to leave you.
“you know, cameron, i lived a whole 20 years before meeting you.” you point out, knowing while rafes concern comes from his love for you, it will completely overwhelm what is supposed to be an enjoyable family vacation and leave him miserable the whole time.
“i don't see why you can't just come with me.” rafe groans, flopping back against the bed. you smile and round the bed to where his head is resting against the pillows. you press a smooch to his forehead, rubbing your hand over his head, petting at his soft hair.
“baby, it's just for your family. you know that.” it's not like you don't want to accompany rafe to a tropical paradise, but you would feel way too awkward intruding.
“what if something happens to you? and im not here to protect you? id be the worst fiancee ever.” rafe grabs your head from rubbing his head, holding up the ring on your finger for him to admire.
“nothing will happen. nothing ever happens here.” you laugh. you're not sure what crime is like on the other side of the island, but your neighborhood is incredibly safe.
“im still worried.” rafe sighs. “you in that big house all alone.”
“im gonna spend 99% of the time wedding planning.” you hum, thinking about the tabs pulled open on your laptop of different venues, dresses, and color palettes.
that finally gets rafe to crack a smile. “can't wait to marry you.” rafe says earnestly. he only proposed a month ago, some people would say that you were too young to get married, but rafe knew when you came into his life and turned everything around for him that he had to put a ring on your finger.
“i can't wait either.” you bend down to press a kiss to rafes lips. “but seriously we need to talk about your packing before we tie the knot, why do you only have one pair of shorts packed for an island?”
-- two years later --
“remember those two weeks you left before we were engaged? it's not really much longer. you should go, baby. it's a good opportunity.” you are sat on rafes lap, back pressed against his chest as he scrolls through his email.
“it's just work, and it's a whole lot longer than two weeks. i don't want to leave you here alone for over a month.” rafe closes out of the email, making you sigh.
“i was fine for those two weeks, ill be fine now. promise. i think you should go! it's a big conference.” you turn sideways on his lap so you can look rafe in the eye. “besides, it's still six months away. plenty of time to prepare.”
“prepare?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “so you'd be good with security cams around the whole house and personal security?”
“cameras on the outside and hell no. you don't want some random guys watching after me do you?”
you can see the gears turning in rafes head as he frowns. “yeah, you're right. no men.”
“so you'll go?” you smile. rafe closes his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.
“yay!” you squeal. you're not excited to be left alone, and you love being around your husband more than anything, but the work trip is a big deal, and you know he'll be kicking himself if he misses out on such a good opportunity.
--
“rafey?” you call, eyes sweeping across the living room as you enter your shared home, a head full of fresh highlights.
“hubby?” you call out, continuing deeper into the house until you see movement through the glass door leading towards the backyard, but it's not the typical roll of the ocean against the shore.
“rafe?” you question as you open the door. you expected to find him in his office, where he was before you left for the beauty salon.
rafe smiles, waiting for your eyes to look down, and when you finally see what is sitting at rafes feet, you let out a gasp.
“oh my gosh!” you squeal. 
“wifey, meet max. our new australian shepherd.” rafe gives a command with his hand, that has max running towards you.
you sink to your knees as the young dog excitedly greets you, licking at your hands as you pet him.
“hi maxey.” you coo at the dog, you're guessing around two years old, with max being full size but still having some young features.
“rafe, you didn't tell me you were getting us a dog!” you stand up, max following close behind as you rush to give your husband a hug.
“i have a confession.” rafe says, his hands looped around your waist. you frown, worried that max was just a foster and you'd have to give him back, or that something went wrong with the adoption. you often talked about getting pets before getting married, but wanted to wait a little bit, and then time just slipped away and before you knew it, you were over a year into your marriage. 
“what?” you whine out.
“ive been working with a trainer behind your back. i wanted to make sure max was ready before we chose him for sure. he knows commands, me, your scent, our house. everything. he knows his primary responsibility is to protect you and our property.”
“oh my gosh!” you slap rafe in the chest, surprised that he was able to keep such a secret from you. “how could you do all that without telling me?” you laugh, not angry, but surprised that he was able to orchestrate everything.
you don't wait for rafe to explain how he was able to find so much time, stepping out of his hold to kneel down and continue petting max.
“we have some more training sessions so he can learn with you as well.” rafe further explains, also leaning down to pet max behind the ears as he pants excitedly at his new owners.
--
“what is it maxy?” you ask as he lifts his head up, looking around the living room. “you miss your daddy?”
you sigh as max lets out a sad sounding huff, petting your hand over his head, scratching at his neck which you know is his favorite. rafe has been gone on his business trip for a month now, with only a week and a half left until he returns home.
max suddenly jumps off the couch, eyes on the backyard. he lets out a bark, claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he moves to the glass door. he lets out another bark, making you stand.
“what is it boy?” you ask, looking out the window.
max lets out another bark, this one the familiar territorial bark that he’s practiced in his training with you and rafe. you know the only reason that rafe feels safe enough leaving you home is that max is a great guard dog.
you get closer to the window, squinting your eyes to try and see in the darkness when you sudden jump back with a scream as a squirrel runs across your patio, causing max to bark and run along the glass door until it scatters into the yard.
“holy shit, maxy, you scared the shit out of me.” you press your hand to your chest before kneeling down, scratching behind his ears. “it was just a squirrel.” you reassure him with a pat.
your heart rate is just starting to calm down from the fright when you hear the front door open. max instantly takes off with you following after him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see rafe standing in the foyer.
“baby.” he sighs happily, setting his suitcase down as you run into his arms, pressing your lips together. “i missed you so much.”
“i missed you too, what are you doing home though?” you ask, giving him another kiss before he can answer.
“they didn’t need me for the rest of the week, decided to get home to my lady.” max barks, making rafe lean down to pet him, still holding you up. “and my good boy too, of course.”
“so happy to have you home.” you nuzzle your nose into rafes neck, inhaling the familiar scent that you missed so much. 
“happy to be back with you, wifey.” rafe says, carrying you further into the house.
“oh, and you will be very happy to know maxy did a great job protecting me while you were gone.” you tell rafe. it mostly involved max barking in warning at any delivery guy or car turning around in your driveway, but his presence did help making you feel safer and less loney.
“hopefully not too good.” rafe huffs as he looks at your pet. “can’t have him replacing me now.”
you giggle, surprised rafe can manage to be jealous of your dog. “never.” you swear, pressing another kiss to his lips.
taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk
1K notes · View notes
ronearoundblindly · 2 months
Text
A Casual Kiss
Bucky Barnes x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024
Tumblr media
It's just adorable fluff, really. No warnings. Divider by @cafekitsune WC 547
Tumblr media
A lot has happened to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes over his long life. He used to be a ladies’ man and a traditional sort of soldier. He used to have all his natural limbs. He used to take maybe a touch too much pride in his appearance. A lot has also changed.
Wars change people. Injuries change people. People simply change over time.
And Bucky Barnes has been around a long, long time.
You knew all this from the beginning, of course, because his whole tragic history had already been slashed across newspapers and television by the time you started work in the same building.
He started out cold, then he became reserved, and then he was cautious. You didn’t even know he knew your name until the day he—very formally and awkwardly—asked you out, and the relationship developed…predictably.
That’s the best word for it. Predictable.
There were a few dates before he hugged you goodnight. The next time, he kissed your cheek. The next, you got a chaste peck on the lips. So on and so forth.
Measured increments of intimacy.
It was predictable and still wonderful.
Bucky isn’t good with ‘easy-breezy’ anything, you see. He’s intense and considerate. He plans ahead and for all contingencies, and so you’re taken aback by this random passing in of your department leaving the conference room and Buck’s team coming in.
There’s plenty of people around. Normally, that means a kind smile, perhaps being asked to step aside for a moment so he can say hello and check on your day, maybe check on your plans for dinner, but today? Today is different.
He’s smiling alright, smiling wider and brighter than you’ve ever seen him on the job. His shoulders are relaxed and loose. He’s strutting right for you, and suddenly, like a choreographed dance move, he twists, kissed your forehead, and twists again, still walking but backwards now.
Bucky winks at you as his metal hand finishes a soft graze down your arm.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach.
“Love you, doll,” he whispers though at least half the room can probably hear.
It’s not as if no one knows at work. You’ve dated for months, and for that whole stretch, Bucky’s been a perfect gentleman, just very…not casual. This is new.
So why not make it even stranger?
Your boyfriend snaps his flesh fingers like he just remembered something, nearly skipping the couple of feet to your side.
“Hey, so, I know we were doing movie night, but Sam’s taking some folks out to the corner bar. His treat.”
You can’t help but snort.
“Oh? And let me guess. You—who is unable to get drunk—would like to make him pay for the multiple bottles of top-shelf liquor you can consume.”
Bucky waggles an eyebrow, and you’re stunned.
“Know me so well,” he coos, leaning in to plant one more solid smooch on your lips.
Your lipstick stains his mouth until Bucky’s tongue wipes it away.
“I’ll pick you up at your office.”
You’ve hardly controlled the flutter in your gut but now have a grin fighting to break free. All you can do is nod, heading for the exit, thinking:
People always change over time…and sometimes, change is for the better.
Tumblr media
A/N: Yeah, so, absolutely no one requested this and I don't care because HE DESERVES THE KISSES.
James Mace and a kiss without motive ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss to distract
[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
724 notes · View notes
morallyinept · 20 days
Text
Imbued - A Frankie Morales One Shot - International Women's Day
Tumblr media
Dedicated to @undercoverpena whom is one of the most amazing, badass women ever. Happy International Women's Day, Jojobean! 🖤
I used a prompt from this list here. Prompt is marked bold in the story.
Summary: Frankie worships you and makes you feel like a Goddess. I mean, you are, aren't you?
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)
Word Count: 2k-ish
Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/face riding/facesitting/multiple orgasms/some mild squirting/body worship/Frankie eats you out because he's the 🐱👑
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: Happy International Women's Day! What better way to be celebrated than by Frankie worshipping you! 🫠
☝🏻Whilst we don't need men to make us feel powerful, I hope you know that you're amazing, independent and gorgeous, no matter what! The world is yours for the taking, Queen. Today is to celebrate and empower all the incredible women/trans women/bi women from all walks of life. No matter your ethnicity, your background, physical capabilities, your age - YOU matter. Be proud of who you are and know that every day, you are incredible, and you are strong. 💪🏻🌎🖤
MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
Tumblr media
Frankie is a sight to behold in the mornings. 
Almost ethereal as the sun kisses those beaming streaks over his tan, warm skin and muscles that envelope you in strong, cresting arms. 
Pink lips that truly steal the show, full and inviting, they curl into a dreamy, crooked smile that hints at a mischievous spark lurking just beneath the surface of a bruised man, who wakes with you in crumpled sheets with entwined limbs, clammy with sweat. 
Sleepy orbs of polished obsidian regard you in the oncoming glow of the golden dawn, flooding through thin linens and filling the room with an aureate haze. Thick, rough fingers glide against your cheek as the heat from his breath settles into your eyelashes. 
“Hueles tan bien,” (You smell so good) he grazes to you, nose running the arch of your shoulder. “Siempre te ves muy bien por las mañanas.” (You always look so good in the mornings.)
“Mmm,” you hum, relishing the hard prodding of him in between your cheeks. 
Smiling, your arch like a feline, stretching and working out your back from hours curled into comatose, rigid shapes around him.
Deft hands felt around your waist pull you against him. You feel him subtly grind; a thickness rutting against you, separated only by flimsy cotton and worn elastic.
Twisting to face him, you lick up the side of his jaw, tasting the salt in his greying scruff; the silk of it smooth on your tongue as you make wet tracks through the forest of grizzly hairs. Exploring all the prominent contours of his rugged masculinity, as his tall and broad body slowly cages over your own and starts his own explorations. 
His lips find yours, tongue delving in and groaning around the kisses he pelts you with, tempered with soft lips under a satiny scratch of his moustache. 
“Dime qué quieres.” (Tell me what you want.) He always knows what you want, delivering satisfaction in abundance. But hearing you tell him that you crave him never gets tiresome.
Frankie kisses down your body slowly, dragging his lips, lingering in places he knows will rile you. Collarbone, nipples, hips… smooches with a swipe of wet tongue appeasing as your hands follow his head, twirling curls around your index and middle.
Parting your legs, he kisses down your thigh, up the other one, eyes darting to yours. Soft, muddy irises, pupils already blown wide as he smirks at you. 
“Bésame.” (Kiss me) You say, as he stretches up to find your lips again. 
You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders. “Bésame ahí,” (Kiss me there) you iterate, guiding him by the chin down to your centre. 
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he groans, almost pained in its tincture. 
Frankie smiles immediately as he licks up the centre of your crotch over your panties. A wicked glint in his eye as you gasp and grin down at him.
He then slides off your cotton underwear, patched damp, without hesitation.
“Sé lo que quieres.” (I know what you want.) Frankie husks with a grin that will scorch the sun. 
Already swollen in anticipation, he licks around the outer lips of your cunt, tingles travelling deep into the layers of skin as you shudder; warm breath creating cool tracks as he goes.
He nestles, aquiline nose curved perfectly to brush against you, nuzzling gently over the protruding bump of your clit as it throbs almost painfully. Ghostly mouthing, you can barely feel it as he coats you in tepid breaths; teases and prolongs the agony until you tug on the curls behind his ears sharply with a pout.
“Then give it to me,” you demand softly. And he can never resist. 
He starts his complete annihilation of you with slow precision. Skilled tongue curling out, the tip brushing over your clit faintly. Watches you keenly with those soulful eyes sitting under thick, expressive eyebrows, perfectly arched to accentuate the intensity of his gaze, as that singular stroke engulfs your body with a jolt as you moan, ragged and wanting. 
He does it again. Flick. 
And again. Flick. Flick. Flick. 
Tongue flicking faster, rumbling back and forth with speed, your thighs jerk, ripples of skin humming.
Settles into a soft rhythm of his tongue lapping and padding delicately over the tip of your clit. An explorative make out session with your pussy as he slides his tongue around the most sensitive parts, waking them up with gentle prods and flickers.
Circling around and around, looping figure eights, spelling out his name, before his lips sink further into your folds, and he suctions around that bud, sucking on it with a deep pull. 
He works you up; your fingers gnarling in his hair, fisting in the sheets, pulling around your nipples as the frenzy begins to unfurl from a deep slumber.
Frankie licks down, tongue trailing the length of your slit, finding the indent of your hole that’s pooling for him. Scoops up the clear, dripping honey with the curve of his tongue and deposits it around the hilt of your clit as he sucks on it again. 
Orchestrating the delicate interplay of pleasure and longing. With each passing moment, the music swells, growing in intensity and depth, like the rising tide of an ocean before a storm.
He feels you raking in his hair; dark and tousled from sleep, framing his face in a halo of unruly waves that are only tamed into submission by his cap. Fingers exploring and gripping tighter around the back of his skull, wanting more, craving the pleasure he’s conducting within your core.
You’ll crash all over him. 
“I want you to come, come for me, hermosa. Déjame probarte a ti.” (Let me taste you.)
His serpentine tongue squelches through your lips quicker, drenched with his saliva, foaming with your bubbly secretions. Sticky chin, silvery hairs darker with the wet coating around his lips and cheeks, as he buries his face fully into the shrine of your cunt. 
He’s done teasing, he needs you to come. Needs to taste you flooding his mouth. 
“Oh fuck, oh my god, yes baby…” you drone, you babble, you speak in tongues. Your voice rasps as you tense and shudder.
With each passing moment, with each practised flick of his tongue, you feel yourself drawing deeper into that whirlpool of pleasure, your senses heightening to a fever pitch. Feeling the tension coiling within you, a tightened spring ready to snap at the slightest touch, cinching and pulsing.
A white noise getting louder in your ears. 
Sticky, inflamed lips rolling back, Frankie spreads you open with his blunt, stubbed thumbs; exalting in the exquisite taste of your most intimate flesh beneath his nose.
He hums in appraisal, eyes sinking back into his sockets as he closes them in rapture at his morning feast spread before him. Tonguing your hole, contracting around nothing, desiring to be filled with him, but denial is the path to imminent release.
“Damn, you look so amazing right now,” he breathes with a husk. “Eres tan malditamente hermosa.” (You’re so damn beautiful.)
You tug at his hair more, sleep-billowed curls tightly wound around your fingers as you grind against his face chasing your oncoming release. Thighs threaten to suffocate him as he puffs out of his nose and looks up at you with molten browns. 
Your back arches, a perfect curve off the mattress as you dive head first into the sun, burning up as you explode. 
He’s all speed and eagerness as he has you positioned above him, quicker than you can comprehend, and begs you to sit on his face. 
Pulling on his hair you smother him and he groans like a dying man; fingers pressing bruises into your ass as he rocks you onto his awaiting mouth. You flex and grind, moving against him as you feel it build all over again. 
“F-Frankie!” You judder, your voice a lump in your throat you can’t swallow as you gasp for breath around it. 
He rolls out his tongue; a thick, wet muscle for you to fuck and use. You rock against it, feeling it slide through your folds as you scrape back his hair, fists stuffed into the pillow. 
You take from him, seek your own pleasure and finish without his cock, without his fingers. Just worshipping you with his tongue. A simple man, flat on his broad back, his queen throning on his face. 
He imbues you with strength, the confidence to discard shame and revel in your sensuality as he watches you arch and let your hips do all the work. He encourages it, feeds it to you impassioned with fascination, desire and a keen sense of empowering your womanhood to bloom and blossom. 
This is his happy place, an exquisite drowning in you that he conveys through sleepy, subdued eyes and satisfied, wanting groans that haunt your blood.
He could die like this, your cunt leaking into his mouth as you fuck it, unabashed and free.
Strong, deft hands pull you forward, down fully onto his face until he can no longer breathe. Snuffles of misty breath fan against your mound, as he lets his tongue swim inside you, lips suctioned around you. 
He knows that even without him, you're solid granite. A force to be reckoned with. Impenetrable steel holding yourself up with the power you command from within. He’s only proud that you allow him to bask in your light, your love. The divine femininity that you let him drink mouthfuls from.
Frankie knows you don’t need his love, you choose to have it and that’s what makes him love and worship you even more. 
Rocking your hips back and forth faster, your clit brushing against his nose, the hairs on his face are felt everywhere with a pleasant scratch and tingle. 
You feel his digits pulling on your nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb as you start to let go again. Start to feel the vestiges of your orgasm seep out of the lush garden of your ribs. 
You feel it building, crushing against your abdomen as you let go. As you give him what he covets from you. 
You give him respite, the chance to breathe as you lift yourself up for a few seconds before he pulls you back down on him with a growl, greedy for more.
He doesn’t need to breathe - he just needs you coming all over his face. 
You squirm, convulsing as you come; his arms pin you onto his face not letting you escape.
“Frankie! Fuck!” You wail as your body shakes itself of its own volition. 
You lean back, supporting your hands on his chest as you ride his face through it. The head of his cock is poking out the top of his waistband, flush and leaking onto his stomach as you reach for it. He gently taps your hand away. 
His face is soaked, the pillow drenched as beads of your slick gush down his cheeks and into his hairline and ears.
Drowning in you, pulled under that wave, succumbing. 
No, this is about your pleasure only. Your undoing.
You, you, you…
His head shakes back and forth with abandon as you grunt and shatter above him - Frankie grunts hungrily. Giant hands splay you open so he can get to every part, drink you all down. 
He whines and groans as your hand slides back down his stomach, grabbing handfuls of his pudgy hips and waist with greed.
Your fingers delve into a wet, sticky puddle of his own release spurted over his soft paunch. 
Your body, like wibbly jelly, collapses onto your back into the creases of the damp sheets, the sun in your eyes like a gold strobe. 
You smirk as the waves roll off of you, bite your lip at how a man as strong as he is, is reduced to nothing but a wet, softening mess beneath you, ejaculating on his stomach at the mere taste of you.
Desperate for you, whining, keening and clawing for more of you against his mouth. 
“Más?” (More?) Frankie grins into your face as you pant, his fingers slipping into your greased folds and teasing at your sensitive clit. 
He sucks on a nipple, tonguing it stiff as you groan, watching as he looks up at you with those beguiling eyes. Melted chocolate chips that you long to taste, cloying and sweet.
“Siempre más,” (Always more) you chime, as he trails that skilled tongue back down your body, pulls your thighs over his shoulders and takes you apart with his mouth, over and over again.
Tumblr media
Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story. Happy International Women's Day! 🖤
MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MASTERLIST
387 notes · View notes
milkzoro · 5 months
Text
should i save her? i wnna be saaaaved
Tumblr media Tumblr media
🎬✧ portgas d ace x fem!reader
was it a coincidence? or were you soulmates? interesting how the two of you always manage to end up together… fireman!ace saves your panties from a house fire. unfortunately there’s no smut in this, crazy i know. mostly fluff and ace being a cutieeeee. i love him lots & don’t think he would fuck you for the first time being intoxicated… that being said, fic contains// drinking, a lil smooch, cuddles, ace being a lil tease, all that…
☁️ 𐙚 . ˙ 𖧧 ₊ ˚ 🐇
“shit shit shit!” you panicked, trying to put out the burning fire with a measly cup water you had on hand, unfortunately, that only seemed to cause it to burn brighter. the water evaporated almost immediately, and with every passing second, it got worse. the clothes that were messily piled up on your dresser were now fully inflamed, and the wood took on enough heat to finally catch fire.
“oh my fucking god? where’s my goddamn phone!” there was no reason to try and put out the fire yourself, you’d only end up getting hurt. ‘cursed candle’ you scoffed while scurrying around your smokey room looking for your phone. even if it was your favorite scent, you knew you should have thrown out that stupid candle your ex got for you.
after flipping through the blankets on your bed, you found it, immediately you dialed the fire department. “hello? hello! yes! please there’s a fire at my house my address is. . .” you’d hope they’d make it there soon, the smoke stared to suffocate you to the point where you didn’t know if you could make it out, chemicals filled your lungs and it was getting harder to breathe. . .
. . .
you felt strong arms carrying you, woodsy musk and smoke filled your senses. the man placed you down in the back of the fire truck with plenty of water before rushing back into your fire-filled house to see if there were any more casualties to look out for. luckily enough, you lived alone.
shortly after, he came back to you. he tore off his headset and revealed his soft, freckled face. you were taken aback, he might as well be your knight in shining armor for saving you, he had stains of soot covering his cheeks but still looked so pretty. . .
“i couldn’t save them all but. . . i managed to get a few.”
he held up a couple pairs of your cute lacy panties, blood rushed to your face once you noticed what they were. you were quick to snatch them away—your face fell hot with embarrassment. it really didn’t help that the man was attractive, you couldn’t even look at him. “oh! it’s fine, thank you…” the tension was thick and awkward, the man starred at you trying to comfort you on your losses.
“we managed to put out the fire, miss. your room is pretty much fine, but the dresser didn’t quite make it. . . i saved what i could.” he sighed—holding up some more of your lounge wear. he seemed sad he couldn’t save everything but you were grateful nonetheless that he did everything he could.
“do you have somewhere you can stay while we get everything cleaned up?” he peered at you, cute freckled face and dark eyes held your gaze.
“uhmm yea, i do. thank you.”
“the pleasures all mine, get some rest and please, no more candles.” he let out a hefty laugh before giving you back your delicates. yea, definitely no more candles.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
it’s a couple days later and you’re back in the comforts of your now, fire-free home. living alone was super easy, you got to do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. if you didn’t wanna do something, that’s perfectly fine. movies and snacks all day, and that’s usually how it always went but today you had something planned.
about a week ago you had made an appointment to get your ears pierced, you favorite tattoo shop was having a flash sale on all lobe piercings so you thought it would be best to schedule ahead.
the studio was surprisingly quiet for a weekend, a few teens who were there for the flash sale and one other person, but he was faced down and getting a tattoo stenciled on across his very sculpted back.
“oh hey! i know you.” his head perked up once he heard the chime of the studio door, he watched as you stepped inside.
‘please god, tell me it isn’t him. fuck, it’s totally him.’ he smiled warmly at you, kind eyes curling up and he showed all his teeth—how could you not forget such a cute face.
“no you don’t.” you were quick to answer, but he retaliated.
“um yeah… yes i do! i saved you from that fire! don’t you remember? all your panties? sorry i couldn’t save ‘em all.” his lips quirked up slightly as he still felt bad, but his non-filtered reenactment of the events earned some confused reactions from the staff and other customers that happened to be in earshot.
“did you have to bring that up again? i told you not to worry about it, ‘m just happy i have my house back.”
“can’t i make it up to you? and i never got your name. . . ‘panties’~” he snicked at his nickname for you, seeing you get flustered made it all worth while for him. he enjoyed seeing your petrified face as he egged you on.
“shut up, and shouldn’t you be staying still? lay your ass back down.” you gestured to the table he was perked up on, the artist seemed annoyed at his movements.
“ahh, you’re right sweetheart. but, your name? then i’ll promise to let you be. . . ‘panti—’”
“y/n! it’s y/n. happy?”
“very.” he smirked your way and laid back in position effortlessly once he got his answer. the artist sighed and got back to work.
you rolled your eyes trying to suppress the smile that was creeping on your lips, he was crazy. with being a fireman you thought it was unprofessional to bring up such topics in public, but you had to admit—you kinda liked it.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
you thought you might have missed it, his long raven locks swaying as he made his way towards you, even in your drunken state, you knew it had to be him. why does he keep showing up at the most random places? this time though, he was fully determined to make his way to you and just talk. the distance was small but he stumbled all the way over. soon, you were greeted with the pretty fireman.
“wow you’re really drunk right now, aren’t you?” you couldn’t stop the giggles as you held the edge of his shoulder to keep him upright and standing, he swayed lightly with the music in the background as he sang incorrect lyrics softly to you.
you couldn’t help but smile, he was silly like this, maybe it was the drinks in your own system catching up with you but he looked really good right now.
“no mmm not. . . you’re jus really blurry-”
he let out a few of his own laughs, touching and talking with you for sometime, he really liked you.
“y/n.” he held you tight, catching himself on you before he could fall.
you were surprised he remembered your name, i’d been about a week since your last encounter at the tattoo shop. that day, he had introduced himself as ace. portgas ace in fact, lead role in the fire department in his city. he made sure to make that a know fact in hopes to impress you.
“can you take me home? think i’m too ddrunk.”
you blatantly agreed, he looked a mess. and besides, you did owe him, technically. your arm snaked around his making your elbows meet, but he shook you off. he mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out. but instead, his big hands stumbled to find your own, interlocking your fingers and he squeezed them tightly as to say he’s ready to follow you.
his simple actions had an effect on you, holding hands always seemed to be more intimate rather than something simple, like a kiss. his warmth made your tummy do flips, and his big muscles—his strong hands and arms were so close, you felt so small next to him.
you tried to take your hands from his but he whined. he missed your touch.
“wait, let me call order an uber. i’ll be fast i promise.” you found the closest car to come pick the both of you up, you just needed his address. you tried to hand him your phone, “can you type in your address? here take this.”
he groaned again. “mmmuhggg y/nnn—can’t we just go back to yours?? can’t type.” as the words slurred from his lips, they curled into a smirk. little shit, you knew he was playing it up a bit. fuck it—it’s late and it’s cold, you were ready to leave. now, you just have a friend coming with you.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
as you stepped into the coldness of night, you and ace stumbled through the streets to meet with the driver—his natural warmth kept you from shivering as he held you so close. little touches and sweet laughs were shared as you climbed into the backseat, ace stumbled along behind you, tripping on the doorstep as he made his way to sit next to you. the driver glanced back, seeing giddy intoxicated couples wasn’t out of the norm for him, the driver found the two of you endearing.
the car soon became a temporary haven for you, ace’s laugher sounded heavenly as it meshed with the purring of the car engine.
his rough hands found themselves attached to your hips, slowing rubbing up and down. with every passing second, you couldn’t help but grow attached to him. you’ve never met some like him. he was just so different from any other guy you’ve met, from his endless teasing to his charisma—how you always managed to end up together was a mystery.
he snuggled up next to you getting real close—he muttered in your ear, “wanted to tell you you looked pretty tonight,, mm watched you for awhile but was a little nervous.”
a blush crept onto your cheeks hearing his sweet nothings, ‘he was nervous?’
you felt his warmth radiating as he leaned in closer to you. his breath tainted with the smell of alcohol as his lips were millimeters from yours, but the car suddenly came to a stop. the driver interrupted just as they were about to touch. your stomach sank, you were ready to know what they felt like.
the driver turned around, oblivious to the romantic tension, and broke the silence, “here’s your stop folks, thank you and have a safe night.”
you both exchanged a look, a mixture of frustration and amusement, before gathering your things and stumbling out of the car. he soon drove off, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with a shared understanding. you hurried to get your keys and unlock the door.
as the door creaked open, you ushered him inside, the atmosphere filled with unspoken anticipation. once the door closed behind you, the playful glint in his eyes returned, and with a teasing smile, he quipped, “ahhh alone at last~ now, where were we?”
how cliche.. but that seemed to be very on brand for him—cute.
without waiting for an answer, he closed the gap and pulled you into his firm chest. this time, there were no interruptions—just the warmth of a long-awaited first kiss from your knight in shining armor.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
he’d be such a cute bf stawp
693 notes · View notes
bonelotus · 11 months
Text
Eddie Munson brain dump because I have too many thoughts to keep contained: Mild NSFW. MDNI
-He has the best hugs. You know the ones where you feel completely safe in their arms? Like nothing bad can happen as long as they're holding you? His hugs are like that.
-This boy is so starved for affection. We saw the way he gave Chrissy a discount just for being nice to him. Anytime you say something sweet or give him a gentle touch he just fucking melts.
-Aftercare king. He can get a little mean when he's in dom!space but afterwards he treats you like a goddamn queen.
-Speaking of queen, absolutely calls you stuff like Princess, Honey, Sweetheart. Refers to you and his guitar as 'his girls'.
-One time, you call him "dungeon master" jokingly but it turns out he really likes it. After that he always makes you call him "master" whenever you're fucking.
-Loves fucking you so good that you cry. At first, he was scared, thinking he hurt you (too much) but once he figured out the tears are a good sign he can't get enough of them.
-Has plenty of experience from the girls in Hawkins wanting to get some strange but has never actually been a relationship before you.
-You can never decide what he's most talented with, his tongue, his fingers or his cock. No matter what he's using, you're coming at least three times before he lets up (unless you've been bad and he's denying you orgasms.)
-Is an absolute dom but secretly gets a thrill and thinks it's ridiculously hot on the rare occasion when you take control.
-The mouth on this man is absolutely filthy. Once he knows you're into both degradation and praise he literally will not shut up when your fucking. Even when he's beyond words he's got the most beautiful moans and grunts.
-His hipbones and happy trail have you changing religion. Forget communion, you've got a new god to get on your knees to worship.
-Will make a point to kiss every part of your body that you're self-conscious about. Seriously, if you've got a hang-up about so much as your fucking fingernails, each one's getting a smooch.
-Fucking adores really sloppy blowjobs with just a hint of teeth.
-But he loves giving head even more than getting it. Eats pussy like a starving man getting his last meal. Would have you sit on his face all day if you let him.
-Loves marking you. Hickies, love bites, bruises shaped like his hands. Wants anyone who so much as glances at you to now that you're owned.
-The first time you get together, you're teasing him, telling him he isn't mean. Saying something like "You're such a sweetheart, the only time you can even pretend to be mean is when you're dungeon master." Eventually he gets fed up and pins you to the wall by your neck. He can feel your throat bob against his palm and you choke out, "I don't think this is having exactly the effect you intended it to, Munson." And when he looks down and sees you rubbing your thighs together the smirk on his face is pure sin.
1K notes · View notes
Text
The Night Shift
Tumblr media
AO3 Link
Pairing: Auror!Sebastian x F!MC
Word Count: 10,206
Rating: T (just some smooches but plenty of angst)
Summary: You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.
A/N: Took a break from my long fics this week to deliver a long angsty Seb one shot. I heard Phoebe Bridgers cover Night Shift and became feral over it. Perhaps it needs a smutty part two???
Tumblr media
Night One
“I’m so glad you were able to slip away from work for a bit.” Poppy says, pouring tea into your cup.
You smile up at the brunette girl, who still wears her hair in a cropped bob, albeit a bit more fashionable now that you’re in your twenties.  You miss Poppy’s presence in your life, but her career as a mazoologist and yours as a lead healer in the intensive care unit of St. Mungo’s has your schedules rarely crossing.  
“It’s nice to be out in the sunlight,” you say coyly, lifting the cup to your mouth. It's the truth–you haven’t been out to tea with a friend, dressed in a pretty lace gown in what feels like ages.  Your career usually has you in a tightly pulled bun, hair out of your face to focus on your patients, with bloodied aprons.  Magic can heal most ailments, but your ancient abilities make you the best bet for the most gravely wounded.  So much so that you’ve worked six nights a week every week for the past five years, sleeping during the day to make it to your overnight shifts at the hospital.
With few exceptions.
But there’s coverage today, giving you a rare Saturday afternoon off to enjoy the warm spring day.  You and Poppy are sitting outside a tea shop in Diagon Alley, catching up on all things personal, while people watching.  It’s strange, you think, to be surrounded by so many people.  You leave for your shift at seven thirty in the evening, when most people are getting home for dinner, and return to your flat far after everyone has left for work.  
Poppy had just started telling you a story about a wild herd of manticores she’d encountered on her travels abroad, when a familiar face walked up to your table.
“Merlin’s beard, I never thought I’d see the likes of you two ever again,” Andrew Larson grins.
“Andrew,” Poppy smiles. “It’s good to see you.”
There are obligatory kisses on the cheek as the handsome Ravenclaw pulls up a chair. “What are you doing in town, Poppy?”  
“Visiting my gran, of course.” She tilts her head towards you. “And catching up with friends.”
“And you, it’s like you’re back from beyond the grave.” Andrew shifts his attention, teasing you. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just busy keeping people from their graves, that’s all.”
“I’ve heard.” Andrew elbows you. “Youngest lead healer in all of St. Mungo’s.”
“Yet being the youngest earned me the night shift.” You wrinkle your nose.  “And very few days off.”
“How’s the auror office doing?” Poppy quips, leaning her chin into her palm.
Andrew shrugs. “Busy; we’re working on a big case right now, but we finally got a few hours off to enjoy lunch.  I was just heading over to the Cauldron, meeting Sallow and Clopton for a bite.”
You swallow thickly.  It’s been five years since you last spoke to Sebastian Sallow.  At this point, you can’t exactly remember how it ended, except that the two of you had screamed at one another.  You were fairly certain you’d thrown a book at his head, and he’d knocked over your favorite mug in the process. You still had it, the handle broken off, now used as a quill holder at your desk.
“Oi, Larson!  Quit flirting, we’ve just gotten a message. All hands on deck at the office.” 
Both you and Poppy turn to the voice; Everett Clopton is standing a few paces away, wearing a smart suit.  He still has his gold wire glasses, but he’s grown into them. He’s wearing a hat, tipping the brim to you both in acknowledgement.
You hate the way your breath hitches when you see their companion.  Sebastian is also dressed well, sporting a tweed three piece suit, shiny black dress shoes, and a gold auror badge attached to his lapel.  He meets your gaze briefly before looking back up to Andrew, who’s moving the chair back to its proper table.
“Emergency meeting,” Sebastian utters gloomily. “Ruined a good lunch.”
Your stomach twists at the sound of his voice.  It’s no more than six words, but your insides feel like a wet towel being wrung out.  And Sebastian doesn’t even have the decency to look at you, avoiding eye contact with the person he considered his best friend for three years.  The audacity of him, to completely ignore the person who once held his fate in their hands–you feel the bile rising in your throat, swallowing down the anger that once consumed you.
No, you won’t let a tiny interaction with Sebastian ruin five years of hard work.  You stare at the cutlery on the table, willing him to leave.
Andrew Larson sighs, rapping his knuckles against the table. “It was good seeing you girls,” he smiles. “Hopefully I run into you again.”
The three boys–men, rather, you are all twenty three at this point–shuffle away.  
There is a heavy silence between you and Poppy, until she clears her throat.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
You nod, collecting yourself as you smile at her. “Perfectly fine.  It’s been ages, Poppy. We’re all over it.”
She grabs your gloved hand, pulling it towards her.  “You certainly are,” she says playfully, twisting the sparkling bauble on your left ring finger. “It’s gorgeous, by the way.”
“I never get to wear it,” you admit sheepishly. It’s been a month since your engagement, and you’ve hardly worn your ring; your fiance’s parents are perturbed that the announcement hasn’t been posted to the Daily Prophet yet. Despite having courted for the last year and a half, it still feels like everything has moved too fast, like you’ve fallen off your broom mid flight. For the most part, your engagement ring is safely tucked in its box atop your dresser, at the risk of getting bodily fluids on it during your shifts.
“He’s a lucky man.” Poppy echoes, sitting back in her chair. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
You’re doing fine, you think.  You’re at the top of your field.  You have a fine flat in a nice part of London, and a promise from a man that’s kind to you.  The kind of man who waited for you to get off your shift to bring you breakfast, and took you to a nice restaurant on your Friday nights off. You hadn’t expected a pretty ring from him, especially since you only graced him with your presence once a week, but then again, your last relationship had taught you not to expect anything at all.
A flash of brunette hair crosses your mind; you blink away the thought.
“I’m happy.  Very happy,” you say simply, holding your teacup up to your lips again. “So about the manticores…”
Tumblr media
You jolt out of bed, a blue wisp of a rabbit bouncing around your bedroom.  It’s rare to get a patronus message at this hour; it can only mean an emergency at the hospital.  It also must be bad, considering they’re calling you in on your day off.
Without another thought, you tumble out of bed, rushing to your wardrobe to pull out your clothes.  Your unit specifically wears a deep purple–dark enough to hide stains.  Your shrug on undergarments and petticoats, and a burgundy gown with a high neckline.  Your hands know exactly how to tighten your hair into a knot within a minute, having perfected the craft over the five years of your career. Your wand is stowed in your dress pocket; you’ll grab an apron at the ward.  Grabbing a fistful of floo powder next to your fireplace, you step in, yelling out for St. Mungo’s.
The ward is in a flurry as you step out of the flames.  A nurse hands you a white cotton apron, which you wrap around your waist as you hold your wand between your teeth.  There are men all over, gashed and bleeding, as other healers take their information. 
“What’s happened?” You bark at an orderly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
“Auror ambush by some ashwinders,” he says dryly. “It’s awful.  Lost a few–even more are bleeding.  It’s dark magic, some sort of spell to keep the wounds bleeding.”
“Of course it is, those bastards.” You mutter. “I’ll take the worst of them.  Can someone bring me a coffee?”
He nods, pointing over to a bay of beds a few feet away. “Those three–they specifically requested you.” He hands off the charts, promising a caffeinated beverage.
You’re about to start flipping through the charts when you hear your name.  Your head flies up at the familiar voice, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You can see Everett Clopton waving his hands at you; Andrew Larson’s voice is yelling behind the curtain.  And just your luck, a pair of black shiny dress shoes are dangling off the examination table, twisted in an unnatural way.
Before you even realize it, you’re running to them.  The charts are promptly cast onto the side table when you duck behind the curtain, a gasp catching in your throat.
Sebastian looks awful.  
Correction–Sebastian looks dead.
“He jumped in front of me,” Everett panics, his hands on his head. “He shouldn’t have–we were talking, we thought we were out of the thick of it–”
“He’s been hit badly,” Andrew interjects.  His sleeves are bloodied from trying to apply pressure to a gash across Sebastian’s chest, the blood seeping through his shirt and vest. “You have to do something,” he pleads. “He’s the best of us–we can’t lose him.”
“Move,” you urge the two of them.  They scoot out of your way, and you make quick work of Sebastian’s clothing.
Years ago, tearing off Sebastian’s shirt would’ve been done out of passion, out of love.  You push those thoughts out of your mind as you rip through his white dress shirt, which is sopping wet with blood. Sebastian’s skin is cold and clammy; even his freckles are pale, disappearing from his face.
“Get me some dittany and shrivelfigs,” you screech at the other healers. “And the blood renewing potions, please.” You run your hand and your wand over Sebastian’s wounds, uttering a healing charm. “Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” you mutter under your breath.  The spell isn’t healing fast enough, Sebastian is still losing too much blood.
You let out the  blue wisps of magic from your fingertips as you channel some of your ancient magic into the healing spell. You’re still mad at Sebastian, of course, but you’ll be damned if he dies on your watch.  
To your relief, the wounds start knitting themselves shut faster, but the scars look awful, all purpled and raised.  Another healer is next to you, urgently crushing the dittany and shrivelfigs into a paste–an idea you got from the patient lying in front of you during your sixth year.  You’d been battered so often during Crossed Wands, the two of you had experimented with salves and balms to lessen the appearance of your scars. 
“He appears to be stabilizing,” the junior healer claims. “Good job, as always.”
You suppress the choked out cry that’s stuck in your throat as you think of Ominis, and how he used to scold the two of you for experimenting.  He’d be thankful now that you did.
“There’s others,” another healer urges you. “We must move on to the next.”
You don’t want to.  Sebastian seems to be stirring, groaning as the healer rubs the salve onto the gaping wound that streaks across his chest.  You can hear Everett and Andrew crying and laughing on the other side of the curtain, exclaiming your name for having saved their partner.
There’s so much commotion, you could swear Sebastian uttered your name, but when you look back, his head is flat on the table, eyes shut.  The color is slowly returning to him, now no longer pale and gray.
“We have to keep him for observation,” you instruct another healer, handing her Sebastian’s chart. “I’ll check on him later.  In the meantime, there are others.”
Without another glance, you move on to the next bay.
Tumblr media
“Excellent work as always,” your boss pats you on the shoulder. “You saved six good men tonight with your quick work.”
“I should just move into the ward,” you mutter under your breath before taking a large swig of coffee.  
Your dress is stained with blood, fingers aching from all the healing you’d done.  From the twelve aurors in the ambush, three had superficial wounds (Larson and Clopton included).  Two had passed in the field, another before you’d gotten to the hospital.  But all six of the aurors you’d treated, Sebastian included, were now tucked into private rooms, safe and breathing. You were keeping them for observation, unsure of what kind of curse the ashwinders had used on them.  Your ancient magic managed to seal the wounds, but all were badly scarring.  They’d all have to stay until you could rule out the cause.
After a much needed shower and an owl sent to your fiance, regretfully informing him you’d not make it to brunch with his parents, you start making your rounds. Most of your patients are sleeping deeply, others dizzily asking what happened.  You save Sebastian’s room for last; Clopton and Larson, faithful companions, are sleeping in chairs outside of his room.
You quietly shut the door behind you, gulping as you stare at the man laying in the hospital bed. His chubby cheeks are long gone, hollowed and chiseled by age. You’d laughed at him when you were seventeen and he claimed he had a beard coming in; now you can see traces of stubble lining his jaw. His unruly chestnut hair has been brushed out of his face in a way you know he’ll hate.
But you don’t know that, not truly. Because you don’t know Sebastian anymore.
“Oh Sebastian,” you tut, sitting at a stool next to his bed. You hover your hands over his body, a misty blue glow emitting from them. No internal bleeding at least. He’s had at least three blood renewing potions, and his breathing is steady. You would examine the scars across his chest and torso, but the thought of undressing him in his current state is inappropriate to you. 
You’re about to get up, leave him to his slumber when you hear it. He whispers your name in his sleep, head falling to the side. And instead of him being the one with a gaping wound, you feel like a hole has been drilled into your chest. 
Maybe you’ll ask for tomorrow off.
Tumblr media
Night Two
You’d asked for the day off again, but the request was denied.  Begrudgingly, you dress for your shift, tucking your hair behind your ears as you walk with your daytime counterpart down the hallway.
“You’ve missed all the commotion,” your fellow healer gasps.  She’s filling you in on the day shift, and all that’s transpired since you left in the morning. “There was a memory charm laced in with that blood curse from the ashwinders—some of them have lost weeks, years of memories. Not recognizing their wives or their children; we’ve had to close the doors to all visitors.”
“That’s a nasty curse.” You mutter, flipping through charts. Only someone sick in the head would mess with memory tampering curses—you wonder why no one has petitioned for them to be banned. The long term care wing at St. Mungos is filled with too many people who’d tinkered with memory spells, and you sincerely hope none of the aurors under your care end up there.
“Terrible, of course. But it made for an interesting day.” She hums. “You should’ve seen Rowle’s wife, security had to cart her out after he called her the wrong name. Think he courted her twin sister too.” 
You laugh with her as you walk through the hallway, until your heart fills with dread.  
“How is Sallow?  The patient in 213.”
She tilts her head. “Fine I think–oh, he was asking for you.  Do you know him?”
You fight back the red flush that’s creeping up your neck. “We were schoolmates.” You say. Nothing more. Sebastian can’t be more, especially after you’d done such hard work to forget him in the first place.
After your colleague has clocked out and you’ve checked all your other patients, you quietly rap your knuckles against Sebastian’s door.  It’s late enough at night that he might be asleep already, and you can avoid the entire awkward conversation.
“Come in!” 
Shit.
You open the door, and Sebastian is staring right back at you.  He isn’t scowling like you thought he would be–his eyes are bright, a beaming smile on his lips.
“They told me you were working the night shift.” he says happily, scratching at the collar of his hospital gown. “I stayed awake.”
“Right, Mr. Sallow,” You say curtly, eyes down at the chart in front of you. “It is late, you should be getting rest–”
“But I’ve been waiting for you,” he frowns. 
You look up at him, and instead of a grown man, you see the puppy dog eyes that got you in trouble the few years you had at Hogwarts. “Mr. Sallow, rest is essential to your healing. You’ve been through quite the ordeal, and you need to go to sleep.”
“Why are you talking to me like you don’t know me?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pet, it’s me.”
You inhale sharply, white knuckling the edge of the bed. “Sebastian,” you mutter (you hate how easily his name rolls off your lips still), “what year do you think it is?”
He rolls his eyes and chuffs. “It’s 1893, duh.”
“It’s not,” you sigh. “It’s 1898. You were in an ambush yesterday, and it seems the Ashwinders are using a memory curse as retaliation nowadays.”
He blinks at you for a moment, before he bursts into laughter. “Really?  I’ve lost five damn years in my head?  What have I missed? Don’t tell me we’re not married yet.”  Only Sebastian could be jovial about such a matter; all the others were utterly distraught at losing their memories.
“Sebastian, darling, we haven’t seen each other in five years.” you confess, moving to the edge of the bed.  Your voice is quiet, and although it’s been ages since you last called him darling, you think it might be too much on his poor heart if you don’t. The poor man just asked if you were married, for Merlin’s sake.
His smile fades. “What?”
“We…we went our separate ways five years ago.” You clear your throat. “It…it was a mutual decision.” you lie.  Was it a lie?  You honestly can’t remember.
“I would never,” Sebastian bites back.  “I would never break up with you.”
“Darling, it’s been a very long time,” you say softly, wringing your hands together. “And I’m okay–you’re okay.  We’re both doing well…just on our own now.”
“I can’t–this doesn’t make sense,” he jolts away from your touch, and you flinch. “Why would I ever agree to such a thing?” 
You can recognize the tell tale signs of panic on a patient’s face, so you hurry over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of water.  Sebastian is too far away to see you slip the vial of dreamless sleep into the glass, swirling it into oblivion.
“Here, drink this.  You’ll feel much better,” you assure him. 
Sebastian absentmindedly takes the glass, gulping down the water as he tries to make sense of the current situation. “It doesn’t make sense,” he mutters under his breath as he starts rubbing his eyes.  He’s fighting the effects, and he looks up at you, a deep set frown on his face. “You dosed me, dammit.” The glass rolls out of his hand and onto the bed, where you scoop it up. 
“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it's sincere.  But you’re not equipped to handle Sebastian in such a state–you aren’t equipped to handle him, period.  It’s been five years since you’ve had to mind his temper, and your heart can’t handle the pain.  
Before you know it, Sebastian is knocked out, the dreamless sleeping draught taking over his body.  With his eyes tightly shut, you can finally examine him.  The scars across his chest are still purple, bruises lining his torso.  Your fingers dance across his skin trying to heal him, but alas, they stay.
You make notes on his chart, letting the other healers know he may be groggy and upset when he wakes in the morning. Even though they’ve put a no visitors policy on the aurors, you remind them to call upon Ominis and Anne to see if they can talk some sense into him.  
The last you’d asked Natty about Sebastian, he was happy.  He was climbing up the ranks in the auror office, and he’d finally moved out of Ominis’s spare room.  You’d cut her off once she started telling you how he was dating–that you didn’t need to know.
That had been two years ago.  You wonder what’s changed since then.
Tumblr media
Night Three
Your pleas for a night off have gone unanswered.  Your boss tells you that you’re too integral to the auror case to be gone for more than twelve hours.  
There’s a note left by your fiance’s owl; he’s sad you missed brunch, but he’s excited to take you out on Friday, your next scheduled day off.  His mother is insistent the two of you sit for an engagement portrait that will be posted in the Daily Prophet to announce your impending union.  You fold the note and toss it onto your desk; when you have a free moment, you’ll write a letter explaining that you would like a lengthy engagement.
Planning a wedding and working the night shift is just too much work for you.  You twist your large engagement ring off your finger and put it in its box before taking the floo network to St. Mungo’s.
You’re barely five steps out of the fireplace before a body hits you.  
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Anne Sallow breathes, her arms enveloping you. “You saved him. He’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”
“Anne,” you sigh into her touch.  Similar to her brother, it’s been ages since you’ve seen her.  She’s still thin and delicate, but her bangs are long grown out. “What are you still doing here?  It’s so late.”
“Ominis and I wanted to catch you,” she claims. “The healers called us in to talk to Sebastian.”
“Right, I asked them to.” you say, smoothing your apron. “How was he today?”
Anne winces. “He’s…he’s still pretty confused.”
You give her a sympathetic smile, biting back the sarcastic words you had in mind. “It must be awful.”
Anne pulls away, digging her toe into the ground. “He keeps asking what happened between the two of you.  I’m not sure what to say.” she admits.
You bite your lower lip. “You can tell him the truth.  That we ended amicably.  That we were fine.”
“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have disappeared for five years.” a voice says behind you.
It only takes you a second to recognize the rich voice of Ominis Gaunt.  Whirling around, you throw your arms around the tall blonde.  It’s been ages since you’ve given him a hug let alone seen him, so he chuckles into your shoulder when you grasp him.
“I missed you,” you pat his cheek.
“We missed you,” Ominis hums. “I’m surprised St. Mungo’s would call me; I haven’t been Sebastian’s emergency contact for a while.”
You furrow your eyebrows as Anne takes Ominis’s arm. Why wouldn’t he be his emergency contact?  Ominis is his best friend, and having been together with Anne for so long, practically his brother.
That’s a question for another time, you decide.
“It’s late, you two should be getting home.  Visitor hours are over.”  you remind them.
“I’m not leaving before you promise to see me again,” Ominis says sternly. “Five years is far too long.”
You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Ominis, I’m sorry.  I just thought that when things ended, the two of you were best friends…”
“That was my decision to make,” he says softly. “Not yours.  I decide whose side I’m on.”
Ominis’s words warm your heart, but they also leave cracks.  Ominis and Sebastian were a package deal when you met them, and you’ve spent far too much of your time with the boys driving them apart. 
After much coaxing, Ominis and Anne take their leave.  You’re finally able to start your rounds.  Rowle is starting to regain his memories and they’ve allowed his wife back into the ward.  Travers still has a nasty gash on his leg that’s festering, but he’s otherwise remembering things from last week.  Cattermole is fast asleep, so you avoid his room to let him get some more rest.
Your hand falters on the handle of room 213, taking a deep breath before you push in.  Just as you thought, Sebastian isn’t asleep.  He’s sitting upright in bed, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at you.
“You’re looking much better,” you offer, shutting the door behind you.
“You gave me a sleeping draught last night,” he accuses you. “That’s not fair.”
“You were getting hysterical, Sebastian.” you remind him, flipping through his chart.  Nothing particularly new, and no memories back.  He’s spent the entire day asking for you, the chart says, and fighting with orderlies.  It mentions Ominis and Anne arriving, and that the two gentlemen had sharp words for one another. Ominis was right—he isn’t Sebastian’s emergency contact anymore. There’s an unfamiliar name, a woman.
“Open your shirt, please.”
Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure we’re not together?”
You roll your eyes. “Your cheekiness, I didn’t miss it.” you mutter, hands on your hips. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your wounds, you idiot.”
Sebastian gives you a familiar grin as he unbuttons his pajama shirt; he’s flexing his muscles, you can tell.  A pinch to his pectoral has him yowling, and he stops.  You grin at him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Perhaps we did break up,” he grumbles.
Sebastian’s breath stutters as your fingers prod at his scars. They’re still ugly and raised, but the color is improving. 
“I’m not sure there’s much more I can do,” you frown. “I think they’ll stay.”
“That’s fine,” Sebastian breathes. “You did always say you preferred when I was roughed up.” 
You give him a strained look. “Sebastian–”
“Please, listen to me.” Sebastian urges. “Ominis…he told me what happened between us. And I really, truly can’t believe we would let it get to that.” Your name is a gentle whisper from his mouth, and he pushes his brunette hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to neglect you.”
You swallow thickly, backing up. “We were so young, Sebastian.  Let’s leave the past in the past, please.”
“Ominis and I haven’t spoken in two years.” Sebastian interjects. “He just told me.  Annie says we had a fight, and you were part of it.”
You turn around, shutting your eyes. “I don’t want to hear this,” you admit weakly.
Sebastian is rustling in his sheets; he lets out a low hiss as he adjusts his still healing torso. “If the version of me, the one that got cursed, isn’t talking to you, Anne, or Ominis…I don’t want to go back to that.  I don’t want to be that version of me.” Sebastian pleads. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to remember.”
“You have friends, Sebastian.” You remind him, turning to face him again. “You have friends, your job…” you trail off, picking up his chart again.  You pinpoint the section with his emergency contact; a woman who is likely sitting at home, worried sick over him. “You have a girlfriend, probably.  One who is desperate to see you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you try to imagine her, but your mind comes up blank.
“I don’t care,” Sebastian breathes. “She’s a stranger.”
“I’m the stranger,” you remind him. “Sebastian…I’m engaged. I’m getting married next spring.” 
That’s a lie–you and your fiance haven’t even discussed a timeline, but it seems more official to say it with a season.
The hope on Sebastian’s face crumbles, eyes wide as he stares at you.
“You’re engaged,” he croaks.
“Engaged.” The more you say it, the more it’s real. “He’s lovely.  You would like him.” Now that's an even bigger lie–Sebastian would’ve called him a prat if he met him. You appreciate your fiance’s softness and meekness, especially after having been with a firecracker hothead for most of your teens.
Sebastian is crumpled in bed, twisting onto his side. “I’d like to go to bed now,” he mumbles.  It was textbook Sebastian–whenever something didn’t go his way, he’d turn away from you in bed like a petulant child.  It’s almost a relief to see that he does the same thing at twenty three years old.
“If you ring the bell, someone will come to aid you.” You wave your wand, dimming the lights. “You can ask for someone else, if you’d like.”  
Sebastian doesn’t say anything as you shut the door, and when he does ring the bell for assistance, he requests anyone but you. It’s stupid to be upset over, it’s what you wanted–for him to stop pestering you.  
But you have a nice long cry in the potions ingredient cupboard anyways.  
The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully.  Rowle has regained his memories and will be discharged in the morning.  Cattermole finally woke up from his deep sleep and he’s on the mend, moved out of the intensive care ward. Travers has also been discharged, prescribed a salve to make sure the cut on his leg stays clean.  It leaves Roberts, Jorkins, and Sallow as your only three patients left from the case, and perhaps now your boss will let you take a night off.
Tumblr media
Night Four
“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Sebastian says sheepishly.
“Whatever for?” You mumble, pressing a strip of gauze to his chest wound.  You’re trying a new salve recipe you’ve been working on, just to see if it’ll help break down the scar tissue.  His bruises are starting to go yellow, and if he works back up on his memory, Sebastian can be discharged from your ward.
“For being rude.” Sebastian sighs. “I’m…it’s starting to come back to me a bit now.”
You look up at him, eyebrows raised. “Is it?”
“We fought that night.” Sebastian swallows thickly. “You and me.  I can’t exactly remember what we fought about, but you threw a book at me.”
“And I hit your eyebrow.” You remind him.
“Lucky shot,” Sebastian rolls his eyes, and you have to suppress a laugh. He winces as you press the salve in; his body is still sensitive.
“I’m sorry for that.  I never got to apologize to you,” you admit, rubbing the mixture in. “But I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed about what?” Sebastian asks softly.
“For putting up with all of it,” you pat another piece of gauze over the salve.  Sebastian looks like a mess and he’ll have to sleep sitting up, but you’re hoping to salvage his handsome chest. There are a bevy of flower vases strewn across the room, and plenty of Sebastian’s favorite sweets piled on his bedside table.
“I see you had quite a few visitors today.” 
Sebastian nods, trying not to move too much. “Anne and Ominis again; he’s warming back up to me, I know it.” he brags. “Clopton and Larson too. I can’t believe I was paired up with two Ravenclaws as partners. That’s probably how I got all bungled up in the first place.”
“Everett said you were quite the hero,” you back away, admiring your work (and his muscles, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him).  “And they stayed the entire night when you first came into the ward, so I know they’re loyal to you.”
There is a silence between you two for a moment, until Sebastian breaks the tension.
“She visited earlier.” Sebastian echoed. “Rebecca.”
You turn away at the name; at least it’s not the girl you remember from your last argument.  “Rebecca is a lovely name,” you offer.  It’s all you can give him without treading into dangerous waters.  You’re engaged after all, and stuck patting balm into the chest of your former lover.
“She was distraught.” Sebastian hummed. “Hates the scars.”
You turn around, rolling your eyes. “She’s dating an auror, she should get used to it.” you scowl. 
“That’s what I said,” Sebastian laughs, trying not to move the salve covered strips. “But she wasn’t having it.  She was worried I would never look the same, so I broke up with her.”
You blink at him.  He seems completely unbothered.
“Sebastian!” You exclaim. “You shouldn’t break up with her over that alone.”
Sebastian shrugs. “Y’know, the boys filled in a few of the blanks for me.  Apparently, not very many people actually liked Rebecca and I together, so I guess it was impending anyways.”
You put your hands on your hips. “I cannot believe you broke up with your girlfriend because Everett Clopton and Andrew Larson told you to.” you shake your head. “She was your emergency contact, Sebastian.  You’ve probably been dating a while.”
“According to Clopton, I was planning on breaking up with her soon anyways.”
“Idiots, the lot of you.” You tut, washing your hands in the basin.
“We’d only been dating three months.” Sebastian interjects. “I put her as my emergency contact because I had no one else.  Ominis and Anne…well, they weren’t talking to me apparently.”
You don’t say anything, letting the water run over your hands.
“I guess I’ve been a real arse the last few years,” Sebastian echoes. “Everett said I hadn’t been quite myself since we…well, you get the gist.”
“Everyone is an arse when they’re eighteen,” you remind him. 
Sebastian snorts. “I’m sure you weren’t.”
“I think I might’ve been.” You chuckle under your breath. “Poppy always said I had a one track mind.  Only ever thought about myself, my career.”
“Well, it’s done a lot for you.” Sebastian offers. “Youngest lead healer in St. Mungo’s history.”
You roll your eyes. “The others think I’m a show off.”
“You’re gifted,” he shrugs, and a slice of gauze slips from his chest. “That’s all.”
“Lay back darling,” you advise him, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him comfortable. 
Sebastian does as you say, his hands balled up in fists at his side. “So, your fiance,” He trails off. “What’s he like?”
You purse your lips, pulling his sheets over his waist. “He’s nice.”
“Nice.  That’s it?” Sebastian snorts. “Surely he has some better attributes, you said yes to marrying him.”
“He’s calm, quiet.” you say, turning your back to put away the excess gauze. “He’s a junior secretary for the Minister of Magic.” turning back to Sebastian, you already know he has a smug smile on his face. “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say,” you warn, wagging a finger.
“What?” Sebastian scoffs. “I would never say anything about an esteemed junior secretary,” he says dramatically. “Besides, you’re the one who thought it…”
“I didn’t think anything!” You laugh. “I just knew exactly what you were thinking.”
“And what is that?” Sebastian asks coyly.
“You were going to call him a pencil pusher,” you accuse.
Sebastian fakes a gasp, holding a hand to his chest. “My stars, I would never say such a thing.” 
“Stop it,” you laugh again, slapping his hand. “You’re ruining my hard work. I’ll have to do it again.”
“No,” Sebastian groans. “It’s cold.  I just want to put a jumper on, I don’t care about the scars.” he pouts.
“I need you to get better,” you hold your hands on your hips. “The auror office will have my head if I keep you here any longer when your colleagues are back home.”
Sebastian fumbles with the edge of the blanket. “And what would consider me healed?” 
“Well, I’d say besides the appearance, your physical wounds are fully healed.” You shrug. “But we can’t discharge you until your memories are back–or at least substantially returned.”
Sebastian is quiet, and he stays quiet until you finish putting away all your supplies.  You’re about to leave him, implore him to get some rest, when he clears his throat.
“Pet,” he says cautiously (he hasn’t used your old nickname since the second night of his stay).  
“Yes, Sebastian?” You ask, slipping your hands into the pocket of your apron.  When you look at Sebastian from the doorway, he doesn’t look like a twenty three year old man.  He looks like the Sebastian you used to know–the hotheaded eighteen year old who only ever got shy around you.
“Would you…could we be friends after this?” He asked lowly. “I know you said we haven’t seen each other in five years, and I know there’s some blame there on my end. But we’ve been through so much together, and you’ve saved my life.” he rambles. 
You once told yourself that if Sebastian Sallow ever came crawling back, you’d slam the door shut in his face.  The first year of your separation had been excruciating; the second had been dreadful.  Once you’d gotten on to your third year without him in your life, the pain had become bearable.  And once you’d gotten on to four years without him, you realized you didn’t think of him anymore.  In fact, you hadn’t thought of him at all until you saw him standing a few paces away from your tea table.
“Of course, darling.” You assure him. “Only if you promise me that you’ll actually sleep.”
Sebastian’s face lights up in a way you distinctly remember–the first time you’d seen it was when you arrived in Feldcroft to meet Anne when you were both fifteen.  He adjusts himself to the pillows as you wave your wand to dim the lights. 
You shut the door behind you, letting out a sigh when you’re out of sight.  You feel guilty calling Sebastian darling again–you’ve never even blessed your own fiance with his own nickname.  And despite your refusal of the situation, you can’t help the shiver you feel at the base of your spine when you hear Sebastian calling you pet again.
Perhaps being friends is not a good idea.
Tumblr media
Night Five
Sebastian is asleep when your shift starts, and you nearly skip over his room.  But against your better judgment, you push into the door, knocking lightly.
The brunette man is slumped over, snoring lightly as if he were waiting for you.  At the sound of the door, he jolts, rubbing his eyes. 
“Why can’t you be on the day shift?” he complains sleepily. 
You chuckle. “I can leave you, let you get some rest.”
“No,” Sebastian clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay.” He shrugs off his shirt, proudly displaying his scars. “They still look like hell, but at least they aren’t purple anymore.”
You stride over, running your hands over them.  Your ancient magic was able to overpower the bleeding curse, but Sebastian will forever have a dip in his chest and bubbled over scars.  They’re at least turning pink, a much better place than they were a few days ago.
“They look great,” you pat his shoulder. “And once we get your memories back in order, we can get you home.”
Sebastian gives you a strange look. “Ominis came again during the day…filling in the blanks again.”
“And?” You ask softly, sitting in the chair next to him.
“Why did we break up?” Sebastian asks firmly. “Can you tell me? And don’t give me the whole spiel about us growing apart.  I want the details.”
You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands. “We were eighteen, Sebastian. I was careless, you were lonely, we were both focused on our careers and not on each other.” Truthfully, you had spent years thinking of the many ways you’d address this conversation, how you’d confront him if you ever saw him again. Now five years later and after having almost witnessed Sebastian’s death, the downfall of your first love is easily compounded into one simple sentence.
“You started working the night shift,” Sebastian says.
“I started working the night shift,” you echo. “I wanted to rise up quickly in the ranks, so I volunteered. I was working so many hours, and you were gone during the day at your job, so we barely saw each other.”
“I asked you to take time off.” Sebastian adds.
“And I said no.” you admit. “I told you that you were being insecure.  That my job was more important, because I was saving lives.” It’s one of the few shames you’ve compartmentalized over the past few years–that you’d ever downplayed the importance of his career compared to yours.
“I went out that night.” Sebastian whispers, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t come home until the morning.”
“It was my only night off of the week, and you came home at four in the morning, stinking of firewhiskey and perfume.” Your eyes shut, replaying the awful scene in your head.
“Did I?” he croaked. “Did I cheat on you, really?”
“No,” You shake your head, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You said you could have.  You said you wanted to.” You add, rubbing the temples of your forehead. “That you were tired of living in half of a relationship, and that you’d wanted to kiss that girl.”
“You threw the book at me,” Sebastian says weakly. “And I smashed your mug.”
“I told you to go to her if you really wanted.” You admit. “And you left.”
“I stayed at Ominis’s that night.” he whispered. “I didn’t go to her.”
“I didn’t know that.  So I packed my things and left.” 
The silence hangs between the two of you, and all of the feelings you had at eighteen come flooding back.  After the fight, you apparated to Natty’s place, while Anne and Poppy had cleaned out your bits in the apartment. What was meant to be a one night stay turned into a week, and then more. After a month without word from Sebastian, you committed to the night shift, forsaking your friendships and social life for work.  Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and before you knew it, you were promoted.  Sebastian Sallow was a blip in your timeline, a faded memory of teenage love.  He’d been just a memory until you saw him in Diagon Alley.  Your heart hadn’t felt anything but anger towards him until you saw his shiny black dress shoes.
“Did we throw it all away?” Sebastian asks sorrowfully.
“We became the people we needed to be.” You remind him. “Look at you, an auror.  A damn good one.  The kind that jumps in front of their partner to save them from a curse.” you assure him.
“And you’re a healer,” Sebastian inhales. “A bloody amazing one, that saved my life and five others.  I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles, and you know your heart is in danger.
“You seem to remember quite a bit,” You point out. “More than you let on.”
“I was talking to Clopton about you.  We thought the ambush was over, we were trying to get to a floo point so we could get Larson’s leg checked out.” Sebastian says. “I told him how beautiful you looked, and that you looked happy.” his voice cracks. 
“Sebastian.” It’s not a warning, just a statement.  A week ago you would’ve never said his name aloud, let alone thought of it.  But it feels right rolling off your tongue.
“Everett said something about you being engaged.  It’s…it’s fuzzy from there on, but I remember the fight.  And I jumped in front of him, but not just to save him.” Sebastian says, his fingers drumming on his stomach.
“Why?” You almost don’t want to hear the rest. It might upend your life entirely.
“I jumped in front of him because I knew I’d be okay.  That you would probably be at St. Mungo’s when I got there.” Sebastian said weakly.  “And I’d get a chance to see you again.”
“Sebastian, we’re different people now.” You remind him. 
“We’re better now.” Sebastian says, giving you pleading eyes. “I was an idiot when I was eighteen; I thought I was being a man, but I wasn’t.  And I’m not going to pretend that I’ve been happy the past five years–there hasn’t been another woman who’s made me feel the way you do.” he confesses.
“It’s been too long,” you try to say, but you know it's no use trying to argue with him.  From your first fight in the Undercroft at fifteen to the fight that broke you two up, Sebastian has never backed down.
Before you even realize it, Sebastian has reached his hand out, taking yours. He’s rubbing your left ring finger–the one missing your large, ostentatious engagement ring.
“Don’t marry him,” Sebastian croaks. “Please, don’t marry him.”
“Why?” you ask.
“Because I understand you now.” Sebastian says. “I understand you in a way I didn’t when I was younger.  And that’s good–it’s good for us now.  It wasn’t the right time then, but we could try again now.” he pleads.
“Four days ago when you saw me in Diagon Alley, you could barely look at me.” You remind him. “I should have you committed to the memory ward at this point.”
“Four days ago when I saw you, I was sick to my stomach with how happy you looked.” Sebastian admits. “I saw you from a distance, smiling at Larson and Poppy.  I couldn’t look you in the eye after seeing you smile.”
You want to tell Sebastian that your fiance is a good man.  That he loves you, cherishes you, and doesn’t fight with you.  But you can’t help being nostalgic as you hold the hand of your first love, who is currently begging you to end your relationship to risk it all again with him. Whatever strength you’ve mustered together in the last five years is about to break as his big brown eyes implore you to stay.
“Your memory seems back to normal,” you change the subject, standing up quickly.  You tug your hand out from his, smoothing your clammy palms against your apron. “I’ll put you down for discharge in the morning.”
“Don’t,” Sebastian warns. “Don’t run away.”
“You ran away.” You remind him.
“And I regret it, every day.” Sebastian says mournfully. “You were my first love.  You were going to be my only love, and I fucked it up.”
“We both made mistakes, Sebastian.” You say, staring down at your feet. “You need to get some rest.  I’ll leave you be.”
He’s arguing as you step through the door, wringing your hands together.  The thoughts running through your head aren’t right–no, they’re crazy.  Except your feet keep walking towards the ward matron’s desk, gripping the stone top.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, frowning.
“I need to go home,” you confess, scribbling what little notes you have onto Sebastian’s chart. “There’s something I have to do.”
Thirty minutes later (your on call replacement is displeased to have been woken up late at night) you’re back in your flat.  Your mind is buzzing as you pace in the bedroom, thinking about the idea gnawing at your brain.
It would be insane.
You haven’t talked in five years.
He’s emotional after having been saved from the brink of death.
He broke up with his girlfriend on the spot, because she wasn’t you.
Sebastian is most well known for his unwavering support and adoration.  At least he was when you were younger.  Sebastian had always been encouraging, cheering you on through crossed wands, battles in the highlands, and even when you got your first job offer from St. Mungo’s. He’d been crazy about you–obsessed with you, even.  The two of you had been the couple of your year when you graduated.  
Sebastian had only ever faltered once, and it ended your relationship.
Don’t marry him.  
The words replay in your mind.  It makes you realize your stomach has flipped more in the last four nights than it has in years.  That your even tempered fiance, a kind but boring man, has not once made you feel what you’ve felt in the past week being back in Sebastian’s presence.
It is insane, you think. But you’d rather take feeling than nothing at all.
Digging through your dresser, you pull out the box holding your engagement ring.  
Tumblr media
Night Six
It has been a long, long day.
What time you would have spent sleeping is spent assuring your now ex-fiance that nothing untoward has happened.  That you appreciate his kindness and companionship over the past year, but that you cannot lie to yourself. 
You cannot marry him because you don’t love him as you should.
You prepare for the night shift with a spring in your step, because when you get there, you’re heading straight to Sebastian’s room.  You’re going to tell him what you’ve done, and hope that he’s still feeling just as crazy as you. You pull your hair into its usual bun, wishing you could wear something a little nicer to what will be your reunion.  Sebastian used to love when you wore green; perhaps you’ll buy a green dress the next day you’re off.
When you get to the ward, it’s quieter than usual.  Holding your wand between your teeth again, affixing the white apron, your heart beats out of your chest as you approach room 213.  
This is it.  This is the start of the rest of your life.
You push through the doors of 213, but your breath stutters when you see the empty bed.  It’s stripped of any linens, and all of the flowers and candy boxes Sebastian’s colleagues sent are gone.
“Where is the patient in 213?” you whip around, grabbing the closest orderly.
They give you a curious look. “Discharged this morning–you put it in their paperwork.”
You swallow, and it feels like shards of broken glass are tumbling down your throat. “I…I did.”
“Isn’t today your day off, too?” They tilt their head at you. “Honestly, it feels like your head hasn’t been screwed on at all this week. Might want to take some focus potions, ma’am.”
“Uh, right.” You admit, turning red.  You were so excited at the prospect of seeing Sebastian again, you completely forgot that Fridays were your nights off from the ward. You were rather busy after all, imploding your life. “”Does it say who picked him up?”
They shrug, flipping through the charts again. “He was taken to his home in Diagon Alley by his sister and brother-in-law.”
You curse under your breath as you try to plot a plan.  There’s no way Ominis still lives in the small flat he had when you last saw him, and you have no idea where Sebastian lives.  The ward doesn’t have an address either, so you’re shit out of luck.
Unless…unless you were to find one of his loyal partners.
Apparition is frowned upon inside of St. Mungo’s, but you’ll take a scolding from the matron ward on Saturday. You immediately apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where most of the ministry’s aurors spend their evenings.  You know this because you’ve been avoiding the biggest pub in Diagon Alley for five years, hoping not to run into your ex.
The crowd stares at you in your St. Mungo’s uniform; you push through throngs of ministry employees, all wearing fine suits and dresses from their day jobs.  Your eyes scan the room, heart losing hope by the second, until you spot Everett and Andrew sitting with a gaggle of your classmates from Hogwarts, Natsai Onai included.  Andrew elbows Everett at the sight of you, and Clopton beams as if he’s won a bet.
“Hi,” you say breathlessly, approaching the group. 
“Figured you might turn up.” Larson teased. “Gaunt, Clopton, and I had a bet on how long it would take.”
“What’s going on?” Natty asks, clearly confused. She says your name, tilting her head. 
“I need his address,” You gasp. “He wasn’t at the ward when I got there–”
“Anne and Ominis picked him up this morning.” Everett says, pulling out his wand and a paper napkin.  He aimed his wand at the scrap, delicately burning an address into the paper. “He doesn’t live far from here. Perhaps you’ll keep him from spending too much time at the pub now.”
“Who doesn’t live far?” Natty asks again, elbowing Andrew.
“Sallow, of course.” Larson winks. “You two had enough time to talk it through, yeah?”
“What the bloody hell–they haven’t spoken in five years,” Natty claims with wide eyes. She gives you a look, and you can’t do anything but shrug.
“Near death experiences will change you,” Everett says smugly, taking a sip of his tankard. “Well go on then, what are you still doing here?”
You mouth an apology to Natty; you’ll have to explain it to her someday soon.  For now, you’re pushing through the crowd, trying to get out the door.  Looking down at the napkin, Everett Clopton is right; Sebastian lives maybe a stone's throw away from the pub.  Your feet are pounding on the cobblestone of Diagon Alley, looking like a blue wisp to any passersby.  
Before you know it, you’re turning onto his street, with only the lamps in front of each door illuminating the numbers.  You stop, gasping for air, trying to find the right one.  Of course he’s at the end of the row, a dark green door with a gold knocker.  It’s late now, the sky pitch black, as you start pounding.
It takes only thirty seconds for the door to swing open; Anne is standing behind it, looking shocked.
“You’re here,” she breathes.
“I told you she would,” you hear Ominis yell from the inside. “Clopton owes me ten galleons.”
“Can I come in?” you ask.
Anne bites back a smile. “Of course you can.”
You walk into Sebastian’s home; despite having never seen it, it positively reeks of him. There are touches of him all over the house–from the books stacked in the hallways, to the shoes messily kicked in the parlor room.  He has trinkets from his travels on the mantle, and you can see he still leaves his teacups all over the house (something you once fought over–it seems endearing now).  
Ominis is in the sitting room, lounging on a chaise. “Took you long enough.” he says teasingly. “I was rather surprised you abandoned him last night.  He was absolutely bereft when we picked him up in the morning.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you admit sheepishly, digging your toe into the carpet. “I…I just had something I had to do first.”
“A break up and a make up in one day, you’re a busy woman as always.”
“Shut up.”
Ominis gives you a toothy grin; something he saves only for those he loves. “I missed you.” he stood, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can only hope Sebastian doesn’t bungle it all up and we lose you all over again.”
You press your nose into Ominis’s shoulder; it seems silly you ever thought you could live without this group of people in your life. 
“I thought you were mad at him,” you say, pulling back to look up at the blond.
“I was mad that he was being stubborn,” Ominis says softly. “That he wasn’t being himself, drinking every day and dating girls who weren’t right for him.  I told him he had to pluck up the courage to speak to you again, or get over it and make peace with his life.  He’s been rather stuck, as you can imagine.”
You have been too, you think.
“Is he upstairs?” You ask, turning to the slim staircase. Anne is standing next to the railing, giving a signature Sallow smirk.
“He might be asleep,” Ominis warned. “But he is. First room to the left.”
You squeeze his hand in thanks before walking up the stairs.  The floor creaks underneath you as you push in the door; Sebastian is laying in his bed, sleeping fitfully. You nearly knock a stack of books over as you kneel next to his bed; you also recognize the book on his side table, the spine dented from when you threw it at his face five years ago. It reminds you of the shattered mug you keep on your desk.  Perhaps you two have been subconsciously keeping pieces of each other around.
Sebastian stirs as you brush his brunette hair out of his face.  He opens one eye, then the other, blinking furiously as he tries to sit up.
“You’re here,” he groans, a hand flying to his torso. “Is this a good visit, or just a hospital house call? Because my scars are killing me now that I’m home.”
You give a watery chuckle. “It can be both, if you like.”  You pull the blanket aside, examining his puckered skin.  The scars will stay for good, but that’s fine.  You did always like it when Sebastian was roughed up anyways.
“You’re here.” Sebastian repeats, only this time it's softer.
“I had to go to the Leaky Cauldron to get your address from Clopton.” you admit, blue waves emitting from your fingertips as you try to take away some of the physical pain. “But yes, I’m here.”
“By the sound of our last conversation, I thought you were done.  That we were just going to have to live with our mistakes.” Sebastian breathes.
“I wanted to say more, but there was something I had to do first.” you sit on the bed; Sebastian adjusts to give you more room, taking your hands in his. “I had to give back the engagement ring.”
“You did?” Sebastian asks hopefully.
“Seeing you…being around you for the first time in five years…” You’re trying to compound all of your feelings in a simple sentence, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “It made me realize I just didn’t love him.” You confess. “I shouldn’t feel the way I’ve felt seeing you.”
“Pet,” he murmurs, putting a hand to your cheek. “You’ve saved my life. I can’t ask anything more from you.”
“Then can I?” You ask, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes as you place your hand over his. Sebastian’s hand is warm and familiar, fitting perfectly against you.
“Ask me anything,” Sebastian echoes.
“Let’s try again.” you whisper.  
Sebastian scoots over, making space on the bed for you.  You don’t care if anyone else has slept in it over the five years you’ve been apart; something about the way Sebastian melts against your touch tells you he’s only ever belonged to you in the first place. 
“Let’s try again.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips.  It feels positively electric, like it’s awoken something that’s been dormant inside you for five long, sleepy years.  You take good care not to press too much of your weight onto a still recovering patient, but Sebastian does everything in his power to draw you closer.  His hands start pulling pins out of your hair, the tight bun coming unraveled as he weaves his fingers through your tresses.
“You’re still healing,” you remind him as he starts working on the buttons of your dress. “And your sister is downstairs.”
“I don’t care,” Sebastian murmurs into your skin, tugging your collar down to press a kiss at the base of your neck. “We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”
You have, you think.  So you let Sebastian ravish you with kisses, blushing when you hear Ominis loudly call up the stairs that he and Anne are leaving.  You only leave the bed to unlace your dress, Sebastian eagerly watching as you strip the fabric from your body.  He groans in a good way when you press kisses to his chest, fingers dancing across the scars on his chest.  Not all scars would disappear, and there would always be reminders of the past.  But it was good to acknowledge them, to know that they were there, and that they were healed.  
The two of you stay awake the entire night reacquainting yourselves with each other’s body; the sun is streaming through Sebastian’s curtains when you realize you’ve been awake since Thursday night, running off adrenaline. Your eyes begin to droop as Sebastian presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“Go to sleep, pet.” he whispers. “I’m right here.”
You’ll have to call in again, you think. You need an entire day of sleep after this week.  And the next time you get to the ward, you’ll turn in your official notice, asking to move to the day shift.
348 notes · View notes
queenendless · 3 months
Text
💗Safe Haven (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)💗
A/n: ... I legit had no clue what to write. So it's gonna be short. Sorry. God this JJK burnout is getting worse!
Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and these two are enemies on opposites sides but in reality are secret lovers (though it ain't a secret to those who truly know them) with you as their third. And like reader-chan, I need comfort right now.
PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE, COPY, REPOST AND ETC MY FAN CONTENT. Reblog, like, and follow instead thnx u.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The front door of the apartment unlocked, swinging open as that familiar boisterous voice boomed out. “Sweetheart~! Your Toru is here~!” The door slide closed as Satoru Gojo took off his black dress boots to leave by your welcome mat.
His socked, heavy footsteps sounded getting closer in just a few strides. “Did ya miss me? Cause I sure missed — !”
The sounds of glass shattering followed by the loud thump of something falling made him run, honed in on your cursed energy. Finding you crumbled up on the glass shard covered floor of the living room.
“Y/n!?” Using the barest traces of cursed energy in his finger to collect the shards only to erode them into cursed nothingness, he could safely tend to you. “Hold on. I got you.”
Only when he slowly helped you roll around to sit up on your butt did he see crimson dripping down your hand from the cut open wound on your wrist.
“Fuck.” He muttered before speaking out loud. “I don't see any glass in there. Still,” He pulled off his blindfold to bind it tight enough to put enough pressure to stop the bleeding.
“Toru, your blindfold!”
“I have plenty of backups stashed back at my place. And here, of course. Besides, this is just temporary.” His updo now freed to let his hair down hang over those radiant eyes that bore anxious concern for you as well as the utmost confidence, pulling your uninjured hand up gently as his other arm wrapped around your waist to get you on your feet.
“Not to worry, my dearest angel. Your valiant lover will get you all patched up in no time.”
The sliding open of the rolling door leading to the balcony grabbed your attention.
Then again, you both felt that familiar cursed presence coming a mile away.
“Well now,” Seeing the manta ray returning to his own shadow, Suguru Geto hummed deeply. “What have we here?” He took off his zōri sandals to place by the open doorway. “Satoru, you're no healing nurse like Shoko is, ya know.”
“For your information, Suguru,” the sassy hurt in Gojo's voice betrayed the grin that was there. “I happen to be a wonderful nurse!”
Geto cheekily pointed out. “Then you have a small bloody puddle to wipe up, nurse-sama~”
Satoru groaned a bit. “Hang on. I can't be expected to do all the work.”
“My blood, my mess to clean up.” You meekly pointed out.
Satoru gently lifted you up by the waist just to plop you on the couch, clicking his tongue and wagging his finger at you. “Sorry love, but you look exhausted. No wonder you collapsed earlier and got yourself hurt. Now you need to take it easy.”
Suguru sighed deeply. “Very well. I'll help my dear Satoru out if it'll make him happy.”
Both men hummed as Gojo leaned over to smooch Geto for several drawn out moments to fill that mouth with its usual sweet taste. “Thank you~” Gojo beamed before stalking off to the bathroom where you kept the first aid kit under the sink.
Seeing a decent sized, withered red leaved Jubokko tree become sentient with blinking eyes creep out of Suguru's shadow made your curl away from it. “Sorry dearest, but it'll help clean up the mess much faster.” Suguru assured, despite cringing as its hole of a mouth sucked up every trace of blood on that floor, hissing as its root hands reached out for your bloody clothed wrist only to be sucked back into Suguru's shadow again.
“Wretched leech.” He griped, his white tabi socked feet padded over to you.
You flushed pink at the sight of Suguru undoing his gold-colored kāṣāya garment to drape over the couch as he rolled up his black yukata robe sleeves.
“Choosing to leave the sorcerer life is one thing … but living among these … monkeys. Honestly honey, I'd prefer you live with me and the girls … though with everything that's been transpiring lately …” He sat down and gingerly took your wrapped wrist, smiling faintly recognizing Gojo's blindfold even if bloodstained. “I can see why living away from all that chaos does seem safer.”
“I have returned!” Satoru slid in, holding the kit above his head like it was the newborn heir of the Pride Lands. “So, since I got here first and all, I figured you are up to playing nurse this time?”
“Fine by me. But best we clean it in the bathroom.” Geto recommended.
Gojo drooped, whining. “Back the way I came then. Jeez, could've told me that earlier?”
Geto scoffed. “Oh hush you.”
The cold tap water of your bathroom sink ran as the blindfold was unbound, plopping into the sink, crimson draining away as you kept your wrist under the running faucet.
“Fortunately, the cut isn't that deep so no stitching is needed. Still, I suggest you focus your attention elsewhere to make it seem less painful in your mind's eye, love.” Suguru cautioned as he doused a spare soft clothed rag on the countertop with your mild hand soap before letting it get wet enough.
“You can start by explaining why you're so pooped out?” Hugging you from behind meant you could lean on Satoru's sturdy body as your fatigue was coming back in.
“Insomnia.” You whined a bit as he lifted you up again just to plop you on the counter. “Depression. Lonesomeness – Figured it out now?” Your griping did unnerve them.
Your sniffling meant tears blurred your vision, looking away to face the wall and not them. Satoru weaved his hand through your hair, pulling your head to flush your weeping face in between his plush pecs as Suguru began dabbing and cleaning around the cut.
“I mean, work stress for one cause of course there is. Living here by myself for two. And seeing cursed spirits flock around here, harmless ones at that, still makes me anxious if things will escalate to full blown shit.” You felt yourself laxing as Gojo brushed your hair as well as your arm to reassure you that you weren't alone now. “I'm always gonna be worried for the day when you two don't come back … or for when you do return … but I'll be dead or worse.” The sting in your wrist was outweighed by the ache in your cracked heart.
Shadows covered both their faces, letting you speak.
“I know you both went through hell after Riko-chan … and Haibara-kun … and I thought leaving with Nanami-san would mean I find some semblance of peace and try to live as normally as I could.”
Gauze bandages gingerly covered your wrist as Geto's nimble hands got to work.
“Even so, I thought keeping in touch would be better than nothing … despite the risks … I needed to hear your voices again. See your smiles again. I'm sorry. I – !”
Tenderly holding your cheeks to have you look up at him, you became breathless as Gojo kissed you openly, his tongue brushing yours, capturing your sobs, brushing your streaking tears with those calloused thumbs of his.
“Never apologize for your big beautiful heart, you breathtaking angel.” Satoru heaved heavily, hot pants painting your trembling lips as various emotions swept through those big blue eyes.
Your chin was firmly grasped as your face turned to make way for Geto's lips as his thick neck flexed on how much he wanted to swallow your taste to drown out the horridness that is the taste of cursed spirits.
“How did two damaged beasts such as ourselves get to be blessed with the most endearing creature our eyes have ever laid upon?” Suguru whispered, devotion vivacious in his gaze.
Choked whimpers and shaky gasps leave your lips, submerged in their kisses of unified warmth.
“You were with me at my lowest point when I needed someone to hear me the most.”
“You knocked some sense into my dense noggin and dragged me back just so me and Suguru would hash things out.”
“Even prideful maniacs need to hash things out.” You yawned as Gojo carried you bridal style while Geto hurried packing the first aid kit away.
“I'm sorry we haven't made enough time for you, angel. I'm the biggest packing tank for handling the shittest messes those elders can throw at me. Doesn't beat seeing you though.” Satoru purred the last line as he flicked his pinkie finger to get your door to open. You giggled as he fell atop you on the bed, snatching Suguru's wrist as he just came in after. “Both of you~!”
Suguru's exasperated sigh was betrayed by his wistful grin as he smooched the smirk stretching on Satoru's face.
The sky went from cloudy and blue to the warm colors of the sunset.
Giant sculpted fingers traced your face. From your lashes to your nose. Brushing your forehead, your cheeks, then finally your breathing lips. Lost in deep sleep, Suguru watched in wonder at how serene you appeared.
Stripping off that black zip-up work jacket of his to drape over the dresser, Satoru laid down beside you, brushing your hair leisurely.
“So … what happens now?” Suguru murmured.
“Well,” Satoru hummed, raising a finger. “Option one: we keep going as things have been but that will still leave our little lamb all by her lonesome while we're swept up in the war of our ideals.”
“Option two: we both come clean about our secret but be labeled and hunted as partners in crime.” Suguru continued, raising his own finger.
“Or … there's always option three.” Oh Satoru the ominous.
“Which is?” Suguru was hesitant to ask.
“We three elope, you two and the girls can move into my place, we get two cats that look like us and we name them Catoru and Cuguru~!”
. . .
Suguru laughed under his breath. “You're such a doofus.”
“Well this doofus is all for you two to deal with til the end of our days.” Gojo drowsily put as he ruffled Geto's already tousled hair; his bun coming undone.
“Best to ask Y/n about it after she finally gets some good rest, first.” Geto kissed the wrist of Gojo's hand cupping his cheek; Gojo thumbed his earring filled, large earlobe.
“Hai Hai,” Pulling the younger man close enough, Satoru blissfully, deeply, lip lock danced with his best friend, partner in infamy, and one and only.
Well, one of two.
Heated panting hitting each other's faces, blue looked down, to which black followed.
Finally at ease, able to sleep with their distinctive scents and comfy warmth enveloping you.
For the first time in a while — what felt like forever to you actually — you were at peace.
Feeling velvety wet sweetness kissing you followed by another pair immediately after had you humming for more, to which brought you slightly out of sleep at how much they peppered your entire face with their loving kisses.
Sunset turned to night as their own exhaustion caught up to them both, spooning you from both sides, legs intertwined, snores filling the room, as three bundled into one among rustled sheets and strewn about pillows.
Your bandaged wrist brushed their bare wrists as their hands held yours.
Intertwined.
In hand.
And in life.
379 notes · View notes
bunnyreaper · 3 months
Note
Gaz taking care of his babies while his wife has a birthday spa day? 🥹🥹🥹🥹
this is... something? i tried okay <3
you'd heard horror stories from other wives about leaving your kids alone with your kids alone with just their dad, but you knew that when it came to kyle--you didn't have a single thing to worry about.
that man had the kids routines memorised, even when he was off on the other side of the world fighting the monsters that hide in the dark. he knew when to call to say goodnight, if he could, when not to call because it would be bath time, and what football team his sons under 7's team were playing every week. 
kyle garrick was a great father and a fantastic husband--having sent you off for a birthday spa retreat where you could truly have some time off from being a mother. you carried the family when he was away, so when he wasn't deployed he made every second count, and took on the weight of the family. 
he hadn't wanted to bother you with updates during your day and night away, so he and the kids had instead taken plenty of photos and videos to show you when you came back.
you sit now on your family's couch, snuggled up to kyle while your kids cuddle up on each side of you, and you all watch the video kyle had put together. 
the first shot is a video of you driving away, them saying they loved you and to have a good time, then the camera immediately cut to a video of them all in the kitchen, baking a cake for you'd return. both of your children throw flour at each other, while kyle films the whole thing. then it shifts to a picture of him back in the kitchen, the entire place spotless with him and the kids grinning. 
after the cake chaos, there are clips of them all gaming together for their allotted screen time. kyle had used the couch cushions to construct makeshift cars while the kids played mario kart. your son let his younger sister win at least once, and the image of the characters on the podium makes you smile. the camera was even left running to capture the kids not complaining even once when their dad tells them it's time to finish. 
and then came the clips of bedtime--your daughters first. her and kyle were currently working through a re-read of her set of bluey books. there's one book in the set she never lets you read, only her dada. you watch kyle sit next to your girl, reading the story with such enthusiasm and even doing his terribly amazing australian accent. 
next was your son's bedtime, and seeing your two boys together always warms your heart. kyle is always teaching your son to be the best little man he can be, even if it's not the traditional way of being. you watch as your son asks questions about how much his dada loves you, as he wonders aloud about his future spouse. 
the video comes to a close with a shot of kyle in your shared bed, clutching your pillow close to him as he cuddles up for the night. 
"aww, I love it. I'm so glad you all had such a good time while I was gone!" you smile from ear to ear, heart completely full at the video made by your family. 
"we did!" your son cheers, just a touch too loudly in your ear. "did you have a good time?" 
you nod fervently, your smile mirrored on your kids faces. you pull your son in for a smooch to the cheek, as your daughter cuddles close to her dadam "yes baby, i did, though i missed you all so much." 
which is the truth, you did miss your family while you were gone, but you also really appreciated some time just for yourself. you make a mental note to return the favour for kyle, or to arrange something for just the two of you.
"go grab your mum's cake from the fridge, yeah?" kyle says, sending the kids out of the living room and into the kitchen, giving the two of you time alone.
you turn to your husband, about to thank him when he pulls you in for a deep, sensual kiss. your eyes flutter shut, as kyle kisses you like he's missed you for so long, not just a night.
"i love you, kyle." you sigh into his lips.
"love you too." he replies, before smirking filthily. "got a video to show you later though, your eyes only." 
156 notes · View notes
Text
♡ A Collection of Favorite Fics ♡
HI! This has been sitting in my drafts since early august of last year, what I had originally planed was a beautiful organized and linked list to surprise people for Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day (August 21) but i had gotten really busy at work during that time, and linking each individual fic is very hard on mobile. Also i was burning out in life at that time BUT i really wanted to give a proper shout out to our fanfic writers as they are the backbone of fandom and don’t get nearly enough credit. I see yall and i love yall more than you know. Thank you for taking time of of your day to share pieces of your own little world with us. I’m leaving each one of you in my will and leaving you large amounts of money under mysterious circumstances~~
I tagged each author (sorry ahead for tag spam!!) and you can find each of their master lists- all of these are also within my “Silvers Fan Favorites” tag
AS ALWAYS please read the rules and respect any DNI/rules of each author and their blog!!
~~~~
Inumaki Toge:
Kingsuki by Kirketeer on AO3! (used to be bakughosts here on tumblr but I couldn’t find the blog :( ) god, my favorite comfort fic. The ultimate strangers to lovers with the perfect spice
Purple Notebook by @just-jordie-things jordie writes the best inumaki fluff I’m always kicking my feet and twirling my hair!! Also check out p much everything written (that new choso!neighbor fic I simply passed away)
Romance Alley and Prettier by @thebellearchives bestie. You know I love you. I love that we share the same brains cell and feed off eachother brain rot, inumaki professor, queen of tooth rotting fluff
This blurb requested by me (sorry can’t link it BUT GUESS WHO JUST UPDATED THIER MASTERLIST?!?!) 💀 by @arvandus shameless self plug. But this was Arvs first time writing for inumaki and it made me fall to my fucking KNEES. 11/10 wordsmith this one is!!
ALSO DABI GIRLIES CHECK OUT TOUCH. BARBATOS GIRLIES CHECK OUT E V E R T H I N G
Itachi Uchiha:
Patching Up by @hauntedhokage BESTIEEEE the way you had me emotional for WEEKS. Patching up will stab you, soothe you with fluff and spice, and then twist the knife. I am forever smooching your brain for this one, Lex ilysm
Restraint by @saintrocklee LISTENNN this is the fucking fic that rekindled my Itachi brain rot. You capture Itachis mannerisms so well and build tension that makes me want to rip my skin off in the best way. On my knees for this fic 🤌🏻🤌🏻
Eddie Munson:
Fire and Tape Dates by @madaboutmunson MADDIE MY BELOVED the first Eddie fic I fell in love with. Maddie writes the best tooth rotting fluff and will make you twirl your hair then laugh your ass off. If you’re also a steddie lover you’ll find plenty of fics here!!!
Sorry I Missed You by @raccoonboywrites when I say this fic has everything, it has everything: fluff, angst, billy slander, spice, beautiful characterization and description. Eddie simps come get y’all juice!!! please also check out the blurb list, there’s a vampire smut blurb (don’t read it at the dinner table like I did. Learn from my mistakes yall) and a shibari blurb that itch my brain until I curl my toes. Rowan is THE BEST at Eddie characterization. You would think he is Eddie after he survived the upside down as an immortal vampire and started a new life overseas (squints eyes)
Bakugo Katsuki:
They Came at First Light by @katsukikitten - my OG blog I fell in love with years ago. *the* Bakugo blog. It was hard to pick one (also check out kicked dogs!!) ABSOLUTE favorite worldbuilding, I’m always so immersed when I read any of your writing!! I think I have the OG OG master list somewhere in my requests, and it’s like a stroll down memory lane from years past.
Ready Player 1 by @kingkatsuki my my my, 34k words of perfection. If you’re a bakugirly and need the perfect slow kindling relationship and toe curling smut, go make yourself a lil’ drinky drink, sit down, and buckle up. Also HUGE archive one-stop-shop for the bakugirlies!
Crybaby by @hauntedparadises - Lvov love love everything about this storyline. It makes me giggle, cry, scream at my phone. And.. hehehe twirl my hair if you know what I mean
Kakashi Hatake:
Pollen Count by @hauntedhokage again, Listen, just read the whole blog. You wont be disappointed I promise. I remember I came across my dearly beloveds blog when I randomly rekindled my kakashi love and not only did I get a story that I thought about for 3 weeks straight but I also got a best friend out of it
Sukuna:
Is it Really Peace? (Also tethered ALSO Yandere!Nanami im frothing at the mouth) by @tenkomura - If y’all are into dark content, THIS is your one stop shop. ITRP also has some FANTASTIC lore- trust when I say Si is your girl ILY
97 notes · View notes
yorshie · 4 months
Note
Congrats! The trashpile is getting bigger and bigger omg.
I would love to see Raph with 24 and 31, a lot of Romance for big red bc he deserves it
Thank you for requesting for Blurb Day, and yes, though now we've relocated to Donnie's garbage truck so we have plenty of room! We're gonna wage war against his electrical wiring. :3
You are absolutely right Big Red Does Deserve Romance! He deserves a chance to be soft! He deserves to be cared for! *is hauled off my soapbox*
Tumblr media
"C'mon, Raphie, please?" Your voice whined over the speakerphone, and Raph smiled softly at the nickname he still wasn't quite used to. "Both my roommates are gone for the month, we'll have the whole apartment to ourselves!"
"I'm suppose to be inviting you to dinner, you know? That's what this call is for."
"Mikey never gets done cooking until late, we've got plenty of time! Come over now and I'll come back with you when it's time, please?" You cooed once more, drawing out the word like you didn't know you'd already convinced him.
His fingers drummed carefully over the handle of his water jug, casting a look out of his gym area to make sure everyone else was still occupied. Mikey had turned up the radio in the kitchen, Leo and Donnie were no where to be seen.
With a little self-deprecating huff, conscious he was whipped, he gave in to your request. "Alright, sweetheart, it's a deal. But I'm only doing this cuz you're cute."
He heard the muffled 'Yes!' you tried to hide before you chirped, "see you soon!"
He ended the call, shoulders rolling to relieve the soreness that had creeped in after ending his workout, and quickly left the Lair before anyone could ask where he was headed.
He was thankful you always left the living room window unlocked for him, though the fit was usually a bit tight and he always felt like he was either giving someone on the outside a good show or he was two seconds from falling flat on his face. The way your eyes lit up to see him was worth it, however, and the way you pressed yourself against him while giving a greeting never failed to cause his heart to give a heavy thump.
He might have balked a little bit though, at the sheer amount of pampering items laid out on the coffee table in front of the tv. He spied the usual bottles you kept for your 'girlie nights', as he liked to call them, and turned a wide eyed, worried look towards you.
You snorted, the sound at odds to the way you buried your face against him. "Cut the look Raph, it's just the two of us, remember? No need to be shy." You reached up on tiptoes, and he dipped automatically, let you press smooches against his nearest cheekbone before the sensation caught his attention and he returned your affection with a proper kiss.
He tried to deepen it, tried to entice you with a slide of his tongue over your lower lip, but you drew back with a tsk. "Nu uh, big boy, you're getting pampered tonight, no matter what. I'll let you kiss me after we've taken off the charcoal mask."
He tilted his head back out of reach with a pout, but you only tugged on the tails of his mask, leading him over to the couch and forcing him to sit.
He tried once more to distract you, curling an arm around your waist and scooping you up against his plastron. He took a moment to scrub his snout against your neck, breathing in your scent, thankful that, while you'd remembered to turn up your heat, you'd also worn something that allowed him to take advantage of the natural warmth you put off.
He was almost convinced he had succeeded, and the two of you could maybe just cuddle, kiss, and watch a movie, when the tick of a bottle opening sounded near the left side of his head, and he sighed roughly.
"Fine, fine, get it over with, but," he caught your wrist, his grip soft despite the way it swallowed your whole hand, and asked, "we can cuddle afterwards?"
You smiled, and he was caught in the happiness blooming across your face. You leaned forward, pressed your mouth to his once more in a lingering kiss, before you slid his mask off his face. "Course we can, Red. I'll keep you warm, no worries." You pecked him once more. "And besides, you'll feel good, you know you will."
Inside, Raph silently hoped his brothers would be too distracted to notice how he smelled, but a larger part of him simply relaxed, taking comfort from the way your hands glided softly over his face, the care you took when touching him.
And, unfortunately, the charcoal mask did feel pretty good.
130 notes · View notes
something-tofightfor · 3 months
Text
Snow and Mistletoe - Part 2
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
No Outbreak AU.
Word Count: 6,325
Rating: M - as a whole for language and innuendo, but this chapter's mostly fluff... and maybe a lil smooch.
A/N: This is a continuation of the @pedrostories Secret Santa fic gift exchange for @burntheedges. I meant to post it yesterday but then we got caught up in family stuff ... so here we go now, and part 3 should be up later tonight.
I'm so glad you liked the first part ... and hope you like this one, too. (And to everyone else - THANK YOU for reading!)
Summary: The Chamber of Commerce Christmas celebration is the first time you and Joel will have together after admitting that there's something there.
But it turns out that that environment isn't the best for getting to know someone ... so Joel takes matters into his own - very capable - hands.
Part 1
Tumblr media
When you left work the following Friday afternoon, you were nervous. 
There was no reason to be, because yes you were going to the party with Joel, but the Chamber event was casual, and you’d likely both be pulled in fifteen different directions to talk with people, not stuck to his side all night. 
Ellie and Sarah had almost shoved you out the door of your store, both girls grinning from ear to ear and promising to see you later, Sarah’s fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of the acoustic guitar she held. 
The nervousness grew as you drove home, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, and then blossomed when you got into the shower, the hot water heating your skin doing absolutely nothing to calm you. 
It was just Joel. 
Just Joel - Sarah’s dad, the man you’d gone to high school with and spoken to occasionally throughout the years at Sarah and Ellie’s school events or little league games, the man you said hello to and carried on limited conversation with a few times a week when he came into the store. 
But as you toweled off, you had to admit that he hadn’t really been just Joel for a while. 
He’d morphed from a cute former classmate and the dad of your niece’s best friend into the object of a crush the more you’d gotten to interact with him, and now that something was being done about it, you weren’t sure what to think. 
It was more than his good looks. There was no denying that Joel was handsome; his profile was something that you’d thought about plenty of times, as were his facial features and overall build. But Joel was also kind and capable, the man’s devotion to raising his daughter and giving her the best possible life admirable for many reasons. It’s even more than that, though, too. 
Pulling on a nice pair of jeans and a new sweater, you settled down in front of your mirror to do your hair and makeup, eyeing your reflection. It was no secret that Joel was one of the most eligible bachelors in your area, with his brother Tommy not far behind. 
He’d dated - casually, never letting things go on for longer than a few times out with each woman, and you’d heard good things secondhand. But he’d always seemed unattainable - more focused on Sarah and building his contracting business than on getting serious or settling down. And you couldn’t blame him. 
You knew what had happened after Amanda left Joel and Sarah, and the struggle he’d gone through as a single parent. Everyone that knew him had been witness to that - including Anna and Marlene.
Until Ellie had been more permanently in your life, you’d had no reason to interact with him on a regular basis, even though Marlene had. She’d talked about him to you more than a few times throughout the years, keeping you updated. And despite the things you knew to be true about him, the bits and pieces you’d learned firsthand were even more endearing, though they made him no less mysterious. 
But that night would be the first time it was the two of you actively together somewhere that had nothing to do with Ellie and Sarah, and that was what made you nervous. That was especially true after finding out that Joel was interested in you - enough to invite you to a second night out before you’d even gone to the first. “This is going to be awkward.” You sighed, using both hands to prop up your chin, studying your reflection. “And fun. This is going to be -”
You were interrupted by the ringing of your doorbell and a motion alert from your camera, the sounds startling you as your eyes drifted to the closest clock. Shit. He’s early. Heading downstairs, you opened the front door to find Joel standing on your porch, a tan jacket zipped over his broad shoulders. You froze - momentarily - and then recovered, smiling and inviting him in. “I just need to brush my teeth and put on shoes, and -”
“You look amazing.” He blinked a few times, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other hanging loosely by his side. “Not that you usually look -” Ok, so he’s nervous too. Good to know. 
“Thank you.” Tugging on the collar of the sweater with two fingers, you grinned. “I got this sweater on sale and haven’t had a chance to wear it yet. Thought tonight would be a good opportunity.” He agreed, giving you another onceover, though it didn’t feel weird the way it usually did when a man looked you up and down “Be right back. Do you want to sit down?”
“Nah, I’m good. Take your time.” 
You left him standing in the hallway to go back into the bathroom and give yourself a final assessment while you brushed your teeth. It was good to know that Joel was felling off-kilter, too - and it surprisingly made you feel a little better. 
With a final spritz of your perfume, you made your way back downstairs and paused long enough to watch Joel running a palm over the woodwork in your entryway, his eyes following its path. You gave yourself a few seconds to watch, trying to push down the feeling of how much you enjoyed seeing him in your house, but before you could tell him you were ready, he spoke up. 
“Gorgeous work. I take it this was here when you moved in?” 
“It was.” You closed the distance between you, bending down to pull a pair of boots on. “There’s more of it throughout the rest of the house. The kitchen cabinets, and there are some built-in bookcases upstairs. And then my bedroom’s got this trim that’s one of the most intricate things I’ve…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Long story short, yes. It was all here when I moved in and it was so … charming that I didn’t want to change any of it, so I didn’t.” 
He turned his head to look at you, brown eyes filled with warmth. “Good. You shouldn’t.” His smile was small but still there, and you gave him one in return. “It’s beautiful.” 
“Is that why you really volunteered to come pick me up?” Head tilting to the right, you winked at him. “Wanted to get up close and personal with all the vintage wood in my house?” 
“If I wanted to do that, I would’ve asked to see what’s in your bedroom.” That left you speechless - but when Joel winked at you, reaching out to take your hand, you found your words again, speaking up as his fingers slipped against yours. 
“Well, you didn’t… so now you’ll never know what my answer would have been.” He swore under his breath while pulling the front door open, his grip on you tightening. One point, me. 
— 
The party was fun. You were enjoying mingling with everyone, but you hadn’t really seen Joel in almost an hour… and that bothered you. Not because you’d expected to be with him the whole night, but because when you looked for him, you hadn’t been able to find him anywhere. 
He wasn’t sitting at any of the tables, their tops covered in checkered tablecloths and fake Christmas greenery. He wasn’t standing next to the bar, talking with any of the people that had seemingly taken up residence beside it, not wanting to stray too far from the allure of free drinks. 
He wasn’t even on the side of the building that had been opened for families, a jolly looking man dressed as Santa sitting on an ornate throne with stacks of brightly colored gifts and fake snow piles surrounding it. 
You were confused, to say the least, and although as you made the rounds, you attempted to look for him, it seemed to be in vain. Ellie and Sarah will be here before I find him again at this rate, and - 
“Hey.” You felt him step into place next to you, reaching over to touch your elbow. “Sorry about that. Had to step outside and take a work call about the job we’re starting in January.” He spoke almost directly into your ear, and even though you didn’t acknowledge him until you’d ended the conversation you were having with the owner of the movie theater, he didn’t move away from you, either. 
When you did look at him, you saw that his cheeks were pink, the tip of his nose a little red, too. “Cold out there?”
“The wind’s cold.” He shrugged, reaching up to unbutton the top button on his plaid shirt . “I’m good now.” He still had his hand on your elbow, the man’s fingers closing around it. “You done talkin’ to everyone in this place? Want to grab something to eat?” 
“I am and I do, but …” Looking past him and at the food stations, you sighed. “The lines are really long, Joel.” He looked, too, and as he did, you let your attention linger on the man’s neck, finding that even in the slightly muted lighting, you could see scattered freckles on his skin. I never noticed those before. “I… um.” You cleared your throat, taking a breath. “We could go get a drink before we wait for food.” 
“Yes.” He looked back at you, his smile widening. “I like the sound of that.” Joel took your hand again and the two of you walked over to join the short line at the bar, the man saying hello to a few people as you passed. “People are watching you.” He leaned over while you waited, speaking into your ear. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to come tonight.” 
“Or,” you replied, turning your head toward him so that you could meet his eyes. “Or they’re looking at you, and are thankful that you graced them with your presence tonight, Mr. Bigshot Contractor.” His cheeks went pink again, and that had nothing to do with the wind. “You and Tommy are a local success story, Joel.” You stepped up to the bar, placing your order and then moving off to the side to wait. “Miller Contracting is like two jobs away from getting national attention. I’m not surprised that people are staring. You’re single, your brother’s single, your business is booming, your kid’s basically a genius… what’s not to like?” 
He seemed shocked as you were handed the festive cups, but Joel was silent until you got into the food line. “Wait, before you drink…” He raised his glass, making a face as he thought. “What should we drink to?” 
“Oh. Um…” Why not make it a little awkward? Tapping one finger on your lips, you hummed. “How about to the teenage girls we live with and love taking things into their own hands and making this night happen?” He snorted, tipping his glass forward to meet the rim of yours. 
“To Sarah and Ellie and their meddlin’.” You drank together, both of you laughing as you lowered your glasses. “They should be getting here soon, shouldn’t they.” You nodded, scanning the room as you inched forward. “She’s been on my ass about you for months now, by the way.” 
“Oh?” You turned toward him, brows raised in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah. At first she was subtle, too. But then …” He shook his head, wrinkling his nose. “Right around my birthday, she got real specific.” 
“When’s your birthday?”
“End of September.” He cocked his head to the side, shrugging. “But that was right in the middle of the project. I barely had time to sleep. I wasn’t even thinking about asking anyone out.” September? Hmm. 
“Sarah started working for me at the beginning of September.” You sipped your drink, thinking. “I wonder if that had anything to do with it.”
“Probably.” He laughed, tipping his head back. “She started spendin’ another 20 hours a week with Ellie, and more time around you.” 
“And here I thought she just got a job so she could get a discount on things for you.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Never thought she’d do it just so she could play matchmaker.” 
“You did say she was pretty much a genius.” He grinned, the smile splitting his face. “But it worked, so I can’t really complain.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you stayed quiet, the two of you shuffling forward and toward the serving tables. Did it work? 
You thought things were going pretty well, despite the limited amount of time that the two of you had actually spent together that night. You wondered if he felt the same, wondered if Joel was still looking forward to the following night as much as you were, or if he’d regretted preemptively inviting you for a second date. “Joel, I -”
“Oh, good!” You both turned your heads toward the new voice, a small wave of disappointment at being interrupted coursing through you. “You two are already waiting for food. Perfect.” Ellie and Sarah headed for the line, cutting through a few small groups until they were standing beside you. “How’s it going?”
“Going good, kiddo.” You nodded, looking between the girls. “Everything alright at the -”
“It’s fine.” She waved you off, rolling her eyes. “It didn’t burn down, Sarah remembered to set the alarm, and the drawer was only off by $426 dollars, so -”
“Actually, it was $427.” Sarah cut in, raising her hand to stage whisper to Ellie. “Remember?”
“You two are terrible.” You groaned, scowling at both of them. “Maybe we don’t want to let you in line with us. Maybe -”
“Too late, we’re already here.” Ellie’s grin was infectious, and even Joel laughed, using one hand to gesture for the two of them to step in front of you. Once they were in line, he moved back a half step, putting his hand against your back and letting it rest there. 
It was the most intimately that he’d ever touched you, and despite reminding yourself that you needed to keep calm, you leaned back and into it, glancing over at him and catching his eye. He didn’t say anything - but he didn’t look away, either. Yeah. I think he feels the same. 
— 
The four of you sat and ate together - you and Joel on one side of the table and Ellie and Sarah on the other, and for the next twenty minutes, you and Joel barely spoke to each other. It wasn’t that you were silent - instead, the four of you had a conversation, Joel and Ellie going back and forth about some sci-fi thriller that was older than the girl and you and Sarah interjecting when you could. 
It felt good - sitting and conversing with them for longer than a few minutes at a time outside of the shop. The Christmas music and brightly colored lights strung around the room only added to the cheerfulness of the atmosphere, as did the scent of cinnamon and spice in the air. But again, you were slightly disappointed that you and Joel weren’t getting time to yourselves. Especially after they made sure we’d come here together. 
The room was loud, and admittedly wasn’t the best place to get to know someone. So it’s fine. It’s fine, and … “Hey.” Joel said your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Do you wanna get out of here?” 
Sarah stopped speaking immediately, her eyes going wide. You caught Ellie elbowing her sharply, but Joel never looked away. “And go where?” What are you … 
“There’s a place down the street that’s open late.” He pointed with one finger, keeping his eyes on you. “Great coffee. Even better cake. And -”
“You’re just going to leave us here, Dad?” Sarah blinked slowly, her chin resting on one hand. “We just got here, and -”
“Y’know, after the two of you worked so damn hard to get us here together, the fact that you’d want to hang out with us is kind of surprising.” Ellie snorted, quickly disguising the sound with a cough. “Is this supposed to be a date? Or is this two people with their kids at a Christmas party?”
“A date.” Sarah stood abruptly, staring down at Joel. “Definitely a date. Come on, Ellie. Let’s go and see what’s going on in the other room.” The second girl stood a few seconds later, the smile on her face widening, though you could feel the smirk behind it. “Bye.” 
They gathered their trash and beelined it away from you, leaving you and Joel alone at the table again. “Hope you don’t mind. I love my daughter, but I don’t usually make it a point to bring her on first dates.”
“So this is a date.” You leaned against one elbow, tapping a fingertip on the table. “Good to know.”
“Of course it is.” He stood, picking up his plate and glass. “And so is tomorrow.” Joel used his chin to gesture to the main doors. “I was serious about leaving, though. I’ve had about all I can take of We Wish You A Merry Christmas sung by Alvin and the goddamn Chipmunks.” 
You laughed hard at that, nodding and standing with him. As the two of you headed for the main bank of trash cans, you tried to compose yourself, catching your breath. I figured he was funny, but that was really funny. You threw everything away, brushing your hands off on your pants as you turned toward the exit. “Joel, before we -”
“Shit.” He swore loudly, one hand on his hip and his gaze directed upward. “Fuckin’ mistletoe.” You looked up, too, wincing when you saw the plant hanging from the ceiling above where you stood. “Of course they put it right there.” 
“It’s fine, Joel.” Your heart was thumping at the mere thought of him kissing you, but you didn’t want to expect anything. “We can just pretend we didn’t see it, and go to the …” You trailed off as he moved closer, both of his hands rising, palms settling against your arms. What is he doing? “What are -” 
He leaned in, his lips set into a small smile, but instead of aiming for your mouth, Joel took a quick breath and then kissed your cheek, letting it linger. Holy shit, really?  “No way in hell I’m kissin’ you for the first time next to a trash can and in front of all these damn people.”  
That made you laugh again, but before Joel could pull away from you, you whispered his name and then turned your head, pressing your lips to his cheek in return. He froze, though his fingers tightened on your arms. When you stepped back, you saw shock on his face. Good. Because that’s exactly how I feel, too. “What is a good place for a first kiss, then?” You felt warm - your entire body almost tingling just from his proximity. 
“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” He recovered and answered quickly, squeezing one bicep before he let go and put more space between you. “Now c’mon. Let’s get out of here before someone else tries to talk to us.” 
You had no problem with that request, giving Joel a single nod and then heading for the door, heart still pounding. His phrasing - wait and see - implied that he planned on actually kissing you at some point… and that was something else you had no problem with. 
— 
It was only a block or so to the place he’d mentioned, and the two of you walked there side by side, Joel’s arm brushing yours. 
You both ordered coffee and a dessert, but before you could reach for cash to pay for yours, he set money down, telling the employee to keep the change. 
It was quiet in the restaurant - most of the usual clients either already at home or down the street at the party, and that meant you had your pick of places to sit. He let you choose - and when you settled into an overstuffed armchair, Joel dropped onto the one across from you, letting out a sigh. 
“I’m not used to that at all.” He gestured with one hand, pointing in the direction of the party you’d just left. “Job sites are easy. I tell people what to do, and they do it. Gettin’ contracts and meetin’ clients is easy, because they tell me what they want and I tell ‘em whether or not I can get it done.” He took a drink of his coffee, pausing. “But that? Hours of small talk and a crowd of people and all the holiday shit?” 
“Not a fan of Christmas?” You leaned back in your chair, coffee mug cradled between both hands. “I know a lot of people aren’t.”
“It was hard for a while… with me an’ Sarah?” He frowned, shaking his head. “I wanted to make Christmas special for her, but when she was real little, that wasn’t … I couldn’t always do it. And it’s better now, because me an’ Tommy are actually getting work, but …” Joel looked down, focusing on the table in front of him. “It used to just be us. And I got used to that, to keepin’ to myself, focusing on work and on her and worrying about everything that came next.” When he looked back at you, his eyes were clear, resolve apparent in them. “Didn’t have time for a party like tonight, because it all had to be about her, and both of us survivin’, not small talk.” 
“I’m sorry.” You took a drink, too. “I didn’t even think about …” 
“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t let me ruin the night.” He cut a piece off of his cake and brought it to his lips, the fork slipping between them. Joel chewed and then smiled at you, rubbing his hand over the top of one thigh. “Like I said, it’s better now. And I’m gettin’ there when it comes to socializin’.” 
“Is that why you don’t date much?” You bit the corner off of your pastry, thinking. “Because you don’t like the small talk or the getting to know someone?” 
“No, I don’t date because I’m still busy. Between work and Sarah’s sports, it’s hard for me to find time to do things by myself. Bringin’ someone else into that seems unfair.” He leaned closer, shifting in his seat. “But I like this, tonight? This doesn’t bother me.” He sipped again, shrugging. “Maybe it’s because it’s with you, though.” 
It blindsided you - the compliment and admission from Joel in the same sentence, said almost nonchalantly. But he’s made comments like that a few times now, and … hmm. “I like it too.” You sighed, looking around the cozy space before settling your gaze back on him. “They were surprised you wanted to leave.” He laughed, the sound low but still incredibly endearing. “In all the years I’ve known Ellie, she’s never pushed me like this with anyone before.” 
“She’s a teenager now.” Joel’s smile widened. “Knows what she can get away with. Same with Sarah. I think she’s worried about me bein’ alone next year.” He went quiet then, his expression changing, and you realized - for the first time - that even though you were dreading Ellie leaving for college the following summer, Sarah leaving Joel was probably much more difficult for him to consider. 
“You won’t be alone. You’ll have Tommy.” Raising a brow, you took another bite, talking around it. “And I’m sure he’s got some plans for you.” 
“You have no idea.” He groaned, swiping a hand over his face. “He’s only 5 years younger than me, but it seems like so much more sometimes.” You didn’t know Tommy too well - he’d been on the outskirts of your friend group for a while, but had drifted away when he turned 18 and enlisted - moving even further away after coming back and joining Joel on job sites. But what you did know was that were Joel was quieter and more practical, Tommy was extroverted and impulsive, more than happy to play the part of uncle and friend to Sarah  - and in turn, to Ellie. “What about Ellie? Is she thinkin’ about school?” 
“Yeah.” Clearing your throat, you tried to refocus. “She is. She’s nervous about it because all she’s ever known is Austin, but she’s been applying. She’s going on a couple more campus visits in the spring, too. Marlene’s got some contacts in Utah and Colorado, so she’s going up there, but…” You shrugged. “I’m not sure what she’ll choose. Maybe she’ll stay here and go to UT or TSU.” 
“Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at you. “How long’s she been with you? Marlene left what, five years ago?” Nodding, you watched as he tipped his mug back, taking a long drink. “Long time. You’re gonna have a quiet house if she decides to go out of state.”
“Just me and all that fancy wood left.” Grinning, you finished your dessert and then leaned forward, reaching for your napkin. “I’m sure Sarah won’t go far, Joel. She -”
“She’s talkin’ about going out of state, too.” He closed his eyes, taking and holding a deep breath. “Funny enough, she also mentioned Colorado and Utah. I think I even heard Boston in there, but I don’t know who the fuck willingly goes to the East coast to live, so…” He shrugged. “I’ll deal with it when I have to. Can’t keep her locked up forever, right?”
“Right.” Sitting up straight, you let your gaze wander over his face, eyes lingering on his mouth and the way his lips curved upward in the barest hint of a smile. “Can I admit something to you?” He nodded, mimicking your position and leaning forward, his hands hanging between his spread knees. “I ddn’t expect us to talk so much about Ellie and Sarah tonight. I figured they’d come up, but I was looking forward to talking about you, Joel. About you and -”
“That’s what tomorrow’s for.” He rubbed his palms together, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I told you, we’ve got a little bit of a drive. Plenty of time to talk.” He was right, but part of you still felt that there was more opportunity that night with him, even though you knew it was almost time to go home. “What do you want to know?” Scooting forward, he pushed his plate to the side. “I’ve gotta warn you, I’m pretty boring.”
“I doubt that.” Crossing your legs at the ankle, you held up one finger. “I remember you from high school, Joel. There was nothing boring about you.” 
“That was also 20 years ago.” He scoffed. “Twenty years and one kid and a hell of a lot of muscle aches ago.” You looked past him and at the clock hanging on the wall, pointing at it. 
“Speaking of sleep, It’s almost 10. Do you turn into a pumpkin at any specific time?” His mouth dropped open, Joel spluttering out your name. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for keeping you out too late.” 
“Smart ass.” He rolled his eyes, sighing. “No, but you said you have to work tomorrow morning, so we should probably head out.” He was right, but you didn’t want to agree. Despite the fact that the conversation had only circled the topic of the two of you, it had highlighted something very important: Joel was just as easy to talk to one on one as he was in a public setting. And that’s good. I like that. I like it a lot. “You want me to drive you home, or do you want to walk back and find Ellie an’ Sarah?” 
“You.” You answered immediately, standing and gathering your mug and plate. “I’d like you to drive me back, Joel.” 
Your answer didn’t seem to surprise him, and only a few minutes later, you were back in his truck, the heat on low and Joel’s jacket tossed into the back seat. “Should I get ready before you come and get me tomorrow, or can I change in the room once we get there?” 
“Either’s fine. But if you’re gonna get ready at the hotel, I’ll need to come and get you a little earlier, just so we show up on time.” He sighed, putting the truck into reverse. “There’s a schedule. Dinner’s on there, and they have a toast, and -”
“Oh, so this is fancy. You weren’t joking.” 
“No. I wasn’t.” He cleared his throat. “An’ they really like me. The CEO of the hotel company’s going to be there, and she could -”
“Say no more.” Reaching over, you squeezed his knee. “I’ll be ready to go when you pick me up. I promise.” He hummed in approval, pulling onto the main road. Silence filled the cab of the truck, and before you could speak and fill it, your phone vibrated at the same time his center screen lit up, a text message from Sarah sliding in from the top of it. “Oh. Interesting.” 
He reached out, pressing the button to read the text, and you raised your phone, eyeing it. Ellie. 
It turned out that only one of you needed to check the message, because they both said the exact same thing: 
Meeting friends from school at IHOP. I’ll be home before curfew. 
“They definitely didn’t plan this.” You wrinkled your nose, turning your head to look at Joel. “It’s definitely not convenient.” 
“Of course not.” His hand tightened on the steering wheel, Joel’s sigh loud. “It’s pathetic, right? My seventeen year old kid’s settin’ me up on dates and telling me that she won’t be home til later than me.” 
“Not pathetic, no.” You took a few seconds, trying to organize your thoughts. “I’ve only really known her for a couple months, but she’s a really thoughtful kid, Joel. It’s clear she cares about you and wants you to be happy. And,” you continued, leaning closer and dropping your voice. “If she’s anything like Ellie, the idea of accidentally seeing you with someone probably horrifies her, so -”
Joel pulled into your driveway, cutting the engine, though he kept the heat running. “Ellie caught you and some guy?” You hadn’t planned on telling the story, but since you’d brought it up, you figured you had to, groaning as you unbuckled your seatbelt. 
“Not like you’re thinking, no.” You had to laugh about it, though at the time it had happened, it had been mortifying. “I went out with a guy about a year ago, and he walked me to my door when he dropped me off.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “We were saying goodnight on the porch, and he just … went for it. I kissed him back because the date had gone reasonably well, but only a couple seconds in, I heard Ellie’s voice through the doorbell camera, and she was … less than enthusiastic.” 
You didn’t expect him to laugh as hard as he did at your words. Joel actually leaned forward and covered his face with both hands, elbows resting against the steering wheel. It hadn’t been funny at the time, Ellie’s annoyance clear even through the tinny speaker, and when you’d watched the video back later that night, you’d cringed. You’d been embarrassed but laughed it off, though in the end, Ellie’s interruption had been a good thing. Your date hadn’t found the humor in the situation, and he’d stopped returning your texts a day or so afterward. No loss there. 
“Bet you’ll never kiss another man on your front porch again.” He was still chuckling when he swiveled his head toward you. “Or if you do, you’ll disable the camera first.” 
“No. I think Ellie learned a valuable lesson about checking the camera when she knows I’m coming home with someone.” You pointed at the door. “However, I think that if you and I were to walk up to that door right now, they’d both be watching to see if their little plan worked.” 
“That might be a worse first kiss than next to a trash can and in front of a hundred people.” He sighed, tapping his palm against the wheel. You let your eyes wander over your front yard - the lights strung through the bushes and around the front windows and door, brightly colored bulbs casting a cheerful glow over everything.  “But what if that wasn’t the first one?” 
“What?” Turning your body in the seat so that you were angled toward him, you eyed Joel with some curiosity. How wouldn’t that be the first one? “Joel?” 
“Ain’t ideal in the truck, but …” He shifted, too, unlocking his seatbelt and then leaning his elbow against the steering wheel. “Shit. I haven’t done this in a long fuckin’ time.” 
He didn’t move, though - no closer, no further away; the man simply stayed put, watching you. “Was… was that you asking if I wanted you to kiss me, Joel?” You found it hard to believe that he’d be so hesitant. Any man that looked like Joel including Joel likely would have had women lining up for the opportunity, and yet there he was, parked in your driveway and waiting. “Because if it was, then yes. I’d like that.” 
There was no reason to deny it. You were out with him, you were alone in his truck, and the two of you had been flirting back and forth all night. “Good.” 
He said the single word and then moved closer, Joel’s arm lifting from the steering wheel, that hand rising to the side of your face so that he could tilt it back. His fingertips slid over your cheek, thumb beneath your chin - and when you heard him say your name, the sound quiet, you finally closed your eyes, leaning in. 
Joel kissed you softly - the press of his lips firm but somehow reserved at the same time. And you let him - humming at the contact and reaching one hand out. It slid up the back of his arm and stopped there, his skin warm beneath the soft material of his shirt. 
There was no zing of connection, no electric current that shot through your body at the touch of his lips to yours… but there was a feeling of contentment, your body unconsciously leaning in toward his while you continued to kiss him, fingers firmly holding his arm. 
He didn’t pull away from you, prolonging the kiss after inhaling through his nose, and when Joel’s hand moved back, palm cradling your head, you sighed against his lips. That was an invitation for him, Joel groaning and parting his lips against yours. You felt his tongue press against them briefly, followed by light pressure as he closed both of his around your lower one, but that was as far as he took it. 
Backing away, Joel took a deep breath, though he didn’t move his hand and his eyes were focused on your face, the man waiting for your response. Did that happen? Did that just … “Hey, Joel?” You took a breath and held it, your hand dropping from his arm to his thigh. “I’m glad you waited to do that.” 
He visibly relaxed, his expression going from apprehensive to a wide smile. “Yeah?” You nodded, feeling his fingers tighten briefly before he let you go. “Me too. There was more you wanted to say, but before you could, he gestured to the front of your house, sighing. “It’s gettin’ late. Let me walk you in?” 
As the two of you headed for the door, Joel once again put his hand on your back, staying close. Part of you wanted to invite him in; to sit with him on your couch with only the glow of the tree illuminating the room. But that’s too forward. We’ve kissed once, and Ellie will be home soon, and … “I had fun tonight, Joel.” You stopped on your porch, digging through your bag for your keys. “Thanks for asking me.” 
“‘Course.” He smiled again, sticking his hands into his front pockets and leaning against the side of your house. “We good?” 
“We are.” Holding up your keys, you nodded. “I’ll see you later?” He agreed, pulling his hands free and then stepping forward, sliding one arm around your waist and then the other around your shoulders. You hugged him back, turning your head so that you could get closer. If you’re watching, Ellie, I hope you’re happy. “Goodnight, Joel.” Murmuring the words, you squeezed him and then let go, meeting his eyes one more time. “Get home safe.” 
He assured you he would before he turned away from you, heading back for the truck and giving you one final look at the way the material of his flannel stretched over his broad shoulders. “Shit.” You rubbed at the bridge of your nose with the hand not holding your keys, and when his lights turned on, the truck backing out of the driveway soon after, you turned away and unlocked the door. 
You were halfway inside when you heard her voice, the girl’s disappointment evident even through the small speaker. “Shoulda kissed him.” I knew it. 
“Aren’t you eating pancakes right now?” Leaning back so that you could look at the doorbell, you raised a brow. “Don’t you have better things to -” 
“I can eat and spy on you at the same time.” She laughed and so did you, but Ellie cut you off quickly. “I’ll be home soon. We’re leaving in a few and I just have to drop Sarah off on the way.” 
“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She didn’t reply again, and when you shut the door a few seconds later, you locked it and then sagged back against the wood, closing your eyes. 
All things considered, your date with Joel had been damn near perfect … and you had another one to look forward to the following night. 
---
Part 3
87 notes · View notes
aeor-is-for-reccing · 1 month
Text
AMVs/PMVs: A Shadowgast Rec List
Tumblr media
This week, we have AMVs and PMVs! This week's format is slightly different so check under the cut for 15 fan videos that are focused on Caleb, Essek or Shadowgast ; and don't forget to comment and leave a like if you like them!
Fire on Fire [A Tribute to Shadowgast] by Lilith KB (1:29, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Beautiful art of affection and desire between the two wizards set to a song about these very things.
Reccer says: The art is beautiful and so is the song.
Tumblr media
Home To Me {Critical Role Shadowgast PMV} by ShadowedKing and Sinister Suns (0:55, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Essek comes home to Caleb and drops his disguise. They embrace happily.
Reccer says: It's short, but incredibly sweet. It acknowledges the fact that there's still plenty of danger in their lives, but shows them in a sweet and happy moment together. It's also colourful in a way that matches the exuberance of the song and the scene.
Tumblr media
A GOOD MAN - Complete Essek Thelyss PMV MAP by MAP hosted by Fieldtowns (name of channel: field) (4:27, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: cartoony depictions of blood and violence (2:03-06), cartoony mutated Lucien and blood (2:34-38), bloody sword and wounded Caleb (3:11-26)
The PMV follows the story of Essek, from his initial crimes, through his inner conflict upon meeting Caleb and the Nein and their tribulations, to his happy ending with Caleb and a group of friends.
Reccer says: There are lots of beautiful pieces of art in the PMV (some focused on Shadowgast, some on Essek himself or on Essek with the Nein) and the song fits Essek's story very well.
Tumblr media
Essek Love Like You - Shadowgast Animatic (SPOILERS up to Critical Role C2E97) by Skye Blu (0:26, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Essek realizes the error of his ways when he meets Caleb and falls for him. He struggles to understand the forgiveness he is offered.
Reccer says: The style is so incredibly cute, it's unreal - the way chibi Essek yoinks the beacon, the way he and chibi Caleb (chibleb?) look at each other, the forehead smooch - it's just the cutest little animatic. I also love, love, LOVE the choice of song - it's a perfect description of how Essek might think of himself and of Caleb.
Tumblr media
HOW TO BE A HEARTBREAKER - A CALEB WIDOGAST PMV by FatalDebonaire (3:40, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: Slight flash warning
A beautifully drawn exploration of Caleb throughout CR canon and the people that he loves/loved and that loved him.
Reccer says: The art is beautiful and evocative, with small details hidden throughout. The expressions and the timing with the song are so well thought-out.
Tumblr media
i don't know how to love him by nobody _ (3:56, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Essek has himself a little crisis about having feelings for Caleb. Turns out that - uh, oh - so does Caleb - but at least he has a kitty for moral support. Unresolved pining and conflicted feelings.
Reccer says: The style of the animatic is simple, but cute, especially Caleb's freckles (and his cat!). It's a great song for these two - Essek has indeed been "changed, yes really changed", Caleb at the point where this animatic seems to be taking place probably "just wouldn't cope" if Essek confessed his feelings, and they both scare each other, love each other, want each other. It's a sweet idea altogether.
Tumblr media
I Wouldn't Change a Thing by MAP hosted by ShadowedKing (3:50, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: few and far between depictions of blood
Starting with some parallels between the two wizards, the PMV takes us on a tour of all the highlights of their journey together, culminating in a series of art pieces imagining their future together with such fanon staples as gardening, cats and a disguised Essek visiting Caleb's classes.
Reccer says: The choice of song is inspired and the song itself is cute and upbeat. The PMV makes ample use of the song's lyrics, often juxtaposing them with truly hilarious - or tragic (or both) - events. My favourite has to be "even when I'm at your mothers" being juxtaposed first with the fight against Trent, then with the visit at the Ermendruds' grave. Talk about a variety of feelings one video can make you feel! The variety of art styles, from cartoony to very much out there (/positive) styles, means everyone will find something for themselves, and the artists simply must be commended on the effort they clearly put into the illustrations, from gorgeous portraits of the two main characters, through other characters, to the backgrounds ranging from cosy wizardly offices to Aeorian caves and starry skies. It features a breathtakingly gorgeous depiction of the forehead kiss, and perhaps the cutest greying aging Cartoonleb I've ever seen.
Tumblr media
critical Role AMV: Essek's Promicedland (sketch version) by Isabel Silva (2:57, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Esseks growth from before the campaign up to him teaming up w the group for Aeor
Reccer says: Wonderful take on Essek's journey, A+ song choice
Tumblr media
Critical Role- Curses by Starry Paw prints Art (3:49, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn
a Caleb-centric PMV set to Curses by the Crane Wives
Reccer says: Really captures the feeling of Caleb's character journey from traumatized hobo wizard to person capable of accepting love and confronting his past. One note: I think the artist began work on this before C2 ended, so nothing post Vergessen is covered.
Tumblr media
Ares - A Caleb Widogast Critical Role Animatic by 42paintbrushes (3:33, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Caleb Widogast's arc from backstory to epilogue set to Ares by Winter's Island
Reccer says: It hits story beats with song beats like they were made for each other
Tumblr media
Essek Thelyss - Liar Animatic by Cal (3:29, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Essek across the duration of the series, from the start of his betrayal up to and including Aeor
Reccer 1 says: Absolutely perfect song choice for Essek Reccer 2 says: This song is quite fitting for Essek and the art is very expressive
Tumblr media
The following two videos each had two recs:
Lovely Night (shadowgast animatic) by Mystery Animator (1:58, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes
Essek and Caleb flirt under a starry sky, claiming not to have feelings for each other, but - of course - kissing in the end.
Reccer 1 says: The teasing tone of the song is a cool choice for the two wizards. I love their flirty looks and body language - it's incredibly cute, and my favourite has got to be Essek pulling Caleb by the scarf on the "I know you look so cute in your polyester suit" (and the blush on Essek's face when they inevitably kiss). The sky and the dancing lights are a pretty and romantic background and the frame of other members of the M9 spying on them from the bushes is hilarious. Reccer 2 says: Wonderfully choreographed and overall amazing
Tumblr media
All Time Low | Shadowgast Animatic/AMV | Critical Role Campaign 2 by TJ Makes (3:28, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: Some blood as Caleb is attacked by the Volstrucker prisoner
A depiction of Caleb and Essek's coming together and thier individual "all time lows", times in thier lives where they were at their lowest, and later, how they pull each other up and thier connection makes them better.
Reccer 1 says: I like the evocative art frames, the scenes the artist chose to depict and the story told through that. Reccer 2 says: I really love the style and particularly Essek's design. The animatic imagines some additional scenes that are quite touching and shows canonical ones is very expressive ways. It's wonderful how much emotion can be shown with subtle changes in their eyes, eyebrows, gentle smiles. The creator chose to show the scenes in non-chronological order, and managed to create a sequence which matches the swells and silences of the song.
Tumblr media
This video received three recs!
Would That I by aeli.tan.art (2:40, Not Rated) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, blood, mostly symbolic, all violence merely implied
a depiction of the Caleb and Essek's first meeting, their infatuation and inner turmoils about their pasts, and their choice to embrace happiness.
Reccer 1 says: I adore the art, the expressions are on point and each frame is very evocative, telling the story of coming together in a beautiful way. Reccer 2 says: Wonderful Reccer 3 says: The choice of song is amazing. I love the world building - Essek's ears, his non-human pupils, the Kryn jewellery (which will come back later in the video to punch you in the heart, I warned you), the way spells look. The imagery in the video - when Caleb stops Essek from running, but it's not aggressive, it's almost like a dance pose, the ash left on Essek's cheek, the bloodied chains, the crash into the light, and again, the return of jewellery to mean something beautiful. And lastly, but not least, the emotion behind it - the pure joy in Caleb's smile as he masters a spell, the fondness in Essek's eyes, and speaking of eyes - how expressive they are when they're often the only part of Essek visible on the screen! Amazing. By far my favourite Shadowgast animatic of all time.
Tumblr media
Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with hidden gems (less than 150 kudos)!
63 notes · View notes
morallyinept · 3 months
Text
MISTLETOE KISS - A Post-Outbreak Joel Miller Christmas One Shot
Tumblr media
Summary: At the Tipsy Bison Christmas party in Jackson, you and Joel share your first kiss together under some mistletoe.
Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 2.7k
Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/triggers - None, it's just you & Joel smoochin'.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: Well, here we are, the last story in my 12 Days of XXX-Mas stories with some of the Pedro Boys. I hope you've enjoyed reading them all, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, lovelies. 🖤
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤
Tumblr media
His lips drag against yours gently, that bottom plumpy one catching on yours and feeling fleshy and wet.
The occasional click of your intense osculation is like music to your ears, all your senses fine-tuned and solely focused onto the delicate smooch he plants on your lips - you’re in the Joel Miller zone wholly.
It’s taken a while to get here; to this exact point.
To be standing in the Tipsy Bison with Joel’s enormous hands gently cupping the side of your face.
Two souls thrust together in a small commune, each with your own horrific stories clinging onto your backs for the ride, and both feeling the pinching fear of something new developing between you both, even though you're terrified to indulge.
Months of a slow burn, exchanging longing looks, crafting small slices of conversation into something shapely and whole.
Gentle, tentative steps in your mutual attraction and shared pain from the last twenty odd years hunkering down and surviving the end of the world.
Terrified to misinterpret or assume. Terrified to lose it when you finally find it.
Slow, nudging movements have brought you both here; sharing a few words mumbled at one another when you discovered you were neighbours. Then company on occasion, with shared food becoming regular nights together as you baked him some treats and he poured you some whiskey.
And now, here, your first kiss together. Not in private, but for the whole commune to see and bask in.
Longing glances as you passed him working on frames for the new houses to go up in the commune, sometimes you brought him a sandwich. And he'd share it with you.
Then an offer of a drink at the Christmas party; a mutual hope that you both would want to attend and sway each other out of the lonely house and into the cheery atmosphere.
Joel had looked up and seen the mistletoe hanging over the bar where you both stood, partaking in the Christmas traditions that had come out of the apocalypse unscathed, and with that festive warmth the season still brings.
The tree in the corner is a little bare, and sure the tinsel is scraggly and thinning, but it’s still magical nonetheless. 
It was a small, shy peck as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek, blushing across his large nose. But as he pulled away, that magnetism had brought you back together again, unable to repel your polar opposites. 
And now his deft hands cling onto your face; the pads of his thumbs gently resting on the bottom of your eye sockets and his thick, calloused fingers wind inside your roots behind your ears. You can feel him scritch and rummage about in there as he pulls you closer onto his mouth.
The soft whoosh of air expelled from Joel's nostrils as he breathes out on a satisfied hum, warms your philtrum and upper lip as his tongue explores yours; swooping and swishing around it in a gentle, yet tantalising tango that you never want to end.
The affectionate massaging of your head around his hands as they dance upon your skin, tingles. Like falling into the universe, tumbling about utterly weightless and with your final destination unknown, you're floating... lost.
Time is a commodity that no longer exists; a melting clock on a canvas. It stops and there is just... him. You. Together.
It strokes, brushes and slips around yours; a gentle tussle in which he emerges the victor when he suckles on it gently, sending you whizzing off into the greater depths of space, never to be discovered again as you fall into the sun, burning up into dust, Icarus style.
Only Joel, holding tightly onto you now around your waist, pulling you closer into the gravity of him.
You reach up around the back of his thick neck - the skin feeling uniquely soft in its roughness there in the nape - stepping up on tip toes as you cling onto him, your head swims with bubbles and wanders off into fields of gold.
There’s no-one here, only him.
The festive gathering tinkles around you both; people swarming in and out and drawn into other’s orbits as they drink and make merry on this night filled with schmaltzy Christmas tunes from era’s gone by.
But their noise, instead of amplified, is drowned out. Their presence melts away into the walls until there is just only the sound of him, the feel of Joel's heart thrumming against yours in your rib cage; the whiskey cadence of his taste inside your mouth drawing you into the cavernous vortex of him.
In your dreams, he can hurt you; in your dreams he only exists for a fleeting few moments before you wake up and shake all memory of his face free from conscious thought.
For a while, he only existed there, in a make believe world where anything can happen and the horrors of the world are bleached away temporarily.
Only in your wildest dreams can this happen in its physicality, surely? It’s far-fetched, absurd... impossible.
But even the word impossible has possible in it, right?
He’s just a man, he holds no mystical, pussy-taming powers; he’s insignificant, miniscule amongst the eight billion people who inhabited this watery planet until it was picked off to a measly scarce number... so, why him?
Why is he the one the reach out to you and pull you close into his personal space and share it with you, share his unabiding warmth and plant his lips on yours and make you forget your name and how to breathe?
It’s just a kiss, right? No kiss can ever make you feel like this, surely? That’s some movie bullshit right here.
But yet, you feel him scorching all over your soul and leaving powdery imprints on it long after it’s reduced to ash.
Your body is buzzing, your toes even throb inside your worn out shoes as you feel his hands clutch tighter around your waist and pull you closer into him still.
Pressed up against him, packed in tight against that stacked chest of his wrapped in soft, bobbling plaid, that you run your hands up.
You’ve always wondered what this would be like to experience again, feeling that it would never happen because eligible bachelors have now been replaced with repugnant, violent men in a repugnant, violent world.
Mourning the experience of that first kiss with the man of your dreams... that wondrous face you’ve dreamt of coming into close proximity with yours, and you think about nothing else now except how he tastes.
If Joel Miller were a taste, what would his flavour be exactly?
The freedom before work, bills, responsibilities; stresses, adulting, heartbreaks... surviving and enduring.
He tastes of a playful innocence; some sepia nostalgia somewhere from inside your childhood - a happy memory that’s taken up root in your amygdala to stay forever, even though it’s a bit hazy now.
Like a fuzzy camcorder video from the late eighties; a carefree moment when all that mattered in the world was the pure, unadulterated freedom you felt back then.
The time when the only thing you had to worry about was how far up that tree you could climb before your siblings, or how fast your bike could go down that hill making you scream wildly with a giddy thrill of the wind whipping inside your ears.
He tastes of Morello cherries, sweet and tart with a slight hint of tobacco and caustic rum. You can taste the coolness on his tongue from the ashen amber whiskey and how it leaves that heady alkaline on your taste buds that flirts with you to be dizzy with him, getting punch drunk off of him.
He wears a cologne of a perfectly balanced scale of handmade magnolia soap and musky sweat. He smells of the winter; the crystal dew in cobwebs frozen over in the bushes and the harsh nip of the cold. Creased leather and boot polish. Wooden splinters and sawdust.
He smells of heartbreak, but he’s yet to tell.
From the hint of his fingers getting too close to the mound of your ass, and his other hand stroking behind your neck now, you’ve known men like him before. They’ve left their imprint on your skin, the scars across your heart, but he’s not a bad egg bred from the same batch.
No, he’s more like a lovable rogue; a cheeky scamp once upon a time, but one now that protects your pumping organ rather than stomps all over it making it bleed and pop under his heavy boot.
He’ll tell you stories one day soon about his Southern charm. You don’t know anything about him, not really, but you’re certain you know this about him - even if he’s no good, even if he's done bad things in the name of survival, he tries his best to be good, decent.
And a man that tries, is a man that wins.
Joel wraps you into his arms furthermore; arms that are abnormally thick and enveloping. A strong cocoon to protect you, to hold you tight when the going gets tough; home is in his arms.
He’s so tall; unequivocally unwavering and statuesque as you take him all in. 
Quiet and seemingly shy, he stumbles around his words when put on the spot and likes to fill the gap with uhms and aahs through gruff mumbles.
But he was the rowdy one amongst friends decades ago, and those who knew what really went on under that lurching frame. His height makes him stand out, a lonesome, snow-capped head streaked in silver, but he doesn’t want to stand out for all the wrong reasons.
He’s self-assured and a wallflower all rolled into one; a bundle of shitty self-loathing, an aggressive drunk at times, and yet he loves hard like a soldier shot in battle; he’ll push on through the pain. 
The things that turn you on and leave you panting into his mouth for more as you buck and contort with him pushed deep inside you. 
He’s a grump, an asshole at times and doesn’t indulge in a fight for fight’s sake. But will if he needs to.
But all these things about Joel will be learned and witnessed in time, the same as he'll be educated about you and all your foibles and quirks. The things that make you tick.
Joel Miller feels like a corona, scorching and blazing into you; a man who is a man and a boy all rolled into one handsome face, aged through years of toilsome survival.
A man that could take you down a dark alley and fuck you up against the mottled brickwork as it grazes against your skin, and equally lay with you in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, spending hours with his face nestled between your legs drawing your pleasures out of you into his eager, skilled mouth.
Joel Miller is both a lover and a fighter, and exudes intense passionate in both. 
He’s an enigma shrouded in further mystery, he’s a cheap, paperback book with no pictures; a crumpled IKEA instruction guide in gobbledygook, but you understand him nonetheless.
His kiss reveals all his secrets, and yet gives nothing away in equal measure.
A vector of himself; cocoa powder eyes that tell a thousand truths and a thousand lies, and you’d be none the wiser about any of them.
But this, his kiss, tells you all you need to know for now.
Nothing else right now matters as you live in the present with him, not the past, nor the future. Just in the here and now, between his lips.
It’s a kiss that blooms, a kiss that ignites and starts something between the both of you; something that neither of you know where it will ultimately lead to, but you’re both eager enough to cling on for the ride.
Joel draws back and you can see his eyes; the inviting, deep browns and you’re swimming in them. In the centre they seem a little hazel, maybe a possible fleck of gold here or there under the Christmas lights.
He blinks with dark, fluttery eyelashes, smiles with feminine, plumpy heart-shaped lips and blushes a little around the apples of his cheeks mottled with pores, as his arms stroke up and down the sides of yours.
His cheekbones are dusted with a fluffy scruff, greying in its patchiness. A rugged moustache sits atop his lip and you can still taste it on your lips, feel the tickle from the tingles and the soft scratch that silk caterpillar leaves. 
You remember his voice, remember how he sounded as he caught your attention and offered you a drink before the night got underway. That gravelly tincture bouncing in the undertones of his Texan accent; he sounds acutely Americanised, those Southern pebbles roll around his mouth on certain vowels, there’s no mistaking them and their wonder as they spill out like liquid gold at your feet.
Even his voice renders you to your knees in subjugation of him, your pussy waving a white flag utterly enthralled.
Who is this man? Who is he, really?
What are the things that he finds the most funny, and what makes him so fucking mad that he’d punch his large fist through a wall?
What are the things you could do to him that would make those entrancing eyes roll into the back of his head in abject pleasure?
Your mind swims with the possibilities of grilling him about that over decades old whiskey and late night cuddles on the beaten couch, before you get the chance to see those peepers indeed roll into the back of his skull as though being possessed by an other-worldly entity. 
But this is just the beginning.
This is just the first step into a maze of uncharted exploration. There are mountains to scale, valleys to peak, and ledges to stand on precariously as you both contemplate the consequences of jumping off together or singularly.
Would he catch you, or let you fall to your death and stare down at your dead body with indifference as you bleed out?
Is he the villain or the hero - or both?
His rough, warm fingers thread into yours; an unconscious action that his brain has no say over. You feel them tangle inside your own as you glance down at them, weaving and stroking with a satisfied awe.
They’re obscenely thick like the rest of him, and yet strangely delicate as they loop and lace with your own, thumbs stroking over knuckle hilts.
Would you fall in love with him, or would he simply take you home and fuck you senseless and leave in the morning without a word?
And there doesn’t need to be a viable reason for that, does there? You don’t need to psychoanalyse and connect the dots.
But that’s the most wonderful, yet incredibly agonising, thing about a first kiss with someone; someone new.
It invokes all these thoughts, questions, could-be scenarios, when in reality you should just close those yammering thoughts off and just enjoy being on the receiving end of someone’s affection, because they want to share this moment of intimacy with you and no-one else.
Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s feeling and emotion, maybe it’s brazen lust disguised as love at first sight. Maybe it’s-
You’re attracted to each other through chemistry and pheromones. He has a pretty face that you want to sit on; you have a great ass he’d like to fuck one day.
Maybe it’s just that, cold, sterile science?
Maybe it doesn’t fucking matter.
Joel presses his lips onto yours once more, this time the kiss morphs into something else; something else unrestrained and jerking against the leash to get free.
You feel it travel all over your skin, across the fine hairs on your arms, down the nodules of your spine; between your legs as it throbs heavily.
You nip back on his bottom lip, tasting him all over again; your hands working up his broad back, your chest crushed painfully tight against his own. He’s tall, so tall you still have to tiptoe, but you don't care.
It’s all nonsensical and fades away once more as you lose yourself into him again.
You break the kiss to breathe and take a beat to take one another in. Faces nuzzling with stolen breaths, clamouring heartbeats. With your foreheads pressed so close together, you both resemble Cyclops with only one eye to the other.
He smiles at you contentedly, his scuffed face relaxed and unreadable at the same time. And it’s utterly euphoric to inhale him in, to touch him and hold him in your hands, finally.
“Merry Christmas, Joel,” you say in a voice that is still lost somewhere inside his throat.
Your legs are like jelly; weak and wobbly as you try not to pass out in his strong arms holding you upright against the weighted shield of his body.
Joel smirks, revealing a dimple you’ve never seen until now, and his eyes flick up to the bud of mistletoe hanging over your heads and smiles.
“Merry Christmas, darlin’.” Joel replies in a deep, haunting drawl.
Tumblr media
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
167 notes · View notes
powercloud · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gojo could feel the tips of his finger tingle, the sole of his feet itching to move. His mind reels, a thousand thoughts running that it makes his stomach sick. Gojo stands, sits, then stands again until he couldn’t take it anymore. The only thing that grounds him is the sound of your voice, though its the sole reason he’s going insane in the first place.
Gojo has his phone tucked between his cheek and his shoulder, his hand on his hip while the other pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re on the other side, talking about shirt sizes, about which would fit best. And the fact you’re so casual about the whole ordeal despite the betrayal you did him dirty with not even a few days ago pisses him off.
You chose Geto’s side over his. To Gojo that is the highest degree of hurt you could ever inflict on him. And you dared call him dramatic the first minutes of the call!
“I’m gonna go with large,” you said, Gojo can hear shuffling on your end. “I feel like the pair would go well with Suguru too. Don’t you think?”
Gojo’s nose flares, if this was a cartoon he would have steam blowing out of his ears. “I don’t care! And I can’t even see what shirt you’re talking about, you weirdo. Why’d you call me?”
“Cause I missed you. What, I can’t?” Gojo bites down his lower lip, as if it could help calm down the sudden skip of his heartbeat. You have a way with making his emotions go on tangents. “Besides, I haven’t spoken to you in days since I left Tokyo for this mission. How are you doing?”
Gojo doesn’t hold back from telling his truth. “Absolutely horrible, what did you expect? You and Shoko took Suguru’s side, two of my bestest friends not even seeing my side of the story! I was assigned to go on an island with Suguru for a mission, can you imagine how awkward that was for me. Three whole days we were there and we’ve not spoken a word to each other.”
You scoff on the microphone, Gojo can almost sense you rolling your pretty eyes at him. “You did say some mean things to him, Satoru.” He doesn’t like how soft you say his name, that it almost makes him want to do whatever you tell him to. “And what you did was wrong. You have to be the one to apologize to him.” But never that.
“He said mean things to me, too,” Gojo defends. “He called me inconsiderate. I’m plenty considerate!”
“Someone considerate wouldn’t put Inoue Waka as his wallpaper when he has a gorgeous girlfriend who already feels inferior,” You sigh, defeatedly and Gojo knows he’s lost. A pause passes, giving you two both time to breathe. Gojo knows deep in his messed up head you were right. That Geto and Shoko were right. He’s just...he doesn’t know. His ego’s too big to admit he’s wrong, he’s so used to being right. To being on top of everything, he is above everything. He’s still young and learning and forever grateful you’re in his life to call him out on his bullshit, like now.
“Apologize, Satoru,” you said, nearly sounding desperate, tired. “So when I come home I’ll give you the biggest smooch on the cheek and gift you this ugly large shirt as souvenir.” Gojo chuckles at that, agreeing with you. A smile breaking out of his face, the lines of worry disappearing from his forehead.
"Fine, fine. I will," Gojo acquiesces finally.
"Hm, good." You then bless him with a low hearty laugh.
After another beat passes, Gojo tells another truth. “She broke up with me, you know.”
“I– she did?” You don't seem fazed at the sudden shift, if anything you've come to welcome any shift when it came to him.
“Yeah, I kinda deserve it anyway. That was a dick move.”
“Oh, Satoru.” You make no point debunking what he said last, and in it’s own twisted way Gojo knows its for the best. “When did she?”
“Hours after you left,” Gojo said, sitting down now, his head buried in his hand. “Its a long time coming, honestly.”
“How do you mean?”
“It never felt right,” He said. Because she’s not you, he thinks.
“Never felt right?”
“Yeah.” I’m in love with you.
“Hm, I see.” Gojo can feel the sorry dripping from your tone. There was really no need for you to feel anything like that at all. Gojo only felt bad for a day after the break up, then felt more sorry for the fact it only took that much time and he must be such an asshole for being that way and yet... “Don’t you worry, Satoru. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for next time.”
“When you get here.”
“What?”
“I mean, when do you get here?”
“Oh! Uh, my flights later tonight. I’ll be there in the morning.” Gojo doesn’t say anything after that. And for awhile, what he can hear from your end is another person with an accent and you conversing with them in English. You’re probably paying for the stuff you bought. Gojo waits patiently.
When it’s back to faint sounds of your shoes clicking on floors, Gojo asks. “Where are you anyway?”
“In some thrift shop a few blocks from where I’m stationed,” You answer, then quickly add with, "about time you wear things not designer." Because you know he's going to take offense. And he does.
"I can't believe this."
"Listen, this one's—"
"A thrifted shirt? Seriously, I can't—"
"It compliments your eyes! It would look so good on you, trust me."
...
"Well, if you say so. At least tell me it's not the cheapest thing in the store."
"Don't be a pompous jerk, Satoru. You're gonna accept what I give you."
77 notes · View notes
merakiui · 3 months
Note
Which twst boys do you think should get coal? Who's been a good boy?
Riddle - many gifts and strawberry tarts for him!!!! He deserves that and so much more. <3 it is a very merry Christmas for my beloved.
Trey - hmm,,, I suppose I can overlook his oyster sauce trick just this once... Trey receives presents because he is Trey and he most definitely bakes delicious cookies, but he is on thin ice. (≖_≖ )
Cater - gifts!!!!!! :D and may he receive lots of likes and followers on his Magicam.
Ace - coal. >:(
Deuce - gifts for good boy Deuce!!!! He is the best boy. May his stocking be full of happiness and yummy treats.
Leona - gifts. <3 Leona has done nothing wrong and I love him, so therefore he will receive lots of gifts!!!
Ruggie - also plenty of gifts!! Nothing but the best for Rugs. I want him to be happy forever.
Jack - gifts gifts gifts!!!!! Jack is also another good boy who deserves lots of presents.
Azul - coal for the capitalist tako (but he also gets a smooch from me).
Jade - coal (and I'm also deboning him).
Floyd - GIFTS FOR FLOYB!!!!!!!!! (*¯ ³¯*)♡
Kalim - gifts gifts gifts GIFTS!!!! :D
Jamil - gifts!!!! He has done no wrong (and I was not hypnotized to say that)!!! <3
Vil - gifts!!! Vil is so !!!!!!!!!! WAAAAA I LOVE HIM,,, he will get many gifts. In fact, I am covering Pomefiore in mistletoe so that we can get stuck under one by pure (calculated) chance hehe!!
Rook - coal.
Epel - gifts!!! Epel is wonderful and I think he deserves gifts!!!
Idia - coal. >_< (plot twist: I am his gift.)
Ortho - gifts!!!! :D Ortho is so precious. He will always get gifts. No coal for him.
Malleus - coal. >:( and it's because he made me into a simp for him. (just kidding hehe!!! I could never do that to Mal; not when he gives us such a cute holiday card..... :O)
Silver - gifts!! Silver is another good boy. Very sweet and lovely.
Sebek - coal. >:(
Lilia - coal, but this is only because his cookies for Santa would likely kill Santa. T_T
Neige - gifts!!!! Not only for Neige, but for the dwarfs as well!! I hope they all have the most merry Christmas.
Che'nya - gifts for our beloved Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. :3c
Rollo - he may be getting coal, but I will be his gift instead. I love him and am unabashedly biased in this love LOL. Therefore, he receives many gifts. <3
Fellow - I would give him coal, but I like Fellow too much to subject him to such a cruel fate... :< he will have gifts!!!!
Gidel - gifts!!!!!!! So many gifts for Gidel!!! He is a sweetheart who deserves to have happiest Christmas with lots of presents.
110 notes · View notes
keitaberry · 6 months
Text
how cove reacts when you're sick
((nothing is truly complete without the comfort of a sick fic, hopefully this isnt too ooc ! this is step 3 cove x mc btw))
🌊 he figures out you're sick when you a. miss a day of school/don't see him during the summer like planned or b. sees you trying to fight the fever by pretending its not there
🌊 would panic immediately, checking your temperature and usher you to the comfort of your bed
🌊 "mc you need to rest! you won't get better by being up and about!"
🌊 any other plans he had is thrown out the window, his number one priority is ensuring you are okay
🌊 stays by your side, giving you water and medicine and even offering to make some soup. he even keeps the trash can nearby just in case !
🌊 feels bad he cant smother you in affection, but doesn't want to risk getting sick himself
🌊 gives you plenty of small kisses and smooches on the cheek, nose and forehead anyways. those don't count !
🌊 he cant ensure you get better if he gets sick, afterall
🌊 if you try to deny you have a fever or get out of bed, he will fireman carry you back to bed with no words
🌊 "i know you think you're all big and tough fighting this fever, but resting will make you feel better faster. and we can't risk you getting other people sick, patient zero" he tells you after tucking you into bed
🌊 would lounge on the floor and only leave when its absolutely necessary. otherwise he's here for as long as you want
🌊 breaks the rules yet again when he decides to cuddle you for a bit after he got you some medicine to help you sleep. he just wants you to sleep soundly at night !
🌊 once he deems you better after a day or two, things can go back to normal
🌊 at least until the next day where he gets sick himself, but at least now you can return the favor !
81 notes · View notes