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[beth-yeet365]

"I just wanna be close to you" - JJ Maybank

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Fem!Reader

Summary: To celebrate the group graduating high school, the Routledge siblings go the bonfire party on the beach and Y/N Routledge decides to confront her long time crush and best friend, JJ Maybank.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (underage) and some deep pining (which may lead to some mild angst and a fight but it ends well).

Author's notes and disclaimers: Yay, my first JJ Maybank fic! In this one, the reader is a year younger than the rest of the group. This is a lyric based fic based on Close to you by Gracie Abrams because I feel like it's so JJ coded. Hope you like it.

requests are open / my masterlists / obx masterlist

Stay beautiful xx

I don't got a single problem with provocative See the bodies how they burn it's just the way it is

You and the rest of the pogues are at a bonfire party on the back to celebrate the high school graduation and everybody was having a great time. Everybody but you. The rest of your friend group are off finding love for the night with either their respective significant others or a stranger while you are stuck on the sidelines feeling lonely, sad, and heartbroken you couldn't be with the boy you like.

John B is off mackin' on Sarah. They are getting very serious all of a sudden and you are so happy for them. You had all been through so much together as a group and their relationship had definitely suffered. Now that things had calmed down they seemed to be going steady and stable. You can almost hear the wedding bells.

Pope and Cleo are cuddling by the bonfire, Kiara chatting it up with some random touron, and JJ was back to his old ways. Everybody seems to be happy with how things are. Everyone except you.

You are standing outside, looking in at the party. Especially at that blonde haired boy who had stolen your heart but now it feels like he is stomping on it with the way he is smiling and smirking at all the girls who are fawning around him. They are probably all hoping they can be the lucky one to go home with him tonight. He certainly looks like he is considering the pretty brunette who is practically undressing him with her eyes.

The worst part about the whole ordeal is that they are gonna be in JJ's room at the Chateau which means you'll be able to hear them.

After all, the walls are very thin.

It's not like anything will happen between you guys. He is not only your brother's best friend but yours too. You and John B have always been very close since there is only a year between you, you being the younger one. Because of this, it meant his friends became your friends and his best friend was your best friend. The best friend being JJ Maybank.

No, you were forever stuck on the sidelines admiring him from afar.

Smoky, dark, crowded room, I need nothing Under pink light in June I was so cool but then, all of a sudden You saw me look at you

The sight of JJ with all those girls makes you lose all desire to party. You don't want to go and damper the moods of everyone else so you stuck to yourself. You decide to get yourself a beer though you don't need it. Your feelings so confusing you feel disoriented enough.

You go back to your old look-out. You notice the sunset turning the sky a lovely pink colour. Watching the party before you, the silhouettes of people dancing and talking in the smoke from the bonfire.

You hear a familiar laugh making you turn your gaze back onto the blonde haired boy. He is laughing at something the brunette girl said. Ignoring the pang in your heart, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach whenever he smiles. Even if it is directed at another girl. His laugh is always so melodious and makes you weak in the knees. The pink light from the setting sun making him even more beautiful as if that is even possible.

JJ thought he could feel someone's gaze on him. He knew straight away who it was. He turns around to lock eyes with you.

Oh, no. You're caught. You must've been staring for a while. You can feel your heart start to race and your entire body heating up. The girl is gone and he is all alone. He flashes you one of his genuine smiles. It's one of the rare times he actually smiles and you can't help but smile back, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes the same way his does. He gives you a quizzicial look as if to ask what's wrong?. You continue to stare at each other from across the beach until the pretty brunette appears again making any semblance of a smile disappear and you avert your gaze. You move away from your spot so you're not in direct sight of him. You find an old, fallen tree trunk and sit down.

You huff in disappointment and down the rest of the beer, adding to the bitter taste in your mouth.

I burn for you And you don't even know my name If you asked me to I'd give up everything

Sarah can tell something is up with you whenever she looks over at where you're sitting. You always love a good party on the beach but you've had this constant frown on your face the whole time. Going to the party was your idea after all.

John B and Sarah have joined Pope and Cleo by the bonfire and are talking and laughing something or other but Sarah can't help but look at you. You look so sad and she already knows why. Everyone can see it but them. The rest of the group talk about when neither of you are around.

"Hey, I gonna get something to drink. Anybody want anything?" she asked the group.

"Uh, sure, a beer could be nice, babe." John B said and kissed her cheek.

"Pope, Cleo, you guys want anything?"

"No, thanks Sarah." Pope politely declined.

"I'll help ya, Sarah, I want something too." Cleo said and they both stand up and leave to go to the drinks table. They pour their drinks and on the way back to the guys Sarah sees you again and stops Cleo.

"Actually I'll join you guys in a bit. I'm gonna go talk to Y/N she looks so sad." Sarah says. "Can you take John B's drink back to him?"

"Yeah, sure, is it the JJ thing again?" Cleo asks her. Sarah hands her John B's drink and she accepts it with her empty hand.

"I think so. I think she just needs someone to talk and I can't bear to look at her sad face."

Cleo nods in agreement and promises to come over later. They split and Sarah approaches you. You hear steps coming closer and turn and find Sarah. You give her a small smile before turning back around watching the scene before you.

"Is it JJ again?" She asks you gently, not beating around the bush.

"No! You tell her a little too quickly. She gives you a knowing look. "Yes..." you saying, having turned sheepish under her look.

"You do know he likes you too?"

"No, I don't know! I just- I just like him but it's clear nothing will ever happen when things are the way they are."

"Oof, Mini Routledge, that sounds like some angsty boy trouble you got yourself there." Cleo says as she appears as if from out of nowhere, giving you the biggest fright. "It's obvious to everyone that you're both pining for each other so do something about it so we can all be happy."

"Everyone but that brunette gettin' ready to pounce any second now." You sulk. The groups of bodies have moved so JJ and girl is back in in your direct line of sight. "Sorry, girls, I don't wanna damper the mood. You're supposed to be celebrating! You've graduated... and left me behind in that god forsaken school."

"Hey, chin up, JJ will realise what's in front of him, okay?" Sarah assures you, rubbing your back. "You just need to knock some sense into him if he won't do it himself."

"Sure, right, I'll go do that if he can even remember my name with how much he's been drinking."

"No, Y/N, he hasn't even touched a drop of alcohol," Sarah tells you off. "Stop your moping and do something about things if you want to change." She has a veyr maternal tone and you almost shrink at the sound of it. Sarah has become like a big sister since she and John B got together. Well, it took some getting used at first since she was the kook princess of the island but you became fast friends and she is practically your sister-in-law now.

"Hey!" Your big brother shouts, grabbing your attention as he approaches your little group with Pope right behind him. "What's up with the frowns? We're supposed to have fun!"

He slings an arm around your shoulder, making him spill his beer on your shoes. Nice one, JB.

"Nothing, just not feeling in the mood to party." You tell him.

"But it was your idea! C'mon, Y/N/N, lighten up for your big brother, please?" He begs you, his breath smelling like beer.

"No, JB, just- just leave me alone okay?" You ask him and shrug off his arm and remove yourself from the group.

They watch as you walk away from the party altogether and sit down in the sand. You pull your knees up to your chest and take out your phone from the backpocket of your shorts.

And now your mouth is moving, cinematic timing You pull me in and touch my neck and now I'm dying

*FLASHBACK: 1.5 YEARS AGO*

"They were askin' for it, John B!" JJ shouts at your brother.

"They're always asking for it JJ! But if you don't learn how to control yourself there won't be any jobs left because you got fired from every single on of them. Did you ever think about that?"

Typical JB, always trying to knock some sense into JJ. It's common knowledge that JJ's a hothead and tends to turn to violence which more often than not lands him in trouble. Most often than not with the law.

You can't hear the rest of the conversation. You have just woken up from a nap in the hammock after a hard day at work. Your boss is always on your ass about something even though you work even harder than your co-workers to prove that you deserve the job despite being from The Cut.

The hot and humid sun is hitting your face just right, making you wanna close your eyes again. You were about to fall asleep again when the screen door bursts open, slamming against the wall and makes you almost fall out of the hammock. JJ stops in his tracks when he sees you.

"Oh, hi, Y/N. Sorry if I woke ya." He scratches his neck and stands in front of you awkwardly.

"It's okay. Can't sleep the whole day away anyway. Get fired form another job?"

"Yeah, it's nothing. The boss was a jerk anyway." He brushes it off.

"That black eye and split lip don't look like nothing." You tell him and sit up and pat the space next to you. "Sit down, will ya?"

He does what you ask but avoids your eyes, suddenly very bashful.

"I know a little something about jerks for bosses." You tell him.

"Oh, yeah? Your boss on your ass again? Think you're too young to have trouble with your boss." He tries to lighten the mood.

"I think we're all too young to have these problems." You sigh. There's a beat of silence. He doesn't know how to respond to that but he knows it's true.

"John B's only looking out for you, you know?" You speak again. "You're his best friend, J. Ever since Dad went missing he's just been so angry at everything and everyone."

JJ gets a soft look in his eyes. It's not a topic that comes up often. With Big John gone lots of things have changed and tension has risen within the group.

"How're you doing with all of that?" He asks you.

"Meh," you shrug. "I try to be there for JB but he's just in this pissy mood all the time and it doesn't help that we have the DCS on our asses."

"And who's there to look after you, huh? I don't like the idea of you carrying the weight of it all by yourself." You look him in the eyes. He's gotten very serious all of a sudden. You almost never see JJ this serious. Not even when he talks about his dad. "You can always talk to me, Y/N." He says sincerely and grabs your hand with his. "I promise to try to cheer you up. You can even hit me if you're real angry, I can take it. Jus' so you don't end up hitting your boss or John B when they piss you off. I give you full permission."

That makes you laugh and he laughs with you, happy to make you smile again.

"Now there's that smile, Mini Routledge." He smirks at you, already knowing the reaction he'll get out of you.

"Ugh, you know I hate that name, JJ!" You repimand him and slap his shoulder.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist but good God, woman! Your slaps are lethal." He says and rubs his shoulder with a giggle and you can't help but giggle with him,

"I didn't slap you that hard." You say and shake your head at him. "You're just a drama queen."

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to the now permanent hand print I'm gonna have on my shoulder for all of eternity."

You look into each other's eyes, the only sound around you the crickets and cicadas. When the eye contact gets a little too intense you look away and fan your face saying something about the heat and the sun.

"Here, let me help you." He says. He gathers your hair in his hands and moves it away from your neck and over to your shoulder. One of his hands lingers by your neck though making your do these weird palpitations and your stomach feel like a swarm of butterflies have been let loose. You could've died happily in that moment. You look up into his eyes again and you both start to lean in until...

"JJ! Could you come here for a sec?!" Your lovely big brother shouts from inside the house, interrupting the moment.

JJ moves away and sighs. He gets up without so much as looking back at you while you try to calm your racing heart and shaky hands.

That was the time you realised you had a crush on JJ.

Little did you know you were gonna end up falling in love with him...

You should be mine for life, I'll be signing Every dotted line Chemical override, ultraviolet You could be mine tonight

*BACK TO REAL TIME*

John B excuses himself from the group you left to go and talk to you. He dumps the rest of his cup on the way, figuring he doesn't need anymore alcohol in his system for the conversation you're about to have. He isn't blind. He can clearly see the affection and attraction you hold for each other. The whole best friend and little sister mackin' on each other might be a weird thought but it's one he can get over. He never gave the talk to JJ or Pope about staying away from you. You are your own person and can make decisions for yourself which he deeply respects. He only wants you to be happy and find someone who makes you just as happy as Sarah makes him. Even if it is JJ.

He plops down beside you. You turn off your phone in acknowledgement and rest your head on your knees and stare out at the ocean.

"So," he starts, filling the silence between you. You're sitting far enough away from the party that the music was significantly lower and you guys talk at a normal volume. "You ready to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" You mumble. You can feel him looking at you but you continue to stare at the waved crashing up on the shore and rolling back out.

"What happened back there, your sulky mood, or your love for JJ Maybank? Take your pick." He says, leaving you stunned. "Though, they're all jus' a chain reaction of you loving him and doing nothing about it."

"You know?!"

"Of course, I know, Y/N!" He answers, exasperated at your ignorance. "I wasn't born yesterday. Don't think you can it from me. I'm your big brother. Everybody knows it's so damn obvious."

"Everybody knows? Even JJ?" You ask him quietly, wanting the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

"On some level maybe," he shrugs. "But he certainly loves you too, squirt."

"He does?" You get this hopeful look in your eye at his statement.

"Definitely!" He almost shouts. "He may not have said it to me because, you know, I am your big brother and he's my best friend, but the way he looks at you just gives it away."

You're silent for a minute, mulling it all over, but then the same thoughts roll back into your mind. You get frustrated again with all of your reservations about starting a relationship with him and your insecurities.

"But it'll never work, John B."

"Why not, Y/N?" He tries but he is getting tired of your persistence on the matter.

"Bec- because..." You stutter but are interrupted by your brother.

"Because what?!" He asks in frustration. "Y/N, you'll never know until you try." He tells you, his voice softer this time around. You lean your head against his shoulder and he leans his on top of yours.

"It's just..." You start and sigh before you continue. "He's your best friend. He's my best friend. I just don't want to mess anything with the group or our friendship up. And your friendship too. Ugh, it's just too complicated." You finish and he lifts his head at this.

"Let me tell you one thing and I want you to look at me." He tells you and you do as he says. "Don't worry about the rest of us. Do what you wanna do and be with who you wanna be. I don't want to stand in the way of you neither does the rest of the group. You make your own decision we will just have to roll with it and if it doesn't work, well, so what? At least you tried and got some good memories out of it." He smiles and wipes some hair away that got in your eyes. "That doesn't mean it won't be weird to see my best friend who's older than my baby sister kissing and being all cute and couple-y together but I will just have to deal."

You smile at his words. He raised you most of the time. With your mum gone and your dad being sort of absent, it was left to John B to do most of the raising. Luckily, he didn't turn out so bad. You lean your head back on his shoulder and he throws an arm around yours as you fall into another beat of silence.

"I'll marry him one day, JB" you tell him honestly, his head flipping back up you swear it looked like he got whiplash.

"Geez, squirt, you're a bit young to think about that, aren't you?"

"Well you unofficially married Sarah while stuck on a boat after we thought you were dead."

"Touché, Y/n, touché." He admires your retort.

He stands up and offers his hands to help you up as well. You dust off the sand on your shorts and give him the biggest hug which he returns. You release each other after a while. He's got a big dopey smile on his face either from the alcohol in his system or the feeling of cheering up his little sister and helping two of his favourite people get together. Or maybe a mixture of both.

"You're the best big brother in the world, you know that?" You tell him.

"I'm your only brother." He deadpans.

"Well, I have no one to compare you to so you'll always be the best in my book." You reply and give him another hug and he kisses your temple.

"Go get him." He says as he releases you and sends you off.

Adrenaline overrides all rational thoughts that were holding you back and walk over to him. It's more like a march because you're so determined. After all, you've had a crush on him for a year and a half now, and maybe more. You tap his shoulder three times and he turns around but he is not so surprised that it's you, your lovely and alluring perfume that makes him weak in the knees alerting him of your presence.

"Hey J, can we talk?" you ask him. Voice slightly shaking from the adrenaline in your system. You clear your throat and avoid his gaze.

"Sure thing, Mini Routledge, what do you wanna talk about?" he says with the a small smile and that amused look in his eyes.

"You ready to go home, Maybank?" The pretty brunette emerges again with a seductive look in her eyes.

You feel your stomach drop, all of the confidence that had been building up on the way over here vanished into thin air.

"Forget it, JJ, seems like you have enough on your plate already." You say to him, angry at him but even more angry at yourself because you thought you could finally tell him how you felt and even angrier that you thought you could actually be together. You turn and march away from the pair.

"Y/Nn wait!" JJ shouts after you but you ignore him.

He decides to leave the girl and follow you...

I burn for you And you don't even know my name If you asked me to I'd give you everything

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," you reprimand yourself. "Of course, nothing could ever happen."

You weave through the dancing bodies and continue walking even though you've managed to escape the group of people. You walk as fast as you can in the sand which isn't that fast. You can hear JJ's frantic shouts but you just wanna get away.

"Y/N, stop!" He shouts. "Please just slow down. Tell what's wrong!" He pleads with you.

You shake your head, all your insecurities filling your mind making you feel awful all over again.

Somehow, JJ manages to catch with you. He grabs your wrist in an attempt to get you to slow down and talk to him. You shake his hand off and turn around to face him.

"Just leave me alone, okay?!" You all but shout at him.

"No, not until you tell me what's wrong!" He says which makes you turn back around again.

"Well, that's not happening anytime soon so you can go back to your new girl of the night and do what you always do because then you'll finally leave me alone." You tell him with a bitter tone in your voice.

"Hey, that's none of your business!" He replies, getting mad now.

"It is when we live in the same place with very thin walls so we can all hear just how good you'll be making that girl feel." You spit your venom at him, making him stop in his tracks while you continue your walk away from him. You're not sure why you're so angry at him. You were the one who decided to go and talk to him which left you with this empty pit in your stomach.

"C'mon, that's not fair, Y/N," He tells you, close to giving up now. "What's this all about?"

"Nothing!"

"Well, clearly there's a reason 'cause you'd never say that sorta stuff normally. We're best friends." He waves his arms around as he says this. This makes you stop up. You turn around and walk back towards him until you're right in front of him.

"I like you, okay?!" You shout in his face, stunning him. "I. Like. You. But it seems like I just missed my chance so excuse me if I'm not really in a chatty mood and just wanna be left alone."

He doesn't say anything. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. You shake your head at him and walk away again. You don't get very far again because he shouts after you.

"So what you like me? I like you too!" He shouts. You walk back towards him so you're face to face and stare into his beautiful crystal blue eyes.

"No, JJ, I burn for you, okay?! I'd drop everything for you, I'd give you everything and more if I could but I'd never meet the standards of those girls." You tell him honestly, getting to the root of all your insecurities. "I'll forever be Mini Routledge and that's fine, it's cool you don't need to worry about me I'll just go home and leave you alone with her."

You try to walk away again but he grabs your wrist and this time you can't shake him loose. He swings you back around so you're chest to chest, yours still heaving from your rant.

"You're so much more than just Mini Routledge to me, Y/N. You always seem to brighten my day even when it seems to be the darkest and all you have to do is smile at me. You could break my heart a million times or start the biggest forest fire there ever was and I'd defend you till the end of time. You're everything to me, okay? I don't want to lose you so don't-..." He sighs. He releases your wrist and pushes your hair away from your face. You look into his eyes, the amused look gone and replaced by a determined one.

"Just don't push me away." He begs.

And then, he kissed you.

To be close to you Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when me met I wanna be close to you Break my heart and start a fire you got me overnight Just let me be close to you

Like pulling the trigger on a gun, the tension was between you and JJ was released and replaced with something else. Passion. You've been waiting for this moment longer than you realise because like pulling the trigger on a gun, the tension was between you and JJ was released and replaced with something else. Passion. JJ was kissing you and you loved every second of it. You were so shocked that you didn't know what to do with your hands. His hands moved from your hair down to your waist and yours found their place on his chest. You both got lost in the feel of it. The feel of JJ's lips on yours, the feel of JJ giving your bottom lip a salacious bite to open your mouth and welcome his tongue. The feel of JJ liking you back.

You pulled away when you both ran out of air. He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in for a hug while your arms wrap around his neck, one of your hands getting lost in his blonde locks. His head dips down to where your shoulder meets your neck and starts kissing your skin, lightly sucking and licking which is definitely not helping to slow your heart and breathing.

"I want to be close to you..." You almost whisper, still out of breath. "I just want you, J."

"Well, I'm right here." He pauses his kisses to reply. "You have me now and I'm all yours." He continues his lovely attack on your neck, finding a spot that makes you weak and a sound you've never heard come out of your mouth before. That's when he stops, making you want to whine in protest but he kisses your lips again. This time slower, and it isn't filled with the same tension as before. It isn't the same makeout session as before but sweeter and filled with affection. You pull away from him this time.

"What do ya say... Wanna get outta here?" You ask him.

"Geez, Mini Routledge, way to make this freaky." He jokes and you slap his chest, unable to wipe that goofy smile off your face. He smiles with you. He loves being the reason of your smile.

"By the way, if you wanna have sex with me, you gotta stop calling me Mini Routledge." You warn him albeit with the same smile.

"Can't make no promises since I just love to see that annoyed look on your face. It's so cute." He teases, the same amused glint in his eyes he always has. "But yes, I'd love to get out of here."

"Great, I'll tell John B and meet you back here." You tell him and almost run back to the group you abandoned earlier. You approach John B specifically, knowing if you didn't say you were leaving without letting him know he would launch a whole search party.

"Hey, we're gonna split." You tell and kiss his cheek in goodbye. "I'll see you at home."

"So I take it everything worked out between you two?" He asks.

"How'd you know?!" You gasp.

"Well you did say we're," he starts but a knowing, amused grin works onto his face. "But also the red spot on your neck right about there," he prods a finger at the sensitive spot. "Which I think will most likely turn into a nice blue and purple hickey during the night." He laughs at your mortified expression as you grip your neck where he pointed before. "Tell JJ I'll talk to him tomorrow. Love ya, sis."

"Love you too, bro." Tell him and walk away with a smile on your face until John B shouts.

"I better find you in separate rooms when I get home!" To which you respond with flipping him off and Sarah is no doubt slapping his chest and scolding him.

When you reach JJ, he throws an arm around your shoulder and you walk away from the party happening behind you.

"John B wants to talk to you tomorrow." You tell him.

"Oh no, what did you say to him?" He whines, making you giggle.

"Nothing I swear!" You reply, but can't help the smile creeping onto your face.

"Oh, you swear, huh?" He grins, and pokes at your waist. Your most ticklish place. "That smile says different."

"No, I swear, JJ!" You can't help but giggle from his tickles, trying to get out of the hold his arm has around your shoulder.

"Guess I'm gonna have to tickle it outta ya then." He says as he continues his attack on your waist.

"Well, you'll have to catch me first!" You laugh and finally wiggle free from his hold and run away from him.

"Oh, you're on, Mini Routledge!" He shouts and speeds after you.

You race each other back to the Chateau. There, you embrace again in a heated kiss and tumble inside. You disobeyed John B's half-serious order and went straight for your bed. He added some extra hickies to the one he left on the beach though some of them would be naturally covered up by your clothes. You even left some on him.

The night was filled with love and ecstasy and when you woke up in the morning to sun beaming in through the curtains and a shirtless JJ in your bed with an arm around your waist you couldn't help the silly grin that etched its way onto your face.

You let out a quiet giggle, so happy you couldn't help it. You turn around in JJ's arms and realise he's only half sleeping.

"What's so funny?" He asks in a deep, groggy morning voice that sends chills down your spine despite the warmth of the sun.

"Nothing, J." You sigh in contentment. "Everything's perfect." You tell and kiss his forehead.

"Good," he says and kisses your lips. "Now go back to sleep."

[sloanesallow]

(don't) touch

The last thing Sebastian expects is a jealous wife. Tags: MDNI, NSFW! Sexual content, mild bondage (wrists), feat. a needy and submissive Sebastian.

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC | 2k words [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [Masterlist]

It's rare for Sebastian to be in London, but that is exactly where he finds himself that evening, celebrating the retirement of some ancient, well-respected, and powerful Ministry official. Considering he's only been contracted with the Auror's office as their curse breaker for a year, he's flattered by the invitation, but feels woefully out of place amidst the opulence of his older, more dignified associates.

Still, he manages to blend in—he always does—mingling and socializing with the other guests, many of whom have traveled from all over the world to be there tonight. Somewhere in the shuffle he loses sight of his wife, Sloane, and instead stands flanked by a group of giggling young women he recognizes as some of the Ministry's newest apprentices. Freshly graduated from Hogwarts, they flock to Sebastian, overjoyed to see another young face in a sea of 'old, wrinkly, men'.

"And what department do you work for, Mr. Sallow?"

"Do you live in London?"

"Is it true you were Hogwarts' best duelist?"

"You're still as handsome as your class portrait!"

"Might you be available for a dance, Mr. Sallow?"

Sebastian forces a chuckle, flustered as he realizes they are flirting with him. He's so used to the affection and attention of one person that hearing it from any other's lips makes his gut churn uncomfortably. He is about to respond when he feels a hand slip around the crook of his elbow and the familiar, flowery scent of his wife's perfume surrounds him.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Sloane says.

The young women simultaneously pout. "Why not?"

"Because he will be dancing with his wife."

Their faces blanch. "His...wife?"

"Yes." Sloane's fingers curl a little tighter around Sebastian's arm so that the golden band of her wedding ring is more obvious. When he glances down, her smile is polite, but her eyes are steel. It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to realize she is jealous. "His wife."

Multiple pairs of eyes dart between her hand and his before settling on the floor as they quickly shuffle away. As soon as they are alone, Sebastian clears his throat and arches a curious brow.

"You wish to dance?"

"No," she replies, prompting both his brows to rise. While she doesn't like to be the center of attention, she loves to dance if it's with him. She drops her hand from his arm and tilts her chin up to meet his gaze. "Meet me upstairs in ten minutes."

Sebastian's eyebrows can't raise any higher. "Only ten?"

"Five."

"Three."

He smirks when he sees the corner of her mouth twitch before she turns swiftly on her heel and departs. Sebastian pretends to be interested in the decorations, rocking back and forth on his heels as he counts to one-hundred-and-eighty. As soon as the clock-hand in his mind ticks over he slinks away, pretending to be on his way to the privy before diverting to the staircase instead.

On the landing, he follows his instinct and turns right, grinning when he spots a discarded evening glove on the floor. A heeled slipper is a few paces ahead, a shed stocking a few paces more. The trail leads to a door at the end of a long hallway and Sebastian wastes no time advancing to the treasure waiting on the other side.

As soon as he slips inside the room he leans back against the closed door, stunned to see Sloane already bare and spread out across an elegant bed, her pale skin an alluring contrast to the dark, satin sheets. For a split second he wonders whose bedroom it is before shaking the thought away because he simply does not care.

"Well now, Mrs. Sallow, what do we have here?" Sebastian secures the lock before crossing over to where she is, eager to join her for some unexpected fun.

"Not so fast," Sloane stops his advance with a slight shake of her head and he pauses at the foot of the bed, both hands and one knee already braced on the mattress. He looks at her curiously, surprised by the unfamiliar, assertive tone. "Strip for me."

Her words send a hot spike of pleasure straight to his groin and he flashes a lopsided grin. "Is that an order?"

"Yes."

Sebastian obliges, too aroused to question his wife's mood. He usually leads their intimacy, the dominant force to her softer nature. This side of Sloane is so rarely seen—especially in the bedroom—that he's thrilled to indulge for at least one evening. He slowly starts to remove his clothing, peeling away the layers of his evening attire until the pieces are scattered on the floor along side her dress and undergarments.

Naked, he continues to stand at the foot of the bed, trying not to look too proud as Sloane's eyes dance along his body in admiration, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Come here," she beckons.

His movements remain slow as he crawls over her, never once removing his gaze from her face. He stares down into her shimmering grey eyes and is about to press himself against her body when she reaches up, grasping his shoulders and using one leg swung over his hip to swap their positions. Sebastian is momentarily caught off guard, especially when her hands pin his wrists on either side of his head. Even though it would be oh so easy to break free and flip her back beneath him, he settles back with a grin.

"No touching," she explains. "Not unless I say so."

"Minx," he taunts, earning him a sharp but teasing glare. Sloane only moves when she's sure he won't, though he does crane his head back to watch as she carefully ties each one of his wrists to the headboard with some conjured silk. As she leans over him to secure the knots, her breasts sway above his face and Sebastian cannot resist—he flicks his tongue out against one already-pebbled nipple.

Sloane inhales a startled gasp, and in turn tightens the binds. "Be good," she warns.

Sebastian knows his expression is incorrigible. "I'm always good."

"I beg to differ."

"Oh?" he snickers. "I love when you beg, sweetheart."

She says nothing, and it nearly drives him prematurely off the edge with how confident his wife appears in this role. Still, he can't help but challenge her.

"Do you really think these binds will keep me from touching you?"

Except, when he attempts and fails to break free from them with brute strength alone, he resigns himself to the moment. Sloane flashes a tiny, self-satisfied grin as she leans back on her knees. She's straddling his waist, but besides her legs against his sides, she does not touch him.

"If you're a good boy, maybe you'll get what you want."

Sebastian's cock twitches and he wonders when did she learn to be so wicked.

Sloane slides her hands across his chest, nails softly scratching through the soft dusting of hair along his pectorals. She repeats the motion, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin. She shifts her body as she lowers herself down again, this time to trail an agonizingly slow path of kisses from his jaw, down his neck and chest to his hips and back again.

Sebastian is not one to beg, or maybe he is, at least when it comes to Sloane and the sweet ecstasy she's denying. She straightens up again, and he shudders as her hands drift down to where he needs her most.

"Do you want me to touch you?" she sounds like desire incarnate.

"Yes," he croaks.

"Yes?"

Sebastian groans, "yes please."

His wife finally shows mercy and grasps his arousal, pumping a few times before swiping her thumb through the pre-come gathered on the tip.

"Fuck, Sloane," he hushes the curse, eyes fluttering closed as she strokes him just the way he likes. He can feel the heat between her thighs as she hovers close, and he rocks his hips back and forth, desperate to be inside of her. For as long as they've been together, his yearning for her has never waned. "Sloane, please."

"Please?" she repeats in a husky whisper.

"Let me..." his voice breaks on a deep moan and he tugs at the silk bindings. "Let me touch you."

"Three minutes," is her reply.

Sloane slows her strokes and Sebastian opens his eyes to see her amused expression. "Huh?"

"You barely lasted three minutes before begging," she declares but Sebastian can't be bothered with embarrassment right now.

"Maybe in this instance," he struggles to speak through his labored breath. "But if you untie me, sweetheart, you'll get the best ten minutes of your life."

Sloane hums in thought. "Five."

He opens his mouth to argue but all that comes out is a strangled sound of pleasure as she angles the head of his arousal to sweep through her slick folds to her entrance.

"Five?" she prompts again.

He shakes his head. "Three."

Sebastian watches through hooded eyes as Sloane slowly sinks down, and he's unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up at the sensation. Her hands press against his lower abdomen and she scolds him between own shaky breaths.

"Be good."

"Yes, wife."

Sebastian knows he's affected her by the shimmer in her eyes and the way her core clenches around him. As soon as he is fully seated within her, she circles her hips, fingers splaying out across his chest as she steadily increases her pace. She rocks back and forth, the quiet creak of the bed mixing with their heavy panting and moans. His eyes flick down from her face to where they are joined, his mouth watering at the sight of her impaling herself on his cock over and over again. Sloane lifts herself up a little more with each stroke until she is bouncing in his lap, and he hisses at the overwhelming tightness and heat of her around him.

"Sloane," he practically wheezed her name, straining his wrists as he tugged at the ties again. "Please."

She relents, frantic as she tugs at the knots until they are loose enough for him to slip out from. Sebastian grasps her immediately, one arm tucked around her waist and the other tangling in her hair as he tugs her down and smashes their lips together in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His grip tightens and he lifts his hips to meet her frenzied movements as they quickly skyrocket over the edge of ecstasy.

Her entire body trembles, thighs flexing around his hips as her silken walls flutter around him. He meets her release with what sounds like a roar, clutching her against him as they both slump. Sloane remains folded over his chest with her face tucked against his shoulder as they float down from the blissful high. Sebastian caresses her back, tracing every knot of her spine before sliding his hands over the curve of her bottom.

It's only then that he rolls them over, lazily grinning at the little whimper that escapes her lips as he presses her into the bed beneath him, still connected. Sebastian props himself up on his elbows to avoid crushing her completely, and spots her blooming blush.

"You aren't allowed to be so bashful after that, love," he teases and she sighs, raising her hands to sweep through his sweat-matted hair. He gazes down at her, smitten as the day he realized his love for her. Sloane—his beautiful and mesmerizing wife—who still manages to surprise him after all this time. "Who knew you had a jealous streak."

"I—I don't know what came over me," she whispers, still flushed from the passion she initiated.

"If this is what happens, well then I will need to encourage more young ladies to flirt with me, don't you think?"

Sloane furrows her brows and tugs his hair.

"Ow," he squeaks before laughing, easily snatching up her hands and pinning them where his had previously been. Her eyes widen in alarm but quickly melt into desire. Sebastian looms over her, brushing his lips against hers. "Can you be a good girl?"

"Yes, sir."

[ladyloveandjustice]

Running the Gauntlet: A Natsume Yuujinchou fanfic (Part 1)

Part 1 of my fanfic based on the idea I had in this post about Natsume's running abilities making his life at school difficult that blew up.

Includes a couple silly footnotes!

Running the Gauntlet

“I wish Natsume wasn’t our anchor,” a classmate complained.

Natsume flinched. It’s not like I wanted to be, he thought glumly. He pretended he hadn’t heard, hunching over and tying this shoe. So many students and teachers milling around on the grass, waiting for the big event, whoever it was probably hadn’t noticed he was nearby.

But then, Nishimura’s response made him feel even worse.

“Man, shut up. You haven’t really seen Natsume run. He’s friggin’ fast. We’re lucky to have him.”

Natsume appreciated Nishimura standing up for him, but inwardly he was screaming at him to please stop talking about this.

Then Kitamoto chimed in, “Yeah, one of the first times we saw him outside of school, he basically dashed out of the woods at warp speed. So don’t be rude.”

He saw Kitamoto glance quickly at him, clearly aware might be in earshot.

“Fast? Come on you two, I know he’s your friend, but the guy is sickly. You’re expecting me to believe someone who collapses every other day is a good runner? I’m not saying he’s a bad guy, I’m just not counting on him to win this”. The classmate, who rarely spoke to Natsume, adjusted his glasses.

“You’ll see,” Nishimura said smugly.

Natsume groaned inwardly, straightening up.

He eyed the various students hanging out in different colored headbands, the boy handing out water bottles from the tent, and some teachers talking off to the side.  There was even a chattering crowd on the small set of bleachers. A crowd that included parents.

But worst of all was the looping black track, sizzling in the sun before him. He, Nishimura, and the rest who’d been chosen for the relay race would be lining up on it soon.

He hated Sports Day.

To be fair, this was his least hated sports day so far. He’d never actually experienced sports day while having friends before. When he was a kid, he could expect being pushed to the ground and mocked, or having classmates complaining loudly to teachers about being paired up with the liar. Best case scenario was he’d merely have to feel lonely as he was left out of class celebrations, watching parents and friends cheer others on when there was no one to cheer for him.

But this year he’d been able to cheer wildly for Taki during the bean bag toss, laugh at Tanuma as he was forced to dance awkwardly with the rest of his class during their group performance, and smile as Tanuma got some sweet revenge by beating him at the scavenger hunt. He’d gotten to high five Kitamoto and Nishimura after every victory, and even Sasada once.

So many parents being here was still a little intimidating, though. He kept expecting one of them to yell at him to get away from their kid, even though he knew it wasn’t like that anymore. The Fujiwaras hadn’t been able to come, as they had a relative’s wedding to attend today. Natsume hadn’t even told them today was sports day, because he didn’t want them to feel bad about it. He was also kind of relieved they couldn’t come, because he would have been even more nervous if they were watching.

Overall, it had been a good day. He was basically enjoying himself.

But there was no getting over the dread of his biggest obstacle yet—the relay race. He was really going to have to pay attention to his running. It was such a tough balance…he didn’t want to let down the class, but he also needed to think of…

“Natsume, are you okay?” He blinked, noticing Sasada was suddenly next to him. “You were spacing out a bit.”

“I’m fine! Actually, are you okay?” She looked pale, and she kept fiddling with her glasses. It was strange to see her without the usual air of confidence.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. She’d been chosen for the relay race too, and was looking at the track with almost as much trepidation as he was.

“Sasada! Natsume!”  Nishimura ran forward before Natsume could reassure her. “It’s all up to us!”

“Yay,” Sasada said blandly.

“Whar’a wrong, Sasada?” Nishimura grinned smugly at her “Worried you’re gonna be the sports day cliché?”

“The…what?”

“You’ve seen it on TV, right? In anime and stuff? There’s always the one person who trips during the relay race. They scramble to their feet, tears in their eyes, and pass off their baton…” Nishimura imitated the gesture dramatically. “But don’t worry! You can trip all you want, I’m so fast it won’t matter! No need to be nervous!”

Sasada shook her head, putting her glasses back on. “You know what, your stupidity has calmed my nerves a bit, thank you,”

“Glad to be of service.”

---

Considering all that, Natsume wasn’t exactly surprised when Nishimura was the one who tripped.

Natsume winced when his friend went down, hoping he wasn’t hurt. It would be okay, right? Nishimura was so good-humored. This wasn’t a big deal or anything. He’d just laugh it off and…

Nishimura stumbled up, his knee bleeding, his face burning with shame. Natsume could see his eyes were brimming with tears. Of course he was devastated. Nishimura may act carefree, but he hated letting people down.

Natsume sighed.

Fine then.

“Nishimura!” He called out, offering his hand. “Don’t give up! I’ve got this!”

Nishimura’s face lit up instantly. He jogged as fast as he could and slammed the baton in Natsume’s hand. Natsume faced forward. The others had a massive head start, but that wasn’t enough to make him give up.

A yokai is chasing me, he told himself. A big one with sharp teeth.

And next thing he knew, he was crossing the finish line.

Cheers exploded around him as the other runners caught up, lagging after him. And then, suddenly, what seemed to be the entire class was rushing towards him. He had to resist the urge to put his hands up defensively.

Nishimura slammed into him from the side, embracing him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was whooping and laughing. Heat spread up Natsume’s neck and face. It was the first time Nishimura had ever hugged him. Or cried so openly in front of him. He knew it was considered fine for guys to cry and hug only when it involved sports for some reason, but it was still a surprise.  He wasn’t used to that kind of intimacy. Not that it was bad. It was kind of nice.

 The rest of his class gathered around him, yelling things like “way to go” and “that was amazing!” Even Sasada, her face still red and sweaty from her run, was screaming her head off and jumping up and down. Kitamoto clapped Natsume on the back and soon several classmates followed suit. Natsume was sure a red handprint was permanently etched on his back now.

“Dude, I knew you were fast, but I didn’t know you were that fast!!” Nishimura yelled through his tears.

“Seriously, do you have a secret running regimen I don’t know about, or is it just natural talent?” Kitamoto said.

Natsume heard some more cheering explode behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see an uncharacteristically excited Tanuma waving at him from the other side of the track, “Congrats, Natsume!”

“Tanuma, you could at least… pretend to care… that our class lost,” said the boy Natsume had gone up against, still doubled over and panting.

“Sorry.”

There was loud whistle from the stands and Natsume saw it came from Taki. The girl next to her had covered her ears. Taki didn’t notice, and let out another impressively strong blast, waving at him. She removed her knuckles from her mouth and shouted “Woo, Natsume!”

Natsume was torn between being happy his friends supported him and so embarrassed he could die.

“I owe you an apology, Natsume,” said the boy with the glasses, whoever he was.

“Hell yeah you do!” Nishimura responded.

“Nishimura…” Kitamoto’s said scoldingly, his eyes flicking to Sasada.

“Ah…I’m sorry too, Sasada,” Nishimura said sincerely. “You really showed me.” (Sasada had been fast enough to give Nishimura a head start, as Natsume suspected she would be, she’d certainly caught up to him out of nowhere plenty of times in the early days of their relationship).

Sasada wasn’t listening, she was looking at a fit girl with short black hair from another class, who was also still panting from the race. “How about that, Chiyo!” she called over to her.

“You win this one, but I’ll get you next time, Jun! Just you wait!” Chiyo called with a matching huge grin and an excited look in her eyes. For some reason Sasada blushed delicately in response*.

“Okay, okay, give him some room to breathe,” Kitamoto said, shooing at the others. They all stepped back, though Nishimura remained by Natsume’s side. Natsume was grateful for Kitamoto, he was dizzy and overwhelmed. He’d had no idea races like this were such a big deal to people. He was more grateful than ever the Fujiwaras weren’t here to add on to all this.

“Look Natsume!” Sasada had finally torn her eyes away from the other girl and was pointing at the stands. “Even the track coach looks impressed!”

“No wonder, you’re faster than half her team,” Kitamoto said. “Bet she tries to recruit you!”

Natsume’s stomach dropped like a stone. Indeed, the track coach, a woman with short brown hair and sharp eyes, was looking at him with interest. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. His personal hell had returned. Had winning a measly race been worth it?

Natsume looked over at Nishimura, who was still jumping up and down and hollering about how he was going to treat Kitamoto, Sasada and Natsume to some manju, not even minding when Kitamoto snarked at him about it how it must be a cold day in hell if the man who sponged off everyone was paying the tab for once. He flashed Natsume another ecstatic grin, and Natsume smiled back.

Yeah, it had been worth it.

--

Natsume had experienced a lot of reoccurring horrors, but the most annoying of them was being hounded by track coaches at every school he went to.

Apparently, spending most of his life running from yokai had made him faster than the average person. He’d been unaware of this until his first year of middle school. When it came time to run the track, Natsume had heard whispers around him, a couple of the kids placing bets on when he’d collapse. One boy had even smacked him on the shoulder and screamed “The liar’s gonna come in dead last!” in his ear.

Natsume hadn’t really done much racing against other kids on the playground, and he’d been sick during a lot of gym classes, so he’d also figured he’d struggle against the other kids. It had completely shocked everyone, himself included, when he blew past them all with ease. He’d reached the finish line only to find the other kids several feet behind him, panting and gawking.

The gym teacher’s eyes had gone wide, and he’d immediately started urging Natsume to join the track club. The man had even gone to Natsume’s current guardians about it.

His guardians had resented that he was getting attention while their real kid was an overlooked benchwarmer on the baseball team. They’d thrown lots of snide comments Natsume’s way. And…well, he hadn’t had a good time on the track team at all. When he’d inevitably had to move again after those same guardians got tired of him, leaving the track club behind had been the silver lining.

Upon transferring to a new school, he’d decided to keep his speed under wraps. But then a coach noticed him running when he was late for class one day and his troubles started all over again. At first he’d avoided the coach by coming up with excuses about responsibilities or detention or headaches, but eventually he was just reduced to hiding under the bleachers when he saw the man.

At another school, a coach tried to recruit him for her team SO aggressively he’d made the stupid mistake of running away when he saw her—and naturally, seeing how fast he could book it had just increased her interest.

So, when he was gathering up all the extra water bottles from the hydration station tent at end of the day, and saw the track coach approach him, his heart started pounding, He fought back his urge to bolt, even a flashbacks filled his brain.

“Natsume, right? I’m Sakuragi, if you don’t remember,” The woman had a wide, genuine smile. He’d only spoken to her a few times, but he was pretty sure she was Taki’s homeroom teacher. “You showed some impressive hustle today! Have you ever thought of joining the track team?”

Fortunately, Natsume had his excuses pre-prepared. “Oh wow, that’s such an honor, Sensei!” He said, continuing to gather up the water bottles while still maintaining polite eye contact. “But, you see, I get sick very easily, so joining a team is a bad idea. I’d just end up being absent a lot, and I’d let the team down.”

“That’s not a problem.” To his horror, the teacher bent down and started picking up the water bottles herself.

“You don’t have to trouble yourself—” He began quickly, but she cut him off, saying “ I’d never require you to come in when you’re not feeling well. You wouldn’t need to worry about calling out sick. We’re a fairly large team, so other students can easily sub in for you if you can’t make a race.”

What kind of laid back track team was this? Never mind, Natsume had a backup excuse. “Well, that’s great, but I’m also concerned about making trouble for my foster parents. It’s a lot to ask them, and I don’t want to put them out. I’d be around to help them less. They’d have to pay for expenses, like when overnight trips at the inn when we go to other towns, or shoes—”

“The school supplies the shoes and other essentials, and we can cover trip expenses if need be. Also, I chat with Ms. Fujiwara at the grocery store often, and she loves bragging about you. I can’t see her turning down a chance for you to develop your skills and enjoy some team spirit!”

Natsume looked down at his shoes, sure that he was tomato red right now. Touko bragged about him? What did he even do worth bragging about? “He only missed ten days of class this month”? “His grades were perfectly mediocre again”? “He hasn’t come home covered in dirt in a while”? “He made five whole friends in school, somehow?”*

Still, through his embarrassment, he felt a little warm inside. She was proud of him. It was a still a new feeling, and he wasn’t sure what to do with this strange, shy happiness.

“Natsume?” The coach’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Is there anything else bothering you, or would you like to come do a practice session with us? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to join. I’ll respect your decision.”

“I…” Natsume was searching for another excuse.  

 Nishimura jogged up. “Natsume, do you need any—" He noticed who Natsume was talking to and his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry to interrupt, Sensei! Natsume, are you being recruited? That’s so cool!”

“Ah, you were his teammate today, right?” Sakuragi smiled at Nishimura kindly.

Nishimura flushed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Natsume really saved me out there. He’s a dependable guy! And he’s a great runner!”

Nishimura flashed a grin at Natsume, who was wishing he had telepathy so he could tell him to stop. He tried to send a signal by shaking his head slightly, but Nishimura wasn’t looking now.

“Well, that definitely sounds like track team material,” Sakuragi said jovially. She turned to Natsume. “Looks like your friends vouch for you. But it’s up to you, Natsume. Would you mind just stopping by?”

Natsume couldn’t bring himself to directly say no to a teacher in the first place, and now Nishimura and his enthusiasm had been added to the mix. “I’ll give it a try,” he mumbled, forcing a smile.

“Great! Just come to the track after school tomorrow. I think you’ll find it’s a lot more fun than you’re thinking.”

Natsume kept the smile fixed on as they carried the water bottles back into school. When the coach departed and they came ouside again, he and Nishimura met Taki and Tanuma. As always, Nishimura immediately started blushing and fidgeting , but as always, Taki failed to notice.

“I saw you with Sakuragi-sensei!” she said with a smile. “Impressing her is a big feat, Natsume! And don’t worry, she’s really nice.” She put her hand on Natsume’s shoulder, and Nishimura let out a strangled squeak. “She won’t get mad at you, whatever you decide.”

“Are you okay?” Tanuma said softly. Clearly both he and Taki had noticed he wasn’t actually happy right now.

“I’m fine,” Natsume said, letting the fake smile drop away and replacing it with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll just check it out. No big deal.”

---

“I don’t get why you’re whining so much about it,” Nyanko-sensei said, trotting beside Natsume as he walked to school the next day. “It’s just one measly meeting. What’s so bad about this running team thing anyway?”

“The people who took care of me when I joined the track team the first time were really bothered by it. They didn’t like having to drive me places, or the attention I got—”

“The Fujiwara’s aren’t like that, so that’s a stupid excuse.”

“That’s true, but it’s more than that,” Natsume sighed. “Last time, I was constantly late or absent. A yokai would attack me or I’d get sick...”

“Wimp.”

“Shut up, Sensei. Anyway, whenever that happened, the coach yelled at me for flaking out. I let everyone down.”

“But this woman said it doesn’t matter if you’re sick and can’t come, right?”

“She says that now, but she might change her mind,” Natsume mumbled.

“You’re so gloomy,” Nyanko-sensei shook his head. “It’s annoying.”

“Look, even if what she says is true, my teammates probably won’t like me. They didn’t last time. And I just…I just hated the feeling of all those people looking at me.”

He’d struggled a bit with just the sports day crowd watching him, but being on a real team was a million times worse. All those people judging, all their hopes riding on him not messing up… He shivered, remembering the way his skin had crawled, the way his breathing turned funny, the way his hands had shook. All those eyes on him…the weight of their gaze had made him want to curl up so small they couldn’t see him anymore.

“And there’s the actual reason. You’re bad with other people and you get stage fright. Boring.” Sensei yawned. “Just get over it. You have yokai trying to eat you all the time, why’s this scary?’

“I’d rather deal with yokai than the track team,” Natsume said emphatically.

Nyanko-sensei scoffed.

“A couple years ago there was this coach who was always chasing after me to recruit me. I was running from her, trying to get off school grounds so she couldn’t follow me, but then I saw that there was this huge yokai on the path out of school. Big fangs, sharp teeth, claws, all that.  I’d have to double back to avoid it, and the coach would catch me. So… I took the better option, and I ran past the yokai.”

“Idiot. Did it attack you?”

“I took a swing at me and knocked me out. But because of that the teacher was reprimanded for making the sickly kid collapse and they threatened to fire her if she ever chased a student again. She stopped trying to ask me after that. So it all worked out.”

“I don’t understand humans,” Sensei sighed. “Anyway, I’m in favor of the track team. If it helps you run faster, that means less of you getting snatched by yokai and less work for me.”

“Stop being lazy and trying to skip out on your bodyguard duties, Sensei. Yokai shouldn’t be chasing me down in the first place, it’s your job to take care of them.”

“I’ve got my own life to live! Stop being so selfish!”

“I’m the selfish one?”

They bickered all the way to the school gate, and though Natsume would never admit it to Nyanko-sensei, it did make him feel a lot better.

---

Part 1 complete! Part 2 to come. This is probably about halfway there, if not more.

Footnotes:

*Yes, Sasada has a sports and academic rival yuri storyline in the background. Yes I'm being self indulgent. It's what she deserves. It probably won't come up much more, I just thought it would be funny. Sasada's having this whole romantic epic while Natsume's worrying about track.

*Touko has been bragging about how kind and helpful you are, Natsume, you dummy. And about the garden he made and how it was good it was and other things Natsume does really well he hasn't noticed. She's also probably noticed he's fast and relatively strong for his size, he's always fetching and carrying stuff for her, but Coach thought she was exaggerating. UNTIL NOW.

[creedslove]

MAKING OUT WITH THE BRIDE'S FATHER - JOEL MILLER HEADCANONS ✨

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: the reason why I love Pedro so much is that he always makes me feel alive no matter how bad the situation is 💟

A/N #2: besties I'm so sorry about this Headcanon, I know it's sooooo bad, but I had the idea several weeks ago I think I don't really remember and I've been writing a little bit every day since but I went through a lot in a short time and I lost inspiration but at the same time it was really bothering me to see it lying in my drafts unfinished, I'm sorry it sucks, but I love you all 💕

• you met Sarah Miller when she was only a freshman girl, completely lost in her first day of college after she was dropped off and looking like a scared little deer even if she tried assuring you she was alright

• you were a few years older than her and you'd been there, so you pretended to believe she was alright but still offered her some help to get her dorm organized and simply find herself around campus; she quickly accepted it and that was how your friendship had started

• during the semester, you became one of Sarah's best friends; as you were always there to help her out, advise her or simply offer her some company or comfort the days she felt lonely and missed her family too much - you knew she didn't know her mom and she was raised by her dad and her uncle which you thought it was pretty awesome of them, but other than that, you didn't actually hear much about them, as you both often talked about other stuff

• and so the years passed and soon enough Sarah was graduating and marrying her college sweetheart, Ben, who'd been introduced to her by you during a party, so it was more than exciting to be invited to that beautiful party

• so you packed your bags, got yourself a decent place on Airbnb and went to Austin, to celebrate the wedding of your beloved friend, due to conflicting schedules, you could only get there a few days before the wedding, which ruined your plans of meeting Sarah's family, having dinner together and getting to the city, since the most you were able to do was just handle the last adjustment and details for your dress, help Sarah with the arrangements for the party and of course, party hard in her bachelorette party

• the bachelorette party was partially organized by you, as you never really knew how those things were supposed to go, other than just the scenes you saw in several movies, should you go to a male strip club? Should there be men half naked rubbing themselves against you and your friends? You weren't so sure, so you talked to Sarah and you picked a nice nightclub to dance and drink

• so you and your group of friends hit the club, all in your best clothes, nice heels and Sarah wearing a cute little party veil so everyone would know she was the bride to be. The night was perfect and you danced and drank as much as you wanted, knowing you could just call yourself a Uber to go home

• you stayed until the end of the party, your group of friends had all left home in different Uber rides and Sarah was picked up by Ben just some moments ago, so you grabbed your purse, paid for your part of your check and went to the parking lot, since your uber wouldn't take much to get there

• and that was when you saw him: easily the most handsome man you'd ever seen, older than you of course, tall, broad, brown hair salt and peppered and leaning against his truck. He seemed to be waiting for someone, but his attention was immediately shifted towards you, and he couldn't pay attention to anything else

• you just caught Joel's attention as you walked out of that bar; you didn't seem drunk or wasted, but definitely a little tipsy and while he wasn't a creep - Sarah had accidentally called him and asked him to pick her up and there was no way in the world he wouldn't come for his little girl, even if she wasn't little anymore and was going to be a married girl in a couple of days

• and even when she explained to her dad that she didn't mean to call him and he didn't need to pick her up because she was already going home with Ben - clearly drunk, which bothered Joel but he couldn't actually do anything about it - he said he was just going back to sleep, omitting the fact he was already at the parking lot waiting for her. She wasn't a child anymore, but he really missed when she was one because then, she would still be his sweet little Sarah wearing her cute star PJs to bed, and not exiting the club completely drunk like she did a while ago

• but all that whining went away in the blink of an eye once Joel spotted you, because he couldn't recall seeing a better looking woman at a bar in so fucking long, that or it was because he hadn't gotten laid in so long, his balls might've been blue but he wasn't just gonna empty them on the first woman he saw, so he just kept using his hand for it

• but you... He swallowed hard and decided to take a few steps towards you, after all, it wouldn't hurt just to make sure you were doing okay and no creeps were bothering you, because he wasn't a creep, he just wanted to make sure you were alright

• and when you saw Joel walking towards you, you felt your breath caught in your chest. He was so freaking handsome, big and manly, the kind of man to put you on all fours and fuck you while he whispers into your ear what a good girl for him you really are

• and you didn't remember much of your interaction with him, when you realized what you were doing, you were pressed against the hood of his truck, kissing him hungrily while his strong hands squeezed your body and roamed all over you; your hands messing up with his curls, tugging at them slightly as you moaned into his mouth, against better judgement you could let yourself be fucked by him at that moment

• however, you didn't even know his name, it was a dangerous game your body begged you to play, but your rational side was still too alert for it, so when you managed to see your Uber had arrived, you found strength in yourself to get rid of his intoxicating touch in your body and simply run to the car, you should've asked his name, but you didn't

• and the following days after that night at the bar, as much as you tried thinking of something else, all you could focus on, was that handsome man and the way he held you, he gripped your body and kissed you; it was different from any kind of touch you'd experienced, that mysterious man seemed addictive to you

• but as the wedding approached, your lustful thoughts had to be placed aside so you could focus on all the tasks you had to do: help Sarah get ready, check the venue for her and so on, not to mention getting ready yourself for the event, being so busy you totally skipped the part where you'd meet her family

• as you waited in church for her with the rest of your friends, you couldn't help but being extremely shocked to see Sarah walking down the aisle by her father, whom you had never actually seen before that night at the bar, but he happened to be your mysterious fling from the parking lot

• Joel also couldn't believe the hot girl he'd made out with was his daughter's best friend, he knew he was older than you even if you both hadn't much time to talk, but he didn't expect that

• you two had to stop those feelings aside so you could focus on the ceremony, but the way Joel kept glancing at you, made it pretty obvious you'd have a very interesting wedding reception afterwards 😉

____

[chimivx]

gimme gimme gimme -> mingi x fem!reader -> nice for what

Friends have graduated, board positions have changed, relationships are brand new and ever changing, but you and Mingi… You don’t change. Which to some should be a comfort, peace of mind knowing your partner is right by your side, always there for you especially in your times of need… You can’t figure out why you don’t feel the same.

wc: 8.4k warnings: 18+, sexual content and alcohol consumption in every part, infidelity themes... if i missed anything please let me know! posted: 12/8/24 3;50 pm est.

masterlist ~ next part ->

june.

Disgusted.

Betrayed.

No, disrespected.

No. God, what was it?

Arms folding over your denim strapless crop top, you abruptly faced the round table covered in an embroidered dark blue cloth. K.Y. was stitched along the edges lined with a lighter blue silk. Other tablecloths had Dr. Kang in their silk, or Nasara University Graduate. Outside, beneath a massive white tent fit for a royal wedding, the warm summer air blew through the crowd of people on the dance floor in the center of it all, and over the heads stuck in white wooden chairs at their tables, like you, too… something… to dance.

Too annoyed.

No, that was a weak argument.

Too… frustrated to get up and frolic around your friends smiling and laughing, the group having the best time celebrating their graduate, Yeosang.

Everyone was in attendance. Aurora and Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Soul, your boyfriend Mingi, Yuna, Ryujin, and all other faces from ATZ and ITZ alike. Ones Yeosang approved of. Hongjoong was here, hiding behind Jongho somewhere no doubt, if the upcoming Nasara Junior wasn’t clinging onto Yuna. San spun around the floor in circles making his rounds beneath the tent ensuring at least three people were contenders to take home, and somewhere along the back of the crowds, sticking close to some of the newer ATZ boys, was Yunho.

The boy tried to hide, tried to stay low on the radar, but Aurora sniffed him out. She had tabs on him at all times, every minute, every hour, she knew where he was. That boundary she set in place with him back in October, it still stood true, and he hadn’t broken it. He would speak to her only when she spoke to him, but even then each moment was few and far between. It didn’t stop his lovesick eyes from latching to her while Wooyoung twirled her in his arms, attempting to leech any of the feeling dripping off of the couple that still wasn’t officially a couple.

Disgusted.

Now it felt appropriate to use. 

Their bond, one clearly meant to be whether they were a couple or not, had started to fill you with frustration at some point, a type of anger you couldn’t place as anger until winter break rolled around. Vacationing with Mingi and his family for two weeks you kept up with Aurora and her life, staying as close to her as you possibly could while on the other side of the country on an island off the coast of Paix. As her best friend, and her yours, she sent you daily updates of her life and her lovelife. She and Wooyoung weren’t dating, but they were hooking up, they were going on dates, they did all things couples do. Clearly in the honeymoon phase, the way she’d smile through the phone while she spoke about him sparked your many questions as to why they won’t just pull the trigger and make it official.

She had the same response each time. A smack of her lips against her teeth, a measly shrug, and a mumble of, “I dunno.”

To make matters worse, it seemed Wooyoung had the same reaction as well. Half a shrug and a funny face, it’d been Mingi confirmed, the boy you slept next to for two weeks straight in a bed fit for four, sometimes with him all the way on the other end snoring away at some point in the night while you laid awake and listened to Aurora’s whispers of her newfound, exceptional, most amazing, beautifully soul tied, passionate, hot and heavy romance she and Wooyoung had discovered.

She never described it that way, that’s just how it sounded to you in your head.

Most nights during that vacation you’d hung up the phone and glanced to your right at the stretch of a boy snoozing away half naked beneath the sheets. Blonde tipped hair with melty chocolate roots, he was always gorgeous, but it sparked a different feeling within you those two weeks and the months to follow. 

All the way to today.

Tonight.

Dressed similarly to you, by your request, a denim style button down and black pants strapped to his rail thin waist with a belt, Mingi sat backward in a chair beside you. His ring adorned hands rested on his thighs, tapping to the beat of the song that flooded the air beneath the tent. His head bobbed along too, the blonde brushing his forehead where he had it parted to the side, pushed back onto his head. Gazing out at the dance floor, at his friends chanting along to the song that’d play within the walls of the fraternity, he unconsciously released a sigh, one you couldn’t hear, but feel.

“Just go dance if you want to,” you spat without giving him a look. Leaning forward you rested your elbows on the soft cotton of the tablecloth and reached for your glass of champagne. You weren’t sure how many you’ve had so far.

Mingi turned his chin toward you, an eyebrow raised in pure question, his eyes reading the same. “Hm?” he hummed, leaning toward you. Watching you knock back the rest of your flute, he held out a hand to take it, but you slammed it to the table instead. “Do you wa-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, tipping your chin backward, eyes squeezing shut. “I said go dance if you want to!”

The bass of the music tickled your skin as the sound in the speakers shifted into that of a rapper that the crowd approved of. It was slower, the rhythm sultry and smooth, a familiar sound your body had been conditioned to know. You didn’t even want to look at him, you knew what face he’d be wearing. He’s had you on your back many times to this song.

“Tori,” Mingi said with no strong voice inflictions detected. Looking at him, a grimace on your face, the softest smile on his, you felt your heart twinge. “I was only asking if you wanted another drink.”

“Oh,” you breathed. Flickering your eyes around, at him, at the table, at your empty glass, you said, “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

He took your glass and hurried off with nothing more than the small smile he wore.

Behind his large frame that blocked half of the dance floor from your sight, removing his presence meant unveiling another frustration. Or, rather just one, the same one, Aurora and her lovelife, but it’d been doubled and shoved back into your face.

Dancing, eyes half closed, heavy as she twirled and spun and let the music move her about, she no longer stood within Wooyoung’s arms, but instead anothers. Wooyoung remained by her side, singing, dancing, but he didn’t hold her. He watched her. Shaggy blonde hair, baggy black clothes, pale creamy skin, big black eyes. He wore a smile, Soul did, while his arms hung around her waist, his hands toying with the swishy black fabric of the sundress every so often when her moves would allow it. 

Over the course of that vacation you took with Mingi, when Aurora would spend time with Wooyoung, there was one day for every two spent with him that Soul would tag along. That Soul would be involved. That Soul was coming with. That Soul would nudge against her cheek with his own, pushing her out of the Facetime frame, shirtless with messy hair and a dopey smile. Within seconds of him taking over a call you’d be forced to stare at Wooyoung’s ceiling as the phone dropped to his bed and the three of them bickered over nothing, laughed, then bickered some more until Aurora would pick the phone up and bid you goodnight.

It wasn’t something they shared with everyone else, but you knew. It took her some time to tell you, to admit it, but she said the words at ATZ’s New Years Eve party. Drunk, lounging on the leather couches while the boys played through the annual pong championship they created themselves, she whispered the words when Soul swung by to refill her cup for her.

“Have you ever had a threesome before?”

With a shake of your head she set off and spewed every little detail of her winter break adventures, most of which you already knew of. They weren’t dating, her and Wooyoung, but there was an unspoken thing between them that meant they belonged to one another. Kind of like how you and Mingi started out. Aurora and Wooyoung weren’t together, for whatever reason the two of them only know, but you supposed it left some wiggle room, some grey area open for them to be able to pull Soul into the bedroom with them.

So much time between the three of them was spent at Wooyoungs in Delo. Weekends, sneaky nights after group dinners, after ATZ parties for the remainder of the year. The three of them were hooked. They were experts at keeping it on the downlow most times in public, but they were insufferable.

Disgusted.

At first you couldn’t pinpoint why. That anger, that frustration that soon settled into rage as the months flew by to graduation where you all came together to support Yeosang and Ryujin as they crossed the stage in Iloa at the Lions Stadium in the gorgeous May sunshine. Isla and Vernon came to the ceremony and dinner afterwards, reconnecting with faces they hadn’t seen in a while. Neither of them were able to come to the party to everyone's dismay, the team was traveling south this week for games, the Lions princess getting some much needed tropical time, or so she’s mentioned a trillion times with a thousand devil emoji’s. 

After a media blow up of Isla, her name and her life, she’d been finally able to wriggle free of some imaginary restraints put over her, and she was living her life for her. The way she’d always intended. Sober for two and a half months now, she kept the group chat updated with each passing week, she’d begun paving her own path in the sports world, trying to build and create her own empire of women like herself that have struggled with addiction, self-discipline, empowering them to take control of their lives and their futures. 

Her follower count has breached a million, growing every single day. Without the help of her brother. Without the help of Vernon, her boyfriend, the two finally together after years of pretending there wasn’t anything between them. Isla was happy, finally, and she deserved it. 

But, you missed her. 

Now with Aurora mixed up between two boys who were the greatest sex of her life-

“Even Yunho?”

“Y-yes, even him. Shut up.”

Aurora had two boys. Yuna had Jongho, the two in a talking-hook up phase that’d slowly been turning into a let’s dress up and go out to dinner phase as of late. Ryujin, freshly graduated, met a girl at her internship at the end of the semester, in May. It hasn’t even been a month and the two were already looking at apartments in Iloa together. 

Everyone had brand new exciting things happening for them, happening to them, and it filled you with a cold dread that, now that it was June, had turned into resentment for every single one of them. Even the sweet boy who brought you a sparkling champagne glass filled to the brim with bubbles. With a smile he popped it into your outstretched hand and manicured fingers. His eyes, deep brown, filled with a pureness he’s had since day one, since the moment you two exchanged names on the front lawn of ATZ, heads tipping back in identical shrieks gathering attention all because you shared a last name. 

He was your one and only, the love of your life. He matched you, mirrored you in every single way, shape and form. He’s seen every side of you, Mingi has, and he’s never judged you for any of them. Hungover and grumpy, he’s been there to take care of you. Silly, a bout of the zoomies, he’s there to laugh with you and catch you when you crash. Overwhelmed, feeling as though you can’t work anything out, figure anything out, especially since taking the Vice President position your best friend offered you, Mingi’s been there to talk things out with, to create plans, and sort through work. 

He’s that cheesy shit authors publish… Your sun, your moon and all your stars. You didn’t believe it until you met him, until he caught you every single time you fell and aided you back to your feet. His friends will joke that he’s down bad, and a simp, but he didn’t give two shits. He loved you, and you loved him.

You loved him undeniably so that it gutted you to even admit to yourself that you wanted more.

You craved more.

You yearned for something fresh, something new, something to give you that rush, the feeling of the chase. Going on year three with Mingi, you knew everything. You’ve learned everything. The two of you have pretty much tried everything too. 

For three years you’ve been able to tell him every thought that flowed through your head, from how pretty the moon looked to how fucked up it was that your parents missed parents weekend again for the second year in a row because of your younger sister. How the hell were you supposed to articulate to him, the biggest softie in ATZ, that nothing about your relationship excited you anymore? 

“What’s the matter, Tor?” he asked you, sitting on the edge of his seat facing you. Watching your glossy lips sip the bubbles and look out toward the dance floor, he sighed, but this time you could hear it. “You’ve been on edge since yesterday, and it’s two weeks too early, so… Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“No,” you said, swishing your glass before downing another gulp. Lifting the glass toward him you flashed him a sarcastic smile. “But thanks for the reminder I’ll get my period on vacation.” 

“Is it that?” He shoved his hands between his thighs, his eyebrows furrowed above his sappy eyes. This is what Mingi liked to do. Analyze you. Pick you apart. Solve the problem. In the past, without this nagging living beneath your skin, you’d appreciated it and looked forward to it, knowing he was there to lean on, to give all your problems to. Now, it made you want to smash your champagne flute onto the ground. “All of us going to Haos? We’ve been packed, we’re good. I have our plane tickets, we know what’s going down, we’re going to be okay.”

Haos. Your fabulous beach vacation you were taking for a month with a select few beneath this tent. A select few you have ample problems with. One sided problems. At the beginning of May it was decided you’d vacation in Haos with your friends, stay there for thirty days, all of you in one house just big enough for six of you. The beach town lured Nasara students in, so the rest of your friend group would be headed down there to stay close by but thankfully not in the same house. You were set up to be surrounded by more of the same.

The same fun people, the same drunken memories made, hanging onto the same safe, secure Mingi like you have been for years. 

“Of course we’re gonna be okay,” you mumbled, sipping your drink.

He smiled, all teeth. “We will be, I promise you.” 

Assuming he solved it, he cracked the code, Mingi redirected his attention to the dance floor and his friends, Aurora now back in Wooyoung's arms, hanging onto his front and his black t-shirt. The three of them matched, Ror, Wooyoung, and Soul.

Gross.

You took a peek at Mingi and his threads.

Damn it.

Hands latched onto your back, acrylic fingernails grabbing onto your shoulders, pink glossy lips coming close to your ear. “Um, Jongho bought me something.”

Glancing over your shoulder at Yuna’s wide, bright eyes, you tried to smile. “What’d he get you?”

She shrugged, flipping her chocolate hair over her shoulder as she took the seat beside you. “No idea,” she laughed, scooting her chair closer to you. “He said he’ll give it to me when we’re in Haos.” Her eyes scanned over the table and the empty glasses over it. “Lost my drink,” she muttered.

“Here comes Jongho,” you breathed, eyeing the massive boy as he left the dance floor, his black hair fluffed and pushed over his forehead and sharp eyes. “I’m sure he’ll get you another one.” Mingi held out a hand for his brother to slap, then looked over at you, the two of you sharing a few seconds before you twisted to face Yuna who melted into her boy's arms when he wrapped them around her shoulders.

“You guys are leaving tonight, right?” Yuna asked, a big ass smile on her face. Jongho looked between you and Mingi before he pressed a few kisses to her cheesy cheeks.

Swallowing your cringe, wanting to reach out and rip them apart, you nodded and pushed your hair behind your back to show off more skin and the M around your neck on a gold chain. Your boyfriend sipped his drink and smiled at his friends. He didn’t look at you like you wanted him to.

“We’ll be on a plane in a few hours,” he said. 

Yuna glanced to the dance floor, then to you. “Those three are going with you, right?” With a roll of your eyes, knowing which three she was talking about, you nodded again. “What goes on? Aren’t Wooyoung and Ror together? What’s the deal with Soul?”

One measly glance toward the trio grinding on one another like they weren’t surrounded by all of Yeosang’s friends and family, you turned to Yuna and said, “They fuck.”

Mingi sprung forward in his seat, his hands slapping to the table as his eyes shot open. “What!?” Both Yuna and Jongho’s jaws flew open, the pair clutching one another like you shot their mother. 

Sipping your champagne, you averted your gaze and laughed to yourself. “Oops.” You wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t tipsy or annoyed beyond belief. They were making it too obvious anyway, anyone with eyes who looked at them right now would be able to tell they knew each other too well. Looking their way, your stomach churned. They were headed toward their table, your table. “Well, shit.”

Wooyoung, with Aurora behind him, the two hand in hand with Soul on their heels, snuck around chairs and people alike, still rocking along to the music. Circling around the table, Aurora singing along to the song with the blonde boy behind her, Wooyoung eyed each and every one of you, his once happy eyes now struck with curiosity. Aurora flopped down into a chair across from you, not sparing you a glance as she leaned toward Soul who sat beside her sideways to face her, his elbow finding its way onto the table. Like they had a secret to share, endless whispers to exchange, the two spoke a mile a minute, Aurora’s hands flying like they did when she was drinking.

“Everybody okay?” Wooyoung spoke slowly at first, still standing beside his not-girlfriend who reached out to toy with Souls necklace hanging over his shirt. Yuna watched her sister, Jongho stared at Soul, Mingi didn’t know where to look. Wooyoung took them all in, then focused on you, hoping you’d give him an answer as to why everyone seemed like they were trying to work out who would go where in their heads. 

Jongho stood up straight, let go of his girlfriend, and stepped over to Wooyoung’s side holding out a hand for him to take. Hesitating at first, brows plummeting under his waves, he placed his hand in Jongho's and let him shake it. 

“Jongho!” Yuna exclaimed, bouncing in her seat, acquiring Aurora and Souls attention. 

Jongho took his hand back and shrugged toward her. “Can’t help it,” he said, then floated by her side to kiss her cheek. “Going to get you another drink.”

“What happened?” Aurora asked.

Wooyoung glanced at her and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, sitting down in his chair. “What happened?” Yuna, looking between the three of them, lips parted while her mind worked, she couldn’t give them an answer. 

“They’re mad we’re leaving tonight and they have to wait a few days,” you said, getting a look from Mingi. You didn’t like how it felt, so you gave one back to him. He nearly snapped his neck focusing back on the table in front of him.

“Ohhh-kay,” Aurora sang, observing how Mingi moved, asking you a question with her eyes when they met yours. Ignoring her, you focused on the rest of your champagne.

Soul pushed his chair back abruptly, jumping to his feet. “Who needs a drink?”

“Not you,” Wooyoung said, voice stern as he looked up at the boy.

Yuna, now leaning onto the table, still studying the trio, was quick to ask, “Why not?”

Both Wooyoung and Soul shot her a look, the timing impeccable it almost made you laugh.

“Because,” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly, “He’s had his tongue down San’s throat twice, if he has anymore to drink he’s gonna end up going home with him.” Turning to speak to Aurora, Yuna’s question pulled him back quicker than the previous one.

“Jealous?”

“What?” His eyes narrowed. Yuna started to laugh, Wooyoung did not know what to do. “What did you just say to me?”

Aurora threw an arm over one of his, pushing him backward in his chair. “Leave it,” she muttered as if she were talking to a dog. Squinting across the table, watching the way he calmed down in an instant, the way he looked at her, listened to her, seemed to adore her, you couldn’t help the way your lip curled. “God damn, I wanna be on a beach!” 

Soul, who had flopped back down beside her, let out a laugh, his being leaning toward hers. “A beach!” he mimicked, laughing with her. Wooyoung’s expression went unchanged, even as he watched the two fall into one another, their giggles sounding over the music playing throughout the tent.

“What the fuck,” Yuna said under her breath with a slight widening of her eyes, looking at you.

Pressing your lips together, you popped your brows and sighed. “Tell me about it.” 

“Do you wanna tell me now?”

Mingi unlocked his front door, pushing the finished white wood open for you to step inside first. Heels clicking on the tile of the foyer, you make yourself at home, dropping your little purse on one of the end tables by the couches a few steps into the house, into the living room. Leaning over one of the leather backed sofas you pulled off your heels and dropped them into his outstretched hands, Mingi having locked the door behind him, following behind you with an attentiveness that irked your very soul.

“I said I’m fine,” you breathed, keeping your voice low. Just down one of the halls that wrapped around the back of the house, behind the kitchen, behind the living room, was his parents bedroom. 

Up the stairs that you both teetered towards was his space, two bedrooms and a living room that mirrored the one on the first floor, but it’d been flipped by Mingi and his older brother when they were growing up. Full of things for school, exercise equipment, gaming systems, couches and bean bag chairs, Mingi and his brother made it theirs, their parents allowing them to have a space to call their own.

“And I’m saying, I don’t believe you,” Mingi whispered, placing a hand on your back to guide you up the stairs you wavered back and forth on. You tried to look over your shoulder but he placed his hand there instead, turning you back around. “Go, into my room,” he said, voice growing stern.

“Don’t get like that,” you grumbled, reaching the top of the stairs and the open floor waiting for you. To your left was the door to this brother's bedroom that had been vacant for a few years now that he was moved out and half married. “I’m tired, I’m drunk, I’m-”

“You’re not drunk, Tor,” Mingi said, wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you along the floor to his door at the other end of the second floor. A breath tumbled from your lips as your feet stumbled over each other. “You’re just tipsy enough to say too much.” He pushed open his door, not caring how it swung into the wall behind it.

“To say too much?” Your brows screwed together. Starting for his bed you tugged at the zipper on your pants, the silky black hugging your hips perfectly.

Mingi dropped your shoes on the floor by his door that he shut with a slam and smirked. “Yeah, too much. You think if Rora and Wooyoung wanted everyone to know they were hooking up with Soul that they’d say it themselves?” Shimmying out of your pants, tossing them aside, you pout your lips. “That’s their business,” he said, tossing his shirt over his hamper next to a tall chestnut dresser. “And that’s your best friend.”

Reaching up your back to attempt to take off your strapless top, you couldn’t reach the zipper. Mingi, after undoing his belt and zipper, his jeans hanging off his hips, he loosed a sigh and turned you around by your shoulders. Dragging his fingers over your skin gently, chills ran down your spine. With the zipper in one hand and your shoulder in the other, he tugged it down and let your top fall to the floor, wasting no time, smoothing his hand down your bare back.

“You looked so good tonight,” he whispered, his hands traveling back up, a smile dancing on his lips as he watched the little bumps over your skin rise at his touch. Taking your hair in his hands, his long fingers dancing through the strands, making sure none was left on your cheeks, he laid it over one shoulder and pressed his chest against your skin, the heat making you shiver. “My pretty girl,” his warm breath fanned over your neck, his lips inches from the skin, brushing over your ear first before they pressed to the valley beneath your jaw.

“We have to get on a plane,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as his hands smoothed down your front, over your chest, greedy as ever. He didn’t listen, lost in his own actions, lips pulling at your skin, sucking further and further down your neck, your collar bone, his hands groping, fingers pinching to make you yelp. “Mingi.” His name came out of you in a whisper, something soft, like a plea for more instead of a demand to stop.

His tongue slipped from his lips, a heavy fat stripe pressing into your skin from your collar bone to behind your ear where his teeth latched onto your lobe, nipping at it, his lips wrapping around the three different sized diamonds he had bought for you.

“We have twenty minutes,” he mumbled. Wrapping his hands around your arms he lifted a knee and tapped it against the back of one of yours, knocking your balance out from under you. Laughing to himself while you gasped and fell forward onto his mattress, he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades to keep you down while he lifted your knees one by one onto his bed. Bending over you, his lips came close to your ear and he whispered, “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” came out of you all too fast. If he didn’t put you into such a compromised position, if he wasn’t pinning you down to his bed, if he hadn’t hooked a finger under the lace of the thong you wore and pulled it to the side after snapping it against your skin once, you might’ve told him no simply because you were still ticked off from the party.

But then his jeans hit the floor, the sound of his belt smacking the wood echoing off his dark walls, and a warmth erupted within you. The sound, his hands, his voice, you were down in seconds, ready for him in seconds. Back arching as he dropped to his knees and slid his tongue between your legs, the muscle tweaking your clit, teasing you, a laugh falling from him as he felt you writhe beneath him. Clamping your mouth shut, jaw clenched, every sound, every moan, every whine, you withheld them from him, keeping them within your chest.

Smoothing a hand over the curve of your ass as he stood, letting his fingers trail up your back to your neck, he threaded his fingers through your hair and turned your head, forcing you to look back at him. “You’re such a liar, Tori,” he said, pushing his hips into yours, his length slipping along your center, another shiver running through you. “Something is up,” he whispered, taking a hand between your bodies, lifting one knee onto his bed beside one of yours, “And if you think I can’t tell…” his voice trailed off as he slipped inside of you, your hips pushing backward like clockwork, muscle memory, your body knowing what it wanted. “Fuck,” he grumbled, taking his time to fill you entirely.

Arching further into the bed, chest to his mattress, ass pressing into his hips, against his hips, you blinked fluttering lashes up at him and smiled. He was big, yes. The way his muscles rippled as he pulled out to push back into you was hot, yes. Mingi had the ability to lock you in, render you submissive with a single look, yes. He could make you feel so good, so fast, unlike anyone ever has. He knew your tricks, he knew your triggers, he knew your body like it was his own. Countless nights were spent here in his bed, or back at ATZ in his room, learning you. He could make you cum on his fingers in minutes, and on his dick even quicker.

His body curled around you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. Normally you’d both hate to be in one spot too long, you both craved more, you always did, but in a moment like this, one spot and his filthy mouth was enough.

For a moment, amongst the lust, the heat coming off of both of you, the fuzziness beginning to cloud your brain as he held you down and used you like a toy, you start to think that maybe you’re okay. Maybe this thing with Mingi will subside and leave you alone. If this month in Haos would be spent like this, the two of you on each other like sex crazed animals, maybe things would get better.

You and Mingi were the It couple when it came to your group of friends. It had always been you and Mingi, everyone adored the two of you, everyone knew you came as a pair, everyone could see the way you were with one another, comfortable, full of love, unafraid of how people would adore the sexiness that clouded your aura’s whenever you were together. Sometimes it felt like the bedroom door was always open, but you didn’t care, and neither did Mingi.

That’s how this month in Haos was supposed to go. You wanted the teasing, you wanted the noise complaints, you wanted to get caught locking lips and riding thighs late at night in a hot tub or the pool, plenty of spring breaks had been full of moments like those, but now, the attention would be elsewhere.

And you had yourself to blame.

Because you were tipsy enough to talk too much.

Mingi slipped a hand between your legs, his fingers swirling that sweet spot in circles, a whine involuntarily escaping you. He slid in and out of you so deliciously your toes were curling, but that feeling wasn’t building within you. That feeling he could so easily conjure, it couldn’t find you, and it spooked you. 

This hasn’t ever happened before.

You could speak up, you could say something. You could melt into him, ask him to flip over, tell him to do something else, but you couldn’t, you almost didn’t want to, and that killed you.

One thought of the vacation and your vibe was ruined.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, teeth biting into your shoulder. After a sigh he growled, “How the fuck are you not close, Torilynn.”

He almost had you, something sparked within you for a few seconds, but you couldn’t hold onto it for very long, so you decided to do something you’ve never once had to do with Mingi ever.

“I am, baby, I am,” you whispered, pushing a moan out of you that you knew would have him on the edge, “Don’ stop, Mingi, ‘hmygod.” Each thrust of his hips got sloppier and sloppier, his tongue pushed out of his mouth, lips latching to your neck as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of you. He was seconds away from pumping you full of his cum and you couldn’t be any further away.

So, you tightened every muscle, you squeezed him tight, threw your head backward, and you mimicked how you’d sound when you’d actually orgasm. You’ve never prayed a day in your life, but within these few seconds, amidst his husky grunts and groans, his whispers of how good you fucking felt, you prayed he was too pussydrunk to realize that you faked it. Pushing you further into the mattress, his body weight resting on top of you, he filled you like he does, the shortest strokes aiding in emptying him entirely, and then, after a minute of shared heavy breaths and long kisses, he pulled out and laid beside you.

“God, c’mere,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his side with ease like he would when your body was normally spent. “Kiss me, please.” And you did, letting him lead the way, every kiss soft and gentle. “I love you, Tori,” he whispered against your lips, “So much.”

Taking a hand to his cheek, toying with the ends of his blonde hair, you smiled into the kiss, willing away the guilt that greeted you in your gut. “Love you, too,” you whispered, curling a leg over his waist. “So much.”

Wooyoung had Aurora in his arms. Standing in line at security, you and Mingi a few steps ahead of them with Seonghwa in front of you, the couple that wasn’t a couple tried to occupy the same space as one another. Sharing whispers when her face wasn’t buried in his chest, Wooyoung would have his lips pressed to her forehead more than they spoke words. They were both in hoodies, his hoodies, and sweatpants. Her makeup was gone, they’d definitely showered, and Soul stood behind them with his nose in his phone. 

You’ve heard stories of how you and Mingi were with one another when the two of you started hooking up, when your relationship started. Only hearing the words, so caught up in the whirlwind of your own romance to realize how you were acting, you wondered if it looked anything like this. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, whether they were hooked around arms, waists, necks, or beneath the hem of a sweatshirt doing god knows what, the hands were almost worse than the kisses. On her forehead, on her cheek, pressed to his jaw, to his neck, to his lips if he looked down far enough for her to catch them. 

You should be happy for her. Her heart had been broken several times at the start of your junior year, and here she was, with everything she wanted, everything she deserved, and then some. It wasn’t a secret, even if their label confused everyone but themselves, he wasn’t afraid to love her outside of his bedroom walls. That’s what she deserved. Someone she could trust, someone who would put up with every rigid part of her, understand her flightiness and keep her on her feet. 

That might’ve been where Soul came in.

The bits and pieces you’ve heard from her, how it all worked, made it seem like Soul was something for them to play with, and vice versa. The boy going into his sophomore year fit right into your group of friends, you’ve all spent plenty of time getting to know him, he wasn’t one for relationships, for commitments. He wanted the fun, and who could blame him, he was twenty and about to start his second year of college, in no way was he planning on locking someone down, especially when he was trying to land a board position at ATZ his junior year.

He was in it for the fun, to get off without having to hunt and work for it, Aurora and Wooyoung handed it to him.

Moving forward in line, the six of you almost to the front, you met eyes with Seonghwa who glanced behind him checking in to make sure everyone was still there. He gave you a smile, his eyes crinkling under the strands of black hair that caressed his cheekbones. You wanted to know what went on in his head, all these months of watching Aurora and Wooyoung’s relationship blossom into what it is now, you longed to know how he felt about it.

Sure, the two of them put their shit to rest, Aurora and Seonghwa, having done so in front of nearly all of you. They were friends, strictly, that had been established in front of all of you.

Pulling your lips into a frown you wanted to physically shake the feeling off of you. Aurora had the eyes on her, since the start of your junior year. It wasn’t until all the shit blew over that you realized how it made you feel. Even after the fact, weeks, months later. You were there for her, you helped her through the transition of taking the president position, you even accepted when she asked you to be her vice president, and then, it was as if nothing had happened at all. Like no one remembered what any of you had gone through.

Yeji, expelled. Mina, pulled out of school by her own parents. Isla, kicked out of the sorority, gifted a lifelong struggle courtesy of Yeji herself. Yunho, shattering Aurora’s heart, ripping apart the tight knit group of four you adored being a part of. 

Parties were thrown, bans were lifted, life got easier.

Everyone moved on.

“Tor,” Mingi’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts, his hand extended for you to take. Seonghwa was headed through the line, a group of men and women calling him forward to send him through security, checking thoroughly through everything. “We’re next.”

Slipping your hand into his, folding your fingers together, your grip fitting in his like it was made to be there, you took to his side and pressed yourself against him. ”Should I tell them I said something?”

Mingi glanced down at you, then back to the three waiting a few steps behind you. He gave someone a smile, whoever caught him checking on them, and said, “That you outed their little threesome?”

Clicking your tongue you shook his hand around. “Come on. It was so damn obvious.”

Pressing his lips together he softened his eyes. “Tor, I know I’m not smart, but… it wasn’t.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you groaned, slouching. “Least you have something new to tell Yunho to show him what he fumbled.” Mingi clenched his jaw, his eyes shooting upward and around the airport. “What?” you asked, giving his hand a squeeze.

He shook his head. “Haven’t spoken to him since classes ended.”

Right. 

Of course he fucking hasn’t.

He’s said that to you.

All you could do was sigh, but that wasn’t answer enough. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked, looking down at you at his shoulder, a brow raised.

Shrugging, you used your other hand to gesture toward yourself, toward the day. “Everything,” you muttered, and smiled. 

Letting go of your hand he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you closer to him, smiling. “You’re tired, it’s okay,” he breathed, planting a kiss on your temple. “Sleep on the plane. When you wake up you’ll be on a beach.”

Taking a deep breath, you laid your head against him. “Thank fucking god.”

Sleep couldn’t find you. It wandered around you, teased you, reeled you in hook line and sinker, just to let you go with every tiny sound you’d probably be able to sleep through if your brain wasn’t full of bullshit you longed to be able to get rid of. Even with Mingi beside you, his eyes fluttering shut, eyelashes fanning his cheekbones the second his headphones were over his head, you couldn’t make it happen. He’d taken your hand at some point, his thumb dragging over the back letting you know he wasn’t completely asleep.

His blonde hair, shorter now that he’s gotten it cut, charmed you, as it normally would. His finger dragging over your skin, a little rough but all the more smooth, soothed you, as it normally would. His presence, his over-attentiveness, his need to keep you safe, taken care of, it overwhelmed you, when it normally wouldn’t.

Nauseated with yourself, with what you had just done to him, something you would never have to do, you were sick. You told each other everything, honesty was the glue that held the two of you together, he always said it himself, that the second that goes away is the moment your relationship is over. His own past haunted him just as yours did. His heart had been broken one too many times, the sweet faced gentle giant. Mingi craved loyalty, someone to look after, and someone to look after him, and he deserved it, more than anyone you knew. It’s been something you’ve been able to give him unconditionally all these years, and he’s been able to give the same back to you.

He’s never changed. He’s consistent. He’s too good.

“Hey,” a whisper pulled you from your circulating thoughts, the ones that haunted you when you were left alone for too long. Turning to your left, just over Mingi, Wooyoung was crouched over in the aisle. “Sorry.” He smiled and it tickled your skin. The boy oozed otherworldly beauty. “Ro’s asking for you.”

“Right now?” you asked, keeping your voice as low as his. People around you were either sleeping or trying to rest at this hour. Wooyoung nodded, his lips resting into something that triggered your fight or flight. “What does she want?”

“Won’t tell me,” he whispered. “Says she needs her sister.” His eyes narrowed but his face softened all at once. “Make sure she’s okay for me? Please?” His vulnerability with you is rare. With anyone other than Aurora his vulnerability was rare actually. One of the smartest in the group, an intelligent being with a knack for picking up on energies without even needing to meet the human being in person, he had the ability to hide his own, the ability to only show it when necessary, and it was powerful. His eyes pulled you from your seat, his words coercing you up without even realizing. The pied piper. A mastermind.

“I will,” you said as you passed by him, watching him slip over Mingi’s lap to take your seat. Your boyfriend opened his eyes when your hand slipped out of his. Sitting forward, he popped off his headphones and blinked up at you. “Going to talk to Aurora for a few,” you whispered, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, actually, I need to talk to you, too,” Wooyoung said, a hand tapping Mingi’s shoulder to both you and your boyfriend's surprise. 

“Sure,” Mingi said, his deep gravelly voice full of sleep.

Stomach sinking past your knees, through the bottom of the plane, plummeting into whatever state, city, county, jurisdiction you flew over, you gulped and turned away to start down the aisle.

She knew.

They knew.

They found out you said something. 

There isn’t anything else this could be about, Aurora needed to talk to you, Wooyoung needed to talk to Mingi, they knew you opened your mouth and outed them.

With each step you willed your breath to remain steady. Like Wooyoung, you were somewhat of an expert at keeping your secrets at bay, not showing any truth unless you wanted to share it with the class. That’s why Mingi hadn’t been able to see anything, you wouldn’t let him. Approaching Aurora now, peeking over her row, her in the middle seat, Soul sitting by the window with his head on her shoulder, you swallowed every groan, every eye roll at the sight, and sat down beside her.

Gazing out the window at the night sky, slouched a bit where she sat, one leg pulled up on the seat, leaning into the boy who snoozed on her, his tangled earbuds in his ears, she looked at you with the smallest smile, placing a hand over yours when it grabbed onto the armrest. 

“Hi,” she spoke within a whisper.

“Hi,” you answered, both of you keeping your voices low.

Her smile deepened. “I could feel your doom and gloom from back here.”

An eye roll snuck out of you. “You could, or Wooyoung could.”

Her smile vanished. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nevermind,” you breathed, “I’m just tired, I think once we’re there I’m going to sleep for forever.”

“Tori,” she studied you, “What did you mean by that?”

Remnants of this past school year. You might’ve been the only one still stuck, but that didn’t mean everyone else wasn’t affected by what had happened. She’d been doing this since the day she was appointed her position, asking for reassurance, double checking that everyone was good, that everyone was telling her the truth. You couldn’t blame her, if anything you were doing the same thing, just not outwardly. Aurora told you everything, though last fall she wasn’t, you understood she did it with good reason. She took how it made you feel and actively applied it to your friendship, and all the other relationships she valued in her life. 

Now you know too much, but nevertheless, at the end of the day, you are grateful she trusted you with such delicate details.

Delicate details that now half the friend group knew about.

“He knows people,” you said, taking her hand in yours. “That’s all.” Her eyes flickered between yours, analyzing, like her brain scanned you for any signs of dishonesty. “You don’t have to do this with me, you know that.”

Focusing her attention forward, eyes dropping to her lap, she shook her head. “Sorry,” she whispered, then turned back to you. “I just wanted to check on you, I feel like you’ve been off. Like we haven’t talked about stuff in a while.”

Because you’re spending so much time with Wooyoung and Soul?

Because you’ve been frolicking around like nothing occurred these last two semesters?

Because you act as though life is fine, like it’s nothing to take seriously?

“Summer gets busy,” you said to her, squeezing her hand, “We know this. We go back to living at home, we have bigger responsibilities now, we’re both in relationships, it happens, Ror.” Funny, she was supposed to be the one comforting you right now. “We’ll have so much time to catch up on the beach.” She started to smile. “We can leave the boys behind, or we can RorTor them to death like we used to, whatever you want to do.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, then placed a hand over Soul’s bleach blonde hair, dragging her fingers through the strands. “As long as he’s good. Seonghwa said he’ll keep him on a short leash, but… I worry about him.”

Your internal eyes narrowed. Your internal lips pulled into a scowl. The face you wanted to make lived deep inside of you, every feature screwing up into a What the fuck? You didn’t get it. He was a twenty year old going into his sophomore year of college, if he couldn’t take care of himself at this point, if he couldn’t get a grip on himself at this point… You didn’t think Aurora needed the responsibility of looking after him.

Your side-dick will be fine, is what you wanted to say to her. The pet you and Wooyoung play with can take care of himself.

You didn’t get it. Wooyoung confidently left them behind, Soul draped over her like they were the ones dating. It placed something in your gut, in your chest, something you’ve only felt when your parents showered your sister and her achievements in glitter and gold, when they seemed to care about her more.

That couldn’t be it.

That wasn’t what this feeling was, sitting here watching Aurora stroke the boy’s hair with her something of a boyfriend sitting a few rows ahead of them. You weren’t envious of this. You were not jealous, you did not wish to have this in your life. You didn’t yearn for change, for something new, for something fresh, for something taboo. 

“I can see it, Tor,” she said, a smile sneaking onto her lips. “There’s something wrong.”

“Aurora,” you whispered, the steadiness in your voice scaring yourself, “I’m fine.”

She gulped, let her stare bleed into yours for a few seconds, then pointed her eyes down to Soul. “Okay.” It was all she said, all she had left to say.

If Mingi couldn’t see shit, there was no way in hell you’d allow Aurora to see shit.

You wished it wouldn’t happen, but you could visualize the walls already built around you growing thicker.

It was like you said, you were fine.

You would be fine.

A month with them, just them, everyone, would sort everything out, as if you were back at school with them, back in close proximity to one another. It wouldn’t cause problems, it would solve them.

You hoped.

read it on ao3 | talk to me | my masterlist

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[trulybetty]

Sequins | Joel Miller x f!Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) + no outbreak AU Reader: no physical descriptions, reader wears a dress Word Count: 3,195 Warnings: 18+, smutty mc smut smut, alcohol, nightclubs, drunken behaviour, public sexual acts, Joel Miller comes with his own warnings. Summary: On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you. AO3: Linked

A/N: everyone and all, this fic is based on the post that launched a thousand thots and we can all thank @wildemaven for all of this as she inspired the whole thing.

Sequins.

The club was loud, the lights were bright, the drinks were way too expensive and you had lost sight of your friends on your way back from the bar.

Just as you were contemplating retreating to a quieter corner of the club to check your phone, you collided with a pair of broad shoulders.

“Whoa there,” the stranger said, steadying you by the arm. “You alright there darlin'?”

His voice was a deep Texas drawl and for a brief second, the noise of the club seemed less loud as you got lost in his dark brown eyes. They were weary but kind, a stark contrast to the rowdy atmosphere surrounding you.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,” you replied, adjusting your dress, cursing as several of the sequins dropped to the floor with the tug you gave it from where it'd rode up on your thighs. You clutched your drink a little tighter too, not wanting to lose the contents of the twelve-dollar highball you hadn't even had a chance to sip at yet. “Just lost my bearings for a second.”

He looked as out of place as you felt, clad in a button-up plaid green shirt and jeans, clearly uncomfortable amidst the flashing lights and thumping bass. It was endearing, in a way. With a little smile tugging at your lips, and the alcohol emboldening you, you decided to take a chance.

“You look a bit out of your element,” you winked, “First time in a place like this?”

He chuckled as he raised a curious eyebrow, “Is it that obvious ma’am?”

“A little bit,” you said playfully as you wrapped your lips around the thin cocktail straw of your drink. “But it's charming. So, what brings you here?” you asked, leaning in closer so he could hear you over the music, gesturing at the crowded dance floor.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and shrugged. “My brother's bachelor party, so I couldn't exactly say no,” he said, nodding toward a group of rowdy men holding up the bar at the other end of the room. “I'm the best man, so I had to come along and make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid.”

He glanced back at you, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a mischievous smirk. “What about you darlin'? You with anyone tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “We're here for a bachelorette party, seems like the place to be for pre-wedding celebrations tonight.”

His eyebrows raised in question, his gaze flickering to your left hand. “So is it safe to assume you're not the bride?”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips at his brazen assumption, the sound ringing out above the music.

Shaking your head, you had a smile still tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No, I'm the maid of honour,” you said, “I was supposed to be on duty, but I guess I failed because I can't find the bride.” Your gaze swept around for any sign of your group of friends but they were nowhere to be found.

He smiled, and for a brief second, the heavy bass and flashing lights seemed to disappear. “Well, if you’re failing your duties, I guess that makes two of us.”

You took a sip of your drink, the alcohol warming your throat, and looked Joel up and down. There was a rugged sincerity about him, a sense of grit that you found intriguing.

“So, you got a name cowboy?”

He laughed quietly as he shook his head, “Joel,” he answered, and you found the gesture of him almost offering his hand for a handshake endearing before he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “And who might you be sweetheart?” he asked.

You gave him your name before your tongue found the straw of your drink again and took a short sip. You could feel his gaze land on your lips as you sipped.

“Pretty name for a pretty face.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliment. His eyes were still fixed on your mouth and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, suddenly feeling a little awkward under Joel's gaze. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw a glint of amusement there, like he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“So, your girlfriend let you out for the night?”

He released a low chuckle from deep within his chest. “No girlfriend to speak of,” he answered with a shake of his head.

“How about a wife then?” you inquired, your eyes twinkling with curiosity.

He shook his head again. “Nope. Flying solo these days.”

You eyed him with interest, studying every detail-from the sparkle in his eyes to the subtle wrinkles around them. You hummed thoughtfully before replying, “Interesting.”

You couldn't help but feel a spark of attraction towards him. There was something about his demeanour that made your heart race. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his voice sent shivers down your spine. Whatever it was, you couldn't deny that there was chemistry between the two of you.

“Interesting, you say?” Joel leaned in, a coy grin on his face. “What's so interesting about a single guy at a bachelor party?”

You matched his posture, leaning in just close enough to make the tension palpable. “Well, a guy like you, good-looking, charming, single. It's either a mystery or a tragedy.”

Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement. “You think I'm charming, huh? Well, let's call it a mystery for now.”

You smiled. “A mystery it is, then.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, on the edge of the crowded venue, caught in a mix of smoky air, flashing lights, and electric vibes, sharing a sort of silent agreement that this meeting, this connection, was something more.

“So,” Joel hesitated, clearly trying to phrase his next question carefully. He cleared his throat, a little awkward as he tried to navigate the terrain of flirtation. “If you're here, not being the bride and all, and I'm here, not being the groom, would it be too presumptuous of me to assume that you're...uh, not seeing anyone?”

His roundabout way of asking made you laugh. It was a little clumsy but endearing in its awkwardness. His flirting skills were obviously rusty, but it just made him more appealing.

“No husband, no boyfriend. Free as a bird,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

He gave a half smile as he crossed his arms over his chest, the stretch of the shirt over his biceps and shoulders caused you to involuntarily lick your lips. A move that wasn't missed on him as he smirked to himself as he shifted in his stance.

“You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here,” you observed.

He looked at you, his eyes sincere. “Well, I wouldn't say 'anywhere.' I've enjoyed bumping into you, for one.”

It was evident now that there was attraction between the two of you. You could feel the electricity in the air around you, and it made your heart flutter in anticipation. The light from the club's strobe lights bounced off of your sequined dress, highlighting every curve of your body. His gaze seemed to linger on each one of them, causing a warmth to spread through you.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you both and stopped when his body was mere inches away from yours. His gaze lifted up to meet yours, and you swore that you could see a sparkle of desire deep within his eyes.

Your fingers trailed up his bare forearm, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even in the dim light of the club, you could make out the definition of the muscle that flexed under your fingertips. Your fingers ran back down and you outlined the watch at his wrist, the large dial secured with a green canvas strap. Pausing for a moment you looked up at him from under your lashes and you could see from the laboured rise and fall of his chest that he was feeling whatever it was between you two also.

You paused, lifting your gaze from Joel to scan the fringes of the dance floor, checking if anyone was watching or if you were at risk of being 'caught'. The crowd seemed too engrossed in their own worlds, dancing and laughing, oblivious to the electric connection you were sharing with Joel at the edge of the dance floor.

Without breaking eye contact, and in a move that surprised even you, you took his hand by the wrist and brought it to the hem of your dress, and under. He raised an eyebrow in a silent ask of permission, your response was to move his hand higher up your thigh. He didn’t need any further encouragement. His fingers, while calloused from manual labour moved deftly to push aside your underwear. His fingers curled into his palm, he let his knuckles run down the length of you, and you couldn’t help the gasp that bubbled up from your throat as they made their way back up, your hands still wrapped around his forearm. 

Joel's lips curved into a grin as he watched your reaction. He glanced around surreptitiously, then leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Is this what you want, darlin'?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You barely managed a nod, the closeness of him in combination of his fingers unfurling into you while the thrill of intimacy in a public setting tinged by the alcohol on your tongue was intoxicating. 

His body moved even closer to yours, your drink balancing precariously on your upturned palm as his other hand snaked past your hip to your ass, your dress riding up slightly in the process. He kept his hand in place, his thumb gently ghosting your clit with steady pressure and his index finger and middle finger parted and slowly slipped inside of you. You let out a soft moan as your body adjusted to his fingers, and your grip around his forearm loosened.

He leaned in, his lips travelling down your neck. You felt a shiver run through your body as his teeth grazed over the exposed skin, each kiss sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. He dropped kisses to your exposed neck, his lips tracing a line up to your ear. He whispered something inaudible, the words barely discernible over the music blaring from the speakers. 

Your one arm wrapped around his neck while your free hand found its way to his broad shoulder, you held on for dear life as he continued to drop soft kisses along your collarbone. Your nails dug in as his fingers somehow managed to move deeper. His thumb increased its pressure as his fingers curled inside of you, coaxing out the sensation that had been building inside of you since the second you'd bumped into him.

The thrill of being caught heightened every sense and quickly was building a delicious tension between your hips and you let out a sigh that was drowned out by the thumping beat of the music. He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eye before leaning back in to finally put his lips to yours, his fingers never once losing their steady pace as you hungrily returned his kiss.

As soon as he broke the kiss to catch his breath, your lips never left his. Your tongue invaded his mouth, tasting the alcohol on his tongue from the drink he'd finished earlier, before your teeth clenched into his bottom lip. He let out a soft moan as you bit down, your fingernails now scraping the back of his neck.

A moan escaped your lips as he quickened his pace, the perfect timing catching you right at the edge of your climax. His grip on your waist tightened and he pulled you towards him. His free hand rubbed the small of your back in a soothing circle, trying to calm your uncontrollable trembling.

You could feel the jagged hiss of his breath against your ear as he pulled away just enough to whisper “Let it go, darlin’.”

You pressed against him, your nails biting into his shoulder as you came hard on his fingers.

“Joel...” you managed to whimper out as you clung to him.

Your breath hitched and before you knew it, a wave crashed through your body, carrying with it sensations unlike the ones before. Your nails dug into Joel's shoulder as waves of pleasure coursed through every nerve-ending in your body until eventually they subsided and all that was left was the warmth radiating from between your thighs and Joel's softly whispered words in your ear telling you how beautiful you were.

You collapsed against him, completely spent your body still quivering around him he held you steady, never once taking his hands away.

He glanced around to see if anyone had caught sight of your public display, and thankfully no one had. “You okay there sweetheart?” he said breathlessly, his hand still in place, sliding in and out of you slowly and teasing as you tried to regain some composure.

He looked at you with a soft smile, your free fingers now playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. The bass was now shaking the floor, its vibrations now mixed with the buzz of your orgasm.

He smiled as he slowly pulled his hand away, his fingers slipping from your body creating a shiver to run through you. He leaned in closer and softly grazed his lips against yours before pulling away.

“That was…” your voice trailed off as your tongue stumbled trying to find words, your voice barely audible over the music.

Joel’s lips curved into a mischievous smile, just on the edge of uttering a response, when a lurching figure ambled up and draped their arms across his shoulder.

“Hey! There you are! Brother-” the slurred voice that came from the man who had stumbled into Joel. Based on the striking resemblance it could only be his brother whose bachelor party he'd mentioned it was. Joel quickly let go of your hand to suddenly catch him as he stumbled, shouldering the weight of his younger brother - the only thing now that was keeping him standing, “I think I want to go find Maria.” Tommy hiccuped, unaware of the spell he had just broken.

Joel's face flushed crimson and he looked at you apologetically, “I think it's time to get you home, Tommy.”

You took a step back, understanding the need for him to take care of his brother and trying not to make things awkward.

“Maybe I could give you my number? Maybe we can catch up when your hands aren't so full?” You gestured towards Tommy, whose eyes were glassy as tried to remain upright.

He frowned slightly before understanding crossed over his features and a grin appeared on his face, “Well, a gentleman could never say no to a lady such as yourself.”

He handed over his phone, managing to retrieve it from his back pocket while still holding Tommy, who was currently singing the praises of his fiancée in a tipsy monologue. You quickly tapped your way through the phone, pausing only to smile at the phone's background.

“Alright, you're all set,” you said, handing him back his phone with a smile before you busied yourself with your own briefly.

“Was that your number I just got a notification for?” he asked, pocketing the phone.

You smirked and said, “Why don’t you check it out when you get home? It's more of a surprise that way.”

He chuckled, before ushering his brother out the door. He paused and looked back at you, mouthing 'bye' as he put his arm around Tommy's waist and started walking away.

You watched them go, your eyes lingering on Joel's figure until they disappeared into the crowd. You blew out a long breath, feeling your heart thump in your chest from the adrenaline rush of what had just taken place. Your body still felt tingly from where his fingers had been moments ago and you allowed yourself to bask in it for a few more seconds before shaking off the trance-like state, and heading out to find your friends who had been blowing up your phone wondering where you were.

As you tucked yourself into bed, your phone buzzed with a new message. Opening it, you found a text from Joel.

Hey darlin', get home safe?

Smiling, you tapped out a reply, Yes, thank you for asking. How about you, cowboy?

Just got home. Tonight was something. Glad we met.

Feeling your heart swell with affection, you set your phone down on the bedside table. Squeezing your thighs together it was almost as if you could feel his fingers lingering there still. You didn't know how long you'd been lost in your thoughts when they were interrupted by a dip in the bed behind you.

A warm arm wrapping around your waist pulled you against their chest, the bristle of a beard that refused to grow nuzzled into the space between your shoulder and neck. 

“There’s sequins all over this damn house.”

“My dress,” you murmured half asleep as you leaned back into the embrace, kisses ghosting the underside of your jaw. “They just kept falling off.”

“Did you have a good night?”

“Mm, I did. It was... unexpected,” you responded, feeling the gentle press of his lips against your skin as he chuckled softly. “How about you?”

His arm tightened around you for a moment, pulling you even closer to him. “Well, I met this incredibly beautiful woman at some club, and it turns out she's already my wife. So, I'd say it's a win.”

You laughed quietly at that, loving how he could still make your heart race even after years of marriage. “You're incorrigible,” you said, placing your hand over his where it rested on your waist.

Joel chuckled softly into your hair, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine despite the coziness of your surroundings, “In the best way, I hope,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

“The very best way,” you confirmed, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. You were both right where you belonged, and despite the evening's antics, that thought filled you with a profound sense of peace.

You smiled, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes in the dim light filtering through the curtains. “And how's Tommy? Did he make it to bed alright?”

Joel sighed, “Ah, well he definitely had one too many, gettin’ him into bed was like wrestlin' a bear, but he's sleeping it off. Thanks again for ordering that Uber darlin', I wouldn't have had a clue. Thought he was going to kick us out at one point, Tommy hollerin' about how much he'd drank.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, absorbing the feel of each other, the simple joy of being close after a night that had, at first, seemed destined to keep you apart.

As you began to drift off, Joel kissed the back of your head, whispering softly, “I love you, sweetheart.”

A contented smile tugged at your lips. “I love you too, Joel.”

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I could make one where it's Balwin's birthday and his beautiful wife is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom and he performs a belly dance for him in front of all the guests at the party and Balwin gets jealous and jealous and takes her to his rooms and tells him claim

♧ My Eyes Alone - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request. I think this was another one of the requests that got deleted in the first batch so thank you for sending it in again! Sorry about that 😭. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

The queen of Jerusalem always prided herself on modesty.

Prior to being wed to her husband, she was a dancer. A belly dancer to be exact. And while this art was more revealing than some would prefer, y/n always carried herself with a modest grace that was admirable to many.

Baldwin knew of her hobby and had no issue with it. He knew that despite it being more revealing than he would prefer, she enjoyed it and he didn't have the heart to take it away from her. He knew that while her beauty caused some eyes to wander in her direction, dancing made her happy. So he just had to deal with it.

Until one day.

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

It was the afternoon of the king's birthday, and everyone in the castle had been celebrating all morning. Spirits were high and so was the amount of alcohol many had consumed.

It was planned that y/n and a few other women from her dance group were set to perform for the guests later in the day.

The women had gone to get ready, leaving the guests to prepare for the performance. When the group entered the courtyard, all eyes went their way.

Their beautiful jewelry sparkled in the sun, as did their soft, smooth skin that caught the attention of a few men who had a little too much to drink.

As the music started and the dance began, Baldwin felt a sting of jealousy permeate his body.

His wife looked absolutely stunning of course, but because of this she caught the attention of Guy and some other men. He watched them from his seat at the table: chuckling and pointing, objectifying and lusting.

Baldwin bit his tongue underneath the mask as he felt rage bubble inside of him at their disgusting, drunken behavior.

He tried his best to contain himself and not allow envy to consume him, but the jealousy was strong. Not just jealousy, but rage.

How dare they objectify his queen. Look at her as if she was an animal in a cage to be stared at.

This was more than he could handle.

But finally, the dance was over. As the women filled out, Baldwin followed them. Approaching his wife, he tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, grinning

“Baldwin darling, did you enjoy the performance?” she said cheerfully.

The king nodded quickly before speaking,

“come with me to our chambers, I need to speak with you” he said, taking her by the hand and quickly leading her away.

The smile faded from y/n’s face as she followed Baldwin up the stairs to their rooms. Her mind was racing. Had she done something wrong? Was he alright? Finally, they arrived.

Baldwin closed the door behind them,

“is everything alright Baldwin? What happened-” y/n was cut off by her husband wrapping her in a firm hug.

“I did not like how those men looked at you,” he said softly. The queen sighed and returned his embrace.

“Oh my love, I can assure you it's alright-” she started, only for Baldwin to cut her off again.

“No, it's not alright! I hate it when people look at you as if you are an object to be touched. I hate it so much” he sounded on the verge of tears.

Y/n sighed again and held him tightly.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry for letting that happen darling. I shouldn't have performed in such a large crowd” 

“But it's not your fault. You shouldn't be sorry, they are the ones who should be sorry. I just hate seeing them treat you like that” he said quietly.

The two embraced for a while longer, sharing words of adoration before the queen changed her clothes and they returned to the courtyard.

Y/n did not leave her husband's side for the remainder of the day, just as some extra reassurance.

The rest of the day ran well and the queen remained safe from the prying and vile eyes of drunkards, thanks to Baldwin's peircing glares at whoever so much as glanced in her direction.

Despite the circumstances, y/n felt butterflies in her stomach about the situation. She loved it when Baldwin was jealous. It wasn't often that he was, but it always made her feel safe and protected. 

It was nice to know that of all the men in the world who wanted her body, there was one man who wanted her heart.

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me;

chapter two: can i be close to you?

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist | previous chapter

——

Those first few days pass in a blur.

You wake, often in Steve’s arms, your bodies coming together like moths to a flame. Like magnets. Neither of you says anything on the matter, merely brushing it off as the typical nature of your friendship.

He readies for the day, you watch him dress and go, and you take it upon yourself to clean up around the cabin in the woods. It’s odd, being that it’s the first time in a few years you have responsibilities like this. If you can call them that. Really, you only want to feel like you’re contributing something to the place you’re currently staying at.

Steve’s been kind enough to uproot his life for you, so it’s the least you can do. And when he comes home later in the evening, he cooks and you sit on the kitchen countertops, talking to him about his day. Soaking up the fact you can spend all this time with him now, without the societal pressures, parties, and social events to weigh you down.

About a week in you decide you want to contribute something. A fact which Steve laughs at, reminding you, “If you’ve forgotten, I want you here. Don’t feel like you need to do that.”

Both of you walk side by side on the sidewalk, him in a sweater and jeans, and you in a pair of newly purchased jeans and a dark knitted sweater. Wind prickles against your cheeks, the puffer vest you’re wearing doing very little to block out the cold. Leaves crunch as you walk, dancing along the streets as people pass on by, kicking them up as they go.

The Hideout comes into view, dim lighting highlighting the ‘Now Hiring’ posted hanging in one of the windows. “It’s like the universe is sending me a sign!” You giggle brightly, hand wrapping around Steve’s wrist like a bracelet, dragging him into the restaurant behind you.

It’s different than you remember. Still that darker interior — all wooden floors, wooden bar, wooden walls. Against the side wall is a sprawling bar top, with steel stools full of patrons sipping on drinks. There are some bent low in conversation, others looking like they’re on first dates, all blushing cheeks and bashful smiles. Others are cheering, wearing jerseys of whatever team they support, likely coming home from a football game.

The dining area is different than you remember too. Wooden chairs around wooden tables, beautiful lighting hanging from above, the room cast in an ethereal glow. From where you're standing you can see families and couples, friend groups and bachelorette celebrations occupying the spaces. Smiling servers and wait staff weave in and out of the aisles, before your gaze swivels to the hostess at the front booth, asking how many in your party.

“Two, please!” you say, leaning into Steve’s shoulder excitedly, giving his hand a squeeze as the woman leads you toward a table near the back of the restaurant, your mind still whirling a bit at how successful Eddie’s place has become. Once seated, you whisper, “This restaurant is insane. Can’t believe this is the same bar.”

Steve nods. “He really did a great job with the place —”

“Says the guy who put together a good chunk of the furniture here,” Eddie teases, placing menus on the table in front of you both. “Fancy seeing you two here. Thought you’d still be holed up in the love shack. Rob's going crazy.”

“I could only take off a few days for the wedding,” Steve reminds him, shoving the older man lightly. “We’re seeing her tomorrow, if you must know.”

“Good, because she’s been parked on my couch the past few nights and Abi and I haven’t had any alone time,” Eddie says with a grumble, but you know there’s no malice there. “Get whatever you want — it’s on the house. My ‘welcome back to Hawkins treat.’”

Eddie moves to leave, but you stop him with a hasty, “The door. It says you’re hiring.”

The man in question turns back around, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes travel up and down your form, a question burgeoning in his gaze, “Yeah, I’m in need of waitresses for the busy season. You keep your tips. Why? Do you need a job?”

You swallow. “I don’t want to mooch off of Steve the whole time I’m here. And I don’t really know what I want to do long term, but I figure I need money to do anything. So…yeah?”

“Then you’re hired.”

Steve grins, but you shake your head. “No, no. I don’t want you to just give me a job. I want an interview, just like anyone else.”

“Okay…” Eddie glances Steve’s way briefly. His best friend only shrugs. “Do you have any customer service experience?”

“I worked at a clothing store in Starcourt?” Before it burned down, obviously.

“How long was that for?” Eddie asks, pulling out a free chair and settling in front of you.

“Few months,” you tell him, and then blurt out, “I also babysat for the Sinclair’s for a bit!”

“You babysat the younger Sinclair?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time, not quite sure what he’s getting at.

Erica had been nothing but lovely to you in all the time you babysat her; if not quite a bit sarcastic and oftentimes blunt, but given you’ve spent years in the company of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson, it was never anything you couldn’t handle.

“And survived?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods rapidly. “She —”

“Quiet, she’s interviewing.” Eddie raises a hand to silence Steve.

“I…survived…” Your words are quiet, and Eddie leans backward against the frame of the chair, contemplative.

“Abi makes the schedule on Sunday usually.” Tomorrow, then. “I’ll ask her to put you on for Monday, and then we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You swallow, a little miffed, brows knit high on your forehead. “That’s…that’s great. Yeah. Monday is good.”

He claps you on the shoulder and ruffles Steve’s hair, grinning at a server that passes by as he shoves his chair back into place with a loud screech against wooden floors. And then he’s off, leaving you to stare across the table at Steve, trying to hide the smile that creeps along your lips at the realization of what just happened seconds ago.

“So…” Steve takes a sip of his drink, grinning ruefully, “that happened. How are you feeling? First job in a few years, yeah?”

“I…I have a job.” Steve bursts out laughing as you nearly topple over the table in pursuit of wrapping your arms around his next. “I have a job!”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding a hand over the small of your back, grinning into your cheek. “I'm so proud of you. Think we should order a bottle of wine and celebrate a bit?”

That’s exactly what you end up doing.

——

In the mornings, you and Steve share coffee and breakfast. You’ll take turns cooking. Some days he’ll wake you with coffee in bed, Garfield lounging across your thighs. Others, he’ll stumble into the kitchen, eyes bleary and in search of the coffee pot, while chocolate pancakes cook on the stove.

Those mornings are your favorites, because you’ll often hear him murmuring to himself how much he loves you — and you try to deflect that feeling that crawls up from deep within you, the part of you that craves for him to mean it in the sense that he’s in love with you.

Later, he parts for work and you ready yourself for shifts at Eddie’s restaurant. Which is a learning curve, to say the least. Abi, Eddie’s soon-to-be wife, only laughs as you drop another plate filled with water cups in the back, landing on your butt in the process. A huff pours out of you, just as some of the cooks grin your way, offering condolences for your likely bruised tailbone, and Eddie’s head pops into view, all the dark curls that resist staying put in an elastic spilling around his face. He’s grinning but you’re frustrated, on day seven of utterly making a mess of things.

“It’s really not that bad,” Abi reassures you later that afternoon, your apron draped over your shoulder, punched out for the day. There’s a glass of wine in front of you, but you haven’t really had any of it. “It takes time. You’ll get it.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard.”

And yet it is. For years you’ve lived a life of luxury, shuttered away from society. Work was some lofty idea, left behind after you fled Hawkins. You want to pick up on things, want to be good at them, to make Steve proud. Yet you still struggle, still find yourself doubting your capabilities, wondering what it is Eddie saw in you when he hired you.

That night, Steve and you sit around the coffee table in his living room. You’re wearing a pair of cozy sweatpants and an equally comfortable hoodie and he’s there in that yellow sweater of his you told him to never get rid of. The one that has some holes in it now around the edges, but looks great on him all the same. A puzzle rests on the table in front of you both, the pieces scattered all around the wooden surface. Garfield snoozes on Steve’s lap, curled up onto a tight ball, his purring mixing with the crackling of the burning fire mere feet away.

“I’m proud of you,” Steve says, sipping at the beer on a coaster in front of him. The label is long scratched off, condensation dribbling down in little rivulets against the glass. Confusion pricking, your head tips to the side. “Eddie says you’re doing well at the Hideout.”

“He’s lying to you,” you deadpan, pushing another edge piece into place. “I’m struggling. But Abi says it just takes time. It’s definitely not like working at my old clothing store over at Starcourt.”

An edge of darkness flitters across Steve’s features at the mere mention. It shudders and ripples in the spaces between the two of you. Neither really talks about it all that much, especially now that he and you both had been in extensive therapy for it. And even then, the remembrance stings a bit. The reminder of what that day meant for your friend group. Hadn't then at all really to your detriments, when everything happened as it had. Instead you’d both pushed it away and hopped into Steve’s car some days later, with nothing but a map and some money pooled between the two of you.

But it had been enough. It had been everything. The road. The warmth of summer. The escape. The boy.

Steve’s not a boy now. Hasn’t been for a while, you realize, sitting there and peering into those hazel eyes that almost look like molten honey when the fire dances within their swirling depths. Your fingers reach over and twine with his. Just as they have countless other times, just as they always do. Seeking him. Craving the nearness of him. Comforting him, but also yourself.

A cheek of his twitches. Curls a bit with the softest of smiles. Steve Harrington’s smiles are your favorite. Have always been. They’re the kind that a picture can’t capture, an artist can’t form the likeness of. The only way to contain them is to see them, to bottle them up, to store them away in your heart. Sometimes, when you were younger, you imagined they were special. Meant only for you.

Still do now, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Nothing is quite like working at Starcourt,” he teases, diverting to humor. You wince a bit at it, fingers around his twitching lightly. “Not everyday someone gets possessed, and you get abducted by Russians, huh? Bet the Hideout will feel like a walk in the park soon in comparison.”

“I hope so,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. “I just don’t want to sit around while I’m staying here. Maybe I’ll…start saving up for my own place? For the time being, at least.”

“Or you could just stay here,” Steve says evenly, free hand stroking over Garfield’s fuzzy head, “I did say you could stay as long as you like. I didn’t just say that to say it. I like having you here. It feels…normal. It feels good. Really good.”

There’s a little rasp to his voice. A brokenness that clings to the edges of his speech. Your fingers tighten further, crawling up onto your knees to settle down at his side, shoulder bumping his as you reach over to place another puzzle piece down in the proper position. He leans his head against your shoulder, forehead shaking back and forth against the fabric of your clothing, and you just know he’s smiling without even seeing his face.

“Okay, okay. But the moment you get sick of me I’m giving you permission to kick me out —”

“Won’t happen,” he assures you, chuckling a bit.

“How can you be so sure?”

“For one, I’ve known you for years already. You clean up after yourself. You’re crazy loud, but we match each other in that, so it’s fine. You’re not bad to share a bed with — although you go all starfish on me in your sleep —”

“I do not!” you exclaim shrilly, cheeks burning up at the notion.

“You do,” he laughs, dragging you closer to him with an arm around your shoulders, “woke up with your drool on my chest the other day.”

“Yeah, because you’re a human furnace!”

“Doesn’t seem like you mind, seeing as you end up on top of m —” He pauses, the puzzle piece you playfully threw at him bouncing off of his cheek and onto the floor with a clatter. Garfield scampers off to eat, likely rolling his eyes at your antics as he goes, the sound of his collar bell jingling drowning out the silence in the room. “You just threw a puzzle piece at me.”

“I did just throw a puzzle piece at you,” you repeat slowly, bursting out into loud, shrieking laughter as Steve rolls you over onto the blankets scattered beneath him on the floor, body caging yours in place.

His fingers twitch along your sides, your body writhing and rolling beneath him, a frantic jostle of your stomach that has his face crashing into your shoulder, his smile warm against the skin of your collarbone.

You’re children again, you think, as your fingers slip under his sweater and pinch at his sides, earning a loud howl from the man. “Geez, not the pinchy fingers.”

“Mercy?”

“Mercy,” he pleads, his fingers pinning your hands at your sides, chest rising and falling rapidly in a direct mirror to your own.

“You look different from this angle.”

As in, your blood heats with it. Heart clangs at the proximity of your hips in relation to his. The way your mind itches and races to know what he’d feel like if he lowered himself a bit, the cradle of your thighs a home to him. He’s breathing heavy, his laughter joyful on your ears, eyes dark as they clash with yours.

“Different how?”

“Not a bad ‘different.’”

Not at all. He looks older now — is older now. His clothes fit differently now. He’s always been fit from basketball and baseball throughout the years. But he fills out his shirts and sweaters differently now. His chest broader, the stitching on his sweater hugging his biceps as they ripple around you — as you’ve seen them in the days since you’ve come back to Hawkins. Working as a carpenter seems to have had its benefits, and you try to not dwell on the fact you’re reaping them now.

His hazel eyes slide over your form searchingly. His chest still rising and falling as your fingers pinch in the yellow sleeve of his sweater, pulling at a thread that spills free from a stitched seam. The sudden shift of your form has your back flaring, right in the middle of your shoulder blades, a wince crossing your features before you can mask it. Worriedly, Steve rolls over onto his side, asking, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

No. Never. “No. Just…not used to carrying as much as I have the past few days, it seems. Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating remark. Sits up against the couch so his back is against it and pats the ground between his thighs. “Come here.”

“What…?”

“Come here,” he repeats, a little impatiently.

You return his eye roll with one of your own, clambering up and off the ground and into the space between his thighs. There’s little time to worry about the proximity of your spine to the muscular wall of his chest before his fingers are pressing into the curves of your shoulders, rubbing at the tensely corded muscles there.

It’s easy to relax like this. Can’t really think of a time when you last felt so relaxed. Usually you’re under the judgemental stares of dozens of eyes. Those who think they know you, understand you, and yet don’t. Defined by a name you had no name of being born to. It was only by circumstance. But you’ve always felt like yourself around Steve. No need to put on airs, to hold yourself to a certain standard, to lift your head a certain way or say all the right things.

He’s only ever wanted the fullest version of yourself. Probably has been one of the only people to ever understand you in the way you wished others did as well. For years you wondered if people knew you, really knew you, they wouldn’t like what they saw. But sitting here, in this cabin, with this man? You realize you don’t even care. Throw away the rest of the world, and leave Steve behind, and you’d have everything you ever wanted.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, thumb swiping along the top of your spine, right at the dip below your skull, before swiping in an arch along each curve of your shoulders. “I’ll stop if it does.”

“N-no,” you sigh, languid against his frame. “Although, I’m feeling mildly jealous of all those who may have benefited from a massage by Steve Harrington.”

A chuckle rumbles against your back. “Only you, really. In case you forgot, Eddie got me a cat to keep me company.”

A part of you, a very selfish part, rejoices inwardly over his confession. A little victory dance, sending giddy sparks throughout your bloodstream. That giddiness burns molten as Steve pushes the neck of your oversized hoodie down a bit, fingers wrapping around the fullness of your shoulder, tips of them dipping below your collarbone.

It’s a not at all sensual touch — and yet it has heat pooling between your thighs, has you biting back a quiet moan that inches up your throat, reminding you of the mere fact that it’s been a couple of years since being with anyone sexually coupled with the fact you’ve spent the past few days pressed up against the only one you’ve ever been in love with at night.

That’s all it is. The only thing that has you melting further against him, humming pleasantly as elusive sleep tugs you closer and closer into its comforting embrace. After a while, you’re not sure how long really, Steve’s arms start to slide around your waist, his chin against your shoulder, the sound of his comforting breathing a welcoming metronome against your ear. Your fingers reach up and slide into the holes of his sweater, brushing along the dark hairs you know line his forearms, lulling you and him into further rest. To anyone else, you know what the scene looks like: two people, intimately knowing one another, cuddling. Broken away from the rest of the world and into one of their own. To you, you know it’s another normal afternoon with the man.

And yet, your eyes lock with the dying embers crackling in the fireplace, wondering if it could ever be different. If only one of you were brave enough to broach the conversation, to see if the feelings are reciprocated, if now is finally the time to take a chance. A leap. To dare to dream a little. A silly, childhood dream that seems so insurmountable. Still, you crave it more than anything else.

You breathe in deeply, Steve’s arms tightening around your waist. His heavy, rhythmic breathing lets you know he’s fallen asleep now. Your fingers stroke along his arm again, a comfort to him but also you, and you finally close your eyes.

You rest, that question in your mind dying with the firelight.

——

“Monster Mash” blares from a speaker somewhere in the distance. Drowns out the chatter of those downstairs as you put on the finishing touches of yours, El’s and Max’s Halloween costume.

“Wednesday Addams again?” Max muses, pointing to the costume you managed to put together in a couple of hours, not knowing until the last minute you were going to a party to begin with. You’d also been Wednesday the last time you’d been living in Hawkins for the holiday.

You’re presently smudging red lines near the bottom of her jaw, adding little droplets of blood when and where needed. El is beside her, looking very much like a mummy.

“Hey?” Steve appears in the doorway. The hottest Danny Zuko you’d ever seen. You’d never admit that, though. “I don’t mean to interrupt but, uh —”

“Just finishing up,” you tell him softly, smiling appreciatively at the way his eyes roam your form swathed in black, “we’ll be down in a minute.”

Steve smiles and jogs down the stairs, leaving you standing in the bathroom once more with the girls, chewing on your bottom lip and likely smudging the dark lipstick you’d slapped on.

“I guess some things never change,” Max adds, beaming mischievously when your fingers stutter over her jaw, “still pining over Harrington.”

“I do not pine!”

“You pine,” Max giggles, blue eyes sparkling in her mirth as they glances to El for support, “She pines, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” El mutters, a bit more shyly than her best friend, “you pine.”

“Well I didn’t take Max Mayfield and El Hopper to be gossips,” you snark, dabbing a little red lipstick on Max’s pouty lips, voice taking on a higher pitch.

“It’s been, what? Almost ten years of you pining after him?” Max wiggles her shoulders, smirking when you glare at her.

“You were practically an infant then,” you balk, cheeks burning along with your chest, “not even in Hawkins.”

“Yeah…but…” El begins, tucking a hair behind her ears, “it’s kind of…obvious?”

“You two are lucky you’re my favorites of the children.” Though now, with them graduating this year, it feels weird to call them that.

“He pines too,” Max adds. “Right?”

El grins. “Definitely.”

“Is that so…?” You grin, a little rueful, hope blooming in your chest. “Tell me m —”

“Well look at this little band of creepy folk,” Argyle drawls from the doorway, shiny hair falling down around him in a halo, his Michael Myers mask dangling from his hand. “Don’t wanna interrupt this little gathering, but you know…”

——

As the Halloween buzz dies down around work and town, the frigid streets become full of the changing seasons. Leaves fall everywhere you go. Bursts of orange, yellow, red and gold swirl around busy side streets, packed with those investigating local farmer’s markets and slipping in and out of family owned businesses to purchase gifts to get ahead of the holiday season.

The Hideout becomes busier in those weeks. Countless patrons fill your stations, back screaming and head spinning by the time you end your shifts. That day in particular, you stand behind the bar with Abi, chugging down a glass of water she poured you before stripping your apron from around your hips.

“Did well in tips, it looks like,” she points out, gesturing to the wad of cash you promptly stuff into the pocket of your jeans. “Told you you’d get better.”

It also helps that you had multiple larger parties that evening, all of which were more than happy to pay a little extra once they’d gotten a second and third round of beer in them. Though you didn’t really appreciate the way one in particular had slipped his phone number, writing ‘for a good time call.’ You’d chucked that into the garbage with a huff, making sure to toss a wide grin over your shoulder as they later slipped out of the restaurant and he waggled his fingers near his ear in the shape of a telephone, as though you were going to run home and reach out.

“I told Steve I was going to make us dinner since he’s working late on a job, so I’m going to head out.” You huff out a breath, staring up at the clock that reads seven. “Though I think I’m going to need to grab caffeine. I don’t think I sat down once today.”

“Get out of here!” Eddie shouts, sneaking over to loop an arm around Abi’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. Something like longing bubbles up in your stomach at the sight, the craving for what they have simmering with it. “Or else you’re fired. You’ve worked late every day this week. If you get sick, that’s on you.”

“Fine!” Your hands wave in front of you in defeat, waving to the two of them as you slip out the front doors of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

At this time of evening, those wandering the streets are quieter. Bags full of goodies from their excursions. You tug your jacket tighter to yourself as you slip on by, waving to those who have started to become normal faces once more over the weeks in Hawkins. They wave back, grinning like they used to. Greeting you like you hadn’t been gone for three years.

It's strange to think of being gone now.

Strange to think of leaving again.

You find you don’t want to leave again.

And fortunately, no one from home has tried to make an effort to bring you back to the city kicking and screaming. Part of that is by design — leaving no way for them to contact you in the first place. No one knows you’re staying with Steve. No one really even knows where Steve is these days, given he’s not been in contact with his family since they left in 1986 as it is.

You want to keep it that way.

Smiling to yourself, you slip in through the front door of Hawkin’s Brew, a little family run coffee shop that sits a few doors down from your job, smelling like cinnamon and spices, and the freshly brewed coffee you can see percolating over the countertop.

A new barista lifts her head up over the counter. All wavy blonde hair that reminds you of a mermaid and sparkling green eyes around a pair of thick lashes anyone would die for. Gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous and you definitely would have remembered her face if she’d been there before.

“Hiya!” she greets, beaming widely, revealing a glowing set of white teeth that flash in your vision. “You look confused. My mom, Mary Jo, is usually here with my dad. But mom wasn’t feeling well, and I’d finished up at the preschool, so I’m here to help. I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Lucy!”

You offer your name and a soft ‘hi,’ still a little startled by the exuberant greeting. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Sorry to hear about Mary Jo. I hope she starts to feel better soon.”

Lucy leans her elbow against the counter, and you can’t help but admire the cream colored chunky knit sweater she’s wearing with a flowing skirt to finish off the look. It looks effortless on her.

“What can I get you today?”

“A hot coffee, cream two sugars please,” you tell her, and she gets to work behind the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Steve’s truck he uses for work, the back full of leftover lumber.

“Oh, Steve’s here?” Lucy says, sounding a little faraway. Contrast to the ball of excitement she’s been since you walked in. “You know, he’s a confusing one, that guy.”

“Is he?” You laugh, watching as he rummages around his front passenger seat.

“Ever since the earthquake, he’s been giving up so much of himself. Charity, taking up the basketball team at the high school, helping out around town. Did you know he helped my parents build a shed last summer? By hand?” Her voice trails off, and that smile of hers grows once more, like she’s stuck in a far off memory. “And he’s handsome. Single. Yet he doesn’t date. Not really. It’s so…strange? But whoever he marries — they’re gonna be a lucky one.”

“Yeah…” Your brows furrow at her words.

Steve, your Steve, is something of a hero to these people. He’s your hero too, but it twinges in your chest hearing it from someone else. For so long he’d been yours, but now, it seems, he’s needed around here. Admired. Loved. And you’ve missed so much of it in running away. Time you’ll never get back.

He’s changed. You just never realized how much. An ache builds in your heart, wondering if maybe you’re too different now from who you both were years ago.

The man in question hops out of the vehicle, fingers carding through his hair as he gazes into the coffee shop, immediately lighting up when he sees you.

“Do you know him?” Lucy asks, voice raising in pitch as she hands you your coffee and you toss your bills onto the counter.

“Yeah,” you say, sipping at the coffee, “he’s been my best friend for years. I’m staying with him for the time being, actually.”

“Oh!” Lucy perks up, chewing her bottom lip. “So you’re the one he’s so —”

As your mouth opens to ask what Lucy means, Steve walks in. He immediately commands the attention of the shop, both yours and Lucy’s stares drawn to him as he slides an arm around your waist and tugs you against his side, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I was going to grab you some coffee,” he says, fingers squeezing a bit at your side. He notices Lucy then. “Hey, Luce.”

Luce.

Familiar.

Jealousy burns. You try to tamper it down, to pretend the unspoken words between them don’t matter to you. But there are a thousand new questions that burn in your mind, with no words or standing to ask them.

Lucy waves in greeting, those pretty green eyes of hers glimmering in the moonlight spilling in through the front windows of the shop. “Always good to see you, Steve.”

“You too,” he agrees, head lowering closer to yours as he then asks, “Ready to head out?”

He’s leading you to the door, and you spare a glance over your shoulder to the woman you’ve just met moments ago. There’s a look you can’t quite place on her features, a furrow of her brows, a slight downturn to her softly parted lips.

You wave your goodbye, and try to push all of whatever that might have been into the depths of your mind.

——

Steve tosses and turns behind you. A fitful rest that has you rolling over onto your side, fingers brushing along the clenched planes of his cheeks. You can practically hear his molars smashing against one another, can feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest as your fingers splay against his sternum.

At the touch, his face softens in the slightest. A low moan pours from him, a whine of ‘no, don’t’ cleaving your heart right down the middle.

“Steve?” It’s a whisper. A plea for him to come back to you in the waking world. He reaches out in his sleep and clutches at your tee shirt, clutching the fabric tight. Another whine. A whimper of a cry. “Steve, I’m here. I’m here.”

Sweat pools along his skin, despite the chill in the air. The tips of your fingers press to his forehead, running along the wrinkles forming high up on the skin there. His name is a whisper over and over again on your lips, a soft beckoning into wherever his dreams have taken him — a tether for him to grip onto, if only so you can reel him back in.

You’re no stranger to nightmares. They plague you, too. Dark, weaving things that sneak into your mind at night, tendrils clinging to the innermost workings of your mind. That day at the mall, watching as that monster loomed, dark and imposing in a colorful explosion of light. Billy, being ripped into over and over again. The spray of black blood, the cries of Max. The moments that came after, where Steve practically demanded an EMT to look over your ribs, despite the fact there was nothing one could do if they were broken anyway. And then there had been those images on the news — of classmates fallen to Vecna. Memories of the splintered down, the gaping holes in the earth, the spaces where many had disappeared into. Endless faces of the lost, declared dead or missing.

So much turmoil. More than some kids and teenagers were ever meant to see in a lifetime.

“Let go!” Steve shouts into the night, rolling over again so his back faces you.

“Steve,” you whisper, running a hand along his spine, “it’s me. Come back to me. I’m here.”

He rolls over again and his eyes open, locking on your features. Broad palms come up to cup your face, forehead descending upon yours. He mutters your name a little brokenly, moving to press his head into the space beneath your chin, arms looping low around your waist.

“I’m here, Steve,” you remind him.

There for one another, as you’ve always been.

In a world where people come and go, where you can’t rely on anyone, he is your rock and you are his.

“Shhh.” Your fingers thread into his hair, smoothing the messiness left in the wake of his endless tossing and turning. His breathing tapers off. Slows. Starts to deepen. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But you fear the day he may no longer need you.

——

Steve’s…liked by most. Sought after. Desired. He’s popular, in a way that you’ll never be. With his friends, with his teachers, with women. Though he was your first kiss, you’re not even delusional enough to believe he’s only saving his lips for you.

He doesn’t do relationships often. He goes on dates and you watch him from afar. Can see the glow of his bedroom window, the hurt that burns like a knife when he sneaks a girl in while his parents are gone. Your curtains always shut when they kiss, when things start to feel like a betrayal to the foolish unrequited feelings you harbor.

It becomes a thing. Wishing and wanting your best friend as he loves everyone else around you.

Luckily, they’re always short dalliances. Flings. Dates that lead nowhere. And even though it hurts, there’s some comfort in the fact these things never last long.

That is, until Nancy Wheeler steps in. And you make yourself scarce. She’s smart and lovely and beautiful. She’s everything you could ever want for Steve — and she’s not you.

Just like everyone else he sneaks into his bedroom.

Because why would Steve Harrington ever look your way like he does theirs?

And therein lies the problem.

——

A month. You’ve been in town nearly a month and things are more or less exactly as they’ve always been. Platonic and full of yearning. At least, on his part. He’s not quite sure what to make of your feelings lately — and he’s never been one to push the envelope with you.

He needs a sign. A sign from up above or something just to show him that all his efforts have not been in vain.

It comes that afternoon. Sweat pools along his chest and stomach. Along his back as it ripples with each swing of the ax, splitting piece of wood after piece of wood. The plaid shirt he wears is long unbuttoned, stomach fully on display as he pauses a moment to reach down and sip some of his water set on a wooden stool nearby.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

He’s so caught up in the monotony of the task, the methodical way he swings down and splits the wood, that he fails to hear your arrival. Only notices your form out of the corner of his eye, hiding behind a tree.

Or, at least, it looks like you think you’re hidden.

He can see the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers covering your heart, like you’re terrified he’ll hear it. The boots on your feet are pinched tight together, likely having stopped abruptly once you noticed you could potentially be caught.

And there’s that bottom lip of yours, tucked between your teeth. Biting back any noises that might slip out.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes trail along his abdomen. How they linger on the newer muscles there, hewn by countless hours spent working as a carpenter. You look downright guilty — like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

He adores it.

“I don’t mind if I have an audience, you know?” He muses, grin growing wider as you stumble a bit in the leafy pile at your feet.

His amusement grows as you tilt your head up to the sky, as if searching for something. Unfortunately for you, it’s a cloudy day, and there is nothing to see up above other than an endless gray sea.

“Steve…” you warn, still not meeting his eyes.

You’ve always been endearing. Sweet, in a way he finds adorable. And this sudden shyness when you’re typically so sure? It reminds him of those moments when he first kissed you, all those years ago. Your heart was like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest that evening, fingers trembling against him, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Here,” he chuckles, walking over to curl a hand around your wrist and putting you out of your misery. He walks you over to where he’s splitting wood, “wanna try?”

“I mean, sure. How hard could it be?” you tease, back stiffening as he slips in behind you, sweat-slicked skin pressing against the curve of your spine before relaxing into him.

He’s already placed a new log on the block, the rest of his split pieces lying on a rack near the side of his home. Wide palms come to wrap around your hands, sliding them into place on the handle of the ax. One near the top for grip, another near the bottom for powering through the stroke. “Grip it nice and tight. Both hands.”

“Okay, like this?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and his breath immediately hitches. Throat cleaning, he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze and steps back a little.

“Spread your legs a little. Shoulder width apart. Yeah — just like that.”

You’re a little sheepish as he steps over to the side, trying to put enough distance between you and him to feel safe enough. A cold breath puffs out of his lungs, the cloud billowing in the air before him as you glance down at where your hands are firmly grasping the handle, deep breaths to center yourself echoing in the forest.

“Now you’re going to pick a point on the wood and focus on it, raise the ax and strike through, focusing on that spot.”

“Sounds easy enough,” you nervously murmur, doing exactly as he instructed, the ax rising above your head.

As you swing downward, the ax wedges into the wood, and you stumble to the ground, kicking up leaves as your bottom slams against the forest floor. Steve stumbles forward to check if you’re okay, but when your sides start trembling with uncontrollable laughter, his face breaks out into a grin.

He loves you, and he aches with it. More — now that you’re living with him.

“Guess you don’t want me helping you on any jobs, huh?”

A couple days later, however, you do exactly that.

Mr. Gerry Jones is an older man in town, and in desperate need of a new paint job for his living room before he tries to sell his home. Steve agreed to help weeks ago, and when his partner comes down with the flu, decides to ask you if you want to come along. He finds you laying on the couch that morning with a book, and he hardly expects you to say yes with the amount of hours you’ve been working at the Hideout, but you quickly jump to attention with a nearly shouted ‘yes.’

Now you sit beside him on the floor, admiring the freshly painted wall, taking a moment to breathe before starting the next one. You’re wearing a pair of overalls, a ratty old tee shirt tied up beneath, revealing the curve of your side, a patch of skin that Steve’s been trying to not stare at for the past few hours.

His heart clenches as your head tips over your shoulder, a little splatter of olive colored paint across your cheek. Reaching out, he cups your cheek and wipes it away, warming as you lean a bit into his touch.

Neither of you dares to acknowledge the tension burning in the room. The way it feels like time seems to slow to a halt when you’re there, shuffling up onto your feet, moving over to the next wall. Steve only talks. Begins prattling on about anything and everything, trying to keep himself distracted from the feeling swirling in his gut — the desire that has only grown every day to see what might happen if he just dared to try. To close the gap between your lips and put to bed all the questions.

But he doesn’t. Instead he gazes ahead, mouth dropping open when he asks about what your relationship with Clark was like — in what feels like an attempt to torture himself — and you utter that you’d never really done anything with him.

“Or anyone…for that matter,” you add slowly, your bottom lip pushing between your teeth, voice a little quiet.

“Like…?”

“I’m not a virgin, Steve,” you bark out, eyes rolling a bit in your skull. “But I’ve really only been with one guy. And it wasn’t even good or anything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Steve.”

“I’m not making fun. I’m just…”

“Shocked at how pathetic I am?” you drawl, taking a step backward. Away from him.

“No — I just —”

“It’s not like the movies either. All of the explosions and fireworks.” You frown, and Steve grimaces at your words. At the sadness lining your features. “I just — I don’t know. It wasn’t like how you’d always talked about it. We barely even kissed during it and I didn’t…”

“Honey…” he sighs, taking a step forward. “Clearly, he wasn’t the right guy. The right guy would have made it extra special, because you’re special, and definitely would have made sure you finished before he did. And I’m sorry but he didn’t deserve you, because you deserve all the explosions and fireworks.”

“Yeah?” You sound so hopeful, eyes a little narrowed, mouth parting softly.

“I mean…hypothetically…” he steps a little closer.

He catches your slow swallow. The way your chest heaves on a breath, eyes trailing his form. Heat burns in the atmosphere as your eyes narrow a bit, staring at him like you had in the woods. Appreciatively, and not at all like a friend. How long had he missed those looks? How long had he not noticed the slow simmering desire beneath the surface? Suddenly he’s back in that closet and a teenager again, only now instead of your jean shorts, his finger curls into the pocket of your overalls, chest brushing yours. Cornered, your back bumps against the presently dry wall behind you.

“If it were me —” He stops. Thinks better of it.

“N-no,” you splutter out, voice a rasp, breath puffing, “go on. Hypothetically, obviously.”

“Well, for starters, I’d start by getting down on my kne —”

“Hey, kids!” Mr. Jones calls into the room, and you both jump like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be. “Could one of you help me sort through some boxes? I don’t want to be a bother, but my back just isn’t what it was, you know?”

You throw a hand up in the air. “I’ve got it.”

Steve inwardly groans, his jeans suddenly a little too tight at what he’d been imagining doing to you only moments before — what he’d been imagining doing to you for years, if he was being honest.

You glance away, rushing over to Gerry, embarrassment rolling off your form.

And you’re gone, following the older man from where he came.

Conversation…over.

——

The window next door glows with lamplight. It’s after the earthquake that you see it. The earthquake that has you hiding in the doorway, holding onto the frame as the earth shudders and groans beneath you, pictures of your family now shattered frames scattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You grab a few things. Bandages, clothes, some water bottles. You can’t really tell how many people are over there, so you grab a pack. And when you ring the doorbell and Robin answers, looking stricken and covered in an inch of dirt, your heart groans too, because the look on her face is grim.

Steve throws his arms around you when you enter his bedroom, a whisper of, “You’re safe,” against your head. Reverently. Like he can’t quite believe it, like he wasn’t sure what he would find when he came back.

Your hands slide up and along his back, his body jolting at the contact, your fingers coming back a little stained with what looks to be fresh blood. “Steve, you’re hurt. I brought bandages.”

“He’s worse,” Steve utters through gritted teeth, “take care of him first.”

And there on the bed is Eddie Munson, with Nancy Wheeler there to rest a cloth against his head, whispering to the man under her breath. Soothing him, soothing those wrinkles that line his forehead — deep set in his pain.

With Nancy’s help, you get to work. Trying to cut him out of his clothes, careful to not agitate the wounds any further, apologizing for every whimper. Every broken sob of the man who fought to save a town that would have killed him on their own had they been given the change.

And later, after you’ve scrubbed your arms raw to try and rid yourself of the remnants of Eddie’s blood, Steve slides in beside you in the bathroom. Curls a hand around your head and tugs you against him, kissing your temple. Whispering something against your skull that you can’t quite make out. Steve’s not religious, but you swear he thanks someone for keeping you safe.

“You’re next,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold, peering up at the dirty face of the man you love. “Strip.”

“See, in a different context, those words coming from your lips —”

“I’m not joking,” you sing-song, tugging at the bloodied shirt he’s wearing. “Off with it.”

“I can’t,” he winces.

“You’re getting modest with me now? I’ve seen you half naked more times —”

“I think it’s a little stuck,” he groans, turning around and peeling off the outer jacket. It falls to the ground and you can see what he’s talking about. The injuries, freshly reopened, cling to the fabric like a second skin.

You whistle on an exhale, and he laughs darkly. “It’s not so bad. Just looks like one area got a little angry. If you get in the shower, I can run a little water on it to loosen it up.” You lift the edge of his shirt a bit, noting the swath of bandages around his waist. “Who did these? They look pretty good.”

“Nancy.”

“Good,” you say, a little softly, “now into the shower, Harrington.”

You’re trying. Trying to make light of a terrible night. But you can see the pain in his form that runs deeper than the scratches on the surface. Can see it in the tension on his form as he slips out of his jeans and climbs into the tub with nothing but a pair of boxers.

Neither of you speaks for a while. As you turn on the water and try to soak his shirt. As you eventually peel the shirt away and whisper you’re sorry over and over when he hisses and bites back against the pain. Nor as you run a damp towel over the wounds to clean them, careful to not agitate his mangled flesh further.

But then you hear it. The sniffle. The shudder of breath.

“Steve,” you whisper, threading your fingers in his hair, feeling him tremble against your touch, “what happened tonight?”

He cries. Folds his face into his hands and cries.

You toss the cloth aside and climb in to hold him, because you’ve known physical pain, but this pain hits differently. Twists in you like a knife. You can handle your own pain, but seeing Steve break, seeing your hero crumble, is a pain that cuts to your marrow. Shatters and scatters your heart into a million pieces.

But you have to stay strong.

For him. For all the times he’s done the same for you.

He clings to you, fingers fisted into your shirt, and you don’t let go.

——

You don’t talk about that moment in Mr. Jones’ home. Neither of you bring it up for days. And yet — it’s all you can think about. The way he looked your way, the timbre of his words, the way heat had crawled up your spine. How it also pooled low, throbbed in your core in a way that was unfamiliar to you.

Was this passion? Desire? Lust? All feelings that seem so foreign, and yet you don’t fear them. You just ponder the new questions that arise. The curiosity of what this might mean — if it could lead to more.

On that particular day, both of you were off of work. Decided with Thanksgiving swiftly approaching, it was about time you went pumpkin picking. Pumpkin picking turned into a whole day event, where you and Steve took turns arguing over which pumpkins were suitable for the front of his porch, and which were suitable for decoration for the potluck gathering with some friends that upcoming weekend.

And after spending half the day drinking warm apple cider, sharing donuts on a hayride while bundled up in comfortable clothing, and racing each other through a corn maze, you’d decided the last thing on your itinerary for the “full Hawkin’s experience” was to carve pumpkins.

“In case you didn’t know,” Steve jokes, his knife poking out a hole for an eye in his pumpkin, “Halloween was a few weeks ago.”

“So what? We were busy and didn’t get to do this sooner,” you bemoan, cutting open the top of yours and moving to stick your hand inside.

“You’re just going in like that — bare hand and all?”

“What’s a little guts, Steve?”

“It’s gross,” he says plainly, eyes narrowing, “and messy.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of mess?” Your tongue pushes out between your lips as you get to work, pulling out handful after handful of pumpkin guts into the garbage pail you set up beside the table the two of you worked on.

“I happen to not mind a little mess,” he teases, coming to stand over your shoulder, the heat of his chest at your back. “What are you making?”

“A Garfield pumpkin,” you tell him, scooping more of the inside out into a trash can. “I happen to be quite fond of your kitten. Maybe more than you.”

“Really?” he asks playfully, stepping a little closer to hook his chin over your shoulder.

“Are you jealous?” you muse, circling around.

Like this, your chests nearly brush, his palms come up to rest beside your hips, caging you in against the table. Heat pools low again at the look on his face. The firm line of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the round depths of his hazel eyes. There’s a look in them you can’t quite place — a look you’ve never seen in Steve’s eyes, or anyone’s for that matter. But you know you like it, thighs bumping a bit off of the table as you crawl up onto it, legs swinging beneath you.

Fingers come up to curve along your cheek, Steve’s thumb brushing the line of your jaw with a pinky. Delicately, like you’re precious. Like you might break. “You got a little something on your face.”

“Oh,” you whisper out, swallowing as he leans in closer, as his hips slide into the space between yours. “Steve…”

He steps closer once more. Hips brushing against the cradle of yours. There’s a heat from him that seeps into you. Grows as his forehead rests against yours and you both breathe in the same space, neither of you speaking, because there’s nothing this moment requires other than a nearness. His nose glides down the side of yours, one hand of his coming to curl around your hip, squeezing the curve of it. Your mind screams at you he’s going to kiss you, and your heart leaps because you want it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and it’s a loaded question.

You’re thinking you want to erase the space between the two of you. You’re thinking there’s a chance this doesn’t quite mean to him what this means to you. You’re thinking that you’re scared to allow Steve to see inside the part of you that you’ve kept from him all these years. But you’re also thinking if you’re going to play with fire, there’s a knowing chance you may get burned.

“I’m thinking…” you exhale, chest pushing further into his as your back arches a bit, propping yourself up onto your hands. Only, as soon as you do so, pain flares in the center of your palm, gasping breath coming out with a, “Shit!”

Steve’s there in a flash, fingers curling around your offended wrist that you show him. Blood pools up from the wound, the bloodied knife skittering beside it onto the forest floor when he shoves it out of the way. You hadn’t even remembered it was there, too caught up in the moment.

“Honey…” he sighs, thumb brushing along the curve of your wrist, glancing down at the cut, “let’s get you inside. You might need stitches.”

“No hospital,” you tell him, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth, “you’ve patched enough people up. This should be a walk in the park, right?”

“Yeah but this is you,” he says, and before you can ask him what he means by that, he’s helping you off of the table and steadying you when you land on the leaves below.

The bathroom is dimly lit by this time of day, even with Steve flicking the light on as soon as you enter. The edge of the tub is cool against your leggings, chilling your skin even through the fabric, as Steve rummages around in his cabinets for a first aid kid. And then he gets to work, sitting across from you on the toilet seat, making sure to irrigate your wound before dressing it.

“Not deep,” he says finally, inspecting the shallow cut that slices the center of your palm, “gonna disinfect it.”

A hiss pours from you as he does, pain flaring in the wound. Your free hand whips out to clutch at his pant leg, pinching the denim tight in your fingertips until the burning ebbs into a throbbing sting that beats in tandem with your heart.

“What did you mean before?” you ask as he starts to dress the wound, winding a bandage around and around your palm. “The whole ‘but this is you.’”

Steve pulls out a piece of medical tape and presses it to the end of the wrapping around your palm, his thumb rubbing along the inside of your wrist. “I can handle my pain, but I could never handle yours.”

You swallow, because you understand. You know first hand what he means — have experienced it yourself. Watching the man you love throw himself into harm's way and injure himself in the process. Having to mend his wounds, to see him hurting without a way to stop it, when all you wanted was to ease the pain.

“There you go,” he whispers, fingertips teasing along yours, before letting your hand fall back against your thigh. “No more pumpkin carving for you.”

“Thank you.” Your lip twitches as you climb off the lip of the bathtub, following him down the stairs.

“Steve, back there, I…”

“Come on, let me cook us dinner.” He pauses, stopping himself once you both realize you speak at the same time. “Wait — what were you going to say?”

You swallow thickly, the nervousness choking your words and drying them in your throat where they live and die instantaneously.

Not the time.

“N-nothing.”

——

“Don’t think I didn’t see how the two of you walked in together.” Robin twirls her drink around in front of her, brows arching as a smirk creeps along her features.

You sip your red wine, smiling to yourself over the rim. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Although you do. You arrived at Jonathan and Nancy’s new home with a freshly baked apple pie in hand, and Steve’s hand against your lower back, keeping you close to him. Clearly it hadn’t gone unnoticed, the evidence apparent in the look Robin was sending your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Lucy struggling to open a wine bottle in the kitchen, and excuse yourself from Robin’s side to greet the woman. She’s beautiful today, in a pair of black jeans, and a brick red sweater. Effortless again, with endless wavy hair and those glowing eyes of hers.

“Here — let me,” you offer, helping her to get the cork out of the bottle.

Once it’s open, you pour the two of you new glasses of wine and clink your glass with her’s, peering out over the kitchen island to take in the sights around you.

Nancy and Jonathan went all out. They lined up multiple tables around the kitchen, making room for friends and family alike. Their parents sit at one table, while Steve, Robin, Eddie, Abi and Argyle talk amongst themselves. Holiday music filters in through the radio, as Nancy and Jonathan carve into the giant turkey resting against the table covered in Thanksgiving themed plate wear.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had a holiday like this. This is warm and inviting. Back in the city your parents would rent out restaurants and have wait staff take care of your evening. You’d always resented the thought that, while you spent time in a cold environment under the guise of “Thanksgiving,” those employees missed out on time they could spend with their own loved ones.

And when Steve looks over, you almost feel like you could fit in here. Almost allow yourself to dream big — to imagine a world where when he lifted his hand and waved as he is now, it would be full of love, full of the newness of relationship.

“So you and Steve…?” you can’t help but to ask, turning so your back rests against the kitchen counter, offering Lucy a soft smile.

She returns it a little tightly. “We…dated for a bit.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t expecting that. Had witnessed a little something passing along their features when you’d bumped into her weeks ago, but never thought to chalk it up to them dating. On paper it makes sense. She’s a teacher, they work together, she’s gorgeous, vibrant, bubbly, interesting. She’s here. She’s been here. And she belongs here.

And you — you don’t know what you’re doing most days. You’re living with Steve, but for how long? You want to stay, or think you want to, but what does that entail? There’s also the lingering doubt. The fear that you don’t quite belong as you once did. Can see it in the looks from people as you pass. Those who haven’t seen you in years now regard you as a stranger.

“Yeah, we’d gone on a few dates. He was always such a gentleman…but it just…” she exhales, and you watch as her eyes trail his form, “he always seemed kind of…detached? He didn’t want to commit. Sometimes we’d be spending time together and he just…didn’t seem all there? But it all made sense when I saw you two at the coffee shop that one day.”

“What?” you splutter, red wine dribbling down your chin at the suddenness.

“He lit up when he saw you. I’d never seen him look at me that way,” she admits softly, sipping her own wine. “I kind of wanted to hate you for it, but you were so nice and he deserves to be happy.”

“Oh — we’re not — it’s not —”

“Not yet,” she teases, giving you a little eye roll. “He’s happy. And he’s present. Both are things that have changed within him since you’ve been here. I don’t think that’s mere coincidence.”

Her words settle within you as you later join Steve at the dinner table, leaning into his shoulder as he scoops your requested dinner options onto your plate. They linger even as the kids arrive for dessert and the group ends up playing endless card games, laughter lyrical and swirling around the room, growing louder as the drinks continue to pour into awaiting cups.

And later, as you sit on Steve’s couch in no more than a pair of leggings, a comfy hoodie, and knitted socks you ponder Lucy’s words again while a fire crackles in the fireplace.

“What’s on your mind?” Steve asks, fingers kneading into the arch of your foot, your head against the armrest, eyes closed in contentment.

“Lucy is really pretty…”

“She is,” Steve agrees, his fingers pushing in again, drawing a deep sigh from within you.

“She works with kids, she’s bubbly, she’s established. All things that you’d normally go for.”

“Okay…”

“I’m just…I’m — I guess I'm trying to figure out why you two didn’t work out then.”

Steve pauses in his ministrations, shifting a bit on the couch to look at you. “Honey…you know why.”

“No,” you retort, feeling anxiety bubble up within you, “I really don’t.”

“There’s always been someone else.”

“I’m not understanding…”

With a sigh, Steve scoots closer. Tugs you up and onto his lap to get you even closer, your knees thumping onto the couch cushion at each side of his hips. He grips your hips and stares up into your eyes. There’s an unspoken question. A whisper behind his stare. Begs for you to look deeper, to see him, to see his heart.

“No.” You shake your head, anger welling. Replacing that anxiety. “I’ve looked at you my whole life and you never noticed. Now? Now you decide you —”

“It’s always been.” His strangled voice breaks your heart.

“Then why didn’t you say anything? All this time, all these years —”

“I tried,” he interjects, fingers winding tighter around your hips.

“When?”

“First time I visited you after you moved away.” He sounds somber. Heartbroken in a way that’s foreign to you. “You’d gone inside and your dad and I had a drink out back. Remember?”

You nod, swallowing thickly, fingers running along the hair at his temple. He gives you a little squeeze, forehead resting against yours.

“He…I told him about my feelings for you. And he…well, he wasn’t supportive.” He exhales a wobbly breath. “He had his points. I had no money. He was right about that. I worked at a dead end job and was going nowhere. I had nothing to offer you. He…painted a picture of us in a few years from now. Asked me how I’d be able to keep you happy…keep our family happy. And I thought maybe he was right.”

“Bullshit. Everything he said to you is bullshit,” you snap, climbing off of his lap. “I never wanted any of that. If I had you, Steve, then I would have everything.”

“I know that,” he cries, jumping to his own feet, looping an arm around your hips. “I know that now. I’ve seen you here the past few weeks and you fit here. With me in my life. I want to stop wasting time pretending you’re just my best friend because that’s all I ever thought you could be. I want you here. I want you in my bed every morning and night, I want to touch you and, I don’t know, hold you while we cook dinner together. I want to kiss you just because I can. I want to hold your hand. I want all of that.”

He tugs you close, your chests thumping. His heart throbs against your sternum and you raise a palm to settle there, to push him back, but you find you can’t. He sucks the air out of the room when he’s that close — when his mouth is mere centimeters from yours, and all you want is to close the distance.

“I never felt good enough for you,” he breathes against your lips, his breath a shaky exhale. Lips graze against lips, your fingers slide up further, along his chest, over the curve of his neck, the slope of his jaw.

“You’ve always been good enough for me, Steve,” you whisper back, forehead nuzzling forehead. “I don't need all the money. I don’t want fancy dinners or cars, I don’t need the newest clothes, shoes, pocketbooks. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

He slides a palm up against your cheek. A thumb draws a soft line across the curve of your jaw. “And now? What do you want right now?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

——

sorry about the delay. i’ve basically been sick since july, and wasn’t planning on having so many of my ‘bad’ days the past couple of weeks. the next chapter will be long, and i mean long. can’t wait to hear about what you think about this one! likes, comments, reblogs — all of that is such an encouragement to creators and means the world, so please consider 🤍

[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 5

Part 1 2 3 4 5

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. SMUT. The smut has arrived! P in V, oral (both). Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter. Not Beta-read or spell checked.

Honeymoon time 💕

Your wedding to George was a jubilant celebration with your family and friends, a chance to bask in the love you were so thankful to receive from everyone around you. You'd honoured Fred in many ways that day, including photos of him, an empty chair with his name on and many other little ways to make it seem like he was there. You'd noticed George had worn his chain under his suit shirt and the sight of it made butterflies flutter inside you.

It was a small and quaint wedding that had admittedly been rushed in planning, only two weeks after you'd announced your engagement, but it was perfect. No one had doubted your intentions and the day had gone completely to plan, except for the regular hiccups that seem to occur when a group of people are brought together. Muriel had been characteristically foul as usual and had clashed with your great aunt Ariadne though she'd avoided the more triggering topics which was one consolation.

You danced with your friends and your now blended family late into the night, with George eventually stealing you back from dancing with Bill for one final dance.

"Have you had a good day Mrs Weasley?" He asks, holding you close as you sway with surprising grace even with the healthy amount of alcohol you'd both consumed.

"The best, Mr Weasley," you beam up at him, his handsomeness once again hitting you as you look upon his smiling face.

"Couldn't have asked for better. I don't think you've ever looked more beautiful."

The night you'd spent together had not been repeated since, nor had you really spoken about it. There was a lingering tension between you, growing increasingly stronger throughout the day as you thought of your wedding night and honeymoon, the anticipation almost consuming you.

Ginny and Fleur had whisked you away from George not long after your final dance to get you ready to leave for your honeymoon, which you'd be departing for very soon. It was tradition in the Weasley family to immediately begin your honeymoon the night of the wedding and you had readily accepted the chance to exit out of the wedding a little earlier into the night, giving you and George some time alone.

You'd chosen to honeymoon in the U.K. to keep costs down, after all this whole situation was based upon George reclaiming the shop as sole owner and any unnecessary spending would only increase the amount of time you'd be married. Bill and Fleur had graciously offered for you to stay in Shell Cottage with them but George had instead chosen to surprise you with your destination. He'd tactfully evaded every single one of your questions, relishing in his power of knowledge but had thankfully given you a few clues as to what you should pack. Clothes for all weather, from hot to bitter cold, a couple of 'nice' outfits and a bathing suit. So, nothing to really go off.

Percy had arranged a ministry car for you to borrow for the week, his gift for you both and you'd decided to travel like muggles for the week, taking your time and only using magic when necessary. George was driving to your destination, the luggage and travel necessities having been packed up earlier that day by the Weasley boys and Harry.

The crowd cheered as you both walked towards the car that was waiting for you, your family and friends gathered around with jubilant faces as you walked hand in hand towards the car. You both paused to thank and embrace Mr and Mrs Weasley before climbing into the car, George opening the door for you before getting in on his side. You waved at the gathering of people in front of you as George pulled away and as you pulled away from the Burrow, you peered through the back window, squirming around the freshly painted 'just married' sign to see your loved ones fading further away as they carried on the party.

"Are you okay?" George asks gently as he drives out of Ottery St Catchpole, the rolling Devonshire fields passing you by as the sun begins to set.

"I'm... incredible, I don't think there are words for how I'm feeling," you say with a wide smile, giggling a little at your inability to get your words out. He chuckles and reaches for your hand, pulling it onto the gear stick to join his.

"I know what you mean, I feel like I'm floating," he says, flashing you a smile before turning his attention back to the road. You take the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to really look at him,  the plains of his face looking unbelievably handsome to you. He looked stunning in his suit, the colour and cut of the material only serving as a compliment to his gorgeous red hair and sharp features.

"Checking me out Mrs Weasley?" He says with a smirk, eyes still fixed on the road. You fight to hide the creeping blush that appears on your cheeks, realising that he'd caught you staring. You bite your lip and turn away, choosing to look out of the window at the rolling hills instead. "You can you know, I'm yours now."

You turn to look at him and the smile he has plastered on his face fills you with warmth and nervous excitement.

"You look so handsome, I feel like I can't take my eyes off you," you admit, a little bashfully.

He gives a deep chuckle and squeezes your hand that is still held by his own.

"You have no idea how hard it is to drive right now, all I want to do is stare at you," he admits, though he sounds completely unashamed of his words. You blush and look away again, this time out of pure bliss, wanting to remember everything about this moment.

"Get some sleep Angel, it's quite a drive," he says softly a few minutes later, turning down the radio that was playing music in the background.

"I'm okay," you lightly protest, despite feeling relaxed by the drive. "I wish I'd taken this dress off though, not the best travelling outfit."

"And take that joy away from me? How dare you," he jokes, sounding a little outraged. Your stomach instantly fills with nerves and butterflies at his words; he intended to take your dress off.

You fell asleep a short while later, just as the last slither of sunlight had disappeared into the horizon, the long stretch of road ahead now only lit by car lights and the faint cats eyes on the ground. The mixture of the low humming from the radio, the gentle rocking of the car and the presence of George was enough to lull you into a much needed sleep as you cuddled into a pillow you'd thought to pack, wishing that you were wearing something much less restrictive but that couldn't be helped.

When you woke again, it was still pitch black and George was still driving, the car lights ahead of you the only clue to where you were.

"Hi Angel," George says, noticing you staring as he briefly looks over at you with a smile.

"Mmm, hi Georgie," you mumble back, still fighting off the last embers of sleep. "Where are we?"

"Nice try," he says, not falling at the last hurdle and you give a little huff, hoping that one would have worked. "About an hour away."

"Is there time to stop for a coffee somewhere?" You ask, sitting straighten in your seat as you abandon the pillow into your lap.

"I don't know anywhere that would be open," he says, flicking his eyes to the dashboard clock, prompting you to do so and realising that it was now past midnight, much to your surprise.

"McDonald's will be," you say with a little shrug, trying to see any hints from signposts as to where you were of where the next services would be.

"McDonald's?" He asks, completely oblivious and you can't help but laugh, never having thought about how the notion of 24 hour fast food had not yet entered the wizarding world, making George completely oblivious.

"It's a 24 hour restaurant, usually around road services, it's fast food," you explain. He immediately gets it and let's out a little 'ahhh' of understanding, telling you that there was a services coming up and you could check if there was one there. There was.

Introducing George Weasley to drive-through ordering was nothing short of hilarious and you'd briefly lamented the fact that his first McDonald's experience wouldn't be inside an actual McDonald's building but you were not about to enter a fast food joint at a service station in a wedding dress. You'd both ordered a coffee, yourself a medium coke and then you had excitedly introduced him to not only a Big Mac but also chicken nuggets, both of which were a complete revelation to him and you had to hold back serious giggles at his reactions. Half an hour later and you were on your way, coffees in hand and belly's a little fuller as you prepared for the last part of your journey.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take over? I don't mind driving to give you a break," you offered as you watch him put on his seatbelt.

"You don't know where we're going," he says with a devilish smirk but you feign innocence.

"Then just tell me and I'll get us there," you say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Nice try baby," he says with an even more sinister smirk, his eyes roaming your face briefly before he turns on the car and begins to pull away after one last sip of coffee.

You were transfixed as George turned right up a long winding path entirely shielded by trees, the long road leading you deeper under the canopy of trees until you were completely surrounded by woodland. You could make out a small, warm light at the end of the long road and became transfixed on the approaching light, trying to focus your eyes hard on that point, trying to make sense of it. The car swerved a little to avoid a large twig in the road which brought your destination into clear view.

You gasped at the beauty of the scene in front of you, looking excitedly at George who looked more than pleased at your reaction.

"George," you say breathlessly as he parks up in the little clearing beside the place you'd be staying.

It was a rustic log cabin, completely shielded away from everything by a large canopy of trees, a beautiful escape completely hidden away from the outside world. The cabin was almost entirely made of wood with wooden shutters and a wrap around deck.

"George it's beautiful," you say, completely gobsmacked as you look at the gorgeous lodge in front of you, seeing it illuminated by the multiple lanterns that offered a stark contrast against the pitch black night.

"Only the best for my bride," he teases, opening up his car door, prompting you to do the same.

"Want to explore whilst I unload the car?" He asks with a grin, holding the keys to the cabin out in front of you, the little wooden keyring clinking against the two old fashioned keys. You nod enthusiastically and reach out to grab them, pulling George in and without much thought, you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. Instantly, you realised what you'd done and took a step back, blushing a little as you avoided his gaze. His hand had instinctively wrapped around your back and he gave your back a little rub as you parted, showing no ill will as you turned and walked excitedly towards the cabin.

Opening the door, you were immediately met with an illuminated room thanks to the warm lighting from multiple lamps and light fixtures. The cabin was warm, as if there was a log fire already burning and the smell was heavenly, clean and fresh but with an indisputable scent of wood and pine, a natural consequence of it's idyllic surroundings. You walked through a little entrance hall that houses a utility room before stepping into an open living room, dining room and kitchen, all of which were warm and inviting with natural wood features throughout and neutral colours, highlighting the windows which you knew would almost certainly have beautiful views in the morning. There were two brown leather sofas that looked absolutely lush and a single armchair underneath a window that looked perfect for reading, a tall lamp beside it and a little table for drinks. There was a television and a cabinet in the corner and beside that was a beautiful log burner that was indeed lit, radiating heat throughout the home. You couldn't see much through the side door that was half glass but the outside light did illuminate the decking a little, highlighting a rather impressive sunken hot tub that was covered, eliciting a little excited squeal from you.

You walked down a small corridor that led off from the main atrium through a beautifully carved wooden door with an old metal latch which led you to the bathroom on the left and two bedrooms. You crept into the bathroom to take a peak and saw a big bathtub to the left and a built in shower to the right, as if every need was catered for. One bedroom has two single beds partitioned with a beautiful shelving unit and the other bedroom was almost certainly the master.

There was a huge four poster bed against the back wall bookended by two beside tables with lamps that looked entirely too inviting. The bedding was sheer white and completely crease free, only adding to its appeal. There was a smaller television in here too, along with a dressing table and a large, ornate wardrobe that looked older than the cabin itself.

"What do you think Mrs Weasley?" George asks from behind you as you pause to run your hand over the ornately carved bed frame. You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, still wearing his wedding suit but now with his tie removed and a few buttons open near his collar.

"I think it's absolutely beautiful Mr Weasley," you reply, turning to him with a look of pure elation.

"Just like my wife then," he says with a look in his eyes that makes your pulse race. He steps towards you with clear conviction and it's all you can do not to melt into a puddle, the look in his eye so dangerously arousing that you're almost frozen to the spot. It was the first time he'd called you his wife and the reaction that it pulled from your body was almost unbelievable, the sound of it almost heavenly in your mind.

As soon as he reaches you, there's a brief pause as if he's searching your face for any hint of resistance, not that he'd find any. When he sees the look in your eye, knowing that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, he steps even closer and wraps his hand around the back of your neck before leaning down and kissing you with a burning passion.

Your hands slip up to his chest, feeling the material of his lapels under your fingers and pull slightly, needing to feel him as close to you as possible as you pull his jacket off. His fingers tangle in your hair as the kiss deepens, tongues working together to fuel the burning desire between you both.

With his right hand cradling your head and his left clutching as your waist, he begins leading you to the side of the bed, silently asking if it was okay to go further.

"Make love to me George," you say against his lips, hardly wanting to pull away for even a second. You hear him groan against your lips before his hand slips from your hair and down to your butt, cradling you and taking your weight. In a move that would otherwise impress you if you'd seen it in person, he sweeps you off your feet whilst climbing onto the bed and lays you down softly before climbing over you, kicking off his shoes in the process.

"I've waited all day to rip this dress off of you," he mumbles against your skin as he begins kissing down your neck, onto your bare shoulders where your dress straps began, the soft layers of the gown suddenly feeling much too restrictive as your skin burnt up with desire. He kisses down your chest as your hands tangle in his slightly grown out hair. There's a single moment where your eyes meet, just as he hovers over your panting cleavage and it takes your breath away how absolutely sexy he looks, the desire and admiration in his eyes mirroring your own. His long fingers drag against your rib cage as they dance over to your covered breasts before he reaches in to pull down the cup of dress, exposing your right breast to him, your dusky pink nipple already hard and waiting for him. He groans, watching your breast spring free and immediately bends down to run his tongue over the pebbled nipple, eliciting a deep, breathy moan from you before his lips wrap about the little bud and begin sucking. You moan out again, throwing your head back into the pillows at the overwhelming sensation and suddenly you feel the whole atmosphere change. There's no trepidation anymore, no resistance or questioning but rather just a primal urge between both of you.

You can tell that George is feeling for the opening your dress so you divert his fingers to the small, concealed zipper on the side and help him drag it down, much too slowly for your liking. He pulls away the dress after you slip your arms out and you watch carefully as his mouth slips open to a little 'o' shape as he pulls the dress from your body, exposing you completely to his gaze. You couldn't wear a bra with your dress thanks to the unique straps but you had thought you buy a tiny white lace thong that you'd had embroidered with a little 'W' on the left side of the crotch, knowing it would either make him laugh or make him growl. Luckily for you, it was most certainly the latter as he groaned as he spotted it, momentarily fixated on your naked breasts that were exposed completely for his view, his eyes travelling down your body with acute precision before he eventually noticed your little customisation. He groans and leans down to press a kiss directly to where the 'W' was situated, just above your mound and you can't help but squirm as the sensation of having him so close to where you needed him. He notices, of course he does, and his eyes flick up to yours with a look of pure mischief as he begins kissing the inside of your thigh and across your bikini line, teasing you. You groan and can't help but roll your hips as he flutters kisses everywhere apart from where you need them.

"My beautiful wife needs something?" He teases, acting completely oblivious when you knew he was very aware.

"Please George," you beg, "need you."

Like a switch had been flicked in George's mind, his long fingers begin tracing your pussy through the very thin and nearly transparent lace, groaning once again when he feels the wetness seeping through the lace. You feel his fingers hook into the side of your thong, catching your labia with a little stroke before he pulls them away from your burning pussy, exposing you completely to his view. He wastes no time and leans down, licking a long stripe across your pussy, catching your swollen clit with the til of his tongue in the most perfect way that has you gasping and moaning.

"Fuck you taste good, so sweet," he whines into your pussy, resting his forehead against your mound for a moment before he slips down again, this time licking you with vigour. "So wet baby."

His tongue is everywhere, delicately stroking and teasing whilst also hitting every spot you need him in perfectly. It's a perfect juxtaposition between his igniting a fire inside of you, making you burn with desire and pure torment whilst also extinguishing the flames with his tongue. As soon as his finger traces your inner lips as it moves down, gently pressing into your waiting hole before he slips one of his long, deft fingers inside of you, you're gone. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, hips rising of their own accord as you grope your breasts, completely consumed by your pleasure. He slips a second finger into you as you cry out, fucking yourself on his fingers as he circles your clit with his tongue, putting pressure on the left side just as he's discovered drives you crazy.

"George, George!" You chant as you feel the beginning of your orgasm rising in you very quickly, consuming you and burning you from the inside out. Your pussy is drenched and you can feel more arousal gushing from you as your climax crests, George's own moans ringing out in your mind as he pushes you over the edge. It's like you're falling, the crescendo of light and burning arousal overtaking your whole body and mind, the only capable thought in your mind is of George. He licks you slowly as you come down, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he laps up your cum, fingers still slowly fucking you bath and forth with gentle strokes, extending your pleasure.

You gasp to catch your breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your heart pounds, the effects of your orgasm still lingering as you feel a tingle across your whole body. It takes all of ten seconds for you to focus your attention back to George who has pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing your inner thigh again, soothing you as you return to him.

You sit up and reach for him, pulling him on top of you as you kiss him feverishly, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. He notices and groans deeply against your lips, almost growling as you lick at his lips, desperate for a taste. You claw at his shirt, desperate to even out your nudity and feel his skin against yours and as if he can sense the sheer desperation, reaches down and completely rips the front of his shirt, the flying and falling buttons only an afterthought as you fight to get the shredded shirt away from his body. Your hands slip to his smooth shoulders and down his back as you kiss him desperately, pulling his tongue into your mouth so you can suck on it, relishing in his deep groans and little whines. Your hands rest on his collarbones as you slowly pull away from him, pushing him slightly until he realises was you want. You overpower him with just enough force that he rolls onto his back as you immediately latch to his chest, kissing and biting as you make your way down to your destination.

His suit trousers are completely tented, the sheer size an excitement of him almost intimidating to you as you fight to open the fastenings of his trousers. You don't wait even a moment after they are open to slide them down his hips, along with his black boxer briefs until he was completely bare, except from his sentimental chain and your wedding rings. You crawl back up the bed after throwing aside his bottoms and flick your eyes up to see his own desperate look as you come face to face with his rather impressive member. His lips are parted and he looks completely desperate as he watches you carefully, silently pleading for you to take his aching length in your mouth. You grant him reprieve almost instantly, licking straight from the crest of his balls to the engorged tip of his cock, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, following the gentle curve. He cries out at the contact and it makes you want to do everything in your power to hear it over and over again.

You gave into him completely, taking his tip in your mouth and licking all around, earning another heavenly noise from him before you sucked in your cheeks and bobbed up and down his length, taking him deeper and deeper with each fall; never stopping your tongue from running along the length of him. You were addicted to him, the taste, the weight of his length against your tongue, the feel of his smooth skin against your lips. You fought to go further with each bob, sucking him down like the most delicious treat from Honeydukes, giving everything you could.

George was moaning mess before you, desperately searching for any part of your body he could reach as he fought to stop his hips from rising each time you'd pull off, like he never wanted to leave your hot, wet mouth. Sweet names, curses and a load more expletives fell from his mouth as you pleasured him until he reached out, leaning forward to pull you closer to him.

You were dripping, more aroused than ever and so desperate for him to fill you that it was all you could think about. He pauses, looking at the little strip of lace that was still misplaced, concealing nothing of yourself and ripped the thin strings on the sides, tearing it away from your body, both of you complete bare to the other's gaze.

It was so intimate and intense that it stole the breath from your lungs, just how adoringly he was gazing at you. His hand grabbed around your neck, holding your face and threading into your hair as he kissed you completely without abandon, your chests pressed together as your leg slipped between his, desperately seeking friction.

"Ride me baby," he mumbles against your lips and as if acting directly on command, you comply. You lift your hips and straddle him, his narrow hips allowing your thighs to rest against his comfortably as your centres align, the heat and sensitivity joining together to make you both gasp.

He reaches down and holds his perfect cock at the bottom, ready for you to climb onto and you can hardly contain your cries as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretching you out. He pulls his hand away, moaning at the sensation as his hand rests on your bum, the large hand and long fingers wrapping around your bum and thigh.

It's sinful how well he stretches you out, filling you completely without any pain or discomfort, like you'd been moulded perfectly for his cock alone.

When your hips rise again and you sink back down, this time much more confidently, your head flips back at the sensation. George grunts and tightens his grip on you as you slowly begin to ride him, hips undulating and breasts bouncing as you fall into a perfect rhythm. Your hair fans out across your back and you've never felt sexier in that moment, feeling adored under his gaze and praised by not only his words but also his moans and growls.

You're both so worked up, so perfectly in sync that you can hardly contain yourself, not even caring to try and hold off the impending climax that threatens you, creeping up slowly until it's impossible to resist. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your arousal peaking as it leaks out around his cock and you're rewarded with the most incredible moans that spill from his lips at the sensation.

"George, Georgie I'm gonna," you stagger, completely breathless as you keep riding him, finding the perfect spot and movement so that he hits every single pleasure point inside you.

"Cum Angel, fuck, cum around my cock," he pants, groaning and tightening his grip on your hips as he fucks up into you. "Godric you're tight, perfect little pussy squeezing my cock so good. Cum for me Angel."

You chant his name as the heat of your second orgasm consumes you, never once stopping as you bounce on his cock. He takes over fucking up into you as you ride out your climax, filling you completely as he shoves his entire length into you before pulling almost completely out and repeating the motion. You're in complete bliss, overwhelmingly so, and can hardly stop tears of overstimulation brimming at your eyes, blurring your vision only slightly. George lets out a roar as he cums, fucking up into you with a brutal pace that is sinful at best. His hands pull you close to him, bruises forming under his grip but it's perfect.

His thrust stop slowly as he comes down from his high, riding out the last of his pleasure as he pulls you down to rest on him, softening cock slipping out at the angle. You breathe deeply as you feel the evidence of his pleasure slipping out of you slowly, trickling down until it dripped onto your inner thighs.

He cranes his neck to reach out to kiss you again, though this time it's like a warm down, gentle and sensitive.

"Welcome to the family," he wheezes after a few moments of comfortable silence and you let out a loud belly laugh at the absurdity of his words, tapping his chest as you slink down to rest beside him, his arm still keeping you pressed to him. He's covered you both with the duvet and you can't resist slipping into a very comfortable sleep, too comfortable and worn out from the day to fight it.

Taglist Requests

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[sunkissed-psyche]

THE MOUSAI : A MINI INFOPOST

Pindar, Paean 7 (trans. Sandys) (Greek lyric C5th B.C.) : "I pray to Mnamosyna (Mnemosyne, Memory), the fair-robed child of Ouranos (Uranus, Heaven), and to her daughters [the Mousai (Muses)]."

Who are they?

The Mousai or muses are the children of Zeus and Mnemosyne, and the goddesses of music, song and dance, and a source of inspiration to all poets. They are also goddesses of knowledge and remember all things that have happened. Ancient Greek vase paintings depicted the Mousai as beautiful young women with various musical instruments. Later art depicted each of the nine with their own attributes.

Mousai Titanides, Mousai Apollonides, and Olympian Mousai

The Mousai can be divided into three groups. The Mousai Titanides (elder muses), the Mousai Apollonides, and the Olypian muses. The elder muses or Mousai Titanides are 3 or 4 ancient titan-goddesses of music. These include Melete (Practice), Aiode (Song), and Mneme (Memory). Muse Mneme was later identified with Mnemosyne, the mother of the Olympian Mousai. The younger muses or Mousai Apollonides are a group of younger muses, daughters of Apollon who were honoured at the shrine of Delphoi. They include Nete, Mese, and Hypate named after the lyre's lowest, middle, and highest strings. The Olympian Mousai are the ones best known in the modern day. They are the children of Zeus and Mnemosyne. They include Kalliope, Kleio, Ourania, Thaleia, Melpomene, Polymnia, Erato, Euterpe, and Terpsichore.

The Olympian Mousai

♬ Kalliope - muse of epic poetry (beautiful voiced) ♬ Kleio - muse of history (to make famous) ♬ Ourania - muse of astronomy (heavenly) ♬ Thaleia - muse of comedy (rich festivity, blooming) ♬ Melpomene - muse of tragedy (celebrating with song) ♬ Polymnia - muse of religious hymns (many hymns) ♬ Erato - muse of erotic poetry (beloved, lovely) ♬ Euterpe - muse of lyric poetry (giving delight) ♬ Terpsichore - muse of choral song and dance (delighting in dance)

My fav literature mentions

Hesiod, Theogony 915 ff : "And again, he [Zeus] loved Mnemosyne (Memory) with the beautiful hair: and of her the nine gold-crowned Mousai (Muses) were born who delight in feasts and the pleasures of song."

Orphic Hymn 76 to the Muses (trans. Taylor) (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.) : "The Mousai (Muses) . . . daughters of Mnemosyne (Memory) and Zeus . . . sweetly speaking Nine . . . Kleio (Clio), and Erato who charms the sight, with thee, Euterpe, ministering delight : Thalia flourishing, Polymnia famed, Melpomene from skill in music named : Terpsikhore (Terpsichore), Ourania (Urania) heavenly bright."

Theognis, Fragment 1. 15 (trans. Gerber, Vol. Greek Elegiac) (Greek elegy C6th B.C.) : "Mousai (Muses) and Kharites (Charites, Graces), daughters of Zeus, who came once to the wedding of Kadmos (Cadmus) [and Harmonia] and sang the lovely verse, ‘What is beautiful is loved, what is not beautiful is not loved.’ This is the verse that went through your immortal lips."

Apuleius, The Golden Ass 6. 24 ff (trans. Walsh) (Roman novel C2nd A.D.) : "[At the wedding of Cupid (Eros) and Psyche (Psykhe):] Vulcanus [Hephaistos (Hephaestus)] cooked the dinner, the Horae (Seasons) brightened the scene with roses and other flowers, the Gratiae (Graces) [Kharites] diffused balsam, and the Musae (Muses), also present, sand in harmony. Apollo sang to the lyre, and Venus [Aphrodite] took to the floor to the strains of sweet music, and danced prettily. She had organized the performance so that the Musae sang in chorus, a Satyrus played the flute, and a Paniscus [a Pan] sang to the shepherd's pipes. This was how with due ceremony Psyche was wed to Cupidos (Love [Eros]."

Pindar, Dirges Fragment 139 (trans. Sandys) (Greek lyric C5th B.C.) : "But in another song did three goddesses [Mousai (Muses)] lull to rest the bodies of their sons. The first of these [Terpsikhore (Terpsichore)] sang a dirge over the clear-voiced Linos (Linus) [personification of the lamentation song]; and the second [Ourania (Urania)] lamented with her latest strains Hymenaios (Hymenaeus), who was seized by Moira (Fate), when first he lay with another in wedlock; while the third [Kalliope (Calliope)] sorrowed over Ialmenos (Ialmenus), when his strength was stayed by the onset of a raging malady. But the son of Oiagros (Oeagrus) [and Kalliope], Orpheus of the golden sword."

Homeric Hymn 27 to Artemis 14 ff (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C7th - 4th B.C.) : "[Artemis] goes to the great house of her dear brother Phoibos Apollon (Phoebus Apollo), to the rich land of Delphoi (Delphi), there to order the lovely dance of the Mousai (Muses) and Kharites (Charites, Graces). There she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads the dances, gracefuly arrayed, while all they utter their heavenly voice, singing."

[kenziesimsblog]

SIMS 3 YOUTUBER LEGACY

SIMS 3 YOUTUBER LEGACY

FOR THIS LEGACY YOU CAN CHOOSE WHERE YOU LIVE BUT MUST BE A CITY CELEBRITY WORLD FOR GEN ONE PLEASE NOTE NOT ALL OF THIS INFORMATION OR TRAITS/GOALS FIT THE YOUTUBERS!

GEN 8 WAS A FILLER BECAUSE I COULDNT THINK OF ANYONE THEY HAPPENED TO POP UP ON MY RECOMMENED !

GENERATION 1- TARA YUMMY

you grew up in a rural town moving to the big city as soon as you got the chance , your confident with yourself and love to be social what does the city life hold for you?

STYLE PREFERENCE - Y2K

TRAITS - social butterfly, irresistible, party animal, dog lover and vegetarian

LIFETIME WISH- blog artist

GOALS

run a 5 star blog

get a partner have a few kids THEN BREAK UP no marriage yet

go clubbing every saturday night

adopt a dog -your a party animal throw birthday parties every weekend

throw parties for holidays sometimes -do not eat meat your a vegetarian

become a five star celebrity

when you reach 8 days before elder status get back with your ex and have a private wedding with your family

complete your lifetime wish then gen complete

OPTIONAL IF YOU HAVE THE MODELING MOD JOIN MODEL CAREER AND MASTER MODELING SKILL*

GENERATION 2- SAM AND COLBY

your parent was kinda of a party animal they never really grew up as soon as you reached young adult status you left.

STYLE PREFRENCE - DARK ACADEMIA

TRAITS- adventurous, night owl, rebellious, loves the outdoors and easily impressed

LIFETIME WISH- paranormal profiteer

GOALS

meet your best friend in high school and stay friends your whole life -pull pranks -when your first move out have atleast 2 roomies aside from your best friend

move out of roomie house with your best friend -join ghost hunting profession with bff

fall in love with co worker or bestie

get married fast

have as many kids as you want

must have triplets {can cheat this}

complete lifetime wish

GENERATION 3- STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

you and your triplets have always been close and its hard to move on

STYLE PREFERENCE - STREETWEAR

TRAITS (only give to main heir) - good sense of humor, friendly, schmoozer , excitable, and vehicle enthusiat

LIFETIME WISH- reach max influence with all social groups

CAREER- self employed

GOALS {follow with heir}

stay close to other triplets

you all move in together -you go to uni for fun ultimately dropping out

meet partner in uni

join any freelance career -only have one kid

be extremley close to child and partner

GENERATION 4- SIMPHORA (WRITTEN BY @simphoraa)

Name - Simphora °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𐦍༘⋆

Description - You like to call yourself the “Jack of All Trades”, and eh.. you may not be actually considered one. But, you have a lot of interests, passions, the undying urge to explore new things, and acquire more knowledge and skills. Go show the world what you’re truly capable of!

Aesthetic - Luxurious Baddie

Traits - Ambitious, Dramatic, Computer Whiz, Hopeless Romantic, Workaholic

Lifetime wish - Forensic Specialist: Dynamic DNA Profiler

Goals:

Enroll in University and major in Technology

Live off-Campus and have one roommate

Get the disliked relationship with your roommate, and then find a reason to kick them out

Earn the Technology Degree

Reach level 10 in the Law Enforcement Career (choose the forensic branch)

Master the Logic skill

Create a Online Dating Profile

Fall inlove quickly with someone from the Online Dating website

Play video games once a day

Become a streamer, and livestream every Friday night (this is optional because you need to download the streamer mod from ModtheSims)

Befriend some supporters

Have as many kids as you want

GENERATION 5 - FLORYDA (WRITTEN BY @florydaax)

your life was cozy you wanted it more!

TRAITS- bookworm, cat person , clumsy, loner and socially awkward

LIFETIME WISH- the cat herder

CAREER- Lawyer (custom career by missyhissy) or law enforcement

GOALS

Join the Ballet/Dance after school activity as a child

Get a parttime job at the supermarket as a teen -Go to university and get a degree

Have at least 2 cats -Get married to your first boyfriend/ partner

Have 2 kids

Buy and read books every week

Master the Social Networking and Writing skills -Complete the lifetime wish and reach the top of the career

GENERATION 6- MR BEAST

you had a good life and you want to make sure others do to even if yours goes downhill

STYLE PREFERENCE= COMFY/ CASUAL

TRAITS- good, lucky, nuturing, ambitious, and charismatic

LIFETIME WISH- leader of the free world

CAREER- political

GOALS

donate to a charirty every week -do any opportunity that earns money or relationships

you meet a partner in high school but they cheat on you

your single for a while, until you meet a single parent

become close to them and there child

adopt 2 strays

adopt a kid

play a lottery when you can

your partner suddenly dies take in there kid'

have atleast one kid with your partner before they die

never remarry

complete lifetime wish

never have a bad relationship or distant friends

GENERATION 7- CATALEAH

you love animals and want to save them all

STYLE PREFERENCE - COTTAGECORE

TRAITS- animal lover, eco friendly, loves the outdoors, socially awkward and green thumb

LIFETIME WISH- the ark builder

CAREER- horseman

GOALS

get your first animal as a gift from your parent

have two of each animal that lifetine wish says

farm animals optional

master gardening skill

have a "perfect" garden

go to equestrian lot

learn to ride horse

be close to every animal

meet another animal lover

be close to your kids you lost your parents

complete lifetime wish

GENERATION 8 - CARLO AND SARAH

you want the perfect love life

STYLE PREFERENCE- FANCY

TRAITS- hopeless romantic, family orenited ,artistic, friendly and neat

LIFETIME WISH - surronded by family

CAREER- FREELANCE ARTIST

GOALS

meet your best friend in high school

when you graduate go to france

find your partner there

they move to town you get married

have 5 kids

do a family activity every holiday

throw many parties

complete lifetime

DONE

TAG ME IN POST I WOULD LOVE TO SEE!

[bertinworms]

I Wish You Would

Pairings: Tangerine x gn!civilian!drunk!reader

Tags/Warnings: cursing/language, alcohol alcohol consumption, drunk character, mention of gambling/betting, bar atmosphere, kissing/make out, mentions of fire arms/weapons

Word Count: 5.3K

Summary: You are drunk. Not “black out and forget the entire night “ drunk, but white girl at the club with her friends drunk. One of your bestest friends is getting married soon and tonight you and the rest of your eccentric friend group are club/bar hopping to celebrate the engagement! Your friend group told you to think about it like the bachelorette party before the bachelorette party. Whatever that means… The group isn’t a big group, only about seven people, but the seven people all come from various backgrounds. Three of your friends come from pretty well off families and happened to be in university for law school. One of your friends works for some huge tech company with something to do with security. One of them comes from a line of surgeons and happens to be in residency for surgery. Your best friend and bride-to-be comes from an extremely wealthy and famous family, you aren’t really sure what for, but you know it has to do with tycoons and business and yada yada. And then there was you. You were in university too, at the same establishment as the rest of the group, but you didn’t come from lines of money. You were in school for education. 

Various backgrounds or not, your bestie for the restie wants to go absolutely ballistic and celebrate her girlfriend finally popping the question, so of course your study buddy group just has to go out! With the intentions of bar and club hopping, you all end up at an arcade? Or a bowling alley? You aren’t really sure, but the place has heaps of alcohol, arcade games, a place to bowl, mini golf, and also some cute patrons….

************************************************************************

You honestly could not believe that you had agreed to this. You had been friends with your group for almost five years and you had always said you would do anything for them, but you never thought it meant being out since about 7:00 PM celebrating Ava May’s proposal. When you had gotten the notification that afternoon with an image attached, you were hoping that her partner, Jordan, had finally popped the question and you were right. And of course the groupchat had blown up.

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

“Girls, Gays, & Daddies $$$”

Leoni: SHUT THE FUCK UP DID THEY REALLY PROPISE THIS TIME!!>>??!>!? Mateo: here comes leon with the typos 🙄 BUT OMG CONGRATS AVA!!!!!!! Camilia: HOOOOOOLYYYYY SHIT!!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!! THEY HAD THE FUCKING BALLSSSSS You: OMG YESS!!!!! WHEN’S THE WEDDING!!?? Elijah boo: FORGET the wedding!!!!! bitch, when are we CELEBRATING!!!!!! Naomi: omg can we PLEASE go out tonight!!!!???  Wrenster: omg ava congrats!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it took them long enough!!!!!! Ava Bear: omg y’all already KNOW we’re going out tonight!!!!!! b @ my house 5pm SHARP troops 🫡

┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

Of course five o’clock came, and everyone in the group chat was at Ava’s house. You all got to congratulate Jordan and Ava on the engagement, and say hello to both their family’s, but quickly carried Ava away to party the night away. That was of course after all seven of you pregamed getting ready.

The group was a close knit one. You all were giggling and laughing and dancing around each other while getting ready, raiding Ava’s closet and her accessories and checking yourselves in the mirrors. Everyone had gone for outfits that made them stand out, but complemented their features. You had ended up in some brightly colored crop top that Ava had shoved into your hands, your sneakers, and some designer jeans that Mateo had said would have your ass looking like you did 500 squats a day. You had laughed and rolled your eyes at that. You were pretty sure Mateo just wanted you to feel sexy. 

The rest of the group had picked similar outfits. Some exposing skin, other’s exposing less skin but featuring skin-tight clothing pieces. Some had added accessories to their hair, their neck, their wrists and more. With six other bodies dancing around, you honestly hadn’t gotten a great look at everyone’s outfits – but you figured it didn’t matter anyway because by the end of the night most of those outfits would probably look a lot different from how they looked currently. And once everyone was ready, you all headed towards Ava’s car where a driver was waiting. And you all climbed in and pregamed some more.

Half of the group tended to be “partiers”not crazy party goers, but they liked to spend time when they could out having a good time. That didn’t really happen to be up your alley. You were a little more introverted than your friend group, especially since you didn’t necessarily have the same funds your friends did. The group loved paying your way through parties though and always made sure you were included, but the combination of feeling bad and not loving the party scene meant you didn’t go out with them as much as they probably would’ve liked you to. But this night was different. Everyone in the group had already sternly told you that tonight you and Ava were not spending a dime on anything. Mateo telling you that tonight that they were celebrating Ava’s engagement and also the rare occasion of you going all out tonight with them. 

You didn’t disagree.

And that’s how you and your friend group ended up at some club? Arcade? Bowling alley? Bar? You weren’t sure what to call it, but the place seemed to have it all.. There was a bar with many-a-drinks, bowling alley lanes, an arcade, neon minigolf, laser tag, and televisions everywhere, each featuring a different sporting event which you assumed was for people betting on games. 

It was loud, and dark, but also brightly lit all at the same time. You were cold, but kept comfortable with the warmth of your friend group buzzing around you. You were very out of your element. You would’ve been slightly uncomfortable if you hadn’t already had about seven? No, you think eight? You weren’t sure, but you and the rest of the group had a fair amount of alcohol in you. 

Right then, everything seemed a little fuzzy. You had glanced at your phone and thought you had read some time around 11:00 PM, but with Rihanna blasting over the speakers in the building, it was a little hard to concentrate. 

The group was currently at a bar-like table. Mateo, Elijah, Ava, and Naomi were currently on their fourth round of bowling with Ava still somehow in the lead. Leon, Wren and Camilia had snuck away from the group either to get more drinks or maybe to play mini golf, you really couldn’t remember. 

Your glossed over gaze was disturbed by Mateo standing up and stretching as long as he could, his arms reaching up a little revealing a bit of his stomach. 

“Okay, I am going back to the bar to get another drink, anyone else coming?” He said, eyes bouncing around the faces at the table. Nobody responded as they all seemed to be involved with something else at the time, so you stood up quickly.

“Mmmmmmm, I’ll come with Matty!” You smiled and trailed after him as he led the way to the bar.

“You know there’s some cuties here, you should try and chat one up.” He says, side eyeing you as you both arrive at the bar to look over what you want.

You roll your eyes and playfully push his shoulder. “That would be a grand idea except I’m drunker than a skunk currently and we’re here to celebrate Ava, not find me a date.” 

Mateo rolls his eyes as he orders both of your drinks and collects them. 

“Okay, yeah we are celebrating Ava, but you know good and damn well if I told that girl you saw a hot guy looking your way that she would jump on the idea of you making a move tonight.” Mateo chuckles as he finishes his sentence and starts walking you both back to the table, curving through the different people.

“I know, but tonight I’m just hanging out with you guys. I’m honestly shocked that nobody has attracted any spare wild men to the table with how loud and obnoxious we’re being tonight.” You laugh, a tiny hiccup slipping out of your mouth.

As you and Mateo round the corner to your table, Mateo sees the group before you and busts out into laughter. “Oh my dear, have you truly jinxed yourself tonight.” He walks the few steps to the table, puts the two drinks down. “Hellooooo boys!”

When Mateo steps aside, you're greeted by the eyes of two men who look like they don't belong here. They both are extremely attractive, but both appear to be in suits. Like suit suits. Like they could be working at the bank. You recognize the two as workers for Ava’s father. Bodyguards. Or honestly the word babysitters fit the situation too. ‘Babysitters with bullets,’ you think to yourself as you look down at one of the men’s waists, catching a glimpse of a not-so-hidden weapon.

Your thought is cut off by that said man speaking and your eyes trail from his waist to his face. He holds eye contact with you before speaking. “Sorry to crash this here lil shindig, but you lot should be wrapping all this,” he twirls a finger around in the air, referencing the group, “up pretty soon. It’s getting late.” 

Once he finishes his sentence, it’s now his turn to look at you. You watch his eyes look up and down, scanning what felt like every inch of your body, before he looks back to Ava as she begins to speak.

“Oh my god! Look, I know Daddy sent you two to “look after me”’ Ava uses huge air quotes, “but I’m old enough to make sure I don’t get fucking dragged off drunk off my fucking ass. We’re just celebrating, just chillax, yeah?” Ava lets out a giggle as she clearly slurs her words and then playfully slaps the shoulder of the man that hadn’t spoken yet. 

“Come on Tangerine, just let them be, yeah? They’re not doing any harm and they're all in one spot.” The man says, putting a hand on Tangerine’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and shake. If you remember right, you’re pretty sure he goes by Lemon. Or that’s what you’ve heard Ava’s father call him.

“Yeah Tangerine! Just let us chilllllll” Naomi drags out the last word as she tries to put a hand on his chest. He takes a step back away from her, his face slightly puckering up as it seems like he stifles a face of annoyance.

 You sit down next to Ava, across from where the open seat in front of Tangerine is.

“Look. Ava’s father gave clear instructions to make sure she doesn’t make any fucked decisions tonight. And seeing as sh–” Tangerine’s speech is cut off once more, this time surprisingly by Elijah.

“Look man, if your concern is making sure Ava isn’t dead in a ditch, why don’t you two just pull a seat up at the table. It isn’t like we’re going anywhere else tonight, just fucking sit and relax. Have a drink!” Elijah almost barks this out before returning to the game of bowling. He’s currently in second place, behind Ava and you know he’s dying to beat her. 

Lemon gives a nod before sitting down at the bar, grabbing Ava’s half finished beer and taking a swig. Tangerine on the other hand reluctantly takes a seat in front of you. You watch his demeanor once he’s sat. It seems like he’s avoiding your gaze, and you’re not sure why. You watch his face as he observes the people around you. You can’t tell if he’s just surveying the place or if he’s just uncomfortable. His body language looks stiff and his hands are clasped on the table in front of him.

“You have pretty eyes…” The sentence slips out of your mouth as you stare at him, rubbing your own eye as you feel yourself getting a little tired. You were hoping to break the silence. “Also pretty arms.” You let out a little giggle as you prop your head on your hand, continuing to stare at the pretty man sitting across from you.

You talking seems to bring him back to the group at hand. Or at least brings his attention to you. He gives you a weird look, seeming to calculate what to say. “And you seem pretty drunk, love.” He reaches across the table, grabbing your drink and taking a sip from it before returning it to you. “And that’s a pretty strong drink you got.”

You give yet another giggle, reaching for your drink and taking a sip. You were drunk all right, but you needed more liquid courage if you were going to be in the presence of this man. Your brain had fallen quiet and your friends seemed to not be coming to your rescue in this one. 

You recall a comment from Mateo earlier in the night about ‘letting you do your thing if you ever came across a hot ass man tonight.’ 

You had been around Tangerine and Lemon before. From what you could recall, they weren’t truly employed by Ava’s father. You’re pretty sure it was more like a freelance thing? They weren’t always around Ava and her family, but they were hired common enough for you to know exactly who they are and remember Tangerine. 

The first time you had ever met the two, the group was at a soccer game in the city. You were in Ava’s family’s suite at the game having a blast. You remember spotting Tangerine and asking Ava just who the tall man was exactly. After that, any time Tangerine and Lemon were hired to babysit Ava, you always basically gawked at the man. After Tangerine and Lemon left for the room, your friend group, especially Ava liked to tease you. Ava and Mateo knew you had a thing for Tangerine. Ava liked to get her father to hire the two as much as possible, especially if you were present. It meant you saw him often. It meant you thought about him often. You thought his curls were pretty and you could imagine what it would feel like to run your fingers through his beautiful hair. You could recall the accent he had. You thought the tattoos he had were attractive, or maybe it was just because they were on his arms. And god did he have pretty arms. 

You’re once again brought out of daydreaming, this time by Naomi sitting down by Tangerine and placing a hand on the back of his shoulder, and one hand on his chest. You don’t listen to what she’s saying, but by the look on their face, you know she’s flirting. And hard. You hear her let out a giggle as she makes some sort of comment about the man before you swap from sipping your drink to straight up downing it. 

You slam the cup down on the table and shoot up. “I’m off to get another drink..” You twirl around, maybe a little too fast, and begin heading for the bar.

You know the announcement of your departure was a little stern. You don’t know why, but it almost got on your nerves that Naomi was making a pass at the man. You let the jealousy stay for a second before rationalizing the thought. 

‘I’m not actually jealous. It’s late and I’m drunk, it isn’t that big of a deal, I’m just being silly.’ You think to yourself as you arrive at the bar, propping both elbows up onto the ledge and waiting for a bartender to notice you. You wipe your face hoping to clear your mind. 

While waiting your eyes slowly are drawn to one of the television hung above the bar – some wrestling match was going on. You notice the other people at the bar, their eyes glued to the screen. ‘I don’t understand why they are so invested.’ You think to yourself as you turn your attention back to in front of you, looking at the drink choices before noticing a man standing to your right. You turn your head and are happily met by the pretty blue eyes of a curly headed man.

You grin.

“Tangeriiinnnneeeeee” You draw out his name. You aren’t quite sure if it is on purpose or if you’re just drunk, but it didn’t matter as you watched the man’s lips twist into a smirk itself.

“Interested in the match, are we?” He asks, nodding back to the television.

“Mmmmmm, not quite. I’m not much of a sports fan.” You give a glance at the match before turning your attention back to him, noticing his shirt. He usually had it buttoned up all the way, as professional as you can get. But tonight, you notice at least two, maybe three buttons that seem to be open. You can see a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt. You take a deep breath before your eyes return to his. He had watched you check him out yet again.

You clear your throat before asking, “Are you a fan?”

He doesn’t break eye contact. “I am tonight.” 

A noise escapes your throat, almost a hum. He still hadn’t broken eye contact. Maybe it was just you, but it seemed like it had gotten hard to breathe. You felt like you hadn’t taken a breath in ages. “And why’s that?” You ask, still looking at him and still maintaining eye contact. 

In the moment you felt like the only thing in the room was him. 

“Got money on the small guy. Everyone likes an underdog story, yeah?” The smirk returns to his face.

You nod your head in agreement. Once again, your brain has gone blank. The sudden movement of his lips catches your attention as your eyes quickly dart down to his lips, and quickly dart back up to his eyes. He had watched that happen too.

As your eyes meet, your body forces you to take a deep breath. You notice he does the same. Maybe his breath had also been caught in his throat. You realize the sound of the world around you also comes back to you. 

You’re brought back to the real world completely as a bartender greets you and Tangerine, asking what you two will have. But before you can answer for yourself, Tangerine speaks for you.

“Water for this one, and whisky for me.” He says before telling the bartender exactly what he wants. As soon as the bartender turns to go grab the materials, you turn back to Tangerine.

“I can’t order for myself now?” You jokingly ask, your voice getting a little higher in disbelief as you raise both your eyebrows in fake disbelief.

He looks at you and gives a scoff. “You can, but I don’t know if you should be at this particular time darling.” He gives you a sly smile, one probably meant to comfort you. 

And you lose your breath again and you avert your eyes. You thought you had gotten confident, but you weren’t expecting him to call you that. You clear your throat. And start to mess with a laminated menu on the bar.

“So why exactly are you here tonight? You know this isn’t the first stop we’ve made, right?” You ask, trying to change the subject. Or at least to get him talking.

“We’ve been hanging back most of the night. Nothin’ suspicious has happened, but a few o’ you idiots are getting a little too far gone. Ava’s father sent us specifically to watch her. The rest of the group is just an added bonus. Don’t wanna make any rich parents mad, do we?” He asks the last part rhetorically. 

This time he’s the one looking away. He takes a drink while looking off. You can’t read the expression on his face, but it isn’t quite neutral. He looks like something is on his mind. 

“You don’t seem all that excited to be babysitting a bunch of adults. Why do you even take the jobs offered by Ava’s family? I assume there’s other things you could be doing.” After speaking you realize your tone seemed a little snippy. You hadn’t meant for it to come out rudely, but it did just a tad. You really were on a roll tonight. 

You didn’t want to necessarily influence the man to stop taking the jobs, but you were curious. You could tell by what he was wearing that he had money. In previous interactions, you had drawn the same conclusion. You weren’t extremely up to date with the latest fashion trends when it came to wealth, but you did know that the watch on his wrist looked very similar to one that Elijah had. And you knew it wasn’t cheap. Plus the extensive wardrobe the man seemed to have also led you to believe he was pretty well off for himself.

He half turns his head back to you, side eyeing you with a scrunched eyebrow.

 “A little touchy on the subject are we?” He asks you before setting his drink down. He rubs his chin before turning his face to yours.

 “Ava’s father pays well. The jobs easy, quick and usually clean. Easy money.” He pauses and you watch his eyes move down to your lips and back up to your eyes and then down to the drink back in his hand. “It's an added bonus that sometimes you idiots can be entertaining.” 

“Well. I’ll agree that they – we – can be quite entertaining. I can imagine it can be a little obnoxious at times.” A few times come to mind.

Like this year's New Years Eve party held at Ava’s. Camilia had drunk way too much champagne and had eaten quite a few shrimps. She was in the midst of a nasty break up with a pretty popular actor and had seen the reports of him attending a party that night with his co-star. A smile comes to your face as you remember the look of absolute horror on Tangerine’s face when Camilia had thrown up on him. You remember Lemon’s gasp.

Or the one time you, Ava, and Leon had somehow ran into one of Leon’s father’s old clients who had recently gotten out of prison. You three had been out shopping at the beach when the man confronted the group. Calmly at first, but very quickly drew a gun and began yelling at you three. Tangerine and Lemon had resolved the situation as quickly as the man had appeared.

Or one of the most recent events. For Ava’s birthday, she had thrown a huge, fancy party out of the country. Some place in Ireland, with almost a Bridgerton theme. Somehow you and Tangerine ended up in a room on the outskirts of a castle while the party was booming in the distance. You remember how close he had gotten to you. How close his face had gotten to yours. How he had stared at your lips for what felt like ages as you spoke. You remember the silence that happened after you had finished speaking, and the way his eyes darted quickly back to your eyes to just as quickly return to your lips. You also remember the way he had drawn away from you as Jordan had busted into the room looking for Ava. You weren’t one hundred percent sure, but you were pretty confident that if she hadn’t done so, Tangerine would have kissed you.

“I wouldn’t say ‘obnoxious’. Not all of you at least.” Tangerine says. He seems to have a distant look in his eyes. You wonder if the memory of you two alone in Ireland had come to mind. You hope it had. 

Eventually you and Tangerine began reminiscing on some of the funnier moments that had happened while him and Lemon had been present. 

You two had moved from the bar to a small table in a corner. Tangerine was still able to see the rest of your group, most importantly Ava. Even then, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways as Ava had convinced Lemon to join the current round of bowling. The group didn’t seem like they were going anywhere and neither did Lemon. 

The place was still as loud as ever, but in the corner it was a little easier to hear each other. The neon lights that were reflecting off of most everything in the building was giving Tangerine a glow. The lights were giving his hair a darker complexion than normal, while highlighting his blue eyes. If you weren’t sitting so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed the details. But fortunately for you, you were. 

You were close enough to him to smell his cologne. He smelled almost like citrus. Or maybe like sandalwood? Or maybe like the inside of a linen closet? You weren’t exactly sure of the scent profile, but he smelled good. He smelled familiar. 

“Do you remember Ireland? That birthday party was insane! I don’t know how you two kept up with Ava that week, it felt like every ten seconds we were going somewhere new!” You let out a small laugh remembering just how crazy it had been. 

Tangerine rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. “You honestly think I would forget? I felt like I needed a leash on that girl. I wish she would have stayed around me or Lemon like you had during the trip.” His eyes light up a little as he scans your face. 

You hadn’t realized you had been so obvious on that trip. Most of the friend group had paired off in Ireland and you remember hoping to talk more to Tangerine on the trip. You hadn’t made it your priority of course, but during down times or sightseeing activities you had hoped to hear his thoughts.

The air got thin once more. You realized that you both were leaning in towards each other. You were sitting in your chair sideways. Your right elbow propped on the table, with your hand propping your head up turned towards Tangerine, your back turned to the group’s table. Tangerine was turned towards you, almost leaning into your space with his right arm draped over the back of your chair, his hand hung in the open air between the back of your chair and your side. His left arm draped into his lap. Your legs sandwiched in between his. 

You hadn’t realized just how physically close you too were. Talking with him and drinking water seemed to have sober you up some. Realizing how close you were to him also helped to sober you up in the moment. Your eyes trailed to his lip as you went to speak.

“Well, I’d never pass up the chance to be around you all day.” You say, a little softly as you had grown even more distracted by each and every centimeter of his face. You think about how soft his skin would feel in your hands. 

You readjust yourself, trying to redirect your thoughts. You sit up a little straighter and let your hand that had been previously holding up your head fall into your lap. It unintentionally brushes Tangerine’s knee and you watch it slightly move, almost shocked by the touch. Sitting up like you were now meant that your face was even closer to his. You really hadn’t realized how much you two were leaning into each other. 

You're staring at Tangerine’s lips when your eyes rush back to his as he places a hand right above your knee. You watch as he begins to lean in, his eyes on your lips. Before you can even process that his hand is practically on your thigh. He stops an inch away from you, his eyes moving up to meet your glance. His eyes meet yours for only a second before they move back down to your lips, and once again back to your eyes. You could feel him let a breath out, nearly a scoff.

“You’re extremely drunk.” He says dryly. and goes to pull away from you.

“I was dead sober in Ireland.” You quickly remark before retaking the distance he had put between the two of you. You plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“I haven’t forgotten about Ireland either.” You say softly as you move one of his curls behind his ear that had fallen when you kissed him a little too forcefully, the fear of missing another chance had brought some adrenaline into your system. Your hand makes its way to the back of his head as you begin to play with his hair. “I’ve been hoping you would be around more after that trip. Especially after the party.”

The hand Tangerine had set previously on your knee quickly moves to your face as he gently goes to hold your chin before lifting it up. This time h initiates the kiss. He’s more gentle than you were. 

You grin into the kiss, only slightly thinking about how contrasting the situation was. The harsh man kisses gently, yet you, a more soft person kissed him like you were a thirteen year old kissing their crush at the school dance, afraid to be seen.

His hand moves from your chin to hold your head as he pulls you in more. Once he’s pulled you in as close as he can, his hand trails to your waist where it rests. Both of your hands quickly move back to his head where you pull him in closer.

His mustache tickles you, but you don’t care. All you could think about was how his head felt in your hands. How you wanted to be closer to him. How his hand was pulling your waist in. How his lips felt against yours. How you felt like you were breathing for the first time this entire night. 

Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers dig into your waist. You feel yourself becoming warm as your attention is drawn to the fact that his skin is touching yours. Both of Tangerine’s hands are now holding on to your waist, pulling you in even more if it’s possible. One of his hands begins to trail up your back. It feels like he’s trying to find a better way to pull you closer to him, but at this point if you two got any closer you would be in his lap. 

You accidentally let out what you think is supposed to be a gasp as one of his hands runs back down your spine, returning to your waist once more. This doesn’t faze Tangerine as he takes the short break from your lips to move both his hands now to either side of your head as he pulls you back into the kiss, not without a short and breathy ‘shit’ that escapes his mouth. 

You aren’t sure who initiates the harsher kiss, but you didn’t care. As Tangerine bites your lower lip, you let out a breath and you grab onto the neckline of his unbuttoned shirt. Tangerine plants one last hard kiss onto your lips he pulls away, and leans into your ear before.

“I’d slow your breathing down, we’re about to have a visitor, yeah?” He plants a kiss on your cheek and pulls his head back to look at you before wiping your lips to get rid of some spit that had been left from when you two had separated. “Gotta make sure you look good too, dear.” 

He takes a deep breath in, clears his throat and seats back against his chair, while running both of his hands over his head in an attempt to put his hair back in place after you had tussled it. He then leans back in his chair, giving a smile at the unwelcome visitor.

You wipe your hands over your face, and then over your own hair in an attempt to self soothe. You take a deep breath yourself as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. You wipe your hands down the thighs of your jeans before turning to meet whoever was coming towards you.

“Hey, you guys ready to go? Lemon is rounding up the rest of the group now. Ava and Elijah finally got bored with bowling.” Naomi says before finishing the drink she had in hand.

“Right. We’ll be over shortly.” Tangerine says, raising his eyebrows at Naomi and turning his attention back to you. You give her a smile and a nod to acknowledge her. As she goes to walk back to the table, you turn yourself back towards Tangerine.

“Glad we weren’t interrupted before this happened. Hope it was worth the wait.” Tangerine says giving you a sly smile.

You let out a half hearted laugh. If you thought nothing was in your brain beforehand, it was even more empty now. All you could think of now was when you would be alone with him again. 

“How long did you say you and Lemon were staying this time around?” You manage to get out, looking up at him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you also wanted to do this again. 

Tangerine chuckles as he fixes his shirt from where you had grabbed it as he goes to answer, “I’m in the city for a couple of days. Off work too.” He tucks a curl behind his ear. “You have something in mind that could keep me busy?”

You nod your head as you give out a short laugh. “Ask me out to a proper dinner and I think we could figure something out."

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A/N: hey home slices, so here's this. i recently rewatched the movie, and am about to read the book and thought i would write something. who knows if i'll write more, but it was fun lol if you liked this, check out my master list! --> HERE

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Celebrations Prelude

Series: On The Side

Triggers: Age Gap (Price: 37, reader in early 20s), Cheating, lying, fighting (verbal, and shoving)

MDNI

Now Playing: She’s All I Wanna Be by Tate McRae

I hate her. I really hate her. Platinum blonde, blue eyes, those crow feet to match. A perfect smile. She smiles so sweetly, and you close your eyes when you laugh. Lips pulled to the side and head turned down. She’s not even that funny. Voice shrill like the mean girl on a telly.

I watch when you remove your ring in a bar. How you hold your chin up. Cocky smirk. You know how to pull one in. Tell Ghost it’s just like fishing. Tell me it’s just a joke, that you respect women. You respect Laswell well enough, then turn around and snap my bra strap through my uniform if I hesitate to your beck and call.

I hate her so much. A civilian. She’s tall. You treat her right other than your deployment ventures. She’s your equal right?

I hate her.

She dances well. Pretty white dress. Finally got the bigger rock on her hand. The one you’ve been flaunting around to the guys saying “soon enough.”

I could tell her. Watch your black suit stain red with the wine in her hand. Maybe watch your cheek turn red when she slaps you.

I considered myself a “girl’s girl” until you. Now look at this…

Fucked up.

I’ll lie when you ask too. Say I’m happy for you and your missus. Like you’re a good man.

Maybe the wine’s a bit too helpful to waste on your suit or her dress…

“Rookie, you good?”

“I’m not a rookie anymore, Sarge.” I grumble back taking a sip from the glass. It’s an acquired taste, but when in Rome… God, she drinks red wine. I thought you liked whiskey, John?

“You still are to me.” Kyle banters back, taking a seat at the table. “You’ve been staring.”

“Just foreign is all.” I reply with a small shrug. Nonchalant with a quick commenting frown to pair. “Odd seeing Cap’ acting… Not grumpy. Or bitchy.”

It earns a scoffed laugh. “Right that is. Cap’s always got a bad habit of picking on you, doesn’t he?”

“Let’s see,” I begin to list on my fingers, “first there was pulling my bun down, then there was swapping his hat for mine, then there was stealing my boot laces-“

“You know he was trying to be friendly, right? We’ve been a tight knit group for a while now. Welcoming you was difficult for us, hell, Price most of all more than likely. We’ve worked with women before, but accepting one onto the team? That’s a bit different.”

I roll my eyes. Landing on the love birds of the night. John practically holding her up and sliding her across the floor as she tip toes about. Maybe she doesn’t dance as well as I thought. Is she difficult to lead? I scoff. Adorable.

“It’s the truth, lass. Best not take to heart. Honest, the Scouser’s chuffed about you. Thinks you’re a right addition.” His glass raised to toast singularly as John glances at us. “Tell me, lass, you think our Captain actually wanted this big show?” His finger taps his glass.

My head snaps. Brows furrowed with careful thought. “But that’s his wife.” I nod to the pair.

Kyle looks at me. His signature bitch face. A brilliant treat. “Right, she is. A right ponce in my opinion…” He trails off. “Maybe the drink is a tad much.” He downs his glass and stands. “Give me a bell if you need. Don’t let him get to you.”

“Plastered, mate?”

“Not yet, Rookie.” The snicker is quick as he walks away to talk with the single guests. He’s definitely up for it tonight.

Celebration. That’s the point of weddings.

Looking down the bottom of my glass isn’t too far. Maybe I’ll find my celebration there… or along the dotted lines of my transfer papers…

I look back up. Maybe it’s the liquor courage, or the fact that none of it matters so much to me anymore. A toast would do some good.

I rise. A knife sounds my glass. Sharp but classy tink ringing through the air. My glass raised high with rosy cheeks and warm smile.

“To the bride. She’s got everything that I don’t have. She’s all I wanna be so bad. Perfect smile and personality inside and out to match.” I bite down the truth. “To the beautiful Heather. A woman with a heart of gold to love a man like John. May he treat you right, and your marriage be a happy one. Cheers!”

John crosses his arms, shrugging with his snarky smirk. I wanna wipe it off his face. “Orders.”

“You know, I could report you for abuse of power.” I challenge.

“You could. You won’t.”

“Why do you do this? What’s the point? You could have me removed from the team, Captain.”

“Just a bit of fun-“

“Bullshit.” I cut off. “Don’t give me that shit. You don’t treat anyone else like this.”

“Other people aren’t on my team, Rookie-“

“Lance Corporal.” I correct. “I get I’m new, but how the fuck am I supposed to be anything if I don’t get a chance? I worked hard. I graduated top of my class. I got a chance to be apart of the ‘big leagues’. I try my fucking hardest, Sir. Where the hell do you get off on harassing me? Just taking the piss, are you? Fucking bullshit-“

“You know you have a mouth on you, Lance Corporal.” He steps up. Towering over me in the small office. “You should learn to shut it.”

I straighten myself. “Yes, Captain.”

He scoffs, rounding his desk and plopping into the seat. It’s silent for a few moments. I, waiting for orders, and him, waiting to sort through his thoughts. “Were you going to tell her?”

“Sir?”

“The wedding toast.”

A beat. “No. I just thought that the red wine would look proper on your tux. Would’ve been a waste of money.”

“Good. Don’t forget, you’re convenient. I won’t leave her for you. You’re on the side.”

Star border by @cafekitsune | Border link: here

Music Divider by @thecutestgrotto | Divider link: here

[bihansthot]

Hi Sol! I love your work, it’s all amazing! Can you write what a wedding with Bi Han be like? Like would it have flowers made of ice? Would it be a very private/intimate wedding? Are we going to wear Lin Kuei colors or wear traditional Chinese clothes? Thank you. 💙

Thank you so much lovely! I tried my best to imagine what an ideal wedding with Bi-Han would be like and this is what I came up with! Apologies to my Chinese friends if anything is inaccurate I tried to research as best as I could 🥹

A wedding with Bi-Han would be a very small, intimate affair. It would consist of only his inner circle so his brothers (we refuse to acknowledge what happened in the game for these headcanons), Sektor, and Cyrax and that’s about it.

The temple’s garden would glitter and sparkle with hundreds of your favorite flowers all made out of ice, all painstakingly crafted by your soon-to-be husband.

Interspersed between all the flowers would be lots of candles of various heights and widths in beautiful glass jars. The flickering and glowing candlelight reflects off the ice decor like twinkling stars.

Bi-Han expects a traditional wedding and would ask you to wear an exquisite qipao with an elaborate fur cloak to help protect you from the cold environment. He’s not a big stickler for the traditional red color but if you want to wear red that’s fine.

Bi-Han will be of course wearing blues, blacks, and silvers, his hair half up, half down with a metal guan holding it in place looking like he stepped out of a Chinese period drama. He looks incredible.

The ceremony will be very traditional and starts the night before with the hair combing ceremony, where the two of you comb each other’s hair to symbolize their new stage of adulthood. It will have to be altered slightly since Bi-Han’s parents are no longer alive but the sentiment is still there.

He will expect you to test his worth to earn his right to marry you by having your bridesmaids hide you from him until he proves his worth by telling them things he knows about you, eating bitter and spicy things to symbolize he can handle the ups and downs of marriage and finally giving them red envelopes of money showing he can take care of you properly.

What with Bi-Han not having parents the two of you agree to skip the tea ceremony but if your parents are present he will still offer your parents tea as a sign of respect for allowing him to marry their child.

Finally, the time comes for the ceremony and it is a hybrid of a Western and Chinese wedding with you walking down the aisle and being given away by your chosen person. The two of you exchange vows in the intimate setting of the beautiful garden with his fellow Lin Kuei and your small group of friends and family. Emphasis on small, Bi-Han is very wary about letting outsiders visit the Lin Kuei Temple, but he makes an exception for your wedding.

Afterwards is a lavish banquet catered by Madam Bo, there’s dancing and feasting, drinking, and fireworks to celebrate. You dance until dawn surprised by how carefree and happy your usually grumpy, uptight now husband is.

You’re both exhausted after the day’s festivities but that doesn’t stop Bi-Han from consummating the marriage the second he gets you alone.

[chaosgremlinmunson]

Forever with you

For @steddie-week July7: Free space

I chose to write Steddie getting engaged, featuring Stobin and the meddling platonic soulmate.

If anyone had told Steve when he was younger that he would meet a group of people who loved him so fiercely the world itself shook from their ire should he be harmed, he'd have laughed at them. Steve Harrington had been a douche-bag jock, a prima-donna self centered jerk, an air headed pretty boy. He was good for a hook-up, a kiss, maybe even a few dates, but young Steve was not someone you thought of when you thought about sensitive, caring, kind people who would drop the world just to make sure you were okay and had anything you needed. Yet here he was at 20 years old, the apocalypse finally over and he was surrounded by so much love and devotion from the ragtag group who'd long ago become his found family.

Steve smiled to himself sipping from his champagne flute as the platonic love of his life held firmly to the girl she chose to marry, their first dance as a wedded couple and you could see for them the rest of the world had melted away. Steve looked across the room where Eddie sat with Dustin, they laughed together over something Eddie had said.

Steve found himself smiling dopily as he watched them interact, his brother and the love of his life getting on like a house on fire as they always did. Steve remembered the sleepless nights beside Eddie's hospital bed as he prayed to God he wasn't sure existed for him to please make it, please wake up. He remembered the first time Eddie’s fingers curled around his hand while he was still lost in his own mind, deep in that coma he was fighting to escape. He remembered the tears falling when those huge brown eyes opened, and he'd rasped a “hey, big boy” at Steve who couldn't stop the joyous laugh at finally seeing Eddie awake.

He remembered the first months of grueling therapy, Eddie relearning to walk again, his body betraying him but he kept on. How Eddie insisted he was going to walk to Steve one day without the need to hold onto rails. Eddie did it, yes he needed a can now, but he was walking. He remembered the first night he made them dinner together as more than friends, how he melted into the hesitant and shy kiss Eddie gave him as he knelt down to adjust Eddie's pillows.

Steve remembered every moment they had together, and now here he was, twenty years old and ready to spend the rest of his life making this man smile. Robin came up beside Steve to sit at the sweetheart table after dance, her eyes following his line of sight.

“Just think, Dingus, this time next year we could be celebrating your wedding.” She murmured.

“I have to ask him first, Bobbin. And I can't do that tonight, I refuse to take away from your special day.” He grinned back.

“Oh pshh, listen, I have an idea.” She leaned in whispering in his ear and his grin grew wider still before she showed him across the room. Standing she clinked her champagne flute with a fork calling attention from the crowd, “Hi everyone, i just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us. Ronnie and I are so glad to have each and everyone of you by our side on our special day. The only thing that could make today any better and brighter was if my best friend, my brother from a different mother, and absolute favorite human on this earth was getting married today too. But, since he insisted he didn't want to take away from my day, I had to give him a kick in his ass, Eddie dearest, my Dingus has a super special question to ask you.”

Eddie gaped at Robin and then looked up at Steve who dropped to one knee before Eddie.

“You're better with words than I can ever be, but I love you so much, and nothing in this world would make me happier than if you would do me the honor of being my husband.” Steve said smiling up at Eddie, his own eyes shining with love and devotion.

“As if I'd say anything except for yes to any future with you Stevie.” Eddie pulled Steve in by the hand kissing him, “yes! I'll marry you!” Steve slipped a solid black and silver band on Eddie's finger. The engraving on the ring was the same as that from Lord of the Rings, and Eddie giggled looking back up to Steve's face.

“A toast!” Called Robin, “to the happiness and fortuitous future of my platonic soulmate and the man he loves!”

“Hear! Hear!” Yelled the rest of the room as Steve and Eddie held each other in a warm embrace.