#Fixed some of the grammar sorry about that

[timkontheunsure]

Prophetic stars & dreams

Stolas was born to read prophecies from the stars.

And it's the job Via was born to replace, if Stolas couldn't be controlled.

Both of them seem to pick up small glimpses of the future outside of this work, about important things in their own lives.

And don't seem to really understand that's what's they're doing.

Feeling more like they get hints and nudges; that aren't always in the right order, can get confused with other similar events, and even are clouded by the emotions from their future selves.

The 11th birthday

Stolas starts getting prophecies as soon as he's handed the book. Putting these hints with his gut instincts as soon as his life's purpose is named by Paimon.  

He takes one look at Stella and goes all the nope.   

He sees Blitzo, and isn't just smitten; but stays that way for 25 years.

Blitz is important.

And out of all the teddies they could be playing within that room; Stolas wants to share his more important possession, knowledge, with his new friend. 

He has a small idea that he should share his books with his first friend.  Like he will do with the grimoire later.  It's important to do.

He knows Blitzo will be a good boss, and is very supportive of Blitz dream.

But Stolas does has a couple of questions about their conversation. 'A office for a circus business?'  Seems like he's got a feeling that it's not the right business plan.

The other thing he questions is if Blitz will really hire him. And this feels like it gives us a clue to how these powers work.

Stolas is only hired after his powers are stripped.  Seems like it makes it much more hazy for him to see. But he does think it would be a good thing to happen.

Via's nightmare

Octavia's had one unshakable fear for years.  That her dad will disappear from her home one day, and she won't be able to find him.

This is the same night. We see what scared tinny wee Via so much in Loo loo land. She saw what was happening in I Will Be Ok in Sinsmas. 

This is her nightmare.

Via's see her home after Stolas' banishment, and it becomes her biggest fear.  

No promises can make her forget it.

  This vision is why she's so sure that Stolas will leave her, running off with Blitz. 

She's been waiting for the other shoe to drop since he turned up.

And she's not the only one worried by this nightmare.

Stolas' assumed earlier death

Between the mandatory precautionary aire, the chronic depression, and the abusive wife; Stolas always appears to have expected to died young.

But it's likely that on some level he tuck Via's nightmare as conformation. With this being reflected in the lullaby he sings her back to sleep with.

He didn't expect to still be around when she's grown. But knew she'd physically be 'ok', and he tuck comfort in that. (It appears Stolas made sure that Via would have some level of independent, from Stella, as well as everything thing he owns; in the event of his death).

Again, this feels like he can't see properly see past having his powers striped. And appears to have assumed that ment he'd be dead before Via turned 18.

They both saw him as gone after all.

Think this is why Stolas is so extremely surprised Satan didn't just kill him. (Not just that he's unaware of his own privage. Those he definitely is that lol. These visions are only tiny glimpses acting as gut feeling after all).

And even when Stella tries to kill him he's pretty resigned to it. He doesn't want to die, but also doesn't seem to think he'll have much to a choice in the matter.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore

Via next vision gives her more information about her dad disappearance.

She gets 3 tiny pieces of information about it for her future self. And they cement in her mind that's it'll Blitz who'll take her dad away, because that's how Sinsmas Via sees it.

1 That home isn't home anymore.

That moment when she looks up and sees how different the palice is without her dad. There's no warmth or life anymore. With even her dad's pet plant dead.

2 And that Stolas will run off with Blitz

It's the first time her dad introduces them, in place that's ment to be comforting familiar; but it's understandable that she's scared.

Yer it's all coloured by how she sees and understand it at the time. Both for how she feels it now crying at Loo Loo Land, and how she feels in Sinsmas. All making the kid scared and anxious about the future.

3 Stolas will go somewhere she can't find him.

And there is a time where she can't find her dad.

I think Via comforted herself that she knew where her dad was.

Ok, he's not allowed the the palace anymore; but she could just go to IMP any time and there would be her dad with his shitty boyfriend. Safe, just waiting for her to come around.

And when he's not there, and he's not safe because he hasn't got his antidepressants; she gets terrified. Enough for it to be part of what she has sees will happen.

The horse stars

Oh and another cute one before we get more trauma.

Stolas's grimoire trys tell him about Blitz, the day the met as adults. By turning Ursa major into a horse, just as Blitz is trying to attract his attention at the window.

But Stolas has his eyes shut and doesn't notice either.

It's sweet that his magic tried to point out the love his life though it.

Via's rejection

She also sees that she's going to have the opportunity to see her dad, that he will reach out to her.

As well as that she will be too angry with him to take it.

Stolas' ways

Stolas was definitely bubble scrys to find out where Blitz is in Truth Seekers, and then he only steps in when IMP are out of options.

(Stolas uses Blitz's advice when captured by Striker, so he was very likely watching a while there).

But I've gone back and forth on Stolas' reason for checking in the first place.

I think he's definitely put a curse on Blitz to make him practically bullet proof (Blitz hasn't ever gotten shot since Stolas hand glowed red in Ep1), and stop his guns being used against him.

Making them heat up and misfire, taking out the guy tried to use Blitz's stolen gun.

I'd assumed he'd had some sort alert for Blitz being in shit he can't get out of. Like when he and Moxxie were captured by the Dhorks.

But it did make me wonder why Stolas wouldn't turn up in chupacabra. When we now know he does in Mastermind, so it's not the heartbreak that would stop him if Blitz is really in stuck.

It's that Blitz could get himself out of there (with the help of a cute goat), so Stolas didn't get the urge to check.

This leads up on to...

Andy's ways (not the worst plan)

Andy says he's a similar job a power set to Stolas. This is why he can be fairly certain that not summoning him to the court, but having Satan broadcast the execution; will get Stolas to see what he wants. And only what he wants. (Not the fake rape accusation, or that Blitz now apparently paid Striker to kill him 🙄).

Otherwise it's a very dumb plan.

While lower class demons TV's turn on, and automatically play the trial; Stolas' doesn't.

Stolas is already got the TV on and is actively channel hopping before Andy's scheme makes it mandatory viewing for anyone. And Goetia aren't included in the Satan's power play.

Stolas even skips past his favourite show, helluva novella, twice to see Blitz's execution. He's got a little itch telling him he's need to flick over.

But because Andy does have a similar magic he can be pretty sure that Stolas will see it, and come running to Blitz's aid.

Knight in shining armour

Stolas has a fantasy about being rescued by Blitz, his knight in shinning armour.

It's a rock solid believe for him. To the point that he trys to make it happen twice, to a greater and lesser extent. (Only being shaken of it after Striker's torture).

First by hiring Blitz as an unnecessary bodyguards, to introduce his lover and kid.

And second by phoning Blitz to please rescue him when Stiker had him kidnapped.

While Blitz does save him, it doesn't happened either time Stolas was expecting it to.

It happens after his powers are striped; and he isn't expecting anyone to help him. He was expecting Andy to kill him.

(Stolas was going see Via or die trying).

And Andy would have if Blitz didn't realise where Stolas had gone, and take IMP and Via with him.

Gonna chalk this is up to a combination of similar things similar things happening make it much harder to understand when things are going to happen. And the full knight in shinning armour moment doesn't happen till after Stolas is striped of his magic.

Hummm actually Stolas specifically tries to make it happen Twice.

And Blitz is his big romantic rescuer twice. Guess him seeing it twice could explain why it's such a rock solid believe.

Stopping Stiker in Harvest Moon Festival could count, but Stolas doesn't find out till Apology Tour.

And that's a really shitty way to find out Blitz did that, because not telling Stolas someone wants him dead nearly got him killed.

Like Via's emotions from her visions are colour how she feels, so do Stolas'. Stolas is definitely a dumbass feeling it has to be Blitz savings him, but it might explain a little why he's so stuck on the idea.

(He's a daft salty bitch lol, but we love him).

Striker's demise

Think both of these are hints on how Striker will die. That Stolas will destroy Striker if he hurts Via. Which seems certain he'll do.

But even though I do think at the start of this scene Stolas believed Blitz would come for him; I think he'd given up all hope by the point Striker's asks for any last words.

The rest feels like was going to be "Blitz...will... kill you".

Thinking this means that both dads will fight Striker together to save Via.

Like how M&M fought together to save Stolas. We've only seen them fighting singularly before. I think it would be amazing to see them together fighting to keep her safe and sound.

With Stolas having the last hit to protect is little girl, and the dead blow.

The flames of rebellion -Stolas' last prophecy

Stolas tries to warn the court that treating Blitz badly could spark revolt of imps.  

Then Satan call Blitz a pawn, and throws him out like trash. Completing it by saying on live TV that his life doesn't have matter compared to a goeita's. 

 This is after Andy already stepped on Blitz's face, telling him he should know his place.  

It would be funny if Stolas' last official prophecy was predicting imp rebellion, because of their ill treatment to his lover.

[pestercide]

a question about your sm friendly fiends au, did moloch find father Gregor? did Gregor try to exorcize him?

OH I'm surprised people remember that AU,, I haven't touched it in a while (I should probably return to it,, I had so many ideas)

In this AU Moloch doesn't have any personal vendetta against Gregor or anyone for that matter. In fact, he doesn't know Gregor at all (I kinda just assumed that, canonically, Moloch knows Gregor's name because he's a demon and he can do that). However I imagine once Gregor sees the kids hanging around the demon it will provoke an exorcism by which Moloch would try to escape (with Skid and Pump trying desperately to convince Gregor to leave Moloch alone).

Moloch would probably manage to escape or at least hide until the threat subsided. (As a side note, Moloch can go to and from Hell or wherever it is he comes from via the Ouija Board because in this AU the initial summoning was successful, not botched. He'd likely use this to his advantage and take to the Ouija Board to escape until Gregor left.)

In the long term, Gregor would mainly be an obstacle for Moloch to avoid. Maybe over time they'd gain a rivalry? I think it'd be an interesting concept...

[genderqueer-frog]

once again bringing back my favorite paragraph from a death note fanfic:

Light is what L would have been given circumstances shifted ever so slightly. Observing Light gives him the unheard of opportunity to observe himself in a parallel universe, to try to understand how he himself works and would work if [he had been] born differently and given the power of mass murder. They're both narcissists, L just hides it better, and picking apart Light is his own brand of [heroin].

this is exactly my view of the lawlight dynamic and this fic demonstrates it beautifully

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤGRAMMYS 2025 * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N, worldwide famous singer, goes to the Grammys 2025 and brings Chris as her pair for the first time.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x singer!reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N had been nominated for five Grammy Awards this year. Five. And yet, for some reason, the thought of stepping onto that carpet, under the flashing lights and watchful eyes of the entire world, made her more nervous than she’d ever been.

It wasn’t her first time - this was her fifth Grammy appearance - but the nerves never seemed to dull, no matter how many times she did this.

Her team had tried everything: chamomile tea, soothing massages, deep breathing exercises, playing her favorite calming playlist at a low volume in the background, even giving her a dozen of those custom-made chocolates with her face printed on them. But nothing helped. Not really.

Not even Chris’s kisses; though she had to admit, they were a very welcome distraction.

They were in a penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel in downtown Los Angeles, even though their house was barely a twenty-minute drive away. It was protocol, her team insisted. Every artist did it - getting ready in a hotel, away from distractions, with stylists, makeup artists, and PR people swarming around. It was meant to be a controlled environment, a perfectly curated lead-up to the biggest night in music. But it only added to the pressure.

Y/N stood in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, wrapped in a silk robe, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as a makeup artist blended soft eyeshadow onto her lids. Her hairstylist was behind her, curling strands of her hair into loose waves. She looked poised on the outside, but internally, her nerves were tying knots in her stomach.

Chris sat on the couch a few feet away, watching her intently. He was already dressed - black tux, crisp white shirt, and a bow tie he had spent fifteen minutes fighting with before her makeup artist took pity on him and fixed it for him.

He looked good.

Really good.

The kind of good that made her momentarily forget about the nerves. But she wasn’t the only one nervous tonight.

Chris had been jittery since this morning, though he tried not to show it. This was his first time attending something this big, this formal, and while he was used to attention, this was a whole new level. He was going to be surrounded by the most famous people in the world, and for the first time, he wasn’t just Chris Sturniolo, the YouTuber; he was Chris Sturniolo, Y/N’s date to the Grammys.

But instead of letting his own anxiety get to him, he focused on her, observing how her fingers twitched, manicured nails shining below the lights with every tremble.

"Baby." He cooed, standing and walking toward her as soon as the makeup artist stepped aside. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her exposed shoulder, his big hands finding home around her hips, squeezing the covered skin. "What are you feeling, huh? 'Can feel you stressing from across the room, doll."

Y/N sighed, her hands gripping the edges of the vanity table, being careful not to knock her knuckles against the three massive bouquets - Nick had arranged for all of them to be delivered straight to her room in that morning.

"I just... I don’t know, Chris." She murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I know I’ve done this before, but what if I don’t win anything? What if I disappoint everyone?"

Before she could spiral any further, Chris was already moving. His hands slid from her hips to her stomach, wrapping around her in a slow embrace. He pulled her against him, his chest firm against her back, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her robe.

"Hey." He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Don’t do that."

His voice was gentle but firm, a quiet command that sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his breath against her neck, warm and familiar, grounding her.

"First of all." He continued, his arms tightening around her middle. "You’re the best singer out of everyone in that room tonight. You know that, right?"

Her eyes rolled.

"Baby, you can't say that when Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift-" She started, turning her head slightly, but he was already shaking his head.

"Nope." He cut in, resting his chin in the curve of her neck, his gaze locking onto hers through the mirror. "I said what I said. And for the record." He added, voice lower now, dripping with conviction. "You’re already the winner of everything in my book. Even the categories you’re not nominated in."

She sighed, heart pounding as his hands splayed across her stomach, his thumbs brushing slow, absentminded circles.

"Best Album? Yours." He murmured, letting his lips ghost over her jaw. "Best Song? Yours." His mouth traveled down to her shoulder, barely pressing against her skin, yet setting every nerve ending alight. "Best Human Being to Ever Exist?" He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes in the mirror again, his smirk soft but teasing. "You, obviously."

She let out a small, shaky laugh.

"Chris-"

"I’m serious." He interrupted, turning his head and nuzzling the soft skin of her temple, inhaling the rich scent of her Givenchy perfume. "Your fans love you. I love you. And, babe, let’s be honest, you could drop a single of you just breathing into a mic, and it would still go platinum."

That made her laugh, her eyes rolling with amusement.

"You’re gonna do your best tonight, like you always do. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right there with you."

She finally turned in his hold, her arms looping around his neck and her red tinted lips forming a small pout.

"Even if I trip on the carpet?"

"I’ll trip with you. We’ll make it a trend." Chris grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, being excessively careful not to smudge her perfect makeup. "Now, I think there's a worldwide famous singer who should be getting dressed, huh?"

Y/N's eyes stared into blue ones for a moment, smiling with the softness she found in them.

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right."

A sharp knock at the door broke their haze, followed by a loud voice.

"Y/N!"

The voice was unmistakable, high-pitched and full of dramatic flair, and before Y/N could even turn, Harry Lambert had burst into the room, arms spread wide, eyes scanning her from head to toe with theatrical disbelief.

"Oh. My. GOD." He practically floated toward her, his hands fluttering in the air like he was physically trying to grasp the vision before him. "Darling, how dare you stand there looking this stunning before even getting into your dress?"

Y/N barely had time to react before he pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapped around her like he hadn’t seen her in years - even though they had spoken just yesterday. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her there for a beat longer than necessary, his touch radiating warmth and love.

"My baby girl." He cooed, pulling back slightly to cup her face. "How are we feeling? Nervous? Excited? On the verge of a breakdown?"

"All of the above." Y/N admitted, letting out a breathy laugh as he studied her with fondness.

Harry clicked his tongue.

"Well, you shouldn’t be, because you’re about to own this night. And if anyone so much as dares to breathe in your direction the wrong way, I will be throwing hands."

Chris chuckled from behind them.

"Good to see you, Harry."

"Christopher!" Harry turned to him with a dazzling smile, patting his chest in greeting before narrowing his eyes playfully. "The suit I chose for you was a very good choice, huh? Gucci looks good on you. Now, let’s be clear, your only job tonight is to stand there, look pretty, and worship Y/N like the goddess she is. Do you understand me?"

Chris raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh, trust me, I’ve been doing that since the second I met her."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as Harry clapped his hands together.

"That’s my boy. Now, enough chit-chat! It is officially time to get my queen into the dress."

The entire room seemed to shift as the energy buzzed with anticipation. Y/N was ushered toward the dressing area, where the Gucci gown had been carefully laid out, glowing under the soft lights. Even without being worn, it commanded attention - the gold fabric shimmering as if infused with actual stardust, the dramatic ruffles sculpted to perfection.

As they helped her into it, every detail came to life. The strapless silhouette hugged her body in all the right places, the embedded crystals catching every flicker of light. The metallic sleeves, voluminous and artful, cascaded around her arms, while the matching ruffles at the bottom framed her steps with effortless grace.

When the final adjustments were made, Harry stepped back, his hands pressed to his chest as if he might faint.

"Oh, sweet heavens above." He whispered, looking genuinely overwhelmed. "I’ve outdone myself. We’ve outdone ourselves."

Chris, who had been sitting on the bed answering his brothers texts, looked up with Harry's voice, suddenly straightening up. His hands dropped to his lap, and his mouth hung open slightly, completely speechless.

"Wow." His voice came out strangled, like he had just been personally attacked.

Y/N turned toward him fully, the movement making the crystals on her dress shimmer, the light practically bending to her will. Chris visibly short-circuited.

"Are you- what- how-" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to reboot his brain. "Nah. Nah. This isn’t fair. This should be illegal."

Y/N bit her lip, fighting a smile, but his reaction only got worse. His fingers threaded into his hair, his eyes raking over her from head to toe with pure, unfiltered obsession.

"Jesus fuck." He breathed out, voice a little rough. "You’re gonna kill me tonight, doll."

Harry smirked, tilting his head as he admired her.

"Oh, she’s not just going to kill you, Christopher. She’s going to kill everyone at the Grammys tonight. And I, for one, cannot wait to watch it happen."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The energy outside the venue was electric. Even from inside the tinted Range Rover, the deafening sound of flashing cameras and screaming paparazzi was unavoidable. Y/N shifted in her seat, inhaling slowly, feeling the vibration of the excitement just beyond the doors.

A hand suddenly slid over her thighs, warm and grounding, caressing the fabric of her dress.

"Ready?" Chris asked, his voice softer than the chaos outside.

Y/N turned to him, wetting her matte lipstick lips.

"Yeah." She breathed, even though her heart was hammering.

Chris smirked knowingly.

"Liar."

Before she could argue, the car door swung open, and an immediate wave of screams hit them like a storm.

Chris stepped out first, adjusting his suit as flashes exploded around him, the sound of his name already being yelled from every direction. He quickly moved around to face the inside of the car, offering his hand.

The second Y/N emerged, the chaos tripled.

"Y/N! Y/N! Over here!"

"Y/N! Christopher! Are you two official?"

"Y/N, do you think you’ll win tonight?"

Y/N barely flinched at the shouting - it was part of the job. Instead, she kept her chin high, gripping Chris’s hand as they made their way down the carpet. The venue was bathed in red and gold hues, a massive step-and-repeat wall covered in Grammy logos standing proudly ahead. The air buzzed with anticipation, celebrities lining the edges of the carpet, all waiting for their moment in front of the cameras.

A staff member approached, guiding them toward a designated spot.

"You first, Ms. Y/N." The woman instructed.

Chris gave Y/N a gentle squeeze before stepping aside, allowing her to take center stage.

And damn, did she own it.

The second she posed, the already flashing cameras seemed to explode.

The fitted, gold gown clung to her frame like liquid metal, sparkling under the lights. The voluminous, ruffled sleeves caught the air as she shifted her stance, making her look like some sort of celestial being - untouchable, ethereal. She turned her head smoothly, flashing a radiant smile as the photographers shouted for her attention.

Chris, standing just a few feet away, was not handling it well. His eyes never left her, completely entranced, like he was seeing her for the first time again, not even noticing the flashs directed to his figure.

Y/N, catching his expression, couldn’t help but smile shyly. She subtly tilted her head toward him between poses, raising a teasing brow.

Chris just shook his head, still gawking, before muttering under his breath.

"Jesus Christ."

The staff member signaled for Chris to approach Y/N for their couple photos. Y/N turned toward him, making a playful shooing motion with her hands as if to snap him out of his trance.

"Earth to Chris." She teased.

Chris didn’t respond - not verbally, at least. Instead, he stepped closer with large steps and grabbed her by the waist, carefully pulling her flush against him, careful with her heels but firm enough to steal a delighted gasp from her. The moment their bodies pressed together, the screams from the crowd outside the barricades and the clicking of cameras reached a new level of hysteria.

The cameras loved them.

Chris leaned in between shots, his lips brushing her ear.

"You think they got food inside?"

Y/N barely bit back a laugh, keeping her expression poised as she continued smiling for the cameras.

"What, you mean like caviar and tiny-ass lobster rolls?"

"I don’t care if it’s a plate of lettuce. I need to eat something before I pass out."

Y/N snorted softly with how dramatic he could be, bumping her hips against his just slightly, careful not to disrupt the pictures.

"You ate almost all of those chocolates back in the hotel. Where does it even go?"

Chris grinned, his fingers squeezing at her waist, effectively freezing her in place.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a giggle.

"Be serious, Sturniolo."

"I am serious." He looked at her then, really looked at her, and it sent something warm and electric curling down her spine. "You are so fucking beautiful, it’s actually stupid."

Y/N faltered for half a second, her breath catching, not from the flashing lights, not from the cameras, but from him.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased her reaction.

"Want to give y'a post-celebration present so bad." His voice switched to low and airy, almost lost beneath the noise, but she heard it perfectly.

Y/N swallowed, her mind jumping to conclusions she probably shouldn’t be having on the Grammys red carpet.

"Hm, and what would that be?"

Chris smirked, his fingers flexing at her waist.

"Eat y’out."

Y/N kept her composure like a pro, smiling for the cameras with a practiced grin, but discreetly pressed her thighs together. Two could play this game.

But before she could fire back, a voice interrupted.

"Alright, guys! We need to move to the next area!"

Another event staff member gestured for them to proceed toward the interview section, their tone polite but firm. Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart thudding inside her ears.

Chris sighed dramatically, his grip on her waist tightening for just a second before he let go, traveling up to her hand.

"And here I was, thinking we could just stay here all night."

Y/N squeezed his fingers, tugging him forward.

"Come on, you menace."

As they walked toward the interview zone, the setup became clearer - a sleek, well-lit platform lined with various media outlets, each interviewer eagerly awaiting their next celebrity guest. But before Y/N could even register who was up next, a familiar voice rang out, unmistakably enthusiastic.

"Y/N, oh my God! Get over here!"

Emma Chamberlain.

Y/N's face lit up immediately, and without hesitation, she pulled Chris along, their hands still intertwined as they made a beeline toward Emma. The internet personality-turned-Grammys correspondent was practically bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

As soon as they reached her, Emma lifted her microphone with dramatic flair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, five-time Grammy-nominated Y/N L/N, everyone!"

Y/N laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"No way you just said that like an awards show host."

Emma grinned.

"I am an awards show host." Then, turning to Chris, she playfully narrowed her eyes. "And, of course, let’s not forget the man of the hour, Chris Sturniolo!"

Chris chuckled, giving a small wave, the silver ring on his index finger glinting against the camera flash.

"That’s me."

Emma wasted no time diving into questions, her energy infectious.

"Okay, first things first, how are you feeling?" She pointed the mic toward Y/N.

Y/N exhaled, a bright smile still gracing her lips.

"Honestly? I’m just... I don’t even know how to put it into words. Happy? Grateful? In shock? All of it at once?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, the Grammys. It’s something you dream about as a kid, you know? And now, five nominations? I feel like I need someone to pinch me."

Chris gently squeezed her hand, leaning in slightly so his mouth was close to the mic, his cheek brushing hers in the process.

"Not gonna lie, I did pinch her earlier to check."

Y/N playfully swatted at him, making Emma laugh.

"Alright, but tell me everything. What were you doing when you found out you were nominated?"

At this, Y/N turned to Chris, already laughing.

"Oh my God, it was chaos."

Chris grinned, nodding while brushing his messy hair back.

"Totally."

Y/N faced Emma again, still giggling.

"Okay, so we were just in the living room, me, Chris, Matt, and Nick. It was so casual, literally just us eating burgers, watching the nominations roll in on TV, not thinking much of it."

Emma’s eyes widened.

"Wait, so you weren’t even refreshing Twitter like a maniac?"

"No!" Y/N shook her head. "I swear, I wasn’t even expecting anything. And then, boom. My name gets called for the first nomination, and I just screamed."

"Nick screamed, too." Chris jumped in, laughing.

Emma gasped.

"Nick would."

Y/N nodded rapidly.

"He did! So then, Chris kisses me, Matt’s literally jumping up and down, and it was just full-on mayhem. But then, like, a minute later, my name gets called again for another nomination."

Chris smirked, nodding his head.

"And again. And again."

Emma covered her mouth, delighted.

"So by the fifth time-"

"I was crying." Y/N admitted, grinning. "Like, full-on sobbing in Chris’s arms."

Emma dramatically put her free hand against her heart.

"This is what I live for." Then, turning to Chris, she grinned mischievously. "Alright, your turn, Sturniolo."

Chris blinked, looking at Y/N before going back to Emma.

"Me?"

Emma nodded, dead serious.

"Yes, you. Because I know you, you act all cool and chill, but I know you were losing your mind when she got nominated."

Chris laughed, shaking his head.

"I mean, yeah, obviously. I was going crazy. But I think it really hit me when I looked at her during the last nomination and realized, this is actually happening. Like, she’s that talented. The world is seeing what I already knew."

Y/N felt her face heat up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest.

Emma pouted.

"Chris, that's so wholesome. You’re really that boyfriend, huh?"

Chris shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s hand.

"I mean, yeah. Have you met her?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile didn’t fade.

"I know, right?" Emma nodded at Chris's direction, laughing with Y/N's reaction. "Now, tell me, which nomination are you most excited about?"

Y/N didn’t even hesitate.

"Song of the Year."

Emma’s brows lifted.

"Because...?"

Y/N took a breath, her fingers unconsciously tightening around Chris’s hand.

"Because the song nominated for that category is Lavender Haze, and that song... it just means so much to me." She glanced at Chris, her expression softer now.

Emma’s eyes darted between the two of them, her curiosity sparking instantly. She glanced at Y/N, then at Chris, before turning toward the camera with exaggerated wide eyes.

"Ohhh, I know that look." She teased, pointing between them with a knowing grin. "Okay, spill, tell me about the song."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh with how eager she sounded, meeting Emma’s gaze again.

"You'll know all about it if I win." She winked, her tone warm.

Chris was quick to approach the microphone again.

"Not if, when."

Emma tilted her head, frowning as a pout grew on her lips.

"No way you're going to leave me with this curiosity." She sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll need to watch the awards with double attention." Emma winked to the camera. "Okay, I’m obsessed with you guys. This is too cute. But I won’t keep you any longer, go enjoy your night! And, Y/N, fingers crossed for all five wins!"

Y/N beamed, giving Emma one last hug before she and Chris were guided to the next section of the event. As they walked, the lights of the Grammys venue shining ahead, Chris leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.

"You’re killing it, doll."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment Y/N and Chris stepped into the grand main salon, the shift in the atmosphere was almost physical. The flashing lights of the red carpet were behind them, replaced by the elegant glow of chandeliers and the soft hum of conversation. Celebrities, industry giants, and music legends filled the expansive room, dressed in their finest, the air buzzing with anticipation.

A staff member immediately approached them with a warm smile, gesturing toward their assigned table.

"Good evening, Ms. L/N, Mr. Sturniolo. Right this way, please."

As they walked through the lavishly decorated space, Y/N’s fingers instinctively tightened around Chris’s hand, her nerves still tingling with the knowledge that the biggest names were around her.

Halfway to their table, a familiar voice called out from the side.

"Chris! No way- dude!"

Chris turned toward the sound, a grin instantly spreading across his face when he saw Troye Sivan standing up from his table, waving him over.

Troye had met Chris and his brothers just two weeks ago at a Prada fashion show, and the energy between them had been instantly chill and friendly.

"Troye, hey, what’s up, man?" Chris greeted as he pulled him in for a quick hug.

Meanwhile, Y/N turned toward Sabrina Carpenter, who was seated beside Troye in the most ethereal baby blue dress, its delicate fabric flowing like water over her frame.

"Sabrina, hi!" Y/N greeted, her voice lighting up as she fully took in the details of her look. "Wow, you look absolutely stunning. Like, actually unreal."

Sabrina’s eyes widened for a split second, surprise flashing across her face before it melted into the sweetest, most genuine smile. Without a second thought, she pushed herself up from her seat, reaching for Y/N as if they were lifelong friends and pulling her into a warm, affectionate hug. She squeezed tightly, her energy radiating pure kindness.

"Oh my god, stop." Sabrina gushed, pulling back just enough to look at Y/N, her hands still resting gently on her arms. "That means the world coming from you. And please, look at you!" She emphasized, eyes scanning Y/N from head to toe with genuine admiration. "You look like an actual goddess."

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she absentmindedly smoothed her hands over the golden fabric of her dress.

"It’s all Lambert’s magic." She admitted with a playful grin, referring to her trusted stylist. Then, with a spark of excitement, she added. "I heard you’re performing tonight, I cannot wait to see it!"

Sabrina practically bounced in place, her excitement just as contagious.

"Oh, that makes me so nervous but also so happy." She admitted with a laugh, her hands clasping together. "I just hope I don’t trip or something."

Y/N shook her head instantly.

"No way, you’re going to kill it. I already know it."

Chris and Troye exchanged a few more words, something about how amazing the Prada show had been and how they should schedule to do something together in the future, before Chris gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

"We’ll catch up later, yeah? We gotta find our table before they go live."

Troye grinned.

"For sure. Enjoy the night, guys."

After one last big smile at Sabrina, Y/N slipped her hand back into Chris’s as they navigated through the room.

Their table was positioned with a perfect view of the stage, the paper cards on their seats spelling out their names in black ink below a selected picture of their faces.

As they sat down, Y/N exhaled, glancing up at the stage. A quick glance at the massive countdown screen told her they had ten minutes before the live broadcast began.

"Damn." She muttered, leaning toward Chris. "Didn’t even realize how much time passed outside."

Chris chuckled, his voice low.

"That’s ‘cause you were too busy looking hot and stealing everyone’s attention."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at her lips.

"Come'ere, babe." He asked, extending his arm in her direction, asking silently for her to move closer.

Her eyes sparkled with affection, and she shifted her chair slightly, moving closer to Chris until she was practically pressed against his side. Without hesitation, he wrapped his extended arm around her upper body, pulling her in securely. The warmth of his body mixed with the familiarity of his presence was grounding and comforting.

Chris pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining under the dimmed chandeliers.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the room.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, looking down at her, their faces so close he could feel her warm breath hitting his chin.

"For what?"

"For being here with me. For always being here for me."

His gaze softened immediately, and the way he looked at her - so full of quiet devotion - made her heart swell.

"Forever, baby." He murmured, squeezing her gently.

Before Y/N could say anything else, a new voice cut into their moment.

"Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

The voice was warm, familiar, and utterly unmistakable.

Both Y/N and Chris turned toward the sound, and in an instant, Y/N felt the entire world freeze. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttered, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she wondered if she had actually left her body.

Because standing there, just a few feet away, in all her effortless, golden-lit, legendary glory, was Taylor Swift.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N swore she could hear the heavens parting and angels singing in the background.

Taylor was an absolute vision in a stunning, strong red mini dress, her signature red lip effortlessly bold, her blonde hair framing her face in soft waves.

And she was smiling - smiling - at her.

"Oh my god." Y/N blurted out, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even attempt to reel them back in.

Taylor let out a soft laugh as she shook her head lightly, eyes twinkling.

"I just wanted to say that I’m such a huge fan of your work. Lavender Haze is absolutely everything."

Y/N felt her soul leave her body.

Her brain quite literally short-circuited. Because- because what?

Taylor Swift, the Taylor Swift, her biggest inspiration, her songwriting idol, just complimented her music?

There was a very real possibility that she had just blacked out.

Chris shifted slightly beside her, maintaining his arm above the back of her chair, obviously trying so hard not to burst out laughing at how starstruck she looked.

Somehow, somehow, Y/N managed to keep her expression together, even though her heart was doing full-blown Olympic-level gymnastics in her chest.

"That means everything coming from you." She breathed, every word laced with pure, raw sincerity. "Thank you so, so much."

Taylor’s smile only widened, like she could feel how much those words meant to Y/N.

"Seriously." She said, her voice warm and genuine. "I’ve been listening to it on repeat. You’re insanely talented. The way you crafted that song... you have such a gift."

Y/N felt an actual tear prick at the corner of her eye. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hug her. She wanted to tattoo this moment onto her soul and never forget it.

And then, as if she couldn’t possibly adore her any more, Taylor turned to Chris, offering him the same bright, kind smile.

"And of course, you." She said, her tone playful but just as sincere. "I love what you and your brothers are doing on YouTube. It’s always fun seeing people bring fresh energy to the space."

Chris looked genuinely taken aback for a moment. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for the first time, Y/N saw a flicker of oh wow, this is real life in his expression.

"That’s- wow, okay, that’s crazy." He said, running a hand through his hair with an incredulous chuckle. "Thank you, that’s- man, that’s insane coming from you."

Taylor grinned, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s shoulder, grounding her back to reality.

"I won’t keep you guys." She said softly. "I just wanted to say that. Hope you both have the best night."

And just like that, she turned, walking back toward her table.

For a long, stunned second, Y/N just stood there, processing what had just happened. Then, with wide eyes, she turned to Chris, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Did that just happen?"

Chris, still looking way too amused, nodded, his grin stretching across his face.

"Yup." He confirmed. "And you just casually had a conversation with Taylor Swift like it was nothing."

Y/N let out a sharp exhale, pressing her hands over her face.

"I need a second."

Chris laughed, and before she could even register it, he was wrapping both arms around her, pulling her in tightly, his face pressing against her hair.

"Proud of you, popstar." He murmured, his voice laced with nothing but warmth.

Before she could respond, the lights dimmed, and the energy in the room shifted as a voice echoed through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host for the 67th Annual Grammy Awards, Trevor Noah!"

A roar of cheers erupted as the towering LED screens flanking the stage flickered to life, displaying Trevor Noah’s wide, mischievous grin. He strolled onto the main floor rather than standing on the stage, seamlessly blending into the sea of round tables where the biggest names in the industry were seated.

He adjusted the microphone in his hand, letting the applause die down just enough before flashing a knowing smirk.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." He began, his smooth voice carrying through the arena. "This is it, the 67th Grammys! Music’s biggest night! The Super Bowl for people who cried to Folklore, danced to Beyoncé, and worked out to Travis Scott, all in the same day!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd as the camera panned to a few artists nodding dramatically in agreement.

"And listen, let’s be honest. The Grammys are basically just a really fancy dinner party where we all pretend we haven’t been stalking the winners list since yesterday." Another wave of laughter followed. "But tonight... tonight, we are celebrating the best of the best in music. The songs that made us scream in our cars, the albums that made us question our entire existence, and the artists who consistently ruin our Spotify Wrapped every year."

Trevor began walking casually between the round tables, grinning as he looked around at the audience.

"And let’s not forget the real stars of the night, the seating arrangements. Have you seen these tables? It’s like the ultimate Hunger Games. You got legends, you got rookies, and you got the poor artists who are just hoping they don’t get caught in an awkward cutaway during a joke."

The camera zoomed in on a few newer artists laughing nervously, earning a chuckle from the crowd.

Trevor continued weaving his way through the tables, his eyes scanning the sea of music’s biggest names.

"And speaking of icons." He said, stopping by a particular table. "Tonight, we have the one and only Y/N L/N with us!"

The moment her name left his lips, the entire arena erupted into cheers. The camera cut to Y/N’s table, her face instantly lighting up with a radiant smile. Chris grinned smugly as he watched her soak in the moment.

Y/N turned slightly to face the camera that was now focused on her, offering a soft wave. The massive screen above the stage displayed a live feed of her, the applause continuing as Trevor beamed.

"Now, listen, if you somehow missed it, Y/N is up for five nominations tonight!" Trevor announced, pointing at her with mock emphasis. "Five nominations, guys. For songs and the album she announced when she won last year. That’s how much of a legend she is."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she watched herself on the big screen. The camera panned slightly to Chris, who was nodding with a smug expression, as if silently agreeing with every word Trevor was saying.

"Plus." Trevor continued, stepping closer to their table. "If Y/N wins tonight, she could be the first artist ever to win Album of the Year five times."

Gasps and cheers rippled through the audience, while Y/N’s smile grew impossibly wider.

"Which means, she would break the record of four wins set all the way back in 2024 by-" Trevor raised his free hand, making a show of pretending to check an invisible list on his palm. "Y/N L/N!"

The entire room erupted into even louder applause, whistles echoing through the space as Trevor dramatically motioned toward her again.

Y/N's eyebrows flew up, feigning surprise, trying to contain her giddiness while Chris chuckled beside her, mouthing 'that's my girl' to a camera pointing his way.

Trevor placed a hand on his hip, looking toward the camera with mock exasperation.

"So basically, Y/N is out here breaking her own records. Just casually deciding that four wins aren’t enough and going for five. That’s like running a marathon, winning, and then saying, 'You know what? Let’s do it again, backwards'."

More laughter filled the room, Y/N pressing a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling too much. Trevor grinned, looking at her one last time.

"Listen, Y/N, whatever happens tonight, you’re already a legend. But if you win that fifth Grammy, just promise me you won’t announce another album mid-acceptance speech. Give the rest of the industry a fighting chance, okay?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, and Chris patted her thigh under the table, looking thoroughly entertained.

Trevor winked before turning back to the audience, raising his mic once again.

"Alright, let’s get this incredible night started! We’ve got performances, surprises, and probably a few moments that’ll break the internet. Let’s do this!"

The crowd roared as the cameras pulled away, cutting to a sleek transition video, signaling the official start of the show. Y/N exhaled, stealing a glance at Chris, who simply grinned and pulled her back to his chest, pressing his lips against her cheek.

"You’re so winning tonight."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment the last notes of Birds of a Feather echoed through the grand hall, Y/N felt like she was floating. Billie Eilish had just delivered one of the most breathtaking performances she had ever seen, and she could still feel the goosebumps lingering on her arms.

She turned to Chris, her eyes shining with excitement, her heart still beating to the rhythm of the song.

"Billie is unreal." She gushed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Like, every time she performs, it’s like she’s singing straight to my soul."

Chris let out a chuckle, his arm draped lazily around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Nick would actually kill to be here right now." His lips quirked up in amusement. "I bet he’s texting us like a mad man."

Y/N laughed softly, already imagining Nick’s all-caps messages blowing up their group chat. But before she could even think of checking, the stage lights dimmed slightly, and the screens around the venue shifted. A familiar melody played in the background as a figure gracefully stepped onto the stage. The chatter in the audience softened as people turned their attention to her.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N straightened in her seat, her heart picking up speed.

Chris immediately caught the change in her posture and smirked.

"Oh shit." He teased, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "Your idol is speaking. Do you need me to hold you so you don’t pass out?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in her chest.

Taylor approached the microphone with that effortless charm that made the entire room fall silent. She smiled warmly, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear before speaking.

"Good evening, everyone." She greeted, her voice carrying easily through the venue. "Tonight has been incredible so far, and I am so honored to be here presenting this next award."

Y/N opened a genuine smile, squeezing Chris's thigh below her fingers.

"Album of the Year is such a special award because it represents not just music, but stories. It’s about the albums that stayed with us, that shaped our emotions, our memories. The ones that became the soundtrack to our lives." Taylor continued, her expression softening as she held up the envelope. "And with that being said, the Grammy goes to..."

She slid her fingers under the flap and carefully pulled out the card, unfolding it with precision.

Y/N could feel Chris’s arms tighten around her. His body heat a cocoon around her own as she clutched onto him, her pulse thundering in her temple.

A second of silence stretched. Then Taylor’s eyes scanned the paper, and the biggest, brightest smile took over her face. Her gaze lifted, seemingly searching the crowd for someone.

Y/N furrowed her brows slightly.

Taylor found her.

And then, with a warmth that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, Taylor announced.

"Y/N L/N, Midnights."

The world tilted.

For a solid moment, Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t move. The air in her lungs disappeared, her vision blurred instantly with unshed tears, and her mouth fell open in pure, unfiltered shock, her hands hovering near her mouth, trembling as realization crashed into her like a tidal wave.

Album of the Year.

She won.

She won.

Chris, on the other hand, reacted immediately.

"YES!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he punched the air, his excitement completely unfiltered. People turned, smiling, laughing, but Chris didn’t care. His hands were already on Y/N, his eyes scanning her face.

She wasn’t breathing.

"Babe." His voice softened instantly as he leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Hey, you did it."

Y/N sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them, her body shaking with the force of emotions she had no chance of containing.

A broken sob escaped her lips.

Chris pulled her in before she could crumple, wrapping her up in the kind of hug that blocked everything else out. His arms were warm, steady, his lips pressing against her forehead as he whispered, his voice firm this time.

"You did it."

Y/N let out a wet laugh against his shoulder, her fingers clutching onto him for just a second longer before she finally let go.

He gently lowered his head, making sure she looked at him.

And God, the way he was looking at her.

Like she had just built the entire universe with her bare hands.

"Go get your Grammy, winner." He murmured, the words slow and soft and filled with everything.

Y/N let out another broken breath, nodding before finally, finally turning toward the stage.

The journey to the top felt surreal, like she was floating. The cheers, the applause, the faces she recognized - people she had idolized - they all blurred together.

And then suddenly, she was there.

Standing at the top.

Face to face with Taylor Swift.

Who was smiling at her, waiting for her, Grammy in hand.

Y/N’s breath hitched all over again.

Her hands, still unsteady, reached out, fingers closing around the golden gramophone. The weight of it sent a whole new wave of emotions crashing into her.

Before she could even process what was happening, Taylor pulled her into a hug - tight, warm, real.

"Congratulations." Taylor whispered against her ear, and god, if that wasn’t the most surreal moment of Y/N’s entire life. "You deserve this so much."

A choked noise left Y/N’s lips as she nodded weakly, her throat too tight to speak.

She deserved this.

She deserved this.

Her fingers traced over the Grammy, like she needed physical proof that it was real before she finally turned to the microphone.

She inhaled deeply. Opened her mouth.

"I-I don’t even know what to say right now." She admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I’m- god, I’m just so honored."

The crowd cooed, and Y/N let out a breathless laugh of her own, shaking her head as more tears slipped down her cheeks.

"This is insane." She said, shaking her head slightly. "Being nominated in this category, alongside so many incredible artists, artists I’ve admired for years, was already more than I could’ve ever dreamed of. To even stand beside you all tonight, to celebrate music with you? That was already everything."

Her chest rose and fell as she blinked away the heat gathering behind her eyes, sweeping her gaze across the crowd.

"I have to thank my incredible producer, my team, every single person who helped bring this album to life." Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You guys took my wild, messy ideas and turned them into something real, something that I never could have done alone. And I will never stop being grateful."

She wet her lips, inhaling deeply before her smile stretched just a little wider.

"My fans..." Her voice caught slightly, her hand pressing over her heart. "You guys have given me everything. You’ve let me tell my stories, and you’ve listened over and over and over again. You’ve made this dream of mine possible, and I love you more than I can ever put into words."

The cheers swelled again, voices from every corner of the room shouting her name. Her grip on the Grammy tightened as she shifted her weight slightly.

"To my family, Matt and Nick, my biggest cheerleaders." She laughed softly, looking at the main camera pointing at her. "I love you guys, you already know that."

And then, as if the moment had been waiting for this, her gaze lifted to him. Her breath hitched, lips curling into a smile that was just for him.

"And lastly." She said, her voice softer now. "To my boyfriend, Chris."

A ripple of excitement spread through the audience, but Y/N didn’t hear it. Not when those impossibly blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when his expression softened with something so tender, so proud, it made her knees weak.

"Thank you for being the creative genius that you are." She said, eyes never leaving his. "For staying up with me in the studio when I couldn’t figure out the right melody, even when I was on hour ten of tweaking the same one."

Laughter rolled through the room, and Chris grinned, shaking his head.

"For never doubting me." She continued, her throat tightening. "Even when I doubted myself. For being my biggest supporter. My muse. Every song, every lyric... You are in all of them.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing, his hand pressing over his heart as if feeling her love for him.

"Thank you." She finished simply, her voice steady, full of everything she couldn’t quite put into words.

The applause was deafening. A roar of cheers, of love, of celebration.

But all Y/N could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

This was real.

She had just won Album of the Year for the fifth time in a row.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The massive screens on either side of the stage illuminated with Trevor Noah’s face again as he took the microphone, now standing above all of them, his signature charm radiating through the room.

"Alright, people." He started, a knowing smirk on his lips. "This is it, one of the most expected award of the night. Song of the Year."

The audience erupted into applause, a tangible wave of excitement washing over the room.

Y/N could barely hear it. Her entire body felt like it was wound up in a coil, so tight that she might snap. Her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribcage as she focused on the only thing grounding her - Chris’s hand wrapped tightly around hers.

She could feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers curled firmly around hers, almost as if he knew she needed the anchor.

Trevor continued, his voice filling the grand space.

"Now, we all know Song of the Year isn’t just about a hit track. It’s about storytelling. It’s about lyrics that mean something that connects with people, that makes you feel something in your soul."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut for a second. God, she felt like she was going to throw up.

Chris, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on the stage, his jaw set, body tense. His grip on her hand tightening, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand once - just once - as if silently telling her, I’ve got you.

Trevor continued listing the nominees, their song snippets playing softly over the speakers, but Y/N’s mind was a blur. The only thing she could feel was her heartbeat hammering violently inside her chest.

She could barely hear Trevor’s next words over the rush of blood in her ears.

"And the Grammy goes to..."

A dramatic pause.

It felt endless. It felt cruel.

Y/N finally lifted her head, eyes darting to the stage.

Trevor’s gaze swept across the room before his smile widened.

"Y/N L/N, Lavender Haze!"

The room erupted. Applause, cheers bouncing off the walls, her own voice echoing from the speakers, but Y/N barely registered any of it.

Her breath hitched, her entire body jerking forward as if her heart had physically pulled her out of her seat. Her hands flew to her face, pressing against her eyes, trying to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions slamming into her all at once.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

Chris was already moving before she could even think. His chair scraped back, his arms were on her in an instant, pulling her up, grounding her before she could float away in all of this.

"Oh my god." The words tumbled out of her, barely a whisper against her palms, her chest rising and falling too quickly to keep up.

Chris didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her tightly, anchoring her, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

"I am so fucking proud of you." His voice was right against her ear, steady, sure. "You are everything, baby."

That was it. That was what made the tears slip free.

But Chris didn’t let her hide.

With infinite tenderness, he pulled her hands away from her face, his thumbs sweeping over her damp cheeks. Then, before she could even catch her breath, he cupped her jaw and kissed her, firm, lingering, so full of love that everything else around them faded into nothing.

The crowd reacted instantly - cheers, whistles, camera flashes exploding in rapid succession - but Y/N only felt him.

When he pulled back, his hand found the small of her back, keeping her close, his face glowing with pride.

"Go get your second Grammy, superstar."

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she turned toward the stage for the second time in that night.

With each step, she forced herself to breathe.

In.

Out.

The massive gold-lettered GRAMMY AWARDS logo towered behind Trevor as he extended the award toward her, his smile warm and genuine.

"Y/N, congratulations." He said, offering a short but meaningful handshake.

Y/N took the Grammy statue with slightly trembling hands, whispering.

"Thank you so much." Before stepping toward the microphone.

As she turned, facing the sea of the world’s most influential artists, the weight of the moment finally settled on her. She was with her second award in her hands.

She barely had time to process it before her gaze instinctively found Chris.

He was standing at their table, hands tucked into his pants pockets, eyes locked onto hers. And when she hesitated, nerves bubbling up again, he gave her the smallest nod.

A simple movement.

But one that made her chest ache in the best way.

Y/N exhaled, adjusting her grip on the award.

"I- uh, I think I blacked out for a second there."

The room laughed, the tension easing instantly.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head.

"I genuinely don’t even know where to start. Again. This... this is insane."

She swallowed, her grip tightening on the Grammy as she steadied herself. The applause had started to fade, giving her space to speak, but her mind was still spinning.

"Lavender Haze is about love." She let the words settle, looking down for a brief moment before lifting her gaze straight to him. "The kind of love that blocks out the noise. The kind that just is, no matter what’s said, no matter what’s assumed. The kind that’s real."

Chris’s expression didn’t change, but she saw it, the slight shift in his jaw, the way his fingers curled against his palm, like he was physically stopping himself from reacting too much. From crumbling, maybe.

"This song wouldn’t exist without that love." Y/N wet her lips, heart hammering. "Without him."

A murmur rippled through the audience. People turned toward Chris, whose head finally dropped for half a second, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he glanced back up at her.

Y/N barely heard the movement. Barely noticed the cameras zooming in on them, barely cared about the entire world watching, because this wasn’t for them.

"This music is for you, Chris." Her voice was softer now, but no less sure. "And about you. And because of you."

Chris inhaled sharply, his chest rising with the movement. He was blinking faster now, his lips parting slightly, his entire body still, like if he moved, even a little, he’d break.

"You have been my safe place in ways I never even thought possible." Y/N continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You have shown me love in a way that makes the rest of the world fade out. And I wrote this because I needed people to hear what that feels like."

A pause.

Chris pressed his knuckles against his mouth, his gaze locked onto her like she had gravity itself wrapped around her fingers.

"So, I don’t need to thank anyone else for this." Y/N said simply, shaking her head. "This is you. This was always you."

The room was silent.

The world was silent.

Then, like a tidal wave, the applause crashed back over the moment, a roar of cheers and shouts as the weight of her words settled over the audience.

Chris didn’t move.

Didn’t clap.

Didn’t even breathe for a second.

He just looked at her with the most bright blue eyes.

She nodded, finally stepping back from the mic, Trevor clapping beside her before escorting her off stage.

And the second she made it back to her table, Chris was there.

Before she could even react, he pulled her against him, lips finding hers in a way that had the cameras flashing wildly, had people cooing, but none of it mattered.

Because for Y/N, all that existed was him.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Five nominations.

Five won awards.

She did it.

She had won five Grammys tonight.

She still couldn’t fully process it.

The air outside the main salon was crisp with the late-night chill, but Y/N barely felt it. The sheer exhaustion in her limbs, the dull ache in her feet from hours in high heels, and the weight - both literal and emotional - of the five golden Grammys in her hands left her in a haze.

Chris walked beside her, just as tired, but his expression was still warm with lingering pride. His free hand held two of her awards, his fingers occasionally brushing against hers as they made their way toward the grey wall - the makeshift backdrop set up just for the winners to take their photos.

Y/N’s sharp eyes were quick to spot something - or rather, someone - familiar.

Cole Walliser. The photographer behind every iconic Glambot moment and best photographs at major award shows.

The moment Cole noticed her, his face lit up in recognition, and he immediately called out.

"Y/N! Oh my god, look at these babies!" He gestured toward her stack of trophies, shaking his head in disbelief. "Get over here. You already know the drill!"

Y/N laughed, already making her way toward him, Chris trailing behind her with a wide smile.

"Oh, I think I remember it."

Cole smirked, playing along.

"Yeah? You sure about that? Feels like I’ve only filmed you a dozen times or so."

"Something like that." She teased before gesturing toward Chris with her head. "Brought a friend this time."

Chris scoffed, giving her the most offended look.

"Friend my ass."

Y/N burst into laughter, nudging him playfully, while Cole chuckled at their dynamic.

"Alright, what’s the game plan? We need to show these off."

Y/N barely had time to respond before Chris was already moving, helping her adjust the awards so she could hold them all without them toppling over.

"Wait, wait, here, give me that one." His voice was soft, concentrated, as he carefully restacked them, his touch both gentle and efficient. "Alright, you good? You got ‘em?"

She let out a breathy laugh, adjusting her grip.

"Yeah, I think so."

Cole grinned, stepping back to gesture toward the marked spot in front of the camera.

"Perfect, then. Right this way, Ms. Sturniolo."

Y/N choked on a laugh, and Chris practically beamed.

"Ms. Sturniolo, huh?" Chris turned to her, eyes shining with excitement, his grip on her lower back tightening slightly as he guided her onto the designated Glambot mark. "I like the sound of it."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her laughter betrayed how much she loved seeing him so giddy.

"Don’t let it get to your head, Mr. Sturniolo."

Chris grinned.

"Oh, it’s already there."

As Cole called out instructions, Chris stepped back, giving her space, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he lingered off to the side, watching her with the biggest, most heart-wrenchingly proud smile on his face.

Y/N could feel his gaze on her as she smiled to Cole’s moving camera. She tilted her head, posing slightly, but every time she caught Chris’s eyes in the background, her lips twitched into a barely-contained grin.

She couldn’t help it.

This moment was surreal.

She was standing there, arms full of Grammys, while her person stood just a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung the damn stars in the sky.

After a few more clicks, she shifted the weight of the awards in her arms before looking toward Waliser.

"Can we do one with Chris?" She asked, glancing between the camera and Chris himself.

Cole barely hesitated, quickly nodding.

"Oh, absolutely! Christopher, hop in!"

Chris blinked.

"Oh, I mean- I wasn’t-"

"Oh, shut up and get over here." Y/N teased, a playful glint in her tired eyes.

Chris huffed a soft chuckle before stepping forward, standing beside her as she started redistributing the awards.

"Here." She murmured, placing two specific trophies into his hands.

Song of the Year and Album of the Year.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, glancing down at the awards before looking back at her.

"Doll-"

"These two." She said softly, eyes locking onto his. "I only got because of you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers tightening around the trophies instinctively.

"Y/N-"

"Just hold them with me." She whispered, nudging him gently.

Chris exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line before he gave in, nodding as they both turned to face the camera.

Cole then gave play on his camera, but Y/N barely paid attention to it. She could feel Chris's eyes at her again, his expression unreadable, almost like he was too full of emotion to put it into words.

When the last one was taken, Chris nudged her shoulder lightly.

"C’mon, superstar. Let’s get out of here."

She didn’t hesitate.

After exchanging warm goodbyes with Cole, Y/N and Chris started making their way toward the private exit where their Range Rover was waiting.

Y/N’s entire body felt like it was dragging now, the adrenaline wearing off fast. She wanted nothing more than to be curled up at home, in bed, preferably with Chris’s arms around her.

But before they could reach the doors-

"Y/N!"

A reporter suddenly appeared in front of them, stepping way too close for comfort. Y/N barely had time to react before the microphone was practically in her face.

"So, are you guys heading to the after-party?" The woman asked, her tone almost demanding, her smile overly eager. "What are the plans for the rest of the night?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by how aggressive the approach was.

Chris, on the other hand... His entire expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed deeply, his grip tightening around the awards as he took a subtle step closer to Y/N, his entire posture radiating protectiveness.

If looks could kill, the woman would’ve been vaporized on the spot.

But before Chris could say anything, Y/N, despite being exhausted, handled it perfectly.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, she simply smiled, a polite, but pointed smile.

"I’m heading home, actually." She said smoothly, adjusting the awards in her arms. "To my family." The reporter barely had time to respond before Y/N added. "Thank you so much. Have a great night."

And just like that, she turned, walking away.

Chris blinked. Then, a slow, smug smirk crept onto his lips as he followed her.

Y/N didn’t give the woman another second of her time. She just kept walking, invisibly pulling Chris with her, her arm brushing against his with every step, greeting and thanking each staff member in the way with warm smiles.

Chris let out a low chuckle as they reached the car, expertly balancing both awards in one hand while using the other to pull open the door for her.

"Damn. That was smooth." His voice was warm, laced with amusement.

Y/N smirked at him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion sinking in.

"I’m too tired to deal with more people tonight."

Chris snorted, watching as she slid into the leather seat with a sigh of relief.

"Fair enough."

When he finally climbed into the seat beside hers, he shut the door with a groan, leaning his head back for a second before exhaling slowly.

And just like that, the moment they were sealed inside the warm car, blocking the sounds of loud voices and clicks, the exhaustion slammed into them both.

Y/N melted into the headrest, her eyes falling shut as she let out a deep, heavy breath.

"I feel like I ran a marathon."

Chris chuckled under his breath, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension.

"You did. An emotional one."

She hummed in agreement, her breathing slowing as the exhaustion took hold. Chris reached over instinctively, finding her hand in the dim light of the car, fingers slotting between hers with ease.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate, grounding her in the quiet.

"M’so proud of you, baby." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness settling over them.

Y/N turned her head toward him, eyelids heavy, but her lips curled into the smallest, sleepiest smile.

"Love you."

Chris lifted their joined hands without hesitation, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.

"Love you more."

She let her eyes flicker down, gaze landing on the golden awards sprawled across her lap and the seat beside her. She reached out, fingertips tracing the engravings, still not entirely believing they were hers.

She let out a thoughtful hum. Five more Grammys.

"We’re gonna have to find space for these at home." She murmured, brows knitting together as she looked over at Chris. "I have no idea where we’re putting them."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head.

"Already taken care of."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nick ordered a whole-ass display cabinet for that empty wall across from the kitchen." He admitted, shooting her a knowing look. "Figured we’d need it."

Y/N blinked, her lips parting slightly.

"He-"

"Yeah." Chris smirked. "So, we’ll put these there with the others from the past years..." He paused, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Until there’s no room left, popstar."

Y/N huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head before leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"At this rate." She teased, nuzzling his soft skin. "We’ll need a whole new house."

It was no surprise when, in the next TikTok, the boys recorded in their kitchen, the cabinet full of awards served as the background.

© vanteguccir

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

the day you left michael kaiser was the day you died.

you didn’t lose your life, but you surely lost your heart. too many pieces of it had been left fragmented and taken by kaiser for you to be able to fix it ever again. you were only seventeen, and yet it felt like you’ve gone through a lifetime of heartbreak. leaving kaiser was both the most divine gift you have ever given yourself, but also the greatest mistake you have ever committed.

you had met him when you were five. round, rosy cheeks from the frosty winter air were covered in fat tears. you had gotten lost, and you couldn’t find you parents. eventually, you reached the neighborhood park. crouching in the wood chips, with grime and bruises littering his body, was a young michael kaiser of the same age.

he had never spoken to anyone his age, let alone a girl. when you shoved yourself down onto the near frozen swing, still sobbing and sniffling like a baby, kaiser didn’t know what to do. in the end, with his broken grammar and rude words, kaiser wanted to comfort you. he want to try to stop you from crying; after all, it reminded him of himself whenever his father beat and choked him. “what the fuck are you crying about? you look disgusting.”

if kaiser knew gentle words, he would have spoken them. if he knew a lullaby, he would have hummed it. if he knew how to comfort someone, he would have done so. but at age five, he didn’t know anything but swear words. after all, those were the only things that he father ever communicated to him in. at his words, you only sobbed harder. “s-shut up!” kaiser exclaimed. however, you quickly stopped crying once the realization hit you: he wasn’t angry at you.

“i-i’m sorry. i just can’t find my mama and dad.” you whimpered. kaiser nodded. you wiped your tears away, teardrops nearly frozen from the cold. kaiser pointed to a large building next to a collection of houses.

“there’s a shitty station there. a useless piece of shit like you should go there.” kaiser muttered, his voice peculiarly calm for someone who is uttering the nastiest of words. you only blinked a few times in confusion at his vulgarity before grinning brightly, your tears having all been wiped away, and thanked him.

at that moment, you both fell in love with the other. it was only supposed to be a stupid childhood crush that would last a month or two; it wasn’t supposed to be serious. it was just supposed to be cute and temporary.

if only that was the case.

after that day, you continued to visit kaiser every day at the park with a bag of bread from the neighborhood bakery. bread made from garlic salt and sugar and buttery, still warm and soft. for years, you never dared to ask why kaiser was always having fresh new wounds painted on his every day. only years later, at thirteen, did he finally tell you about his family life. you wanted to tell the police, but kaiser swore that he would rather die than end up as an orphan.

when he was fifteen, he got arrested. you knew that it wasn’t him; it wasn’t his fault. he would never steal from a jewelry store. you knew he stole, but he didn’t care about superficial riches like jewels and gold. you waited outside of the police department for two whole days without food and sleep, waiting for kaiser to have his name cleared. finally, some soccer scouter managed to bail him out.

that was the day you started dating kaiser.

he began playing for bastard münchen only a week after his release. you stood by his side, always supporting him, and being next to him, always loving him, always making sure that he knew you love him. at first, kaiser was almost the same, although much more rude to his new teammates. but he still remained as soft as he could with you, never raising his voice or a hand with you.

he began to change at sixteen.

he was cold; distant, even. he still loved you, you knew that for a fact. but soccer was always the only thing on his mind. you knew that he was justified; after all, soccer brought him self-satisfaction and love. he felt human if he played soccer, and you could understand why he was so obsessed with soccer. but not to the point where it was detrimental to his health.

kaiser choked himself.

you always knew that he hurt himself, but you always stopped him the moment you caught him, always begging for him to stop, and that he mustn’t do something like that. you begged for him to take therapy sessions, go to a psychiatrist, something, anything. kaiser only shrugged off your concerns and told you that you worried too much. but the moment you caught kaiser’s fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, unable to breathe and saliva escaping from his lips, you knew that he’s gone too far.

you had come up to him, begged him to stop. pulled his fingers away from his throat by force. after an hour of coaxing and coddling, he finally stopped for a week before continuing again. you knew that it wasn’t your problem to deal with, but you still felt so guilty about it.

kaiser told you that he loved you that night.

you dealt with him for another year. he was still so superficially obsessed with soccer; obsessed with crushing and destroying his opponents like the opposing teams on a chessboard. but you couldn’t bear it, he was nothing short of cruel to ness, and he was just like a monster when he was playing against another team. he smiled when someone on the opposing team started crying. he never treated you like that, but you didn’t want to take any chances. you knew that he would treat you just like that soon enough.

that day, you broke it off with him.

you knew that it would hurt you both, you knew that this decision would haunt your days forever. but you couldn’t deal with this anymore. you couldn’t continue to see the boy you loved spiral into insanity, with all of your efforts and begs going to waste. you were too horrified to tell him in person, so you only left a note.

over half of your once shared apartment’s furniture was destroyed that night after kaiser read the note.

he truly went insane. the one person who he ever truly loved, the one person who ever loved him, the only person who comforted him through his shitty childhood, gone and only leaving him a note. he went insane trying to find you; he texted you millions of times, called you and facetimed you thousands of times, but you never responded.

and now, at age twenty, kaiser still never moved on from you.

during matches, his eyes always scan the stands, thinking that maybe you’d come. maybe you got bored, or maybe you wanted to mock him, maybe you wanted him back, or maybe you just wanted to beat the crap out of him after drinking a bit too much. whatever the reason, kaiser just wants to see you happy. he wants to see you laughing. he doesn’t care if you don’t take him back; as long as you’re safe and happy and healthy, then he’ll be fine.

you weren’t fine. college was killing you, and you were still a virgin who never went out to parties. you still silently watched over kaiser; searching up his name often, reading news articles about him, and watching clips and videos of him on youtube. seeing him healthy made you happy, even if he wasn’t constantly in the best emotional state, especially in that strange blue lock facility that he went to when he was nineteen.

january twenty-sixth.

not only was bastard münchen playing against fc barcha today, but it also marked the fifteenth anniversary of when you and kaiser first met when you were both only five. today was the day where you decided that for the first time in three years, you would go see kaiser play. just as a physical to see if he was okay, and for no other reason. no, this because you missed him. no, this wasn’t because you were still in love with him and just wanted to see him again and wanted to know if he still loved you. surely, he wouldn’t even see you. nope, nope, not at all.

at least, that was what you hoped.

you sat in your plastic blue seat of the stadium, waiting to see kaiser again. you weren’t used to this; you were always in vip seats at his game, and this was the first time you weren’t. oh well, it was still watching the same game at the end of the day. plus, vip seating would only make it easier for kaiser to see you.

as kaiser stepped out and onto the plastic green grass, his eyes scanned the crowd once again. this would be the last time he will ever do this; if you’re not even going to be here today, then he’s sure that you’ll truly never attend any of his games. he knows you best and you know him best, after all.

left to middle. no sign of a goddess like beauty anywhere, so you weren’t there. middle section. no sign of an angel anywhere either, so you weren’t there. finally, there was only the right left. please, kaiser begged that you would be there. even if you were on your phone the entire match, kaiser couldn’t care less.

one by one, his eyes drifted through the crowd as he nearly reached the end. his eyes slowly dimmed; were you really not there? was he really never going to see the love of his life again? but then he reached the end, and his eyes widened, glimmering underneath the sunlight. and despite the fact that it was a harsh winter, the warmth and love in his eyes could melt all of the ice and snow outside.

it was you.

your eyes locked for a moment, and in that moment, there was no one else. for a moment, soccer didn’t even matter. it was just you and him. he mouthed your name, your eyes widening a fraction, before you turned red and looked away. kaiser almost laughed out loud before walking away to the center of the stadium, feeling as if he could score fifty goals. you really came; he really got to see you again.

during the match, every damn time kaiser scored a goal, he always made some sort of gesture to you, whether it’d be blowing a kiss to you or waving to you or just staring intently at you, the media went crazy over it—because it was just so obvious that those gestures were meant for you.

after the match, you walked through the stadium as quickly as you could, wanting to leave and not wanting to get bombarded by the media. you completed your task; you came to see if kaiser was okay. and he clearly was perfectly fine, so you had nothing to worry about.

that was until you felt the calloused grasp of a hand on yours.

it’s been three years, but you could recognize that feeling anywhere. the exact same way of lacing your fingers together, the exact same warmth and same feeling. the exact same hand.

mihya’s hand.

you turned around in a flash, tears brimming at your eyes unknowingly. why were you crying? you weren’t supposed to get emotional over seeing him again. not until you saw the tears stinging mihya’s eyes, tears glossing over his eyes like the most expensive and yet beautiful porcelain china.

your mihya.

“mihya…?” you mumbled, your voice the hum of a lullaby. you expected yells if this were to happen, you expected interrogations and questions and threats, you expected blackmail, you even expected to get hit by him.

but none of that came.

only the feeling of another hand tilting your chin up before cerulean eyes glimpsed into yours, looking at you as if you were the most precious and beautiful thing in the world.

“you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.”

a/n: YES A HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON REFERENCE EEEEEE

[stxrsniolo]

ㅤㅤ──── sorry doesn’t fix stupid ❞

ㅤㅤ♱ summary: inspired by this idea by the iconic @muwapsturniolo <3

chris knew he’d fucked up the second he saw y/n’s face that night; it wasn’t just a regular screw-up, like forgetting to text back or eating her leftovers, no, this was the kind of colossal, earth-shattering fuck-up that deserved its own wikipedia page.

her art gallery opening, her first solo exhibit, the one she’d been grinding for since she picked up a paintbrush, was the one night she’d asked him to show up for. not just show up, but be there, front and center, clapping like a proud boyfriend.

he’d promised. pinky-sworn, even, because she’d made him do it over tacos one night, laughing about how serious he looked. and what did he do? he ditched her for a sweaty, pointless pickup game with his loud-ass friends, rolling in three hours late with grass stains on his jeans and a goofy “my bad, babe” that didn’t even land.

y/n didn’t scream. she didn’t throw a drink in his face or call him out in front of her artsy friends sipping overpriced wine. she just stared at him, eyes cold as a freezer burn, and said, “get out.”

no inflection, no second chance, just a flat, final order. he tried to stammer something—an apology, an excuse—but she’d already turned back to some guy in a beret, laughing like chris was a ghost she’d exorcised. he slunk out, tail between his legs, and spent the next two hours pacing his room, replaying the look on her face and cursing himself for being so goddamn dumb.

by day two, she was gone. not just mad-gone, but gone-gone.

she’d packed a duffel bag, left his hoodie on the porch with a sticky note that said “donate this” in her neat, loopy handwriting, and blocked him on everything—phone, instagram, even spotify, which he didn’t know you could do.

he tried texting her from his buddy jake’s phone, but she’d sniffed that out too and sent back a single “lose this number” before blocking that one too.

chris was a mess: hair unwashed, living off stale doritos, staring at the ceiling like it’d tell him how to fix this. it didn’t. but around 2 am, fueled by a fifth red bull and a desperation he hadn’t felt since his dog ran away when he was nine, he decided to write her a letter. not a text, not an email—a real, old-school handwritten apology. he figured the effort would hit her in the chest, crack that icy wall she’d built.

he poured his heart out, ink smudging from his sweaty palms, and slid it under her door at dawn, praying she’d at least skim it.

she didn’t just skim it. she dissected it.

dear y/n,

i know i messed up. like, catastrophically. i don’t even have words for how sorry i am, but i’m gonna try anyway because you deserve that much.

[“catastrophically” is cute. did you borrow it from a thesaurus? also, “gonna” isn’t a word, genius. write “going to” like an adult. and “deserve that much”? vague. try harder.]

i should’ve been there for your gallery thing. it was your night, and i blew it so bad i hate myself for it.

[“gallery thing”? it’s an EXHIBIT, you absolute walnut. my literal blood, sweat, and tears went into it, and you call it a “thing”? “blew it” doesn’t cover it; you torched it, stomped on the ashes, and spit on the grave.]

i got caught up playing ball with the guys, and i lost track of time, and i know that sounds like a lame excuse, but it’s the truth.

[oh, wow, the truth? how noble. doesn’t make it less pathetic. your “guys” are a pack of overgrown toddlers. comma splice after “guys”—should be a period. basic grammar, chris.]

i’m an idiot. a complete moron. i don’t deserve you, not even a little, but i’m begging you to give me another chance because i can’t stand this.

[finally, some self-awareness. “moron” tracks—gold star for honesty. “begging” is a choice, though—kinda sad. also, “not even a little” is redundant. pick a lane.]

page two is where it gets real deep.

i stayed up all night thinking about how much you mean to me. you’re my everything, y/n, and i know i don’t say it enough.

[what are you, a soundcloud rapper? “everything” is lazy—name one specific thing or it’s just noise. and you don’t say it enough because you don’t show it, period.]

i remember the first time we met, at that coffee shop, and you spilled your latte on me and laughed, and i fell for you right then and there.

[run-on sentence, my guy. should be: “we met at that coffee shop. you spilled your latte on me and laughed.” also, i laughed because you squealed like a teakettle, i thought you’d cry.]

i can’t lose you over this. i’ll do anything—therapy, time management classes, hell, i’ll tattoo your name on my forehead if it proves i’m serious.

[“can’t” needs an apostrophe—can not, you caveman. therapy? you need a lobotomy. and a forehead tattoo? don’t tempt me to say yes just to watch you regret it.]

page three is me promising i’ll never let you down again. i swear on my life, on my mom’s life, on every stupid basketball i own.

[“never let you down again” is a bold lie since you’ve flaked 23 times, i’ve got receipts. “swear on my life” is dramatic and legally meaningless. also, your basketballs are trash—swear on something valuable.]

i love you. please, just talk to me. i’m dying here without you.

[comma after “please” is pointless—cut it. “i’m dying” is a you problem, not a me problem. and “talk to me”? i’d rather talk to my houseplant—it shows up when i need it.]

yours (if you’ll still have me),

chris

[“yours” is delusional at this point. parentheses in a signature? weird flex. also, sign it “christopher”—“chris” is too casual for this mess.]

y/n found the letter when she got home from a late-night diner run with her girls, still buzzing from fries and petty gossip about chris’s latest flop. she saw the envelope under her door, his messy handwriting scrawled across the front, and almost kicked it into the hallway trash chute, but curiosity—and maybe a tiny flicker of boredom—won out.

she grabbed a glass of pinot noir, plopped onto her couch, and tore it open. the first line alone made her snort. by page two, she was cackling, red pen in hand, slashing through his words like a professor grading a failing essay. she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt; chris had earned this, and she was too good at being petty to let it slide.

she spent an hour on it, sipping wine and muttering to herself.

“catastrophically? who does he think he is, shakespeare?” she circled every misspelling, every lazy contraction, every desperate plea, her notes dripping with sarcasm and shade. by the time she hit page three, her handwriting was a little loopy from the wine, but her spite was razor-sharp. she folded the letter back up, grabbed a neon pink post-it from her desk, and scribbled a reply that felt like a mic drop:

“hey christopher, your little sob story’s a trainwreck. grammar’s atrocious, logic’s nonexistent, and i’m not your therapist or your mommy. you wanna grovel? fine. rewrite this garbage and fix every single error i marked, make it coherent, and hand-deliver it under my door by tomorrow, 6 p.m. sharp. no typos, no excuses, no sad puppy eyes. if it’s halfway decent, i might unblock your sorry ass. might. clock’s ticking, clown. don’t test me.”

she taped the note to the envelope, strutted to his house three blocks away in her fuzzy slippers—because she wasn’t dressing up for this fool—and left it on his doorstep. she even knocked twice, loud, just to make sure he’d hear it and panic. then she walked off, smirking, already imagining him scrambling to meet her deadline.

chris, meanwhile, was sprawled on his couch, halfway through a bag of cheetos, when he heard the knock. he stumbled to the door, orange dust on his fingers, and saw the envelope. his heart jumped—maybe she’d forgiven him? then he read her note, saw the red ink bleeding through the pages, and groaned so loud his neighbor banged on the wall.

he opened it, skimming her edits, and felt his soul shrivel. “uncultured toaster”? “lobotomy”? she’d even counted his screw-ups—23 times? he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or burn the letter and move to canada.

but chris was stubborn. and maybe a little masochistic.

he wiped his hands on his shirt, grabbed a fresh pen, and cracked open a notebook. he had 23 hours to rewrite the apology of his life—and he wasn’t about to let her win this round.

not yet.

︶ ͡ ۫ © stxrsniolo & eclipsturns's all rights deserved ! /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⚡︎ ㅤ𝑀𝐘 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ..! @courta13 @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @sturnsblogs @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @immaqulate @wysmols @chrepsi @mattslolita @ribbonlovergirl @milo-the-dog @madisturni @ariestrxsh @myluck4u-com

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Selfish - Alastor x Reader Oneshot

You face-planted on your bed, what semblance of energy you had left disintegrating and blowing away in the wind.

Today was too long a day.

Charlie needed some comfort after seeing the news roast the hotel again.

Vaggie needed to be calmed down because everyone got on her nerves.

Angel Dust needed a good hug and reassurance that he was worth something.

Husk had drank too much and threw the empty bottle at you when said as much. (He apologized afterward and the guilt made it easier for you to usher him to bed)

Lucifer was disassociating hardcore and you had to walk him through basic selfcare.

Nifty....Was Nifty.

Not that you minded that they needed different help here and there. Everyone needed a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to. And as far as you were concerned, it really was the least you can do. You couldn't fix their problems, but you can carry some of the load for them. That was...something, right?

A knock on the door made you grimace. Masking your agitation with a neutral expression, you opened your door to see none other than the Radio Demon himself.

He grinned down at you, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture straight, his clothes smooth and unwrinkled.

But...his grin seemed a bit strained, at the corners.

Alastor was difficult to comfort as he insisted he didn't have emotions anyway. And he hated to be touched. And his favorite food was raw venison or demon meat. So most of your techniques didn't have much ground.

However, he did love to laugh. So when he needed it, you would often play the role of a clown.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms across your chest and looked up at him with an exaggerated grin.

"Whazzzzah?" You said, intentionally making your voice nasally and high pitched.

Alastor picked you up like a suitcase and carried you back to your bed, sitting you down on the edge of it and kneeling in front of you. His expression didn't change as his eyes flicked over you.

You swallowed thickly. "Er...What bees the ups my dudes?"

No change in expression. No confusion, no mild irritation.

You started to get fidgety. Maybe you needed some new material? You like doing the funny voices and the purposely incorrect grammar, but if he was sick of it it'd be-

You train of through abruptly derailed as Alastor's hand came up to cradle your face. The other one brushing some of your hair out of your eyes. One claw lightly grazed your skin and you winced.

"So Husker's little fit did hurt you, hm?" He said, pressing the pad of his thumb against a spot typically hidden by your bangs - now adorned with a partially scabbed-over cut.

You winced again "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, my dear. I heard what happened between the two of you. The drunkard got a bit too brash and ended up hurting you."

You sighed "It was an accident."

Alastor's eyes narrowed "Ah yes, it's always an accident with you."

You met his glare "What do you mean by that?"

The Radio Demon waved his hand, materializing some first-aid equipment. He didn't even let you know when he applied some antiseptic to your cut making you hiss through gritted teeth.

"A little heads up would've been nice!"

"An accident, my dear."

You deflated immediately "Ah. Okay, sorry-"

"Thank you for proving my point." He cut you off, a slight growl to his voice. Alastor slapped a bandage over your wound and pulled back, glaring at you intently.

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes "Everything everyone ever hurts you with is an 'accident' to you. No one ever means to hurt you."

You scowled "Husk didn't mean to hurt me!"

"You're allowed to be mad you know." He huffed "Even if it was an 'accident', you could be mad he threw a fucking glass bottle at you!"

"He didn't mean to." You insisted.

"And Charlie didn't mean to dump all her woes on you, and Vaggie didn't mean to make you play peacemaker, and Angel Dust didn't need you to be a therapist. And Lucifer didn't need you to play nurse. And nifty...." he trailed off, unsure how to categorize your helping Nifty today. He shook it off and met your eyes. You glared back at him and pushed him away.

"No! None of them meant to! I chose to-"

"Would it really kill you to be selfish once in a while?" He said, tilting his head. Red eyes narrowed as his ears pinned back on his head.

"Firstly, i'm already dead. Secondly, I'm always selfish!"

"Give me an example."

"WELL, Mister Everything-Is-My-Business, I slept in to like, noon, yesterday-!"

"Because you spent all night listening to Vagatha."

"-and yesterday I ate the last of the spaghetti-!"

"From the meal you skipped while you helped Nifty hunt bugs."

"I hid in my room all day-!"

"Due to everyone not paying any attention to your immense discomfort at their ruckus."

"...You're dumb." You said, crossing your arms across your chest. Alastor rolled his eyes and pushed you down so you were lying on your bed. His hands were on either side of your head as he leered over you.

"Despite doing nothing but listening to everyone's endless ramblings all day, you're immediate reaction upon seeing me is to play jester and make me feel better."

"You looked upset." You said.

Alastor sighed "Exactly your problem, my dear." He moved away so he wasn't pinning you to your bed, calmly removing his monocle to clean it before gingerly placing it back onto his face.

You rolled onto your side to watched him. "...I don't think it's a problem to care."

"It is a problem to care too much."

"Well, you don't care enough so I guess we even eachother out."

Alastor hummed, looking away from you. You bit your lip. Maybe...you pushed that too far? You never really held back the sass with Alastor, but he was already irritated....

"Ask me for something." He said.

"Eh?"

He snorted, ears flopping in agitation "As you said, you care too much, i care too little. So now we'll do this: you care less about what I want and you care more about what you want."

You blinked, confused "....That's. Oddly sweet of you?"

Alastor snorted in response, still locked in a staring contest with the opposite wall. There seemed to be a bit of red creeping up the sides of his face.... Now was he turning red because he was mad or because he was....flustered?

"So. Can i ask you for anything?"

"Within reason."

"....Can I get a hug?"

The record scratch was audible.

"You have the Radio Demon offering you to do a favor for nothing in return, and you ask for a hug?"

"That's what I want?" You said, snuggling underneath your duvet. "Don't worry about it if you don't wanna-"

"Oh for the LOVE OF!" Alastor cut himself off, grumbling something under his breath that did not sound as jovial as his permanent grin may imply.

The man briefly disappeared into a puff of shadows before reappearing under the duvet with you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your head into his chest.

You laughed. "Was it that hard to just lift the blanket?"

"Quiet, you." Alastor muttered into your hair. You sighed contently, snuggling closer to him.

"Can I hug you back?"

He tensed up next to you, so you dropped it. Despite his insistence on you being selfish, he didn't push you any further. Instead relaxing more as you made no move to hold him.

"Thanks, Alastor. I'm gonna drift off, so you can head out if ya want." You mumbled into his shirt.

"We'll see."

You didn't bother trying to fight sleep, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up with you and your troubles drift away as you listened to the Radio Demon's heart.

Alastor was still there when you woke up, but don't you dare mention it.

[wordpress-blaze-94466291]

Flight Attendant Training Exposed: I Wanted Free Flights, Not a Lifestyle Cult

My First Week of Training Showed Me I Should’ve Stayed a Nanny

You ever walk into a situation and immediately think, “Yeah… this ain’t it”?

That was me, day one of flight attendant training in Las Vegas.

I walked into that orientation room thinking I was entering my jet-set baddie era. You know heels clacking, lip gloss popping, ready to secure my wings and a whole new life. But the moment I sat down next to someone who was already highlighting her manual like it was the Bible and whispering flight codes under her breath like she was summoning a demon from Gate 42B… I knew. I had entered the cult of the sky.

I wasn't surrounded by other fun girls who just wanted free flights and international sneaky links. No, ma’am. These people were serious. Like “I was born to push a beverage cart and quote FAA regulations in my sleep” serious.

Meanwhile, I was sitting there wondering how soon I’d get my buddy passes and how I could finesse them for a weekend trip to Tulum.

Let’s be clear I was doing the work. I was studying. I was passing exams. But my heart? Not in it. My soul? Absolutely not. My spirit? It was on a beach somewhere sipping a mojito, wondering why my body was stuck in this beige conference room learning how to properly stow a life vest.

But one thing I will say I met some dope people. Real ones. My training besties: Francesca, Will, and eventually, Lea. Let me paint the picture:

Francesca, my roommate, and a literal angel. Ironically, we had met a year before, drunk in a nightclub bathroom, where she told me I was beautiful and gave me a tampon. (Fate? Maybe. Girl code? Definitely.)

Will, the ultimate class clown and sarcastic king. We bonded over talking sh*t about literally everyone else and making fun of the “this is my life purpose” crew. I knew he was my people when he side-eyed the instructor mid-safety demo like, “Sir, relax. It's not a TED Talk.”

And then there was Lea mysterious, quiet, vibes immaculate. She was the type who didn’t say much, but when she did, it hit. She kept to herself at first, but eventually we adopted her into our little misfit family. And thank God, because Lea brought the chill we needed to balance our chaos.

Together, we made training tolerable. We studied together, gossiped in the hallway, and trauma bonded over the cafeteria food (why did everything taste like wet cardboard?). But still… something felt off.

I started realizing I was not like the others. They cried during the safety videos. They screamed “teamwork makes the dream work” unironically. They wanted coworker barbecues. ME? I wanted a flexible schedule and to go ghost on my off days.

Then… Enter the Villain: Karen, the training team leader from hell. (No, her real name wasn’t Karen, but let’s be real she gave big Karen energy.)

She did not like me. From the jump. I could feel it in my bones. I wasn’t rah rah enough, didn’t pretend to be obsessed with the training manual, didn’t cry when we watched the “inspiration” video about how this job was “more than just peanuts and seatbelts.” (Spoiler alert: it’s not.)

I wasn’t trying to be fake. I just wasn’t trying to pretend that this was my lifelong calling when it really wasn’t. I just wanted to make it through training, collect my wings, and start collecting travel points and travel stories. But sis made it her mission to make my life miserable. It was like I didn’t drink the KoolAid, so she started side eying my cup.

Every little thing I did, she picked at. Didn’t smile enough. Didn’t raise my hand enough. Didn’t clap enthusiastically when they showed us how to evacuate a fake plane.

Ma’am, I am trying to survive on five hours of sleep and hotel eggs. Give me a break.

But regardless of her cult leader vibes, I kept pushing. I wasn’t about to let Flight School Barbie take me down. I studied, I practiced, I nodded politely, I even pretended to be excited about the beverage service module (barely).

And still… I could feel it coming. Something was off. The energy was weird. The universe was whispering, “Girl, this isn’t your destiny.”

Little did I know what was coming next in Blog 4… aka the moment Liz the Human Avalanche entered the chat and made it her life’s mission to get me out of the skies and back on the ground.

Stay tuned it’s about to get messy.

Source: Flight Attendant Training Exposed: I Wanted Free Flights, Not a Lifestyle Cult

[livinginshambles]

Hear me out, please |James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!

Masterlist Part one Part two

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A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldn’t help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.

You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasn’t even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.

You were so tired; you actually couldn’t bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.

James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.

James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. ‘Arrogant, prideful, and reckless’.

Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Sirius’ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.

Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.

There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.

“My sincere apologies, professor.” You wore a smile that sent chills up James’ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.

After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, James’ heart tugged when you didn’t spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.

James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.

“Y/N!” he called out to you.

You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.

“Let me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,” you sharply stated. “I am sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.”

Remus called James’ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.

James didn’t see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. “L/N, wait,” James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didn’t stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.

“Hear me out, please.”

“I said all I wanted to say, Potter. Let’s stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

“After you let me explain,” James pleaded.

You laughed. “Nothing you tell me will change my mind. I won’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” You gave him an annoyed look.

Still, James was not planning on giving up. You weren’t the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.

You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.

“Godric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m- I don’t know what went through my head, please wait-” You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. “What the hell is wrong with you mate,” he groaned to himself. “You bloody git.”

He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?

“Lily, please go in my place,” he begged the redhead. “I’ll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.”

Lily shook her head. “Stop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and I’m not patrolling tonight.” She walked past James and then turned back around.

“Some friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. We’re no longer kids. But good luck.”

James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.

“Hi,” he awkwardly managed. “So about-“

“You’re late. Let’s get a move on it.” You cut him off.

“Right, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.”

It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.

The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. He’d much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked, a frown on your face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” The smile dropped of James’ face.

“Well, you don’t have to stop smiling because I said so,” you shot him a strange look. “I just wanted to know what’s so funny.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” A beat. And then, “Lily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you don’t want to hear it.”

You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didn’t want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.

The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

James perked up at your words. “Thank you,” he grinned at you gratefully. “Are you going to watch the game?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be helping out in the infirmary.”

“Did you finish your herbal research then?”

Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.” James nodded along.

“Well, if you ever need a patient, I’d volunteer,” he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.

“Better check your broom for hexes tomorrow,” you replied. “wouldn’t want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.” James snorted.

You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. “I was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.”

James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. “Volunteering to be your very first patient, of course.”

“Tell me you didn’t break your bones on purpose,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“I didn’t break my bones on purpose,” James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. “Is this not fixable with any spells?” He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.

“Externally, yes. But you’d be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. “Hence the herbal potions.”

“Is that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?” James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.

You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. “Who knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.” James beamed in pride at your compliment.

“Just keeping my options open.” James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on James’ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.

You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. “I’m terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?”

James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “All better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?” He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldn’t just march out straight away. “Will you hear me out?”

You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.

“I didn’t know.” When you didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldn’t do that- you know that I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.

“Sirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didn’t tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because we’re friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-” James stopped.

“What, you fancy me?” you rhetorically commented. 

James’ heart stopped and his face flushed. “No, of course not! I just- Well, I don’t know- It’s, uh I guess I just,” James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.

You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. “Stop it,” you shook your head in denial.

“Would it be so bad?” James murmured. “I didn’t know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.” He hesitated and took a step forward. “I think you liked me too, before you knew my name.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Before I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,” you lied. “Because we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.”

James shook his head.

“So, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,” It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.

“You’d have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?”

“It wouldn’t be fake to me,” James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. “And who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.”

“This is so stupid,” you shook your head.

“Guess what,” Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.

Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away. “What,” he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. “Are you angry?”

“Mildly annoyed, yes.”

“Because…” Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.

“Because I think it’s time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, you’ve done enough damage as it is.” He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.

“Prongs likes her.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s handling it terribly,” Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.

“Why are you guys nice to me,” Remus asked quietly.

“What are you talking about Moony, you’re our best friend?”

“I know, but why?” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf, aren’t I? I’m a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? We’re in our last year. Don’t you think we should grow up?” And with ‘we’, he meant ‘Sirius and James’.

‘I know, Moony.”

“Do you now?”

“I think I’m going to talk to Regulus.”

Remus choked on his spit. “I’m sorry, Pads, you’re what?”

“I just don’t want to be like L/N’s siblings. I know I sort of am, but I don’t want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?”

“Pads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.”

“I insulted him,” Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.

“He’s after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.”

“Well, that’s just the point of Quidditch,” Sirius defended again.

Remus smiled at Sirius. “Alright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and I’m too busy with studies to fix you up again.”

Sirius grinned. “If all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.” Remus threw a quill at him. “I think I’ll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.”

The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.

“I think I’ve found her,” Remus remarked, uncertainly.

Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not James’.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. “We talked it out,” you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; “Hell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.” Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.

You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.

“Where’s Regulus,” Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.

You raised your eyebrows. “He’s in the astronomy tower. Didn’t want to join James and I to the library.” You smiled at recollection of the younger Black’s reaction to you and James.

“No way.” He had replied. “What are you two planning?” James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. “What are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. What’s the deal.”

Sirius nodded. “Well,” he started, “I mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.” Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.

You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Sirius’ paper and raised your eyebrows. You’d imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. “Anyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?”

The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. “He’ll see we were right, and he’ll leave you again,” they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.

Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. James’ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “We’re not breaking up if it’s up to me.”

He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. “Go on a date with me tonight,” James whispered.

“We don’t have time tonight. Patrol, remember?” You argued back.

James grinned and shook his head. “Afterwards.”

“It’s past bedtime afterwards. I will not-”

“Sneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.”

You laughed this time. “I’m almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.” Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend,” he squinted his eyes, challenging you.

“If he misbehaves,” you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. “Fine, I’ll bite, what do you have in mind.”

James’ grin widened. “The lake’s still frozen,” he whispered. You deadpanned. “I can’t skate.”

James leaned his head against you. “Exactly, it’s the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.” You turned your head and breathed in the smell of James’ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend, I don’t need excuses,” he joked.

James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, “No you don’t.”

He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that he’d been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.

“Never held hands with a girl before, Potter?” You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.

James nodded. “Never held hands with a girl before,” he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. “What about Lily?”

James snorted. “Have you ever seen us hold hands?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’.

“I was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,” James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. “You don’t stress about being a good boyfriend for me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasn’t having it.

“’m not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.” He sighed contently. You huffed. “Well, I have high standards, and I’ve been told I’m pretty high maintenance, Potter.” You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.

“First, you should stop calling me Potter,” he remarked.

“James,” you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. “And second?” you inquired.

“Second?”

“Second,” you looked at him expectantly.

“Oh! Right, second; I didn’t know you had a relationship before?” And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldn’t believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And it’s only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-

“No, I’ve been single pretty much my whole life.” You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. “Not very approachable, as I prefer.”

“Then who calls you high maintenance?” James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. “Calm down, prince Charming,” you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. “I can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. “Where do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.”

“I have my own apartment.”

“You’re not even of age yet,” James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.

“Professor McGonagall vouched for me,” you replied. James’ eyebrows flew up. “McGonagall?” He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.

“Well, if you want you can come with me?” You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didn’t find any, you gave him an apologetic look.

“That’s kind of you, James,” you smiled. “But I have Regulus staying with me.”

“He doesn’t stay at the Black manor?” James was surprised. You tilted your head. “Tell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?”

James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.

“Well,” he awkwardly shifted. “You’re both welcome,” he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.

“I’m done, we can go.”

“Alright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.”

“I’ll wait here,” you nodded. James offered you a strange look.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You’re not going with me?”

“What all the way up to the third floor? I think not,” you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.

James huffed and didn’t move. “But what if something happens to me on the way there?” He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.

“What on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.”

“What if a monster attacks me, and then I can’t come back, and you’ll think that I stood you up?” James retorted with a pout.

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. “There are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? You’re not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.”

James squinted his eyes at you. “But can you promise me that with 100% certainty?” You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?” you sarcastically retorted.

“Well, technically speaking, and I’m not saying all Slytherins,” James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. “Snakes are kind of your thing, right?” You closed your eyes. “Charming, you are. Let’s just go,” you sighed.

James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. “For the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.”

“If you say so.”

Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. “Hey Prongs, how was ice skating?”

James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. “Got pulled under,” he stressed. “I didn’t know where to take her, I couldn’t let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I don’t know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,” he started to ramble in a loud whisper.

Remus grumbled as he sat up too. “Bloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?” And when James didn’t respond, “Mate, what is wrong with you.” He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.

James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. “Well, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,” Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. “Yeah, not my girl, not my duty,” he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.

“Right.”

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means you’re either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.

You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.

You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.

“And where have you been,” Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept, and his tone was sharp. “And what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“You’re my brother, Regulus, not my mother,” you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. “And no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So don’t hex James, if anything you can thank him.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.” You didn’t immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.

“Sirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,” he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Regulus immediately said. “It’s just that he apologized.” He shrugged. “You think he meant it?”

You thought it over. “I think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.” Regulus nodded deep in thought.

“You know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.” You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.

“I suppose it’s still a month away, so we’ll see what we want then.”

You nodded and then got up off the chair. “I’m going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,” you said.

“You’re dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re absolutely right. Isn’t that funny? You know what, let them try,” you challenged them as you smoothened James’ sweater.

James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but you’d tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.

Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)

James’ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.

James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.

You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. “I am this close to kicking you guys.” You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But they’re touching,” he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.

You sarcastically faked a gasp. “Oh, Merlin, you’re right, they appear to be.”

James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You wouldn’t hurt your knight in shining armour,” he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. “You’re late,” you airily said.

Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. “Come join us, Reg.”

Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though you’ve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. People’s gossips and predictions about yours and James’ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.

James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.

After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boys’ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in James’ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.

“So, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?” James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?” James humoured you.

“Or something,” you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.

“I’ll see you at 11 o’clock,” you replied.

James grinned, “I’ll be there five minutes earlier.”

True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.

“James?” James hummed in reply. “Does your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know it’s next week already, and it’s sort of short notice-”

James perked up. “Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. “Yes, you and Regulus can still come.”

You sighed and nodded in relief. “Right, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.”

It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. “What happened to the glass slippers?” He suddenly asked.

“They broke.”

“They broke?”

“Yep.”

“But didn’t you enchant them?”

“I did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.”

“Oh… But have you changed your mind since then?” James decided to finally ask you.

“About what?”.

“Me, and us.”

You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.

“Well, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. There’s not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,” You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.

“I’d say we’re pretty good friends-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your tracks and let go of James’ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. “James, you’re not in love with me.”

James frowned at your response. He’d accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.

“Yes, I am,” he stubbornly responded.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, equally stubborn.

“Am too.”

“You’re not, James,” you exasperatedly said. “You’re not in love, you just fancy me because you’re comfortable.” You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.”

James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable with you.” He agreed. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that love too? Being comfortable to the point you don’t feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?”

You stared at James then cleared your throat. “So, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?”

James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. “I’m the most comfortable with you,” he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.

James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. “Right,” he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you weren’t done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around James’ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m the most vulnerable with you,” you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.

You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.

“Love?” He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didn’t sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed he’d ever been. This was definitely the future he’d imagined when he’d watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. “My knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,” he cheekily grinned.

You hummed in thought and then you replied, “Well, isn’t marriage a little too soon?” Your grin widened and spread across your face. “I mean, you’ve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.”

“Wait what-”

The end :)

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[cherie-doll]

Cod men reaction .

He and reader were on a mall date and reader suddenly stopped to look at a kids toy/a book/a book series. The thing is, reader grown up as the oldest grandchild, they used to have that toy/book(s), but it was ruined by their younger siblings/cousins.

Based on my real situation. Sorry for the broken grammar, I was typing this with one hand while eating pizza.

this reminds me of how i used to collect the archie comics as a kid and i loved reading them until my younger sibling ruined it bc they slobbered all over the pages like a dog, also, i hope that pizza was good i'm lowkey hungry

༢ུ· Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price would turn right away when he noticed you've stopped walking. He's watching you, the skin creasing around his eyes as he smiles and his eyes soften. There's just something to seeing you in awe, recognizing that thing you've wanted for a long time, the nostalgia that must've bubbled up inside of you seeing it again. He'll come up beside you and say "why don't we buy it?".

Simon stared, confused at what could be so interesting, and when he saw it was only a silly stuffed animal. At first he thinks it only caught your attention because it was cute, but it was quite plain, a little ugly looking plush too. But you remember hugging it when you slept as a child, it had a certain smell to it too, until it got ripped apart by your sibling's puppy. You had cried but never got a new one. Without prompting from his part you start telling him the story of how much you loved that thing, and how you still sort of do. Silently nodding and already pulling out his wallet.

Johnny actually pointed out the game you mentioned playing when you were younger, the game you described to him because you couldn't remember the name of it. "Isn't that the game you've been talking about?". You excitedly reply that it is as he picks up the box, your eyes going straight to the price tag but he's already going to checkout to buy it. You ask him what he's doing, "you've been wanting to try it out again, right?" he replies with a smile.

Kyle remembers the time he helped you go through boxes when you moved in with him and how he opened a box filled with old stuff from your childhood. He had found a set of beat up books, some with pages missing, chunks ripped out or with crayon scrawled on them. You tell him it was a series you loved reading as a kid but was messed up by your siblings who played a mean prank on you. He later goes on out and purchases the same set of books and surprised you with them when he arrives home.

Roach once noticed a keychain made of seashells hanging on your bag, some of the shells were broken but it still looked like it had been a pretty little trinket. He played with it, fidgeting with it until he asked you why you still carried the old broken keychain. You tell him it was a gift from your late grandfather that he had made, kids had pulled at it and it had fallen to the floor, breaking in pieces. You had tried fixing it before but were missing pieces. He didn't buy you a new one, instead he spent an evening gathering seashells that looked close to the broken ones and rearranging them in the same order. It was difficult but was worth seeing you happy.

Alejandro could probably late to having to give up your toys to younger siblings or cousins because he had to do the same. So, it feels as if he heals something within himself when you both stop and look at the toys in a secondhand store that bring you a sort of nostalgia. He remembers summers spent playing outside and having to share the toy plane with his siblings. He notices you staring at a toy too and decides to give into making the little kid still in both of you happy.

Rudy has seen how you still keep the little dolls aligned neatly on your shelf. He's noticed how you put up a new one every time you find one when going through your old stuff. He's listened as you tell him how there is one specific doll you remember owning that was your favorite to play with, until it was either taken by some other kid who thrown away accidentally. He spots it at an antique shop and recognizes it because he's always thinking of you. Knowing this will make you feel complete he buys it and excitedly goes home to show you.

Phillip would have been walking along just like any other day he takes you shopping at the mall for you to let some stress out by swiping a credit card. He felt the absence of your hand on his arm and when he turned around he saw you in the toy shop through the glass display. When you held it in your hands, you felt your old emotional attachment to the toy reignite, it was smaller than you remembered but still as secure and comforting as ever. You turn to find Phillip beside you, he only nods, giving you the green light to just go ahead and buy it.

Makarov would hardly deny you from buying anything you wanted. It just strikes him as odd for there to be a change in the pattern you keep of buying clothes, jewelry and other luxurious items for a stuffed animal. But he knew that soft look in your eye, the reminiscing of a memory from long ago still etched in your mind that bloomed in your heart again. His eyes went from plush to you and back to the plush again. He told you to buy it and anymore you might have wanted.

Keegan found it slightly amusing that you had gotten so excited over seeing a children's series you thought had become lost media. He had taken you to the bookstore and instead of finding some cute romcom or some classical piece of literature you ended up in the corner of the kid's book section immersed in rereading the series that had become your escapism when you were a kid. You were going to leave it back where you found it when leaving but Keegan just chuckled and told you to buy the entire series.

König stared curiously at how entranced you were by the plush the kid held in front of you while at the food court. At first, he thought you were having baby fever or something, but really you were more interested in kid's backpack plush. You remember having one as a kid, you used to take it everywhere with you until you lost it, not knowing if one of your parents gave it away. You passed by a store that sold them, and König guided you inside the store to buy one for you. It was funny when the lady at the register asked if it was a gift for your kid.

Horangi knew you always had a thing for collecting adorable figurines, toys, anything that reminded you of when you were a kid. You took care of them so well too, placing them on shelves which he built btw, and dusting them off frequently. When asked why you were so particular about caring for them, you said it was because your old toys were always being broken from your siblings playing too rough with them. It must've broke your little kid heart to see them on the ground, all dirty and chipped off pieces. Now, he is always surprising you with one when he comes back from the store.

Nikto's first thought was that you had picked up the figurine as a gift for one of the kids in your family. At first, he couldn't understand that you were getting it for you, you were staring at the toy so fondly. What memory could have arisen in your mind at the moment? But he recognized the feeling of finding serenity in the little mundane things in life; in your case a toy. He offered to pay for it and as he drove home, he kept glancing over to you and seeing how you had the little thing in your hands, holding it instead of leaving it in the bag. He couldn't even tease you for it.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

Next Chapter

[feyascorner]

Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

[jaemlonfz]

can you do something about svt members wearing suits and holding their baby in the carrier infront and going for some event and the reader thinking "is it too soon to be wanting baby #2" 🫢 thank you <333

ps: i took over a MONTH to write this and i still think its not that good, i did not review it and english isnt my first language so im sorry if theres grammar errors, i hope yall like it wc: 3,1 K tw: there's the explanation and then pure filth, overall its basically all sorts of positions, crempie, praise kink in most of them, lmk if i forgot something so i was doing everyone in suits and wanting baby #2 but I started to think it was a bit silly because they all looked the same, so I changed the story for most of them. anyways i hope you still liked it, i made it with a lot of love and i apologize for taking so long

Seungcheol

You and Scoups were a public couple, fans distrusted you for years, you were always openly saying how much you loved seventeen's songs and still always singing Seungcheol's excerpts, and he openly talking about the films you star in without the slightest shame. So when you guys finally came out as a couple, your fanbase wasn't shocked at all.

A few years later as a married couple, after a one-year hiatus, you were seen in public with scoups carrying two little girls, that's how they found out that you had become parents of twin girls.

Years later, now with your daughters a bit older, you were getting ready for an awards ceremony, your burgundy dress matching with scoups tie, your girls' dresses in light pink. You were looking for your earring in every corner of your room when you went down to the living room to ask if your husband was with him, but when you arrived in the living room you saw the most adorable scene ever, Seungcheol trying to fix one of the girls' hairstyle while the another was stuck to his back kissing his cheek.

You can tell you felt your stomach turn at the Scoups' serious look as he tried not to ruin his daughter's hair, while the other looked at her father as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Scoups was such a wonderful, caring and kind father.

You guys hadn't really brought up the subject of having kids anymore considering all the work you'd put in with both of them at once, but now it's a topic you'll actually talk about after seeing your husband being an extraordinary father.

It was only when you arrived at the awards ceremony that you realized you only had one earring in your ear.

-

“How beautiful my dear wife, you already want to have another baby”

Seungcheol said pushing his length into you, as he wiped your tears and brushed the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Will you let me fill you up so you can get pregnant again? Do you want to have a big belly carrying my son again?

Jeonghan

You knew you wanted to have another child with Jeonghan as soon as you saw him carrying your newborn son in the hospital, but that's something that absolutely every mother feels so you honestly didn't pay much attention to the feeling. But now, on the exact same date, a year later, you felt the same thing but with an animalistic intensity.

It was your son's first birthday and you decided to have a party with just the child's grandparents. With a maximum of ten balloons scattered around the large room, the grandparents amused by the baby's toothless smile, you decided to grab a candle and a lighter so you could sing personalized congratulations.

returning to the room with a candle and the lighter in your hand it was completely involuntary to rub your legs with emotion after seeing Jeonghan with your son in his arms. They were both wearing matching clothes, they both had the same smile, the same eyes and the same nose, they were like clones. the baby's thin hair was the same tone as yours but he was still a miniature Jeonghan, and seeing him smile so sincerely with his son in his arms made your eyes water a little.

-

“Jeonghan I want another baby." You admitted once the baby was sleeping in the crib.

“Do you really want another child or do you just want me to fill you?” He said smiling, and after your response in the blink of an eye your situation was completely different.

Your back arched as your ass was in the air and you cried and screamed with your face in the pillow.

“You asked for it, now you handle it.” Jeonghan said kissing your back.

Joshua

Joshua has always been a very giving person, every sunday going to church to pray for the well-being of others, and at least once a month going to orphanages to care for sick or orphaned children. And it was on one of these trips to the orphanage that you met.

Now years later Joshua continues with the same cherished habit of providing for others, and that's how you discovered that necessarily marrying him and carrying his child in your womb

Joshua was in bed when they called from the orphanage saying that a new child had arrived, as always Joshua shouted from the bed and ran asking if you would go with him to meet the new family member, you obviously said yes, quickly getting ready with him.

When you arrived in place, you ran to the bathroom because you were holding on too tightly to make a good impression on the child. returning to the giant garden looking for an unknown face, who you thought was around 4 or 5 years old, you saw Joshua's back and his arms as if he was waiting for something. Joshua quickly noticed your presence and turned to see you.

The child was definitely no older than 6 months old, Joshua held her with so much care, looked at her with so much care and love that you felt your blood pressure dropping.

Joshua was born to be a father, and you were the only one who hadn't realized that yet.

-

Now you had your legs as close together as possible, squeezing yourself constantly trying to hold in the liquid that would give you a child without letting a drop leak out.

As soon as you got home you admitted your dirty thoughts towards Joshua, who quickly took off your clothes, turned you around and filled you up.

“If you really want my son, don’t let a drop leak.” Joshua said from the kitchen, making you a sandwich while you smiled with completely red cheeks.

Junhui

It was the first time you had been away from your son for more than 10 hours, and Junhui was a wreck. Both had already cried because you missed your baby while he slept peacefully next to you, and now the day of true farewell had arrived.

You were going to a wedding a few hours away, so in case it was to late on the way back, you had already booked a hotel room just in case.

At the moment you were adjusting your heels sitting on the bed, while you saw Hunhui on the baby monitor talking to the adorable baby. you managed to hear a few words like “i’m going to miss you.” or “don’t cry too much in your grandmother’s ear.” Junhui was already ready with his suit and you, now late, ran to your son’s room to say goodbye too. but when you arrived at the door, when you saw Junhui's look at the child, you didn't know how to describe whether your heart was tender or swollen.

As expected, it was very late when the wedding ended and you had to sleep at the hotel, you could feel Junhui awake and restless by the way he moved in bed, and it left you with a wonderfull idea.

-

“You're such a good father." You said, panting on top of Junhui, riding his dick. “So worried about your son." Now you lay down in the perfect position to whisper in his ear

“Let’s give him a brother so he won’t be so alone, let’s have another child to worry about." You said and I could feel your cock twitching inside your tight, damaged interior

Soonyoung

it was yours daughter's first halloween, and quite obviously, soonyoung dressed her up as a tiger.

Yall had absolutely no party to go to, and honestly you thought the idea of ​​going door to door with a baby in costume was a bit strange, so you only dressed up for some photos and to have a fun memory about your first halloween as a family.

Soonyoung obviously begs you for the whole family to be tigers, so while you were looking for a shirt of his with a tiger print or some other style of clothing, when you returned to the living room you saw the most heart-warming scene in the world.

Soonyoung was holding the small hands of the child, who was trying to stand, while they were both smiling widely, you couldn't help it and took a photo of the moment, certainly thinking about how beautiful it would look framed on the wall.

Now that your daughter was already asleep, you went to talk to soonyoung about the scene you saw and you were obviously teased about it.

“Since you liked me so much seeing our daughter, let’s have another one”

-

“Younggg…” You mumbled trying not to make noise so as not to wake the beloved child in the next room

“i also love seeing you with our baby, let’s do one more” He pushed his length into you, who groaned at the invasion without warning.

“Ohh… ​​please soon, let’s have another one”

Wonwoo

In fact, wonwoo took the initiative to have another child with you.

Wonwoo has a younger brother and he can definitely say that it is a wonderful thing to have someone to look after and be able to talk to, so after a year of your baby being born wonwoo called you to talk about it.

The conversation was absolutely very short, he simply admitted that he wanted another child and you opened the robe you were wearing and let it fall to the floor

-

“Such a willing mother.” He kissed your chin and quickly moved down to your neck. “Such a willing wife”

“How can you be so willing to make me happy." He smiled ramming his cock into you, who twitched beneath him

“Are you so wet just thinking about me bearing another child? Do you like to imagine me filling your brim?”

You managed to hear a chuckle from him as you hurriedly shook your head answering the question. “You will look so beautiful swollen with my son”

Jihoon

Honestly there wasn't a specific moment that you knew you wanted to have another child with Jihoon, because you always knew that once you saw this man as a father, you would never stop, but I really think the penny dropped when your son asked for a sister.

You were having a movie night when suddenly your three year old son asked for a little sister. your face automatically turned to Jihoon, who as already looking at you.

You talked to your son and said you were going to talk to his father about it, and when you saw your son's reaction, you swore to yourself that you would give this child a giant family to love

“You can rest assured that you’re going to have a little sister." You heard Jihoon whispering in your son’s ear while he was still looking at you

-

“Jihoon…” you whimpered underneath him, your legs spread, your arms up being held by your husband’s strong hand

“We have to fulfill our firstborn’s wish, and now is the perfect time”

Jihoon was referring to the weekend he was spending with his grandparents, you were definitely going to be pregnant by the end of this sunday.

dokyeom -

Today was your cousin's wedding and you were desperately late. putting on your heels as you jumped up to your one-year-old daughter who was in her crib still in her pajamas, after all you left her there to get ready first and dress her up later, but distracted by the happiness of putting on makeup for a big event again you completely lost track of what time .

Mentally cursing yourself for messing around so much while doing your makeup, you entered the room imagining the little girl with her hair all tangled up, a dirty diaper stinking of poop and her tantruming with hunger, but when you opened your eye, preparing for the worst you saw dokyeom a hand without a lap.

He was holding her in his arms, trying to keep her awake so she could rest later. Dokyeom was divine with those formal clothes and kinda wet hair, you were led to think about your husband making you feel good thinking about having another child

She was already dressed beautifully, her suitcase was already packed, her hair was in a beautiful hairstyle and with a beautiful bow that matched her dress. Dokyeom had done all of this knowing you would be late.

-

“do you want to see me be a father again? did you like me seeing our daughter today?” dokyeom said as he kissed your sweaty neck.

“are you going to let me fill you up again? will you let me breed you?" he laughed at your scrunched up face with no coherent thoughts in your brain.

Mingyu

That Mingyu is a famous model that everyone knows, and that you, his makeup artist, had great chemistry with him, everyone knows, that's how you met. Now married with two daughters, brands caught your opportunity to do a commercial featuring Mingyu as his girls' father, so you did him in makeup for the shoot.

It was a casual commercial, something like them at a picnic, an outdoor field. With a brush you touch up the makeup on Mingyu's tanned skin while others arranging the scene.

In the scenes, Mingyu had one on his shoulders and the other was running hand in hand with her father or with the two playing together while he smiled admiringly. Seeing this scene was something that super swelled your heart with love and warmed your insides with emotion at seeing your husband and daughters.

When you got home at the end of the day, you were both exhausted and fell into your crib like rocks.

-

“Mingyu, give me another child” He wasted no time in pushing you onto the bed and holding your legs in the air and starting to push his length into your wet core.

“You were certainly excited about me seeing it in the commercial today, right? Do you want to have another child after you saw me looking so hot taking care of the girls” He talked to you while your eyes rolled constantly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to only let you sleep tonight after you have an baby in your womb.”

Minghao

You and Minghao always had in mind that you wanted someone to love and call family, technical children would only come as a bonus if your partner also liked the idea of ​​procreating.

Minghao was a little piece of heaven, being everything good you could imagine, so when he thought about his thoughts about just wanting one person to call family without the obligatory need to involve a baby you were left in doubt.

Your first child was an accident and you discovered the pregnancy at 4 months, welcoming the pregnancy you saw the brightness in Minghao's eyes increasing even more, especially after your son was born.

Now, a few years later with an older child and already demonstrating some personality traits, you will see that any chance to bring lives with the same principles as Minghao you will definitely seize this opportunity.

So yes, practically you would get pregnant countless times if it meant several mini Minghao’s around the world.

“Let’s have another baby now Hao” You said as soon as Minghao sat on the bed getting ready to sleep, but now a night’s sleep is no longer guaranteed.

-

You were on your sides, lying on the bed, your pajamas were askew and your panties dragged to the side as Minghao pushed into you calmly.

“How beautiful asking me to get you pregnant, looking at me with such long eyes, your red cheeks and your sweaty hands.” He whispered in your ear slowly

“You were so nervous, did you think I would deny your request?” He kissed your neck moving his index finger to your sensitive spot “I will never deny you that”

Seungkwan

Seungkwan has always been romantic, and even after his first child was born he continued with this characteristic. Always bringing you flowers when he came home from work, bringing you your favorite chocolate or even asking for your favorite food to be delivered to your door while he was traveling.

So in his head, even though he knew that any basic conversation about having another child would probably end with you agreeing with him and you making the second child, but Seungkwan wanted to win over the second child, he wanted to win over you.

Suddenly Seungkwan would come home with clothes that were smaller than what your son was wearing because he had gotten "confused", sometimes he would take the foods you craved during pregnancy and ask you if it reminded you of anything or even buy a shirt written "big brother" for his son after all he hadn't even seen the print. So when you thought about it, you realized that Seungkwan was already way ahead of you, giving you clues about having another child from the beginning.

-

"Kwannie, if you wanted another baby you just had to tell me" You said on top of him, he had covered your face in shame the moment you discovered his plan and climbed on his dick.

"I didn't want to pressure you" He spoke shakily, you guys fit together so well. You were so magnificent on top of him.

"You deserve another child, and I will never feel pressured by something you do."

Vernon

Vernon has a good relationship with his sister. According to him, he and his sister were always friends and always counted on themselves in situations that their parents were unable to help. You have a good relationship with your brother, and you definitely agree with Vernon's wise words.

Gaining a sibling for both of us was like winning the lottery, receiving the best gift in the world, having a friend of your own blood. So you've definitely come to the conclusion that you're either going to have a couple of children or none at all, and as you're now going out with a five-year-old child, it's time to give the gift that you both managed to receive for the anxious firstborn.

-

“I forgot how addictive you are” Vernon mumbled as you moved on top of him.

“I think I’m going to try to get you pregnant every day from now on.”

Chan

Chan is a chaming person, and he actually its very good at making people do what he wanted, without them even knowing that. So when he saw you as a actual mother, holding your lilttle girl in your arms, Chan knew that all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was making you more and more of a mother and seeing you enjoying your motherhood.

Of course he would help around the house, he wanted to be a good husband/father so you could see his effort and give him a reward (a new baby)

Obviously Chan knew that your first pregnancy was very great and you did not suffer at all coparing to others mothers experience, and he knew if someday you started acting like that, it would be the end of the story. But he couldnt help himself when he saw you all curved up for him, with your tearing eyes begging for another baby

-

"Of couse i will give you another baby." He kissed your forehead as you mumbled below his muscular body

"How can i say no after you look at my so beautiful like that?" He whines in your ear seeing you tremble all up again.

"Such a beautiful mother." And yet again, Chan always get what he wants.

[hoshigray]

Been thinking about this scenario a lot, but ex-husband! Toji, where you two are pretty chill with each other, even after five years of divorce. But the feelings between you two start to parade back after all these years, and it all comes boiling over after spending one night together.

A/n: Been a while since I've done one of these scenario thingies, plus this idea has been rotting my mind for a long time, and I needed it to get out, lol. I pushed back my Gojo fic to tmrw or Thursday because my brain was not feeling like re-reading 3-4k words while running on one hour of sleep. So, instead, we're dropping this in its stead. Sorry about that, and hope you like this while I fix the fic up later today :) Any grammar/spelling errors on this will be dealt with tmrw.

Cw: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - implied that reader is entering their mid 30s - starts out cute the first half but smutty the next, so minors DNI - implied that Tsumiki and Megumi are around middle school age; 12 (T) and 11 (M) - pining; Toji is whipped for you, I fear - Daddy kink - prone bone position + mating press - pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie, mama, princess) - cervix fucking - praise - itty-bitty-tiny overstimulation - closure; happy ending (?).

Wc: 3.4k (wow, way longer than the last one, lol)

Ex-husband! Toji...

...who you've divorced after being together for four years. It was a marriage built on love, convenience, and heartache. There is no denying that Toji loved you very much; if anything, the man would set the world ablaze if anything were to happen to you. Especially when you were the sweetest thing that blessed his presence and his two children who were young at the time — Tsumiki and Megumi at age three. The fact that you loved him as much as he loved you is beyond doubt in Toji's mind. However, somewhere down the line, you felt a "shadow" that you could not surpass nor fill — the late wife of Toji.

You could tell that Toji still had a piece of him that just couldn't let the memory of his late wife go, and you understood that. Hence why you chose to leave him, which was glum for all parties, but Toji understood where you were coming from and signed the papers.

...who's still chill with you after the divorce. You two promised not to act like complete strangers, especially with Tsumiki and Megumi being close to you. Just because the ring isn't on your finger doesn't mean you must change completely. The two of you are comfortable enough to be in each other's company, taking turns watching over the kids and acting like you're still married by poking fun at one another like the good days.

"Hey, big guy," Toji turns to the kitchen hallway where you're looking at him, his usual black coffee in his mug still sheltered in your apartment cupboards. "You look like shit; too tired to go to the clubs to find some minx to wow you enough like you used to?"

He snickers at your brazenness. "Shut up, brat. I could ask the same fr' you. Got some good dick on the side to help that attitude of yours, baby?" After checking around to see if the kids are nearby, you give him the middle finger. He chuckles before sipping his coffee.

...whose kids adore and love you so much that they secretly try to have you and Toji in the same place, which the two of you are entirely aware of. Five years passed after your separation, though that doesn't hinder the children from wanting you back in their lives again. Because to them, you are always a Fushiguro, and the love for you will always be there. It's there when you go to Tsumiki's soccer games and drag your ex-husband to find a better seat on the bleachers to watch her play. It's there when Megumi tells his father he "accidentally" left his baseball bat at your place and "unfortunately" now has to spend the night there (and you always receive them). And it's there when you promise to come along on family trips, like going to the zoo and taking pictures by the Panda enclosure with his daughter or going to the aquarium and listening intently to his son explain all the different types of jellyfish.

Toji can't blame his own kin for being attached to you because you are still a mother in their eyes. And so to his.

...who has his wedding ring on his dog-tag necklace but always tucks it under his shirt whenever you're present. It gives him a peace of mind when it comes to you because if he can't be there for you 24/7, he knows you're under his protection whenever you need it. But the thought of you knowing he still wears it makes him anxious, worried that you'll take it the wrong way and request he never wears it again. So, for his sake, he keeps you blind to this secret. And he wonders if you ever wear yours...

...who welcomes you without hesitation when you have to spend the night at his place because he notices you're too exhausted to go home so late. The only problem is that there's no other room outside the kids and Toji's. And as much you protest, expressing your satisfaction with taking the couch, your ex-husband disagrees and will carry you to bed, sneering to himself as you try to wiggle out of his stronghold until he smacks the bedroom door closed with his leg.

"I told you I was fine sleeping on the couch, Toji." You complain to him, yet your back is pressed against his chest with his arm around your waist.

"And I told you not gonna happen, princess." his hold around you gets tighter, pulling you closer for him to rest his chin on your shoulder. "You'd probably fall off and smack that pretty face of y'rs on the floor."

"I would not—You know what," you stooped from saying anything further to the man grinning behind your ear. You shift a bit to make yourself comfortable. "Goodnight, Toji. And thank you."

It takes every fiber in his being to not kiss your cheek then and there. Exhaling softly through his nostrils as he lays his head back on the pillow. "No problem, sweetheart."

...who the last time he had someone after your separation was not feeling it at all. You even said he is free to do whatever he wants when moving on to the next minx that caught his attention. You two are adults and shouldn't feel entitled to putting each other on a leash. Despite that, he knew moving on from you wouldn't be easy — especially in the bedroom.

The women he's had after you can only be counted on one hand. No matter how good the fun was with the others, his mind would always crawl back to you. It didn't matter how different their hair was, what they dressed that night, or how fucking good the sex was; you would cloud his mind in some way. They weren't you. They weren't his sweet thing.

...who's extremely perplexed in a nightclub when he sees you. He didn't want to go in the first place until Satoru Gojo barged into his apartment, dragged him out in his best attire, and left Nanami (another victim of Gojo's foolishness) to babysit Megumi and Tsumiki. And it was bad enough that Gojo snaked away from Toji to the dance floor the second they got inside, the raven-haired man almost popping a vein in vexation.

So the older man resorts to just doing the usual gig: walking around before sitting at the bar to ask for a regular beer. He stays there for nearly half an hour, taking sips of his bottle while sweet-talking to the ladies that occasionally find him and give him his number. Things got really loud when the DJ at the discothèque played "Up!" by Lil Vada and DonnySolo, all the party people crowding the floor, bumping and grinding each other while singing the lyrics. It was at this point that Toji had enough of the massive headache growing in his head, so he was about to down his beer and leave the club; Gojo be damned because the fucker could find his own way home and then some.

But midway through putting the beer bottle on his scarred lips, something in Toji's peripheral captures his attention. And his jade eyes go wide at what he sees.

Down to the right side of the dance floor are booths catered to bigger parties, so it's obvious to notice when a single person sits alone on one of the round tables while everyone else is dancing their hearts out. That one person was you, observing the dance floor with your head on your hand resting on the table.

To say that Toji was flabbergasted by the image of you in a place like this after all these years was tough for him to comprehend. Yet what really had him in a chokehold was how stunning you were. From where he stood, he could tell that you dolled yourself quite a bit. Your hair was kept in a style that displayed your face wholly, and you were wearing a beautiful halter-neck dress with slits revealing your thighs deliciously.

He forgets how to breathe when your eyes drift in his direction and find him. You're just as surprised as he is for a short moment, but you offer him a familiar smile and beckon him to come to your side of the club. The older man wastes no time, paying the bartender and making his way through the crowd to your table. When he's close enough, he can tell that your dress is backless, exposing your smooth skin that calls for him to touch.

And when Toji notices the ring on your left hand — the old wedding ring he gifted you — the world around him comes to a complete standstill.

"Hey, big guy." He snaps back to look at your beautiful face, your smile still there to blind him, and the booth far from the dance floor and music so he can listen to your sweet voice. You move to the side to make room for him to sit. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

"Me neither." He admits to you as he takes a seat, his green orbs never leaving your figure. "What are you doin' here?"

"Some friends dragged me out here for one of their birthdays. I figured I'd be here for a few hours and loosen up a bit, you know? But I don't know, I guess I'm just so used to being at my place that I'm out of practice with clubs."

Toji nods at your answer. "Yeah, I was dragged here, too. I'm with—"

"Gojo? Yeah, I thought so. He's right there dancing with my friends." He pans around to the dance floor to see commotion at the center. The snow-haired man was dancing as a crowd formed around him, getting grinded on by a woman with a "happy birthday" headband.

Gojo notices the raven-headed man staring his way, pulls down his shades, and winks. That's when the reason why Toji was brought here in the first place hits him. Gojo knew you would be here tonight because of your friend's birthday. And now that you two are sitting alone, the wink signaled Toji to make his move.

"....Wanna get the hell outta here?"

You giggle at his suggestion. "Yeah, I don't feel like watching my friends get pregnant on the dance floor."

Toji snickers and grabs your hand to lead you out of the booth. He then drapes his denim jacket over your shoulders to cover your exposed shoulders and back, and the two of you leave the club without anyone noticing a thing.

...who spends the rest of the night with you as if you two are on a date again. It's late, so many shops around the area are closed already, but that doesn't stop the two of you from having fun. From sharing a meal at a nearby diner, walking around a shopping plaza admiring the silent ambiance, and listening to old tunes in his car as you two share stuff about your day while holding hands. And the change of mood completely baffles Toji. Nevertheless, when he sees the smile on your face and hears the sweet tune of your laughter, the grasp on your hand gets tighter with every minute. All his intentions go into enjoying having you with him like this again.

...who stays by your side until he has to drop you off at your place, parked his car to walk you to your apartment door. It's 1 o'clock in the morning, way later than Toji ever intended to stay out. Not that it matters now, because it's all worth it being able to walk with you. He doesn't let go of your hand even when his heart dies a little when you two arrive at your door.

"Had a good time?" You ask while unlocking the door; your eyes showcase subtle exhaustion but are overshadowed by your smile.

"Sure as hell did since I saw you at the club." He confesses, your chuckles casting a spell on him.

"Hmm, I'm glad you were there too, Toji." You meant those words, your eyes gazing into his, and the man's plunged deep into your gorgeous orbs. A feeling that he now realizes he wants to be the only one experiencing with you.

An awkward silence for a few seconds prompts you to snatch your hand away from his, causing his stomach to drop. "Sorry, your jacket" is what you use to excuse yourself, moving to take off the denim jacket. But Toji stops you, his hands stationed on your shoulders to keep you still.

"No, it's cold, sweetie." His voice is hushed, only for you to hear. "You can give it back next time."

Silence comes back again, but the air is heavier this time. The awkwardness is replaced with something more solicitous, more affectionate. You notice it when Toji has yet removed his hands from your shoulders, his large palms warming you up to the touch.

"Toji—"

"It's alright, baby." His gruff tone is still a whisper, and butterflies flutter in your stomach. "I won't do anythin'."

"No, no," you don't know what came over you, but you place your hands on his chest. Then your finger touches something from underneath his turtleneck, having you pull his collar down to pull out the dog-tag necklace that still harbors his old wedding ring. Toji's blood shifts to ice cold when you see the accessory — his anxiousness spikes up to an all-time high, only mere seconds from combusting based on whatever your response will be. And it comes.

"I...I want you to do something, Toji." It felt strange saying those words with your shaky confidence, though it's what you wished to express. "I want you..."

And just like that, whatever restraint that the older man had for you was butchered away. Emerald eyes take in every feature of your anticipating expression, and his lips come crashing down on yours.

...who couldn't care less how late it is right now because he finally has you where he wants you after all these years. It's 2:30 in the morning, way too late for loud noises as they'll disrupt the neighbors next door. But, again, Toji doesn't care about that. When he finally has you lying under him on your stomach, screaming out his name while he drives his cock deep inside you, what is there to care about?

The two of you are in the prone bone position, where you lie flat on your belly on the cream-white satin sheets of your bed, your legs in between Toji's and bare ass out for him to have easy access to your creamy cunt that hugs onto him all so well.

Tears paint your wet and sweaty face, drool escapes from the corner of your mouth and meets the sheets beneath you. The harsh thrusts of Toji's pelvis hitting your ass with such precision have you see stars, and his big hands keep your arms still. All you can hear are the ecstatic cries of your voice and the noises of skin smacking together.

"Nnmph!! Haaaah!! Ahhhh, yesssss, Daddy, just like that," your voice feels strained from all the screaming you've been doing for the past hour. Lips are swollen from the constant biting, your butt stinging from the intense contact with your ex-husband's pelvis. It's hard to think of anything but the man above you and his dick rearranging your slit like his personal toy. You never thought you'd experience this exhilarating and rewarding sensation again. And now that you do, it's all you want to indulge in. "H-Harder, pleaseeee, I want mo—Ahhhnnn!"

Toji grinds his hips down to your ass, churning your insides and grazing your cervix to the point of incoherent babbles. "Mmmm, oooh, shit, fuckin' shit. You're too tight on me, mama." He gives you a sharp thrust when you least expect it, and the walls of your chasm clamping down on his length has him hiss. It's hard to believe you're permitting him to have you like this. It's been five years. Five years of respectful boundaries and keeping a platonic relationship. Five years of denying feelings of want and desire. All those years of heavy guilt suddenly lifted from his shoulders just for him to have you under his bow again, your body quivering and voice shaky because of his touch.

It feels so surreal...But, God, Toji missed this so goddamn much. Missing your eyes, your smile, your touch, your body. Just you. Only you. "Hnnngh!! Damn, you feel so fuckin' good, baby. Can never have enough..."

"Mnnaaaah! Daddy, I'm gonna cummm, I'm gonna—Oooohh!!" The tip of his shaft scrapes the upper walls of your vagina, your brain pounding so hard to the point it hurts. "Pleaseee, let me cum, Daddyyy..."

He can tell you're close and senses your orgasm climbing up with his. That's when the pace of his hips goes erratically fast, jabbing your sweet spots and tender cervix, causing more tears to come down and your peak to finally release for the third time that night. As you cream on his cock, Toji's not too far from his own crescendo. Your velvety walls contract around his member divinely, and the older man spills his load into your quivering figure.

You're allowed to experience the aftershocks of your orgasm as you two let your bodies calm down, Toji laying his chest on your sweaty, heaving back. He then slowly removes his dick from your chasm, and the essence of your unioned sex feels cold while sliding down your inner thighs.

"Haaaaah...Mmmm, thank you, Toji." You whimper out as he lays kisses down your neck and shoulders. "Thank you..."

But little did you know that it wasn't the last of it. Before you could apprehend what was going on, Toji already had you flipped over to your back, stationing your legs on his shoulders to a mating press. And you see that his cock is not limp yet...

W-Wait a damn second—

"T-Toji, wait, hold on!" You try to rationalize with the man who aligns his shaft to your gushing vulva, and your sweat runs cold. "It's getting late. I just came three times already! We should—Nmmmph!!"

The head of his cock slides right in thanks to the slick and come lubricating your opening. Adding his weight onto you as he pushes his length deep into your chasm again, you cry choked sobs when he meets your cervix again, and his pelvis rubs against your clitoris. "Sorry, mama. Just lemme finish here, 'kay? Daddy missed havin' you like this, so I wanna give you all of me while I still can."

...who has your fatigued self lying on his chest, rubbing circles on your back and placing soft kisses on your forehead as you feel the effects of sleep slowly creep up on you. The lights are now off, the moonlight bargaining from the curtains being the only light source as you two are ready to gather whatever amount of sleep you can get.

"Hey, baby." But before that, Toji wants your attention for the last time before you sleep.

"Mhmm?" Your eyes are closed, but your ears are still open to listen.

His eyes drift down to the left hand that lays motionless on his chest. The gem on the ring flashes softly for it to be distinguishable. "How come you were wearin' your ring at the club?"

A few seconds go by before you give him the honest truth. "Same reason you wear yours. I always wear it when going out somewhere or alone someplace. Gives people the idea that I'm not ready for anyone else."

"Then why not wear it when I'm around?"

You giggle breathlessly. "Same reason why you don't let me see yours. I don't need a ring when I have you with me. A ring doesn't compare to my big man who will love and protect me wherever we go."

And Toji doesn't ask anything else after that. He lets you fall asleep in his arms and listens to your breathing follow a melodic rhythm. Your words stick with him even when his eyes close, and he soon falls into a deep sleep.

It's far-fetched to think that you two will be married again. Maybe it's possible in his dreams, but not in the real world. Regardless, Toji knows he will always stand beside you and be there for you. With or without a ring that's merely evidence of your love to outsiders. He knows you love him, and that's all he needs to keep moving. And if he could have you as his wife again, he'd sweep you off your feet in a heartbeat.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: PERIOD CRAMPS * MATT STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N is on her period during the Philadelphia show, but don't want to let her cramps pain take her off of the show, until Matt intervenes.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　Period cramps.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The theater was empty as it awaited the company of thousands of fans.

The huge red velvet curtains were still closed, hiding the stage that would, in just a few hours, be lit up with thousands of lights and the screaming of fans. The empty rows of seats stretched out in front of Y/N as she was curled up right in the middle of it - bottom row, hoodie on, a soft woven blanket pulled up to her chin like a shield.

Her fists clutched the edges of the blanket, knuckles pale. Not because it was cold, but because of the stupid period cramps that had been trying to knock her out since yesterday. Her lower stomach felt like it was being twisted, her body hot one second and shivery the next.

Still, she was there. Watching him.

Matt stood up on stage with Chris and Nick, all three of them moving around like excited kids, playing with the mics, cracking stupid jokes, and messing with the sound crew.

Y/N barely registered Chris doing some cringey announcer voice or Nick yelling at him to stop. Her eyes were locked on Matt.

Matt looked so good it physically hurt. Grey sweatpants hung loosely on his hips, the fabric soft and a little wrinkled from sleep. A white t-shirt barely clung to his frame, his hair all messy, curls a bit matted from the couch nap he’d taken in the green room, and his face puffy in that post-nap way that made him look like the softest thing alive.

And then, his eyes found hers.

From all the way on stage, Matt’s gaze settled right on her. And the second he locked in, that smile - the boyish, sleepy, slightly crooked one that always made her knees weak - stretched across his face.

He didn’t even try to hide how happy he looked to see her.

Y/N’s heart flipped so hard she felt like her whole body shifted a little.

She adjusted her blanket and huddled deeper into it, as if that would dull the pain curling in her stomach. She hated being like this, in pain and helpless. But more than anything, she didn’t wanna bother him. He had a whole show to do.

The sound guy finally gave the thumbs up.

"All good. You're clear to get ready." And just like that, Matt took a step away from the mic.

She tensed. Crap.

He was walking toward her.

She sat up straighter, the most delusional half-sit-up to look like she wasn’t dying. She pulled the blanket slightly lower, tried fixing her face in the most natural way possible - which mostly meant not looking like she was about to cry from cramps -, and tucked her hair behind her ear like that would help anything.

Matt cleared his throat as he dropped into the seat beside her, his whole body radiating warmth like a damn human heater.

His arm draped across the back of her chair, casual but possessive in that way that made her wanna melt. He leaned just close enough that she could smell that clean scent he always had - shampoo and something warm, like cotton and coconut.

She gave in. Shifted just a little and let herself fall into his side.

He didn’t even hesitate, his arm coming around her, locking her in without a word.

"Hey, angel." He said, voice low and soft like she was the only person in the world.

She didn’t answer at first. She was too busy pressing her face against his shoulder, the cotton of his t-shirt cool and grounding against her cheek.

"How y'feeling?" He asked, and she could hear the concern in his voice.

His free hand came up, and the back of his pointer finger grazed her cheek gently. She knew what he was doing, checking how warm she was. His brows knitted together for a second, lips pressing in a little.

She rolled her eyes just the tiniest bit.

"Amazing." She said, dry as hell.

He snorted.

"Yeah?" His smile cracked wide, but his eyes stayed gentle, scanning over her like he could see every ounce of pain. "You look amazing."

His voice dropped soft at the end of that sentence, and he pressed a kiss to her hairline, barely there but everything she needed. She sighed out, a little whimper of frustration getting caught in her throat as she nuzzled deeper into him.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just let her hide her face while his fingers laced through hers, his pinky ring and commitment ring cool against her skin. His thumb brushed over her hand, steady, comforting.

"You’re in pain." He mumbled eventually, more like a statement than a question.

She opened her eyes again, tearing them away from the stage where Chris was now fake interviewing Nick. She shook her head in disagreement, slow and stubborn.

Matt just looked at her.

"You are."

She sighed, head falling slightly as her fingers from her free hand clenched together in her lap.

He gave her shoulder a tiny shake, still holding onto her.

"Let’s go back to the bus, yeah? You can lay down in our bed."

She stared at him, torn. Her body was like, YES PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE. But her heart?

"But I wanted to watch the show..." She mumbled. "Wanted to hear your voice." The pout on her lips came out automatically.

Matt let out a soft laugh, standing up and pulling her with him gently.

"You listen to my voice every day, baby. You’ve watched four shows already."

She kept pouting, even as she let him help her to her feet.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"I’ll talk for hours when I get back. You want a personal podcast episode just for you?"

She snorted, finally giving in with a small nod.

Chris and Nick paused their mic play, and both gave them a look as they walked close to the stage. Eyes not teasing, just soft. Knowing. Chris gave her a wink, followed by Nick's soft smile.

Matt led her past the side of the stage and through the back entrance, hand never leaving hers.

The second she stepped into the bus, everything smelled like home. Warm. Familiar. The mix of cologne, perfume, laundry detergent, snacks, and that weird scent every bus had - but theirs, somehow, felt right.

He helped her to the bunk area, stopping at the little side table and pulling out her lil pink necessities bag. He placed it gently on the edge of Chris's bed above his, grabbing the small warm pillow she kept in there for cramps. It was one of those little plushie ones - always warm, no idea how.

Matt knelt in front of her and gently lifted her hoodie. His hand was warm as it placed the pillow on her stomach, adjusting it until it laid just right.

She watched him the whole time, her heart swelling at how careful he was.

He tugged the big shared blanket up over her, then placed Mr. Wrinkleton - their shared fake-fluff pug - beside her hip.

Matt leaned in close, hand cradling her face again, and kissed her forehead once more.

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." He whispered. "I’ll be back before you even miss me."

She hummed, eyelids already heavy, the pain a little dulled under his attention.

"I already miss you." She mumbled.

He laughed softly against her skin.

"You’re so dramatic."

© vanteguccir

[xoxomilesteller]

it’s not such a bad thing

stepdad!beau arlen x reader | MDNI

cw: stepdad x stepdaughter, mentions of a toxic mom, big ole age gap, cheating, slight manipulation, sub!beau? (KINDA? maybe at least at first?), oral (m receiving), pet names (hon), fingering, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v (no balloon no goon), cursing, praising

def has grammar mistakes!

wc: 4.1k

your mom got a new boyfriend when you were fifteen. you didn’t really care, as long as he didn’t become too much of an authority figure in your life. he has a daughter, not too much younger than you, about 5 years apart. again it didn’t really bother you because as soon as you graduated high school, you were leaving montana.

beau is actually really sweet. you didn’t interact with him much back when he first moved in but the few times you did, he was such a sweet man.

so why was he with your mom?

unfortunately for you, your mom has always been a better girlfriend/wife than a mother. she didn’t necessarily abuse or mistreat you, but there are little jabs and clear evidence on where her priorities lie. men.

your father left her when you were a toddler, left you physically, but was always a call away.

but of course you didn’t know that since your mom told you he left both of you.

didn’t find out until she accidentally told on herself when she got too drunk.

he left because he couldn’t handle her toxicity, in your eyes, she was a decent mother when she didn’t act up.

in his eyes, she was jealous of you. jealous that he paid more attention to you than her.

you didn’t actually notice this until beau moved in with his daughter, emily. your mother glared at her whenever beau would say at the dinner table that he’d sleep in emily’s room since she was scared.

beau never noticed though. your mother is subtle about it. she knows that if she were to ever make emily feel uncomfortable, she’d lose beau.

you weren’t blind though, obviously beau is cute, but that’s really it. he has short hair, freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks, green eyes, and a short stubble. he was retired and was simply looking for a woman. he called you hun and had a subtle southern accent but would become thick whenever he’s tired or stressed.

sure you developed a small little crush on him. it was hard not to. he is the man that stepped up: taught you how to drive, fixed your car when it wouldn’t start, taught you how to pump your tire, showed you how to shoot a gun, made you a burger on your birthday because he knew you didn’t like sweets so much.

but things didn’t go as planned.

your dream college out in california rejected you. but your best friend cheered you up. you both moved into a small apartment together after graduation, since you were both eighteen, and attended the local community college and then would transfer to a four year.

however, the transfer would mean that you’d have to move back in with your mom since you can’t pay for your university fees and rent. but you really value your education, so that’s exactly what you did when your final semester was over.

within the two years that have passed, you distanced yourself from your mom, which included emily and beau. your mom was slightly upset that her twenty year old daughter is moving back in, but you promised her you’d be out before she knew it.

your mom cooked up some pasta and chicken, you, her, and emily. no beau. not yet. he’s coming home late from the station.

he comes in with a gentle opening of the door, no rush, as you guys are halfway through your meal. your mom stands up to go make him his plate.

”sorry, traffic was insane,” he chuckles as he takes off his boots. he walks over to kiss your mom.

and your jaw drops.

he looks unbelievably different. older. he’s grown out his beard and hair, that’s it.

but it makes all the difference in the world.

emily giggles, “i know i’m still not used to his new caveman look too”

”uh huh,” is all you say as you stare at him, feelings from when you were younger resurfacing.

”you two talkin’ crap ‘bout me?” he laughs and walks over to the table, “hey em,” he places a kiss on the top of her head, “hi hon”

you blink at him, “hi”

his freckles have faded away a bit, there are more wrinkles present on his face, specifically by the corners of his eyes.

he rubs his beard with his hand, “c’mon,” he smiles at you, “it can’t be too bad”

you shake your head, “just new”

new and hot.

your mom sits down, setting beau’s plate out in front of him and you suddenly forget how to eat. in fear of choking on your food, you pick at the pasta and chicken, moving the pieces of pasta and chicken around on your plate with the fork. you zone out on beau’s deep voice, him talking about how there’s a new case and he can’t really give too much details but it’s looking very dangerous.

his voice is deeper, the years of smoking cigarettes catching up to him. you are the only one who knows about that habit. you caught him outside one time when you were sneaking out.

you guys made a deal, you told him where you were going, who, what, why and shared your location with him, you wouldn’t bring it up, just forget like it ever happened.

you weren’t going to regardless, but you got caught sneaking out, he’d tell your mom.

so you agreed on that deal.

and the way he speaks now too, you don’t know if it’s new or if it’s you noticing something you never noticed before, but he’s so confident when he speaks. he uses his hands, takes pauses so everyone can follow with him, speaks softly but with an authoritative tone, acknowledges people.

acknowledges you.

”hon,” he breaks you out of your thoughts, “you done eatin’?”

“um,” you look up at him, who has his head tilted and eyes flickering over your face, “yes i am done”

you’ve never been a good sleeper.

neither has beau.

you lay in your bed, texting your best friend and watching netflix. you sit up, adjusting the straps of your silk nightgown to head out into the kitchen for a glass of water.

or maybe just a shot of tequila to help you sleep.

but as you open your door, you see colored light coming from a room, specifically beau’s office.

you and beau had always ran into each other in the night. or well, you ran into beau. after emily fell asleep, he’d go into his office to work on his case, like a true workaholic.

you��d listen to him talk to himself, sitting beside the open door so he couldn’t see you as he tried to figure out time frames or why someone would do something, since his voice brought you peace.

of course, beau knew this. he heard you every time. he didn’t know why or even tried to figure out why, but you didn’t disturb him, you didn’t disturb anyone. so if you just wanted to sit out by his door, he wouldn’t care.

he just wanted to make sure that you felt safe and if you needed anything, you’d come to him.

but tonight you did not have a reason to go to bed. so you creep up, peeking at him.

he has files in one hand and the other hand is near his mouth, thumb playing with the hairs of his beard just below his lower lip.

”how much trouble would someone be in if they had a shot of tequila and were underage?”

he looks up at you, giving you a are you joking look and returns his focus to the files in front of him

”if you wanna sleep i’d suggest some melatonin, not underage drinkin’”

you look around in his office, ”may i come in?”

”are you gonna keep askin’ questions ‘bout crimes you wanna commit?”

”i can give you a nice shoulder massage,” you grin

he brings his gaze back onto you, “you jus’ wanna read my files,” he chuckles, the warmth and trust reflecting in the soft sound.

he has no idea about your crush on him.

you dramatically gasp and widen your eyes, “God no,” you cross your arms, “that’s an invasion of privacy. can’t believe you think i’d ever do that”

he sighs, “c’mere,” he says playfully defeated

you tip toe in, looking around at the paintings and the new plus rearranged furniture that got here since you moved out. you tread carefully in front of his desk.

”do not read my files hon,” he looks at you through his eyebrows, wrinkles forming on his forehead

”have some more trust in me beau”

he cocks a brow, “i can’t,” he smiles, “i know how nosy you and your mother are”

you don’t like being put on the same boat as your mom, but how would beau know? your mom puts on an amazing front.

so you ignore it and walk behind his chair, placing your small palms on his broad shoulders.

”speaking of, why are you not sleeping in her bed at this moment? i mean like, you haven’t even changed out of your work clothes”

he leans back into your touch, “findin’ someone’s missin’ daughter is more important than sleep”

”well if i had a missing daughter i’d want the sheriff in charge of her case to be fully aware of what’s going on,” you mumble

“‘m’aware,” he grumbles

he’s everything but aware. he’s unaware of your crush on him. he’s unaware of your mother’s jealousy on both you and emily, his own daughter.

but your mother hasn’t said or done anything to emily, so you keep quiet.

you start moving your fingers in soft circular motions, ”well did you notice that on your sticky note you wrote 5:69 PM?”

he furrows his brows and leans in, you follow, keeping your hands on his shoulders, to the yellow sticky note he placed on the corner of his computer

“well i’ll be damned,” he pokes his cheek with his tongue and runs a hand through his long locks, “guess you are right”

taken by the way his hair behaves and falls into the right places, you also run your hand through his hair.

beau is a bit shocked, but he lets it happen. since he grew it out, he’s known a lot of people that have grown very fond of his hair and want to touch it all the time.

he likes the fact that he’s built a safe enough space around you that you’re comfortable around him.

but what fully catches him by surprise is when you move your thumbs to the nape of his neck, applying pressure in short up and down motions that follow your four other fingers that scratch the bottom of his head, where his long hair ends.

he stifles a groan by biting down on his inner lip. you don’t know this, but head scratches are his weakness. he involuntarily lets his head rest forward, fluttering his eyes shut.

”why do you like my mother beau?”

his eyes shoot open at the question, but he keeps his head dangling forward, “she’sagreatwomanhon,” he mumbles, “treatsmeright, emright.”

you huff at his response

he lifts his head up at the sound, “there some’ i should know ‘bout?”

”no, nothing.”

beau turns on his office chair to face you, taking his big and calloused hands and wrapping them around your wrists, but keeping them near his shoulders.

”uh uh,” he shakes his head, “don’ gimme that, talk,” he raises his brows

“it’s not that important, if you think she’s a good woman then okay,” you shrug and make an attempt to remove your wrists but his grip doesn’t allow it.

”tell me” he demands

you don’t know if it’s the way he’s manspreading or how he’s holding onto your wrists, but you settle down on his left thigh.

he loosens his grip on your wrists, green eyes widening, “hon- what-“

your fingers scratch his head joined with the small gentle massages at the back of his neck that make him melt, head tipping forward.

”she treats you and em right, right?” you whisper softly

”hon,”

”right?”

he grips onto the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white, “correct,” he exhales

you hum, “she ever tell you why my dad left?”

he shakes his head, slowly picking it back up to look at the open door of his office, “never had to, heard a man left his family, stopped her right there, didn’t need to hear more”

you move your hand, so one of them is cupping his bearded jaw, making him look at you instead through his hooded eyes, “probably for the best, she woulda told you a lie”

”what d’you mean?”

his lips stay parted

you lean in, closing your lips around his.

his keeps his parted, eyes widening again, “hon we shouldn’t,” he whispers

”why not?”

”’cause i’m with your mother, i’m your stepfather”

”she lied, lies, to you beau,” he turns his head, getting a better look at you, “she’s jealous of your own daughter, she’s jealous of me because my dad gave me more attention than her”

“why didn’t you tell me this before?”

”’cause she never hurt emily. if she did, i would’ve told you the second it happened.”

he nods, “that doesn’t make this, what you’re tryna do okay”

”then take me off of your lap,” you glide both hands down to his shoulders, resting them there

”how has she hurt you? tell me,” he pleads, placing his hands on your waist

you hesitantly kiss his lips again, which he gives into slightly, “do you want me to get off of your lap?” you ask for clarity

he looks into your eyes, confused, “stay”

your hands tangle up in his hair at the back of his neck, pulling him into a soft and gentle kiss.

beau hasn’t fully given in. he knows this is wrong. so wrong. his lips stay still, just letting you kiss him.

which you notice.

so you remove your mouth from his, bracing yourself on his shoulders to get up.

he quickly tightens his hold on your waist, ”woah why’re y’leavin’?”

you tilt your head, confused, “well you’re not kissing me back, so you don’t wanna do this which is fine”

his hands go down to your thighs, spreading them to adjust you so you’re fully sitting on his lap. then he places one hand, cupping your cheek, “do whatever you want, but you’re tellin’ me how she hurt you”

”whatever i want?”

”whatever you want,” he reassures

you places your mouth over his, his lips still staying still but after a few seconds, they move in sync with yours. his hands move up and down your back gently.

your hips start rocking back and forth, slowly to test the waters, over the growing bulge in his khaki pants, earning a soft groan from his mouth that makes the ache between your legs grow. your hands are on either side of his jaw, feeling it move with each kiss he feeds you and tracing circles with your thumbs on his beard.

you pull away gently, dragging one of his lips between yours, “she told me my dad left us,” your hands go to the buttons of his shirt, while your mouth kisses and nibbles the skin of his neck but careful to not leave marks, “made me think he stopped loving us”

beau moves his hands to the lace trim of your nightgown, still hesitating.

his mind is racing. he’s your stepdad. he knows this is wrong. but with the way you’re kissing his neck, soft, delicate, hands exploring his shoulders and what you’re telling him?

he couldn’t care if it’s true or not, his mind is clouded by how wrong this is, but he cannot help it. he wants you. he never did before, never looked at you in this way.

he’s worried about himself, worried why he wants this to happen.

he’s so caught up in his mind that he doesn’t realize you unzipped his pants. he doesn’t realize until you run your thumb over the rid tip, tracing a circle that snaps him out of his thoughts.

he shakily exhales. you get off of his lap, lowering yourself on your knees, in between his legs, “you’re stuck in your head”

”can you blame me hon?”

you keep tracing circles over his sensitive tip, collecting the pre cum, “she makes jokes that aren’t funny as a way to make me feel bad,” you lick his tip and one of his hands find your hair, stifling a moan, “doesn’t work”

you lean back, admiring his cock, the girthiness of him, the vein running straight down and another few weaving around the organ.

you’re afraid you’re going to get lockjaw.

but beau’s definitely worth the risk.

you look up at him, noticing how his head is tipped back and he has one hand over his forehead, thumb and index pressed over his eyes. he’s stressed.

and his beard is so well kept.

you keep your eyes on the under side of his jaw as you inch closer, taking in the head of his dick into your mouth. he twitches and his grip on your hair gets tighter.

”..hon..,” he whispers, not making eye contact with you

you swirl your tongue over his sensitive tip, lapping up the salty pre cum you spread with your thumb and take him further into your mouth.

beau bites down on his lip, to the point he tastes blood, to limit the amount of noise he wants to make. his entire body is scrunched up. brows furrowed, eyes squeezed tight, his entire body is rigid, to the point he feels like his hamstring is about to cramp.

his mind can’t focus on anything besides staying quiet and your mouth sucking on him in the most perfect way ever.

his stepdaughter’s mouth around him.

and he hates that he’s enjoying it. he hates that he cannot tell you to stop because he wants this just as bad.

but God, it’s a sight for you.

and you want to hear him.

so your hands go to his balls.

he moans. loud.

your thighs press together.

before beau can get too lost in the pleasure, he leans over, abdomen pushing your head down him slightly, and he rearranges things on his desk, clearing out a space.

then he places both hands in your hair, letting you bob your head a few times more before tapping you, signaling you to stop. he rubs his hand on the back of your head and takes the hem of his button up to wipe your face clean.

”there we go sweet thing,” he coos, “all cleaned up now, yeah?”

he watches your lips move with every drag of the cotton. he slips off his shirt, discarding it somewhere and he lifts you up, placing you on his desk

he groans when his still hard cock grazes the hem of your dress, so he slides his hands under and removes it, wasting no time in attaching his warm mouth around your hardened nipple.

you arch your back into his mouth, lips parting at the feel of him sucking and flicking his tongue around your nipple.

his hands reach the waistband of your panties, peeling them off of you while his mouth moves up to your neck. they slide all the way down, falling onto the floor.

with his index and middle finger, he spreads your puffy, wet lips, “you’re s’wet,” he mumbles. once his fingers are coated in you, he slips them in, quietly groaning at your tightness.

you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders, digging into them, as his fat fingers thrust in and out of your tight pussy, hitting the exact spot that makes your toes curl; the sound of your wetness and stifled moans filling the room. the heel of his palm bumping into your clit at each calculated thrust.

beau steps closer to you and embraces you with his left arm, pulling you into his chest to muffle the sounds you can’t hold back. his hand presses your head into his skin, feeling the sheer coat of sweat building up on him.

”you’re doin’ amazin’ hon,” he kisses the top of your head

you tilt yours down, noticing how his cock is throbbing.

you slide your hands down his body, making him sigh, and wrap your hands around him. his mouth falls open on your hair and you start giving him slow stokes. he thrusts his fingers in timing of your strokes, still holding you as close as he can.

”slow? that’s how you want it?” he whispers

”yes,” you half moan

he presses his mouth into your scalp to not make any loud sounds and he lets you have your fun, stroking him slowly while his fingers thrust in you.

each time your hand reaches the tip of his dick, you run your thumb over the slit, earning a sharper thrust of his fingers each time you do that.

then beau scissors his fingers.

you yelp and grip his cock tighter.

”shh,” he drags his lips down your head, nosing some of your hair out of the way, “i know hon, just give me a sec, gotta stretch you out f’me”

you nod, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself. he twists his wrist with each scissoring motion to ensure you’re well prepped.

”lay down hon,”

you lay flat against the hard wood of his desk, a few papers sticking onto your back. beau places his hand under your right knee, taking that leg and pining it to his desk, your other leg hooks around him.

he hovers over you, using his free hand to grab your wrist, “gotta stay quiet, right?” he places your palm over his mouth and then places his hand over yours and slides into your wet channel.

both of you moan painfully loud.

your hand almost falls from his mouth, but he takes his teeth, biting into your skin, then he releases it.

”you’re s’tight,” he groans before burying his face in the crook of your neck

he stills, letting you adjust to his thick size

he starts rolling his hips, slow, yet hard, making you moan loudly regardless of being muffled.

beau removes his hand from your mouth and gives you a hard thrust, tip hitting your g spot and before you can even moan, he sticks two fingers inside your mouth.

he opens his mouth against your warm skin, beard nipping at it, ”i know hon, s’hard bein’ quiet,” his voice is strained, “bite down on ‘em, door’s still open,” his eyes flicker to his open office door.

his heart rate quickens, he doesn’t know if it’s because of the door being open or just being inside of you, but his thrusts remain slow and hard.

he also bites down on you, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your clavicle to keep himself quiet.

everything is so overwhelming to you, having to stay quiet, door open, having your stepdad inside of you.

but he feels amazing.

his cock stretches you to a point you didn’t think was possible, his tip hits that spot that knocks the air out of your lungs, his hand thats on your leg is gripping onto you tight that there will be bruises.

it all adds to the knot in your belly that keeps getting tighter and tighter.

the only sounds audible in the house are the fans running in your mom and Emily’s room, the sound of beau’s cock thrusting inside of you, and muffled moans from both of you.

your walls start clenching around him, so beau starts sinking his teeth down further. your mind is too focused on how good he’s making you feel that the small pain quickly turns into pleasure.

beau starts rubbing your clit in rapid circles, completely different from the pace of his hips, but it tips you over.

tears well up in your eyes and your walls hug his cock as tight as they can as you cum all over his cock. your body spasms, hips arching off his desk and nails digging into your own skin.

he follows shortly after with a grunt that gets stuck in his throat, hips stuttering, the feeling of you cumming practically milking him dry.

he rides out both of your orgasms, chests heaving and heavy breathing, “there we go sweet thing,” he pants, “feelin’ good?” his voice is thick

it takes you a minute to respond, “yeah”

”good girl,” he lazily smiles, “good girl,” he repeats, much softer this time and places a kiss on your forehead.

AN: can’t say much besides i myself am bouncing off the walls at what i’ve just written here!

wavy banner by: @anitalenia

straight line banner by: @elleisdesigning

tags: @redhairedgardenfairy

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 2— Into You.

a/n: hiii guys here is the second chapter of the Be My baby series!! Like before I really just want to get this out, so sorry for any spelling/grammar errors. I’ll go back and fix them all later when i’m less tired. But I think I’ll start a tag list for this series if you guys want it. Just comment below on this post if you’d like to be added so you’ll be instantly notified of chapter updates. Thank you for all the support & happy reading < 3 !!

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, talks of previous sexual encounters, brewing sexual tension, jealous!Leah, fingering (R receiving), squirting, panty sniffing, strap on fucking ( R receiving), and masturbation.

warnings: allusions to heavy dom/sub relationship, talks of injury, Leah busting her ass at practice…again, car sex, flirty!Leah deserves a warning of its own so here you go, some angst, semi-public sex, and choking

synopsis: It's your second day working at Arsenal, and you are struggling with keeping things strictly professional with Leah. Meanwhile, you have some uneasy feelings arise as problems start happening with a fellow medical staffer.

word count: 6.3k

Series Masterlist: here

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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“F-Fuck Leah!” There’s sweat running down your face as it stings your eyes, adding to the tears that are already staining your cheeks. You try to rub your face on the sheets to help, but it just makes her keep you there. A strong hand comes to rest on the back of your head as she pushes your face further into the mattress, leaning over your trembling body as she lets the strap attached to her waist sink even deeper inside of you. Her chest presses against your back as she starts speaking into your ear, “Arch this fucking back for me, again– deeper!” A loud slap rings out across the room followed by an even louder cry from you. “I know you can do better than that. You wanna cum? Then deeper,” her other hand comes to push at your back as you sink closer to the bed. She watches at first, the way your pussy presents itself fully to her. She lets a groan slip from her lips at the way it grips her cock so hard that it partially slides out, giving you some breathing room for a few seconds. She lets you have your breather, but after that she can’t help the way she starts climbing over top of you. Leah plants her feet into the mattress as she bends her body down, her hands gripping the sheets beside your head. When she slides the few inches that slipped out back in– you can’t help the pornographic moan that leaves your mouth. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the new angle giving her access to parts of your pussy that have never been touched before. She’s giving you amounts of pleasure you never knew were possible. Her hips pick up a rougher pace after she lets you adjust, a burning in your tummy forming faster and hotter than you’ve ever experienced. Her lips skim across your back as her lips find your ear, “Cum for me Y/N. I know you want to,” one of her hands reaches around to find your clit. “So be a good girl for me and cum on this co–”

Your alarm clock awakes and blasts through the room, sending you flying as you jump up from the shock. An arm scrambles to smack at the annoying device to turn it off. You sit in the newfound silence for a few moments, letting your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm as you rub the sleep from your eyes. God, you’re so tired from last night. One orgasm turned into two…and then you just couldn’t stop thinking about her. The blonde English defender consuming your every waking thought…and apparently your nightly ones, too. You rub your thighs together as you feel the uncomfortable wetness collected between them. You wonder back to your dream…Well, your memory really. It was of the last night you two spent together. Her fucking you on the bed as the patio doors were left swung open, the sunsetting across the ocean of the beach; a beautiful backdrop to the way you handled each other’s body. A gorgeous end to a magical fairytale…because that’s what Leah is: a fantasy.

You keep reminding yourself that as you get up to start your morning. You enter the bathroom and make your way to the mirror above the sink. You squint your eyes at your reflection and bring a finger up to point at it, "You will keep things strictly professional, Y/N! Keep your pussy in your pants…you slut!" You shake your head at that, rubbing your face as you let a loud groan out. "My god I've gone mad!"

The shower heats up pretty quick, so you start stripping your pajamas off. You don't have a laundry basket yet, so you decide the floor will have to do for now. You cringe at the feeling of peeling off your wet panties, sighing as you look at the ruined pair before slinging them into your pile. The water washes away your worries for a minute, letting your muscles relax as you stretch a little in the comforting space. Then like black magic, she pops up again— front and center in your mind. You try to ignore the tingling between your legs as you reach for your shampoo. You try and ignore it your whole shower routine, but you can't put it off when you're washing your body. The loofa running across your skin as images of Leah go by in your mind is enough to drive the sanest person to their breaking point…so is it really your fault when you subconsciously start rubbing your thighs together? That can be debated. But it's definitely your fault when you slip your free hand down to fuck yourself to those thoughts of her. God dammit, you really have no self control when it comes to her. Note to self: Bitch, stand up!

You finish up your shower before you brush your teeth and throw on outfit. You're getting there early today to meet with the rest of the medical staff. You'll be meeting the head Doctor, head strength & conditioning coach, head of sports of medicine & science, the sports psychologist, the other AT, and the one you're most scared to meet…the old Lead AT whose job you now have. You didn't know when you took the offer that you'd essentially be stealing someone else's job— another woman's at that. You meant to talk to Rose about it yesterday, but that plan got derailed in more ways than one. First you got lost, then your tour went on longer than maybe necessary (but Alessia is just very friendly and charming, okay! Time slipped from you both), and then well, Leah happened...again.

As you make your way to the meeting room, you feel like you're going to throw up the coffee you chugged on the way in. Your stomach is turning over everything running through your mind: will they like you, Leah, will they respect you after leaving your old team in the middle of a season, will you fit in, Leah, will Rose hate you, because you understand why she would, Leah, will the other AT under you hate you for unknowingly demoting her friend/colleague, Leah, and oh god will they all hate you for that? You think you're going to pass out as you come face to face with the door of your destination.

You can hear the rustling of conversation inside and it makes you want to run— an all too familiar feeling running through your veins. You have to take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't there. Get a fucking grip girl, you got this. So you shake out your arms, a way to "shake out the nerves" as your mentor taught you. As you go in, your nerves instantly start declining as you see the smiles on almost everyone's face as you enter. Keyword: almost. You know that must be her..Rose. You have so much you want to say to her, but you know you can't in here. Not with everyone's eyes on you two— she deserves a hell of a lot more respect than that.

So for now you do your introductions. You learn all their names, and in the small first impressions you know things will be fine. You've already clocked who you think you'll grow close with. You really like Matt and Laura, the sports psychologist and the other AT. You don't get a chance to even meet eyes with Rose, as it seems she's avoiding you like the plague…But of course you understand why. You just wish she'd at least be social with her familiar coworkers instead of sinking into herself. Like you did. Laura must notice your saddneded look placed towards the other woman, because she gives you a reassuring smile. "She'll come around, just give her a little time."

"I hope you all know I had no clue they'd give me her position when I accepted the offer. I'd never want to steal someone's job— especially with how hard we have to work to earn them," your eyes still stay on the unsmiling women across the room. She's staring down at her phone, elbow sitting on the table as her head rests on her fist.

"We all had a clue. You looked miserable every time the camera panned to you. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell that you're running from something that happened there…I don't know how things were at your last club, but I know things can be different here," she's giving you such a genuine smile you can't help the tears the well up in your eyes. She continues upon seeing them, "And you don't have to talk about it until you're ready, or ever if you don't want to."

You smile hoping to reassure her that they are happy tears. "How'd you know I looked so miserable? Did you guys watch my old matches just to see the new addition's skills?" You can't help the laugh that comes out with it.

She mirrors your soft chuckles, "Uh yeah we did— sorry! That's probably a little creepy."

"No, no, it's funny really. But, uhm, yeah..I was really unhappy there. I tried to stick it out till the end of the season, but I..I just couldn't…" You trail off after that, an uneasy nervousness taking over your body as you think back to your time at Barcelona.

Laura's about to say something else when Rose finally speaks up for the first time, "I hate to break up this party, but the girls are about to start training." She says it so monotone, a flat expression matching it on her face. You snap back to reality at that— pushing the past down your throat once again. You know pretending like it never happened is destructive, but you don't care. You have a job to do here, and you can't let your emotions get in the way of that…in more ways than one. You're quickly reminded of that as you exit the room only to be met with the sound of Leah's voice.

Dear lord— you really are going mad.

"Nice to see you found your way here alright today!" Okay now that definitely wasn't in your head. You look down the hall to your left, Alessia walking towards you as she leaves behind her teammates. They're all walking out to the field, and behind Alessia your eyes fixate on the lines leader. She's already looking at you, eyes boring into yours as she keeps walking ahead towards the exit doors.

"Eyes forward Williamson! Or you might not get back up this time," an Irish accent rings out from the group of athletes. A rupture of laughter echoes throughout the sickly white walls. It carries down to Alessia as she mimics the sounds of the girls, turning around to send a reply back, "At this rate she'll have a concussion by the end of the week. I'd put $20 on it," and a whole new roar of commotion starts then. Some girls feeling bad and saying to leave her alone, some pushing at their Captain as they can't control their laughter, and the rest of them making a group chat to solidify their bets.

You almost feel bad…almost, but seeing that red tint cover her cheeks as she swats their teasing hands away is too sweet of a sight. "I'll remember that when you're running extra laps today, McCabe!" She looks back up at you as she says it, licking her lips before her head snaps back forwards. She's gone after that, disappearing out onto the pitch as the rest of the bickering footballers follow her.

Alessia reaches you just as you snap out of your Leah induced trance, a smile reaching your face as she gives you a hug. "I left early today just incase, ended up getting a coffee from the place down the street."

"Ohh smart girl. You must be a fast learner," you two start walking as Rose and Laura go past you. A small wave coming from Laura as she turns her heard to mouth to you, "See you out there, rookie!" You send a wave back, ready to start your first full day.

Yesterday was a damn whirlwind, but today is going to be different. You and Alessia keep chatting as you quickly catch up with everyone else, falling into place as you two separate into your respective spots. You keep your eyes trained on the girls, all except one.

You are actively trying to avoid her gaze, but that doesn't stop you from feeling it burning holes into you. She's not as distracted as yesterday, or at least not as outwardly showing it. Leah's only staring holes through you when she isn't moving this time, even if it's for just a second, her head snaps in your direction. She's getting back in the zone though, comfortable with herself again.

She woke up before the sun even thought of rising to go get the dreaded CT scan you had ordered yesterday. She turned it into her coach as soon as she came out onto the field and he cleared her to play. But she can't stop thinking of you, your body, your voice, and all the possibilities of what you two could be if given the chance. She's determined to have you, to make you hers. And when Leah sets her mind to something…lord help anyone or anything that gets in her way. She's a force to be reckoned with, a fiercely confident and stubborn woman with a drive to get exactly what she wants.

She gets wrapped up as she doesn't have a moment of rest for a while, letting herself fall back into the passion of the game. Football is in her blood and keeps her heart pumping. She's known since the first time she kicked a ball that this is what she's meant to be doing. Even before it was attainable: she has always been destined for greatness. The defender doesn't break from her focus, not until she hears your unmistakable laugh from the sidelines. She looks up and scoffs under her breath at the sight before her.

Alessia had walked up to you after being pulled away to speak with her coach. She asked if you'd check her ankle, claiming that the pain was completely gone and so was the swelling. So you agreed to check her out, squatting down to examine her ankle. She'd made a dumb dad joke, unknowingly to her that those are your favorites. So here you are now, hand resting on Alessia's upper leg as you laugh out at the ridiculous 'so and so walked into a pub' joke setup.

Leah's eyes stay stuck on you now, anger filling her body as she watches you two interact. You won't even look in her direction anymore, but you'll feel up on her teammate you met one day ago? Fine. She can get hurt and gain your attention, too. The anger overrules the logic in her brain and before she knows it she's faking a fall, using all her body weight to drop and hit the ground. She lets out a groan as she bounces a little, not realizing how fast she was running when she made the split second decision. You don't notice straight away, only about a 5 second delay before a harsh voice from behind you cuts in, "Time to shine, La Reina!"

You feel your blood run cold at the nickname given to your former club member being directly used against you. You blink back the tears you feel welling up, running out onto the field as work mode kicks in. You don't even notice it's Leah until you're hovering over her on the field. You come down to your knees so you're at her level. "What happened this time?"

She sighs before sitting up, arms reaching out behind her to keep her propped up. A furrow between her brows settles in before the red on her cheeks starts to, "Y-You were flirting with Russo that's what bloody happened," you notice the roll of her eyes as she says it.

You can't help the small giggle that comes out of you, hands going to check her legs and ankles as you relish in her pouting. "Well maybe if you weren't so focused on glaring daggers into me you wouldn't have noticed."

"So you were flirting with her? You're not even going to deny it? Oh, you are someth-"

"Oh my god, no I wasn't' flirting with Alessia! She's just the only person to greet me so far without a tongue down the throat," you interrupt her as you realize how upset she actually is. "Plus, I wouldn't do that to you, Le. Never," you have to add in the last part. Too scared she'll cause a scene with her dramatic ass if you left it on a teasing note. You're sure she's had enough of that already today. "Now please— just tell me if you're hurt anywhere."

She goes even redder at that, turning into a mess of stutters as she directs her eyes anywhere but at you. 'U-Uh no. I-I'm fine, darling. No need t-to worry."

"But can you look me in the eyes and tell me that," you tease her. A smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you see her reaction.

"Oh fuck off would you!" She gives you that classic Williamson snarl. Face scrunched up into the meanest frown as her eyes find yours again.

"Mhm. Just make sure you give me a ride home tonight, and maybe I won't bench you."

"That seems like an abuse of power, babe." She laughs it out, falling back into her cocky attitude. "If you want me that bad, you just need to ask. No need to black mail me, darling."

The tables turn as you quickly find yourself as the one shyly blushing out a reply. "I didn't mean it like that you perv! God, you are infuriating you know that?"

"So I've been told," she smirks at you.

You rise to your feet before reaching a hand out to help her up. She finds her footing instantly compared to yesterday, jogging a circle around you as her ponytail swings behind her. "So am I clear, Doc? You giving me a clean bill of health?"

You roll your eyes this time, a bright smile breaking out across your lips as you start walking back to the sidelines of the pitch. "Yes, Leah. Now stop staring at me like a creep and go practice, Captain." You start jogging after the last part, quickly trying to clear the field and resolve practice. You don't notice the way her teammates whisper at the interaction between you two, or the way Rose shakes her head at it with a scrawl on her face. All you know is that Leah could flirt with you another time, right now work needs to come first.

You stop in front of the coach, discussing how you think Alessia is ready to come back and that Leah's good to go after her tumble. When you get the go ahead you get back in line with the other AT's, standing next to Laura as a conversation about restocking the med room supplies takes over comfortably. The rest of practice goes by smoothly, aside from the occasional glare from Rose. You try to keep any eye on where she goes after practice, wanting to sneak a moment alone with her to finally talk about everything. You lose her as she disappears into the locker room, not wanting to risk seeing a half naked Leah in such a populated area at the moment. So with a sigh you retreat to pack up your own things for the night, taking a clipboard and writing down a list of items you're low on as you do.

You hear the door open as you finish checking the last cabinet in the room, not looking up before speaking. "Oh Laura, do you know where we put in our order forms? I couldn't find any so I just started writing my own list."

"That's a little out of my job description, love." You turn around at that, coming face to face alone with Leah once again. You can feel your heart speeding up at the sight of her— god dammit she has you hooked. You set the clipboard down as you collect your bags from the floor, taking the time to regain your breath before walking out of the room with her. "Let me carry your bags, they look heavy."

"No, I can carry them on my own just fine, thank you. I have my whole career and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Don't be stubborn and just let me help you!"

"No! It's not like you're my girlfriend, you don't have a reason to carry them."

"Yeah, but I could be."

"W-What? Leah what are you even talking about—"

She stops you two in the dark empty hallway, turning you to face her as she speaks. "I could be your girlfriend," she smirks down at you as she leans in closer. You start backing up until you hit the wall, her body caging you as she finishes her statement. "And you could be mine."

She's so close you swear you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, breath dusting over your cheeks as she stares down at your lips. You're speechless and filled with a mix of emotions at her words, but still you lean up to kiss her. You pull away before she can deepen it though, "We can't, Le."

"Why not?"

"Because we just can't."

"Give me one good reason why we can't go out on a date, Y/N." Her hands cup your cheeks as she speaks, pulling you even closer as her lips tickle against yours.

"Because I don't date my coworkers. It's a rule I have set for myself."

"Well, some rules are made to be broken," and with that you let her capture your mouth with hers. You two get lost in the feeling of sparks flying off your lips, making out up against the wall like a couple of horny teenagers. She kisses you until your lips are raw, stinging, and swollen.

Then she's leading you out, hand in hand to her car. She opens the door for you, stealing a peck from your lips before she shuts it back. Her hand finds your thigh as she squeezes it a bit, sending a hushed whine to fall out into the air of her Audi A5. She licks her lips at the sound, sliding her hand up until she's rubbing you through your jean shorts. "You really think a few buttons is gonna stop me from getting to your pussy, (Y/N)?" She chuckles out as you look at her with wide eyes, freezing as you realize she caught onto the small detail you put into not ending up like this. Of course, she notices.

"Shut up, Le! Just do something already," there's a frustrated lilt to your voice, hips pushing down into the pressure of her hand through the denim. She pulls her touch away at that, her hand coming up to your face as she grips your jaw to face her. "Last time I checked, I don't give brats what they want. Try again like a good girl, and maybe I'll let you cum tonight."

You huff out at that, but you hold back on the eye roll that almost comes out of you. You know Leah well enough to know she's deadly serious, if you don't repeat your request in manner fitting to her standards? She'll drive you home and not touch you properly the whole way, teasing touches that never give you quite enough to get any real relief. It's just enough to have you dripping and desperate for her, begging when you both know it's far too late for her to give in. If Leah's one thing then it's being as stubborn as a brick wall. She will not break. No matter what you say, what you do, or how much you cry— she's not budging in her decisions. So you best listen the first time she allows you to correct yourself. With that knowledge in mind, you relax your face before giving into the English woman.

"Please make me feel good, Le." She laughs at your attempt. "I know you can do better than that," her grip gets tighter as her other hand starts unbuttoning your shorts. "And you know you have to tell me what you want, Y/N."

"Want your fingers, Le! Want you to fuck me till I'm making a mess on your expensive leather seats— please!" You whining louder now, growing confidence in the power play you two slip back into so easily. It's comforting and familiar in a new world of scary and unknown, and maybe that's why you keep finding yourself giving into her so easily…Or maybe it's because she knows your body better than anyone else— including yourself.

She smirks this time, slipping her hand down from your jaw onto your neck as her other one slides into your opened shorts. Your hands instinctually go to wrap around her wrist, nails digging into her flesh as she starts rubbing circles onto your panty covered clit. Your reaction is instant as you let small hums of pleasure escape you, grinding into the pressure once more now that it's more direct. Your gaze stays on hers as it intensifies, keeping you enchanted with the beauty of her crystal blue eyes. She tugs on your neck, bringing you into a heated kiss before she's slipping two of her fingers inside you. You let a moan out into her mouth and Leah takes the advantage to slide her tongue into yours. Her thumb rests on your clit as she lets you take a second, rubbing little shapes into the bundle of nerves. She starts moving her fingers as her tongue clashes with yours, a fight for dominance she quickly wins. It's hard to stand your ground when you've got long, thick fingers filling you up, okay? You try!

She doesn't pull away. Not until you can't breathe and you're both gasping for air as your chests heave up and down. Her lips move down to find your neck, mouth going to work as she speeds her thrusts up. You don't even think to tell her to stop. Consequences so far from your mind at the moment that you'd probably let her fuck you on the hood. You just relish in the way she curls her fingers inside your pussy, sending bolts of electricity through your body as your high approaches in no time. You look down between your thighs and you almost moan out loud at the sight of Leah's muscular arm flexing with every move she makes. You can't help the way you start riding her fingers at that point, breathy whines of her name leaving your lips like a prayer. "Le-Leah! Oh fuck, baby— please lemme cum, Le!"

"Already? I don't think so, darling. Hold it for me," she's laughing at you, vibrations moving through your neck as she keeps her lips pressed against your skin there. And dear god you want to cry when she says that. Sure you can make yourself cum— but not like she can. Oh no. You both know that's true, that's why you're bouncing on her fingers in the parking lot of your new employment. No one else would ever have you acting like this— they never have. Only Leah has ever had this kind of magnetic pull to her that you can't seem to resist. It's impractical and messy…but you know you can't quit her. Even if you can't admit it to yourself yet, she's got you wrapped up so tight around her finger that it's a little concerning…she's got you wrapped tight around two of her fingers right now if you wanna be specific, but that's not the point.

She groans out as she pulls back to watch you, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce along with the thrusts. You move one of your hands to wrap around her forearm between your thighs, and feeling the muscles move under your touch only sends you closer to the edge. Your hips start to stutter as your breathing picks up, you go to open your mouth and beg her a second time, but she cuts you off. "Go ahead, love. Cum for me," The next words come out in a growl as she puts more pressure on thumb attached to your clit, "Make a mess on my fucking seat so I can make you lick it clean afterwards."

Your eyes roll back at the sequences of actions, thighs closing around her arm as she keeps fucking you through your high. "Just like that, baby." She keeps going after your done though, a sensitive ache taking over your pussy from her treatment. "T-Too much, Le!" She darkly chuckles at that, a harsh tone coming off her next words.

"You can take fucking more," she switches to a softer one as she continues, "Just one more, darling. I know you've got it in you."

She pulls her fingers out of your cunt slowly, using her two soaked fingers to rub your clit now. She keeps going even after your thighs start shaking, her stamina much higher from her pro athlete training. She only said one more, but by the look of determination across her face…you know she's not done with you yet. Your poor clit hasn't had a single break since she first touched it god knows how long ago. It creates a knot in your stomach to form that you haven't felt since you were last at her mercy. Your voice goes up a few octaves and your eyes start to cross as your hands claw at any piece of her you can reach. "Leah!" You don't even get enough time to ask for permission before the liquid gushes out of your cunt and it seeps through your denim shorts to collects on her seat. You don't even get a second to breathe, not when her hand finds place in your hair and starts yanking you into the floorboard. "Now clean it up like a good girl, darling. Show me how much you appreciate what I've given you."

Your cheeks flush a deep shade of red as lean your head down towards her passenger seat. There isn't a shit ton of your squirt there, but enough for you to get shy about it. The leather feels weird against your tongue, but you make quick work of collecting the arousal onto it. You let your eyes drift up to her as you slurp up the last drop, sticking your tongue out to show her before you finish the job with a lick to your lips. She can't help the moan that leaves her this time, pulling your body back up into the seat as you start kissing again. As soon as she pulls away she's shoving her fingers into your mouth as your tongue goes to suck them clean. Your eyes still stay on hers as you do, wrapping both your hands around her wrists as you start bopping your head onto them. Leah thinks she's gonna cum in her fucking sweat pants at this point, her pussy throbbing harder than it has this whole time. She can’t wait to have you choking on her strap again…all in due time tho.

She breaks after you pull them of out of your mouth, sending a kiss to the tips of her fingers before you return her hand to her. She is fucking short circuiting right now, her lips drop open as she stares at you in awe. It makes you smile, a newfound confidence taking over as you lean across the center console and press a quick kiss to her lips. You think you pulled away in time but she catches you just as fast as you left, pulling you in close as you start your third make out session of the day..and your fifth since yesterday— but like who is counting? You get so lost in kissing her that you only pull away after you catch a glimpse of the time shining on her dash. You pull back from her warm embrace, a surprised gasp leaving you as you go to put your seatbelt on. "Noooo, come back," she pulls at your neck, trying to get your mouth back onto hers. The next words you get out are rushed.

"Le, we really can't. It's 11:30 already and— shit! I have to walk into my building looking like I pissed myself. This is just fucking great," you throw your head back against the seat in frustration. See this is what happens when you have no self control like the pussy whipped slut that you are.

"Hey, hey, hey calm down motor mouth! I missed some of that, but I think I got the gists of it. I have extra sweats in my bag you can borrow. Just leave your ruined panties and shorts in here, and I'll wash them with my practice laundry. I am sorry I kept you out so late, though…but I promise I'll make up for it tomorrow," She rubs your jaw with her thumb as she says it. A soft smile overtaking her features as she soothes you back to calmness with the action.

"Thank you, Le. You really don't have to do all of that though. The sweatpants are enough," you can't mistake the way your heart flutters at even the offer of the gesture. It feels too intimate for the reality of your situation, but you don't push it too hard. "Yes, Y/N, I know that, but I want to. So just let me help you. Please?" There's something different about the way she says it. Like she knows that you always rely on only yourself and never take help from others without a fight. It's a survival technique you picked up a long time ago, but only Leah has ever noticed it..or at least cared enough to call it out.

So with a sigh you take a deep breath before nodding your head, rolling your eyes as you can't hide the grin spreading out on your lips. "Okay, okay! You win. You can keep my cum soaked panties like the pervert you truly are, Williamson."

She pushes at your shoulder at the remark, "Oi! Better watch your mouth or I'll stuff 'em in there till I drop you off!"

She hops out to run to her trunk, grabbing the extra pair of lounging pants as she makes her way back to hand them to you. You change in the front seat and it's…very fucking difficult to say the least. But a few shared laughs with Leah and a couple awkward positions is all it takes for you to be redressed, sitting back in your seat as you settle down with a giggle. You go to put on your seatbelt to match her, but she takes it from you, her hands lightly sliding into yours before she buckles it for you. She starts the Audi and puts it into drive as she goes to leave the parking lot. She doesn't need your address this go round, one time was enough for Leah to memorize the drive. Her hand finds your thigh for once more tonight, resting it there as you converse about what coffee shops are the best around. You end up agreeing to let her show you around the town on your next day off together, but repeatedly insisting that it is NOT a date.

You're in front of your door before you know it, Leah walking you up for the second night in a row now. You two share one last passionate kiss before you start pushing her away. "Okay, now you really do have to go. It's already midnight, Le. I'll see you in the morning, Captain Williams."

"Yes, you will, and you better not ignore me this time either!" She says it with that classic Leah frown.

"No promises," you fail at hiding your laugh as you say it.

She pulls you back in to steal one more kiss, sucking the breath from your lungs as she does. It's a kiss like the one she gave you yesterday at your door, and it completely steals away your ability to breathe. She's making you fall deeper and deeper into this game you two have going on. You know you'll wake up tomorrow and say to yourself that you can't let this continue on…right before going to work and throwing that pep talk right out of the window as soon as you see or hear her. She's not just some one night stand you had and you both know it, but when will you stop lying to yourself about? Only god knows.

"You just be ready for our date on Thursday. I'm already planning the day in my head, and it's going to be perfect!"

"Le, I told you It's not a date!"

"We'll see about that, darling."

And with that…she's off. Leaving you at your door clad in her pants as you watch her figure disappear into the elevator once more. You try not to think about how this is easily turning into routine between you two. The domestic act of her paying to park just to walk you up to your room doesn't slip by you either. Maybe it really isn't like Barca here, and maybe things can truly be different in so so many more ways than one. You sleep in Leah's sweats tonight, wrapped up in her scent as it drifts you off to sleep.

But Leah herself? Oh, she definitely sniffs your dirty panties as she makes herself cum. Yeah, she is a pervert, as you stated earlier...but only for you. Only you could get her so wound up and resorting to such a desperate act of degeneracy. She checks the time when she finally finishes: 1:23am it reads back to her. She groans out a sleepy sound of discomfort as she tosses your dirty underwear into her laundry basket, turning off her bedside lamp as the darkness of night consumes her. Her mind isn't so lucky, because now she's thinking of all the places she going to take you on your date. Yes date— you can deny it all you want, but like we've discussed: Leah Williamson always gets what she wants when she's determined…and she's never been this determined about anything before. So she decides right then and there— in the dead of night and the pitch black atmosphere, that by the end of the season…you will fully be hers. Not some secret hookup or whatever the fuck you two are now. No, Leah’s mind is set in making you her pretty girl who stands on the sidelines with her cute little first aid bag, ready to go. Hell, if she’s real lucky you’ll be her WAG on the on med staff, a shiny ring sitting on your finger as her physical claim of you. She finally starts to fall asleep to those thoughts, a smile gracing her lips as she prays that she sees your beautiful face in her dreams tonight.