#but they are like. holy FUCK read the ROOM

[readychilledwine]

Idk if you do requests but holy shit you are amazing but like on the off chance you do I’m feral over this idea you would absolutely kill for cassian or Azriel

I’m dying for a smart ass foul mouthed girl in the dirty book club that’s like half his size to get him all worked up teasing him every time he sees her but when he finally gets her alone she literally was all talk and is clueless and timid and he blows her fucking mind

I talk a big game but it’s all a bit and I have zero confidence to back it up 😂

Bonus points and my first born for…

Dumbification

Big ole size kink

& a praise link to feed the ✨ daddy issues ✨

All For Show

Summary - Cassian has gotten tired of you and your pretty little mouth. He just had to wait for the right moment to correct it.

Warnings - smut, praise kink, degradation, slight dumbification, shy reader x bold cassian, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), implied size kink (little reader x big cassian), public-ish sex, unprotected sex, a hint of Voyeurism, best friend ex dynamic, loose editing, I'm probably missing some to be honest.. oh, gwyriel mentioned. I apologize if it isn't your preferred ship, but it felt right for this fic.

A/N - I've shamefully written this three times because I wanted bonus points while also giving it plot 😅

🗡Cassian Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Your mouth was going to get you in trouble one of these days, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as you laughed with the Valkyries. 

The 4 of you were deep into your book club meeting, discussing the recent salacious read that had Gwyn’s cheeks matching that shade of red hair you'd grown to love so much. Emerie high fived you, fingers linking together as the newly added Pegasus charms on your woven friendship bracelets made a soft clink. 

You were bold, especially with these 3, and your interest in the sex scene you all had just read was immediately noticed. “I mean,” Nesta genuinely laughed, “Who wouldn't want to have sex with their mate in front of their equally attractive friends?”

Gwyn shrieked, “Nesta!”

A deep throat cleared at that, reminding the four of you that you were in an open room of the House of Wind. That Cassian and Azriel were sitting right next to you. Gwyn shrunk further into her chair, Azriel smirking and chuckling at his.. whatever they had decided they were today, meanwhile Cassian had his eyes locked on you, a brow raised as you began to play with that bracelet. Deep pink, deep orange, and a purple-y navy stared back at you, the blend reminding you of a sunset. “Something to say, General,” Nesta looked her former lover up and down. “Y/n isn't interested.”

Oh, but you were, and he wasn't blind to that. “Just think this is interesting, that's all,” he grumbled. “Especially considering, y/n gets flustered when someone so much as touches her hips to adjust her stance.” Your glare shot his way as your friends began to laugh. Azriel hid a chuckle behind his hand. The tension between you and Cassian had been growing, especially due to the private hand to hand lessons he was giving you. 

“You grabbed me by my inner thigh,” you retorted, eyes rolling.

“And you turned the same shade of red aa the threads on that bracelet Ness wears,” he stated. “You talk a big game, sweetheart. Someone is going to call you on your shit one day.” If you were a smarter female, you would have realized that was a warning. 

Cassian was showing no mercy the next night as he threw you to your hands and knees for the fourth time in your 2 hour session. “What the hell, Cass?!” You were panting as you sat back in your heels. “Did you not get the memo that I am just a girl?”

His eyes rolled, “Stand up.” The part of you that had never responded to demands well sent him a look, head tilted back to study his imposing frame. The look you gave him was enough to break his calm. He was a General, a commander, practiced and poised, but you were ruining him. The tension between the two of you was ruining him. He had denied himself so much in this life, lost so much more. Why deny both of you what he knew you both wanted?

“You know what,” he muttered more to himself than you. “I can't do this anymore.” A hand found its way into your hair, strands wrapping around strong fingers as he pulled you to one of the benches, forcing you between his legs as he sat. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What-”

“Show me what you brag to your little friends about. Show you these skills you think you have.”

Your flush began immediately, “Cassian-”

"I knew it," he interrupted you, “Admit you're inexperienced.”

“I'm not inexperienced! I'm just shy!”

He studied you, hazel eyes taking in every inch of your skin as if you were some display. Even with your clothing on, you had never felt more exposed under his gaze. “Shy but can run your mouth to Ness? To Gwynie? To Em? Are you shy or do my hands make you shy?”

That furthered the flush as said large hand pulled your hair, angling your head back to look at him. “Cass-”

“I'm so tired of hearing you speak.” His lips crashed on yours then, forcing you into his lap, legs straddling one of his much larger thighs. Even like this, Cassian towered over you, consumed your frame. You had never considered yourself the smallest female, but with Cassian? Every female could feel small with Cassian.

His free hand slid down, tracing the curve of your breast, your waist, your hips before grabbing and squeezing your left thigh, forcing it over his other leg so you were fully straddling him and open to him. 

He pulled back, lips still close as you tried to catch your breath, “Good,” he almost seemed to vibrate with his lust. “That's my Good Girl.” 

There was no patience as he pulled your training top off, no ceremony as he took your bra off after it. Cassian was a male in need, something you felt every time he moved and his hips ground his covered length against you. 

A silent prayer was sent to the Gods, thanking them for Nesta being in Autumn with Eris for the next week. While it didn't promise no one would walk into the training ring on you two, it did promise at least Nesta wouldn't. His mouth moved down your neck, kissing and nipping until he found the spot that had you melting to his form. “That's it,” his voice had grown deep as he licked at your skin. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me have you.” 

Maybe it was because your brain stopped functioning. Maybe it was because something in you just seemed to float in his presence, but you didn't remember getting laid back on the mat, nor your leather pants slowly removed inch by inch as he whispered praise. You didn't remember his own clothing meeting the pile of yours somewhere off to your side. But you remembered his kiss bringing you back to him, “So we go dumb?” He forced you to nod. “I bet you just love being cock drunk, don't you, princess,” the nod wasn't forced this time, his smirk growing as he looked to the sky as if to say his own thank you. 

His hands and lips explored every inch, the soft gasps and noises you made his consent, the way you squeezed his fingers encouragement. His tongue swirled your nipple, wetting the tender nerves before latching onto it, rolling and sucking. You couldn't help but arch your back, whispering his title, his name. 

“You sound like I imagined you would,” he murmured as he kissed his way to your other breast, offering the same treatment as his words shot to your core. He had imagined you. Imagined how you would sound below him, maybe on top of him. 

His kisses began to trail lower, paying extra attention to the sensitive spots he found. He stopped at the hem of your panties, eyes glancing to meet yours, “This is your chance to tell me to stop. If I keep going, that's it. It's you being manhandled by me until I'm done with you, understand?”

The whimper that left your throat at that was almost sinful, “Cassian, please.”

“Use your words,” he demanded. “Use that your mouth to tell me what you want done. You like to run it when you think I'm not listening. Talking about how you want to ride cock and be tied up and used like you aren't telling everyone my dreams.”

Another whine as he licked your core, protected from that skilled tongue by thin lace. “Words,” he demanded again.

“Please taste me.” The tear of fabric followed that plea, all caution thrown to the wind as he dived in. 

Cassian wanted to taste every inch of your core. His tongue running over the left side, the right, your clit, your wet entrance. Emerie had told you once enthusiastic partners made sex better and you knew why now. Cassian not only knew what he was doing, but it was clearly his pleasure to be doing it. Each plunge of his tongue inside of you was met with him moaning or groaning, lips vibrating the sensitive parts of your body and building the feeling desperation that slowly wanted to kick in. You sat up on your elbows, watching him as he glanced up, hazel eyes dark and watching your face. Each reaction was a reward to him, your heart seeming to tug at the pride gleaming in his eyes at each little noise that escaped you. 

No novel compared to this. 

No words could describe it. 

Your stomach was growing tight, head falling back as he feasted as if you were the most delicious meal he'd had in over 500 years of life. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, tongue making half circle shapes around your far too aching clit as a thick finger ran your core and gently pushing in.

“Cassian,” your body seemed to shutter in pleasure, tightening around that single digit. “Cauldron fry me,” you moaned as he curled his finger up, immediately locating that special spot inside of you. 

This was just his finger. Just his finger had you feeling like you were stretching to a limit as he worked his tongue and hand in time, the band inside of you going taunt. He was careful as he added in a second, watching your face as if he knew. As if he could feel that little panic building in your mind. 

He washed it away as he changed how his tongue was moving, now giving teasing motions with just the tip directly where your body was screaming to be touched. He watched your eyes close, watched your guard drop as your hips moved, wanting to ride his face and fingers. He would have normally allowed it, but not this time. Not when he so desperately wanted control and to prove you were all talk. Not when he so desperately wanted you to be his. Your walls began to tighten again, his name becoming something you couldn't even finish as your gasps and panting increased. 

Then you tumbled. You fell from the edge, squeezing those two fingers so hard he struggled to work you through your high with them. His free forearm pushed down on your hips, forcing you to stay still and at his mercy. He only slowed down when your trembling did, fingers coming out of you so he could lick them clean, his own hazel eyes fluttering shut. He moved up, kissing you again and forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Off,” you begged, mind going hazy as you tugged his own leathers. Your request was met, Cassian standing over you as you instantly moved to your knees, watching his hands unlace before pulling down. His cock stood hard for you. It was thick, long, veins in places you knew were going to touch the perfect spots inside of you. 

Cassian was larger than any male you'd ever been with, and it had been a while since you had been with anyone. He was a challenge, one you were prepared to meet as you felt your mind fully slip away. “Open,” he whispered. His own stomach flipped with excitement when you obeyed, hand grabbing your high ponytail as he moved his hips and your head forward. This was something you knew, mind immediately working on the sole goal of his pleasure as you began to lick and suck, head bobbing. His hips met your pace, not pushing or forcing. “Just like that, sweetheart. Putting that mouth to good use for once,” he groaned. He tasted of something purely Cassian. Of salt and power. “You look beautiful like this,” his hips increased slightly, encouraging you to do so as well. “Mouth wrapped around my cock, looking up at me with those pretty eyes. Such a good girl.” 

He wouldn't give you the satisfaction of making him finish like this. No. He wanted that to happen when he was buried inside of you, you ass bouncing with each thrust he would give you. He watched you closely as you sucked him off, tongue and lips wetting him until he was sure he wouldn't last if you kept going.

Whines of protest left you as he pulled you off, walking you the bench and forcing you to crawl with his grip on your hair. “Hands on the bench.” An order you were not dumb enough to deny, positioning yourself as he asked. He kneeled behind you, kissing your spine as he forced a knee up on the bench as well. It wasn't comfortable, but it would be effective. “Breathe.” Another command from the General of the Night Court as he lined up with you and began pushing in. 

“Gods!” Each inch of him seemed to knock the air from your lungs, your breathing ragged. “Cassian, I can't-”

“You can,” he silenced you. “Breathe. Breathe like we taught you.” He timed his entrance with each deep breath, groaning once he was fully inside of you. His hand went to the small of your stomach, dirty thoughts about wanting to be big enough he could feel and see himself inside of you.

The first rock of his hips had you almost shouting your moans. He reached places you'd never known. Places no one had ever touched. You were like a vice around him, the stretch burning and adding to your pleasure as he began to move, stroking that building fire with care. It didn't long for the training area to smell like sex. To be filled with the sounds of his deep groans, you gasps and pleads, the sounds of skin hitting. 

His hands reached forward, wanting more control of you as he grabbed your arms, holding and forcing them behind your back and making you arch more for him. Helpless. You were helpless. 

And that's when the Cassian Nesta had described to you all began. 

His thrusts became fast and hard, hitting your g spot over and over. His hand that wasn't holding your wrists found your throat, resting there and giving one squeeze to test the waters. You couldn't even moan his name anymore as that fire grew, all words were lost to you, all thoughts eddied before falling to silence. Your body wanted to feel. And feel you did. 

Every drag was a spark, every word he whispered in your ear a kindling. You would burn. You would burn alive if he didn't stop. That tension built again, faster than it had with any other partner. 

Cassian was a God. No one could convince you otherwise as those scarred lips pressed against your temple. “I won't last,” he muttered. “You're too warm. Too tight. You have me, princess. You and this pretty pussy.” He smirked as a wanton moan left your throat, the heat of his body sending you into overdrive. 

You wouldn't last either.

Frankly, you didn't want to. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, his pace becoming less patterned and wild. He was chasing your high like a predator closing in on its next meal, and when you seemed to freeze, body tensing before a scream tore through you, he served himself. 

“That's it, y/n. Doesn't that feel so right, angel? Falling apart with me inside of you,” he grunted as he fought off his own high. “You feel like heaven, y/n. So good, baby. So fucking good.” His voice prolonged your high, forcing you into a state of overstimulation. You collapsed against him, body putty to his will as he chased his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he yelled before you felt him give one last hard push into you, warmth spreading as his spilled inside. His hands moved, one shooting out to wrap around your hips, forcing you to stay down. The one found the bench, stopping the forward motion from you both falling into it, protecting you even as his mind clouded to the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This didn't just feel like heaven. It was heaven. 

He moved your leg down once he was done, his hand now finding your chin to tilt your head and kiss you softly. “You did so well,” he said against your swollen lips. “So responsive for me. Felt so good. Was it good, sweetheart?” You only nodded, biting your lower lip as he showered you with more praises. “Let's get you dressed so I can get you in a bath.”

Your arms held his right one once you two were dressed and walking towards the house. He only paused when the door opened, and Azriel sighed, holding Gwyn against him as she blushed and squirmed, “You couldn't have kept going,” Azriel teased. “Gwyn was enjoying the show.” Your face fell, realizing you had been caught and watched. Teal eyes met yours, her own blush spreading out from where Azriel had a hand on her mouth. “Come on, my light,” Azriel purred to her. “Time to go do dagger training.”

Cassian laughed as he continued pulling you in the house, pulling you to his room, to his tub. 

You could face the consequences of Nesta potentially finding out later. All that mattered now was the feel of his hand, slipping down your body and below the water for round two.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[no-144444]

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

a/n: thank you all very much for your patience, this series means a lot to me and I've had a lot of personal stuff going on, so I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging for a bit. Thank you all so much for reading this series and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I love writing it!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit. 

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner. 

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you. 

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!” 

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness. 

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it. 

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close. 

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members. 

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you. 

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined. 

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again. 

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar had decided to go find you, he wanted to talk. On the way there, he’d acquired about three more drinks and pissed off a small group of other McLaren employees by spilling one of his three drinks and apologised profusely (albeit rather mumbly), and that’s when you came in with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile that brushed it all over. 

“Are you alright?” you asked him, taking him to a corner to look him over. 

“Y/n?” he questioned, his vision blurry. “Is that you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me buddy, you alright?” 

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too, Osc, come on, we get you to bed?” you offered, pulling one of his arms over your shoulder and helping him walk. 

“Bed sounds good,” he nodded, allowing you to walk him to his room. 

Drunk Oscar was what you assumed three year olds acted like. He pressed every button in the lift, ding-dong ditched people in the hallway, and stripped (almost) naked the second he got in the door of his room. After a few minutes of being in his room, he decided it was a good time to puke his guts out in the toilet, and you, being the good samaritan you are, decided to stay with him. 

“Feeling any better?” you asked, putting a cold cloth on his head as he lay in bed. You sat beside him, holding his hand. 

He shook his head, his eyes closed and a grimace on his lips. “Shit.” 

You chuckled lightly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He opened his eyes and stared into yours, his hand resting over your hand. And time (as it always did when he was looking at you like that) stopped. The world melted away, and it didn’t matter that it was 2 in the morning, or that he’d just vomited, or that all of this was a lot more confusing than either of you had anticipated. You two just got to be with each other, and that was enough for the both of you. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small and raw. He spoke to you with all the care in the world, but you could see he was hurting. You were hurting him. 

Fuck. Why couldn’t any of this be easy? Why couldn’t you just… talk to him? Confess to him? Be normal? The boy you love was sitting there in front of you telling you he loved you and you just… froze for a moment. You took a deep breath.  “Osc, of course I love you,” you whispered. “But you shouldn’t love me. I wouldn’t be any good for you.”

“I don’t care-”

“You’d end up hating me-”

“I could never hate you,” he shook his head, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I could never hate you.”

And you believed him. That was the scary part. You believed him when he told you he loved you. You believed him when he said he cares. You believed him when he said you look beautiful. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hate you. “You should,” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I couldn’t,” he whispered back, a soft smile on his face. He wiped away a tear that fell. “I don’t want you to be scared of how you feel.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” your voice broke. “I’m not an easy person to love.”

“I disagree,” he chuckled, wiping every tear away. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” 

And you couldn’t take it anymore. You curled up beside him and sobbed. You didn’t know how long you’d done it for, but you woke up beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your head giving you something to ground yourself to. You remembered every moment of last night, every word he said, and everything you said. 

You just hoped he wouldn’t. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar woke up, he knew there was something he had asked you last night, but he couldn’t remember what. After his conversation with Lando, there was nothing else he really remembered, apart from the fact that you had brought him up to his room, and he pieced together that he’d probably asked you to stay (being the pathetic hopeless romantic he is), and that’s why you were in his bed. 

A few seconds after waking up, the hangover hit, and fuck it was bad. His entire body ached. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. 

You chuckled beside him. “Remember anything?” 

He sighed, turning to meet your eyes. “Nope.”

As much as that destroyed you, you knew it was for the better. Oscar was better off without you, that, you knew for sure. But, you also couldn't put aside the confession he'd made last night. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” It played in your head over and over again, like a mantra that made every negative thought in your head silent for a few seconds. Oscar was good at that, making you question yourself. Either way, you were glad he hadn't remembered. It was for the better, right?

There was a split second where he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of disappointment in your eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it was there, replaced with a smile. “Well, let’s go back to Monaco.”

He groaned just thinking about facing the day, but the fact that he woke up next to you meant it was better than any day he’d ever had. 

He definitely needed to know what he asked you last night. And you definitely needed him to not find out. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

playing favourites masterlist

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

taglist for this series: (just ask in the comments to be added :)

@smithieandy @anotherapollokid @amz824 @itgirlofthecenturysposts @lokideservesahug @annaluna12 @daemyratwst @nichmeddar @milkysoop @il0vereadingstuff@sleutherclaw@f1wh0recom @st4rg1rln @sleutherclaw @i-love-sirius-black7 @formulas-bitch @prettiest-at-the-party @primadonaprincess55 @teti-menchon0604 @dark-night-sky-99 @sadiemack9 @greasywall @kingshitonly @bellaiscool @i-wish-this-was-me @leeknowinggg @primadonnaprincess55 @teti-menchon0604 @dark-night-sky-99 @sadiemack9 @greasywall @kingshitonly @bellaiscool @widow-cevans @trashstacy @waywardsestras @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @buckybarnessimpp @pausmoon @dying-inside-but-its-classy @sinfully-yoursssn @revrse @hurtblossom @amz824 @ellelabelle @wierdflowerpower

[joelmillerisapunk]

MILLLLAAAAAA I have not known peace since reading this

First of all, the tension. The history. The forbidden desire just simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. Every single moment had me gripping my phone like it owed me money.

The fact that they had all this unresolved emotion and then bam—thrown into the most intimate scene imaginable??

This was SO intense, so raw, so emotional—and the way it all came back to them in the end??? Like, she wrote the script for him. She was always going to find her way back to him.

I am never recovering from this. EVER I am crying in the club, hiding in the bathroom, sobbing into my pillow. okay favorite parts timeeeee - and this is my live reaction so excuse every emotional rollercoaster I hit here....

-> WAHHHHHH FJSDKJSDKLJF already killing me goddamnit He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. It could only be you. That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.that’s fucked up, Will*Will calling* -> OKAYY I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO CRY ALREADY HUH? “It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

-> WHAAAA I CANT DO THIS I CANT BUT I WILL IM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more. He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again. Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.” -> she is so relatable omfg I would be doing the same You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal.  -> SOBBING EXCUSE ME SIR? WTF YOU DOING SHAKING HER OFF LIKE THAT NO SIR NO SIR So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.

-> my good goddddd im dying over here i am not okay sos help me He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

->idk Milla, i think you write the most beautiful things and you really wanna make my heart fall out of my ribcage. The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

-> ooooof THIS IS BUILDING UP OMG OMG OMG SMDFKSDA “Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally. “Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

-> stab me it might hurt less than this In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

THE ENTIRE INTIMATE SCENE HOLY SMOKES IM DIZZYYYY

-> I have no thoughts just thots my brain empty but this is delicious “I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,”

AND THE END AHHH IM SOBBING

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. 

a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles. 

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why. 

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene. 

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. 

It could only be you. 

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you? 

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did. 

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been  friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad. 

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him. 

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. 

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. 

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. 

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up. 

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question. 

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between. 

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you. 

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.  

Until it was over. 

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened. 

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him. 

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him  lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it. 

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that. 

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy. 

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him. 

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations. 

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep. 

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended. 

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.” 

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?” 

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off. 

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed. 

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.” 

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left. 

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward? 

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it. 

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too. 

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up. 

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you. 

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA?  I have some questions about the script can we meet again?  I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen. 

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered. 

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was. 

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair. 

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile. 

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature. 

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long. 

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask. 

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?” 

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you. 

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake. 

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you. 

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch. 

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again. 

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together. 

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider. 

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please." 

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping  your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head. 

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in. 

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him. 

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.” 

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his. 

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday post, love you ❤️

@thundermartini @mermaidgirl30 @magpiepills @iknowisoundcrazy @itwasntimethatdidit40

@joelmillerisapunk @604to647 @baronessvonglitter @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @sawymredfox

@grav3yardbb92 @schnarfer @iamasaddie @noisynightmarepoetry @arcanefox207

@yxtkiwiyxt @sunshineispunk @tuquoquebrute

[afantasyoffiction]

buddie fic recs, pt 2

yall i hit 250 posts a few days ago so here's the Updated Version of my first post! aka ive read and posted a fuckton of buddie content since then :)

also i still don't tend to read long novel length fics very often so all are under 100k (most aus being 50-100k), and most oneshots are 5-10k words

best aus

racing with the brakes cut by letmetellyluaboutmyfeels. holy shit holy SHIT this one was good. altered my brain chemistry good. fast and furious au that sounds like it should be unexpected but honestly is more in character than canon

friends don't mean nothing to me (its us) by Kwills91. buddie becomes friends before eddie becomes a firefighter, and its just done ugh so well it was so brilliant. like seriously spamming my friend's texts brilliant keep chortling to myself abt it brilliant just ugh so good

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher. time loop buck pov where he thinks he doesn't love eddie back and its goddamn delightful ok

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead my back to you) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. oh god oh GODS this one WRECKED ME. 1800s buddie soulmate au with modern buddie as well jfc i WENT INSANE. yep ive posted abt this one already and i probably will again jfcccccc

when the universe screams by bucksbelly. omfg girl dad buck au? njwnasjdbvjhlsdfbfjh good lord this one was AMAZING go read it go read it right now

our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) by allstarsneptune. jfc im only human ok u give me sports players taylor swift themed au and i EAT THAT SHIT UP this was brilliant and even made me tolerate a few baseball references

canon compliant (ish) feelings realisations/first kiss

to build a nest (to build a home) by Kwills91. (yes ive been slowly working thru this writer's entire ao3 archive and yes theyre all brilliant, so im only putting a few on here. go read them all). this one made me fucking cry (for totally unimportant reasons don't think abt why shush) its so sweet go forth and enjoy

the ebb of your tide by twobirdsonestone. firefighter convention in indeannopolis (how tf do i spell that) = only one bed! super fun super cutesy

call me hot and pretty by anon. honestly conceptually i thought this would be kinda cringe and it fully wasn't i was so along for the ride

short n sweet (can you tell its my favourite kind)

inappropriate use of federal funding by spotsandsocks. this one is so...teehee teehee very fun

last and forever by kwills91, post s8 ep 6 which is super cute

what would you prefer i call you by kwills91 (seriously go look them up already). buddie first fight but its adorable

sounding like the rest of my life by coupe_de_foudre. another fic where everyone knows buddie is married but buddie

friends don't by disasterbuck. so silly so fun so real honestly

an inch away from more than just friends by ummrys. if you too want sapphic buddie smut go forth and enjoy and yes it will make you gayer

anything to make you stay by intellectual_applesauce. teehee bc eddie notices something about green shirts...

angsty and happy ending

stay with me (you're all i need) by accio magic. yep i reread this one and yep im recommending it again they COOKED ok they COOKED

leave the light on (ill be coming home) by HMSlusitania. i could not for the life of me remember if id read this one or not before so i just read it again and it was just as good it was soooo sooo good.

that is by no means all of the wonderful fics ive read but it is the extent im willing to go through my ao3 history. pls also check out the original post which has plenty more! ur all welcome (its a mess of an ao3 history guys this post has taken me ages)

also i should maybe self plug? ive got two random eddie pov oneshots up under the same username but ill do a new post when i start posting my big hiatus fix it fic!

[petals2fish]

Six Shots of Tequila

Summary: "She's your EMT and I keep telling her that she's pretty when she's concerned because I nearly DIED after jumping off a roof AU" and a dash of "I knocked her up and now we raise a kid together, but I really do love her." Also known as, the writer has certain tropes she will die for. (READ ON A03)

"Sirius hit me with a nunchuck."

He was such a fucking liar but she loved him either way.

"You jumped out the window onto the trampoline, Sirius told me."

He was blinking interestedly at her through his glasses; probably waiting for her to say something other than the few profanities that she'd said while loading him into the truck. The thick black frames he wore were lopsided and partially covered in some of the blood that had dripped from the wound on his forehead. The EMS they were on bound for the Hospital bounced down the small English road. The truck sirens wailed overhead to warn passing vehicles to move to the side of the road. Up front, Lily's partner Frank was updating the hospital on their arrival time.

"Are you mad?"

Lily was taking her patients blood pressure (it was elevated, go figure) and the man was looking at her like she was either his worst nightmare or best daydream. It was hard to tell what he was feeling since she was feeling so many emotions that night it was hard for her to process his too.

"Have you been drinking tonight?" Lily asked the man, James Potter, as she removed the cuff from his arm after deeming him alive (enough).

Lily knew the answer of course; she'd seen the shot glasses on the table in the living room. She could smell the drink on his breath. She hadn't seen him this plastered in years, not since the night they'd met. James snickered when she stuck his arm for fluids and she longed for the moment when he was back to his righteous self and she could take the mickey out on him.

"Might've had a few shots of tequila." He slurred, "Sirius brought us the good stuff from Nevada."

"How many constitutes a few?"

"Six."

"Holy hell James." Lily looked back up at his face, frowning, "Six shots of tequila?"

"I beat him." James said proudly with a beaming smile, "I beat Sirius."

"I dunno if you should brag." Lily replied steadily as she started reaching for sterile gauze to clean up his forehead, "you definitely have a concussion."

"Lily." He said earnestly as she counted to ten and placed the gauze in cleaning solution before wiping up the blood from his face, "They told me I'd gone soft being a dad." he looked mortified, "Soft."

"You're an idiot." Lily muttered, albeit worriedly as she assessed the growing bloody lump on his forehead, "You know Sirius was just goading you like he always does."

"Remus said so too." James complained.

"Remus does not think you've gone soft." Lily surmised, "I spoke to him on the phone last week James and he only complimented the birthday party you threw for Harry."

"He made fun of me because I fold the laundry."

"He did not once mention your exceptional laundry folding skills."

"I have gone soft." James moaned, trying to scratch his forehead but Lily swatted his hand away, "I used to be so cool and go out all the time."

"So sorry your condom broke and left you with more responsibility than a quick shag." Lily said flatly, watching the fluid channel into his veins.

James giggled, "You're so pretty when you're mad."

"Don't try to sweet talk me Potter," Lily warned as she tended to his IV, "You could've died."

"I was fine." James illuminated, "I've gotten way worse bumps in football."

If James had anything else left to say he couldn't, because he pressed one finger to the bump on his head in order to prove his strength to her, and he passed out.

"Fuck," Lily cursed, looking up at the clock to her left, they had two minutes to get to the hospital.

Lily grabbed the side window that was closed to the drivers seat and yanked it open. Frank was listening to his favorite folk music. Lily rolled her eyes and shouted over the music.

"He's finally passed out."

"We're almost there. I phoned ahead and asked for Marlene."

Lily thought that her partner had never sounded like a saint before now. Marlene was Lily's best mate and the best doctor at the hospital. If she wanted anyone checking out James' head it was Dr. Marlene McKinnon. Lily wondered if she should've asked Marlene to check out James' head the moment she met James three years ago, instead of after he'd suffered a concussion.

Inside of Lily's scrubs, her phone was buzzing every minute, probably texts from the person who got James into such a state. Lily checked James' pulse once more before grabbing her phone and seeing her screen light up with texts from Sirius Black.

Sirius Black: Harry's still fast asleep I checked

Sirius Black: if James tells you that I dared him to jump out the window onto the trampoline he's a fucking liar I swear

Sirius Black: I did tell him however, that he's turned into lightweight and a prissy baby

Sirius Black: and I got you that dress you were admiring at that boutique on Madison 

Lily could've killed Sirius Black but Harry wouldn't thank her if she ended up in jail and left James to raise him without her. That would be a fucking disaster. Lily sighed for the umpteenth time that night and pressed her fingers to her temples before writing Sirius back, her fingers pressing into the phone violently.

Lily Evans: He's got a concussion but he'll be fine. I'll call you once I'm done my shift. You're on baby-sitting duty until James and I get back. Don't fuck up. 

When Lily had gotten the call at work she'd actually been having a good night shift. Alex Margret had brought in her famous chocolate chip cookies, the nurses were celebrating Dr. Snape being fired for sexual harassment with party favors, and one of the TVs was actually programmed to a good channel. The call for an EMS to number 14 Godric Hall Road went over the speaker and Frank jumped into action as Lily sat, petrified with half a cookie in her mouth. She'd immediately called the house, worried that her two-year-old son Harry was injured by way of a fowl ball or something of equal value. No one answered and she jumped up from her chair, feeling like she was in a very bad dream, one that she wanted to wake up from immediately.

The ride to her small cottage at the end of town was the longest drive of her life and she cursed every car that made the drive longer because they didn't pull over for the sirens. The EMS driver, Longbottom, told her he was going to tranquilize her if she didn't stop wringing her hands. Lily was thankful he drove, as she could barely see through the haze of worry clouding her eyes.

When they'd pulled up to the small flat everything appeared normal. The windows were open to the spring breeze and Lily couldn't hear baby cries from the inside when she stepped out of the van. There were no cops running around with hazard tape. There were no bullet holes in her windows. The old cat was lazing in a flowerpot by the front door. Lily peeked next door and noted that even old Bathilda's house appeared standard with the flower print curtains drawn tight.

It was Sirius coming out the front door when she walked up with her partner that caught her off guard. First of all because Harry's godfather had been in the United States modeling for Calvin Kline last she'd heard from James, second of all because the look on Sirius' face could only be described as guilty. Knowing Sirius was the most reckless of all of James' mates, Lily immediately became defensive of everything happening.

"Lily listen I just want to say—"

Sirius tried talking but Lily pushed past the underwear model into her house irately.

"If Harry even has a scratch on his head I'm going to— James?!"

Lily's attempt to threaten Sirius Black within an inch of his life fell as fast as her heart fell to her stomach. The first thing Lily saw was her son's father lying on their sofa with scarlet blood transfiguring his facial features. His messy black hair was swept to one side of his pallid face. His white shirt was stained red near the left shoulder and discovered on the stomach. The entire room had a pungent stench and Lily saw vomit on her floor. For a minute she didn't see James' chest rising and falling and Lily felt like she was going to vomit.

Lily's short breaths were shallow as she raced forwards faster than she'd moved in her entire life—and it still didn't seem fast enough. Her hands fell against his chest and she was thankful to feel he was warm and had a heartbeat.

"James, what happened?"

Lily didn't care if she sounded concerned, because she had been. This was Harry's father and her best friend and no matter the issues between them, she didn't know what she would have done if her hands found but a corpse. The table beside James was covered in used shot glasses. The TV was loud and playing a sports channel. He opened one hazel eye when he felt her hands press against his chest.

"He kind of broke the trampoline." Sirius said when James didn't answer at first, "when he jumped out the window."

"What the fuck?!" 

"Lily, you're home." His words slurred and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Yeah and you're piss drunk." Lily said, pulling her hands away from him and turning her head to glare at Sirius, "what the fuck, Sirius! Around the baby?!"

"You're so pretty Lily." James' fingers reached up to tickle her cheek.

Lily's heart had halted to a stop at those words and his sensitive touch. It seemed drunk and broken James was more than willing to share his feelings with Lily than sober and mature James.

"Where's Harry?" she asked about their son, the one thing that had kept James in her life for so long.

"He's upstairs," Sirius said from behind, "sleeping."

"He'd better still be sleeping," Lily hissed venomously to Sirius as Frank entered the house with a first aid kit, "or you'll be needing the Emergency Room next."

"Missed you too, Evans."

Lily could've punched Sirius when she was at home and while pulling up to the hospital fifteen minutes later, she still wanted to punch him.

It startled Lily how much she cared for James. It was strange but the man who'd knocked her up three years ago ended up being the best thing to happen to her life. Lily would never admit that to James' face, especially not with their current predicament. The worry that struck Lily's heart when she'd seen James lying motionless on the couch was something she never wanted to experience again.

Lily and Frank Longbottom unloaded James in the portable stretcher and brought him through the doors into the relatively quiet Emergency Room. Most of the beds were empty and Marlene was waiting with her arms crossed, blue eyes sparkling with hilarity at Lily's exasperated look.

"What happened?" Marley asked Lily as they wheeled James into the closest room for surveillance.

Lily locked the bed in place as she answered while Frank drew curtains around James' bed, "something along the lines of jumping out a window onto a trampoline, which Sirius says is not his fault."

Marlene laughed, "Bullshit, Sirius totally dared him."

Marlene was checking James' vitals and Lily watched on with impatient eyes. Frank waved before disappearing through the curtain to give the girls privacy to talk about the man in the bed. Everyone at the hospital knew Lily's history with James since the hospital was where they'd first met. James had come wandering in with a broken nose from football and got lost looking for the loo—thereby stumbling upon medical intern Lily Evans. Lily had let herself be wooed by charismatic James in less than fifteen minutes. By the time James checked out he had Lily's number and Lily had the address to his flat downtown.

Sirius had apparently dared James back then too; a dare to shag the pretty medical intern who showed James where the loo was after teasing James about a broken nose. James told Lily so when she'd arrived at his flat that night, flabbergasted that she'd actually shown up. Lily told him honestly that she was looking for a fun one-night stand to get her mind of the stress of work. The result of Lily's spontaneous promiscuity with James nine months later was their son, Harry.

"Who's with Harry?"

"The godfather in question."

"James certainly had good taste in friends."

"Sirius means well most of the time." Lily sighed; thinking of how good Sirius was with Harry.

"You're only defending him because he's James' best mate." Marlene sniffed.

Lily got a washcloth from the sink and wet it a bit in the sink before going to James' wide to wipe down his forehead. Sleeping, he always looked so peaceful. Lily smiled sympathetically as she examined the way his jaw clenched in his sleep, like it did when he was thinking about something very hard. Marlene saw the way Lily was cleaning up James' forehead and snorted logically.

"What?" Lily asked.

"When was the last time the two of you had sex?" Marlene commented.

"Yeah, because that worked out so well the first time we did it." Lily said with a smirk in Marlene's direction, "we're just friends."

"You have a baby together," Marlene said with a roll of her eyes, "and share a flat."

"That's for Harry." Lily said softly, repeating to Marlene what she'd been telling herself for the past three years.

Marlene pulled her stethoscope off her neck and placed it on the closest counter as she said, "You know, or it could be because he has feelings for you, you oblivious dork."

Lily frowned, "we had a one night stand." Lily said, "He's a bloody footballer. He doesn't want to be tied down."

"If he didn't want to be tied down Lily, he would've ran the moment you told him you were pregnant."

"He's not like that." Lily said, brushing James' hair from his eyes and removing his glasses, "He's a good man and wants to raise his son…he just also wants to have the freedom to continue partying with his model best friend."

Marlene started a new IV for James, eager to get some fluids in to wash out the alcohol before they gave him pain meds for the concussion. Lily stared at James' face all the while, wondering how she had come to care for him so much in the last three years.

"Sometimes I wonder," Lily confessed, "If we would've seen each other again if I hadn't gotten pregnant."

"You weren't the only playing the flirt game," Marlene said, "It takes two to tango, and James was definitely into you."

"Yeah," Lily snorted, "that was before the condom broke and we ended up parents in the middle of his budding career and my sign on to the medical field."

Marlene placed a hand on Lily's shoulder and Lily looked at her friend, "it was a rough start for you and Potter, we all know that, but the two of you are in a good place now, right? Maybe it's time to start trying out being something other than friends with a baby."

"I guess." Lily muttered, grabbing James' hand and clasping it in her own.

Lily glanced down at James' bed, remembering that time, three years ago. She'd fallen for his stupid half smiles and adorable charm so hard. He'd literally knocked her off her feet when he'd ran into her while searching for the loo. He grabbed her before she slipped to the floor, his strong arms wrapped around her waist. He'd been wearing his football uniform and Lily had always had a thing for men in uniforms.

The rest was history.

A quick fling with a charming stranger turned into a nine-month commitment that turned into a surprisingly rewarding friendship.

Sometimes they were complete opposites.

For example, the minute James had found out she might be pregnant he started fretting over what they should name the damn fetus where as Lily had spent all night crying into her pillow thinking her career was over.

Sometimes they were similar.

For example, Lily wanted to give Harry the best of everything in life and James didn't disagree with her. He'd been the one to suggest moving in together so that Harry would have a stable home life even if they weren't in a relationship (or even friends really).

It was hard at first, because James was used to living the life of a bachelor: parties every night and escapades every day. He's made the mistake of bringing home outlandish women he'd met at Sirius' events. She'd made the mistake of playing her music loudly early in the morning after he'd returned from a tourney in Spain at 2am. He left dirty dishes in the sink. All her makeup was scattered over their shared loo. He never disciplined Harry and she was the bad cop in discipline.

They'd both made mistakes but they worked hard to make their missteps better, for Harry's sake. Eventually Lily began to do his dishes while singing to her favorite radio station when he returned from practice. James was really good with numbers and fixed her finances so that she could buy a new car with a dvd player for Harry. James found out Lily craved jelly donuts while she was pregnant and always had a dozen ready for her on her Mondays. Lily heard James had made a will and bequeathed everything he owned to Harry and Lily. James made Lily promise to save her Sunday nights for Netflix binging with him.

James turned into her best friend and was an incredible father to their son Harry.

That's probably why seeing James immobile on their sofa prompted Lily to recall that the last three years had made her become accustomed to James' presence in her life. She'd grown fond of his fascination with folding his socks. She'd laughed for days when she found out he sang in the shower. She appreciated when he began spending fewer nights on Sirius' private jet and more nights curled up with Harry by the fireplace.

"Concussion," Marlene's voice dragged Lily from her unsettled inner-monologue, "James'll definitely be out of work for a few weeks."

"Damn." Lily said crossly, "He's going to hate that."

James lived for his field time, even in the off-season. Lily had never seen James miss practice for anything except the birth of his son and a wicked pneumonia that caught him last fall. Lily had wanted to kill James when he'd lounged about the house with pneumonia. He was a moody sick baby and there was no doubt that bedridden James was going to be an absolute jewel to be around. Lily also knew the team manager McGonagall was going to come over to their house personally and tell James what an absolute idiot he was.

Personally, Lily couldn't wait for that.

"McGonagall's gonna kill him." Lily told Marlene, "their first match is in a month and he's got to practice."

"He might not be able to play the first game. He can't do any physical activity for at least three weeks." Marlene warned, "I'll order an MRI and we'll get a good look inside that brain of his to make sure there's no internal bleeding."

Lily's face paled, "I hadn't even considered..."

Marlene shook her head quickly, "Oh honey," Marlene hugged Lily swiftly and said into her ear, "He looks fine, really, I just want to be sure. McGonagall would murder me if her prize Captain retuned and passed out on the field."

Lily stared down at James over Marlene's curly hair and swallowed thickly.

"How could he do this to me?" she lamented, "Harry needs him."

Lily needed him.  

Marlene offered, "James will probably wake up soon."

"I'll wait for him to wake up." Lily said, "As long as you don't mind."

"Of course not," Marlene said, "He'll have a lot to think about…like thinking it was wise to jump out a window."

Lily laughed softly, wiping a tear from her eye when Marlene let go, "I can't believe I had a kid with him."

"I can." Marlene smirked before winking at Lily, "You did jump his bones the minute you met him."

"He was charming! He had a uniform!" Lily defended herself, "I'd like to see you pass the opportunity up when a fit footballer shows even the slightest interest!"

"Easily passable." Marlene said as she opened one of the curtains to go check another patient and order James' MRI, "considering boys don't do much for me to start with."

"There are girl ballers!" Lily shouted after Marlene who just laughed at her.

Lily grinned sheepishly before glancing back down at James.

How was she going to handle this?  

Lily knew how bothered she was that James had drunk himself piss poor around their kid. Lily also knew she was mad that she hadn't seen him so close to a breaking edge. James had been antsy for weeks now, snapping at her and staring at her and she'd ignored it. It was clear he'd had energy he'd needed released, it was clear he was regretting everything they'd built. The life James had imagined himself didn't include a baby mama and son he couldn't tote around the world with him when he went traveling for games.

Lily knew she could shout at James until his ears bled but she also thought that was a waste of time. James didn't listen to anything much if she argued with him; she'd learned that early on in their relationship. Lily chewed on her bottom lip and stared at him in worry as she watched him snooze.

She wanted James to be happy and she knew that he wanted the same for her.

"What am I going to do with you?" she thought aloud to herself.

His eyes opened and suddenly her word stopped spiraling.

It was his eyes that had done her in when she'd met him and it was his eyes that still left her heart still three years later. Eyes that were so light around the edges and so shadowy near the irises that they seemed to be constantly shifting between mischief and delight. She remembered the way his eyes traced her body so adoringly the night their lives had changed. She remembered admiring those eyes under the yellow lights of his flat downtown and wondering how anyone could be more persuasive with one sneaky glance over a dinner table.

Lily adored seeing his eyes scan her face every morning over a pot of coffee and she looked forward to watching his eyes sparkle with laughter every night before bed when Harry had finally fallen asleep to Lily's singing.

She wouldn't be able to take it if she never saw James' eyes staring at her the way they stared at her when he woke up from his feinting spell.

"What happened?" he muttered, pressing a hand to his brow where Marlene had taped gauze to the lesion.

"You jumped out a window onto a trampoline." Lily's voice was monotonous, her brain still firing a mile a minute.

James choked back a laugh, "that sounds like me."

"What was going through your head James?" Lily's voice cracked when she spoke.

"Tequila."

Lily, unsatisfied, stomped the ground, "James!"

James winced. "Please," he begged, "Inside voice."

Lily opened her mouth to shout again but felt as if half the patients could hear her and she lowered her voice, "Okay, how do you feel?"

"Like a million bucks now that you're around."

As per usual, he upset her beyond repair. Lily certainly hoped that their son took after her and the idiotic gene skipped a generation. Lord only knew how much Lily hoped that Harry never got it inside his head to jump out a bloody window onto a trampoline outside. The hospital walkie-talkie on Lily's hip was loud and she turned it down so she could focus on James. Lily knew that Longbottom would come grab her if she was actually needed.

"James please tell me how you managed to get the bright idea to jump out the window."

"I don't remember." James replied with his nose pointed in the air like Harry did when he was being obstinate.

"You don't remember." Lily considered that James was lucky she'd been worried about him—otherwise he might be dead by morning, "what, did you mange to get amnesia with that busted head?"

"Who are you?" James crumpled his face at her endearingly and Lily almost chucked her radio at his head to give him a matching lump on the other side.

"James." Lily warned, "you've got all sorts of places I can make you hurt right now."

"Why would you hurt me?" James huffed, "I've got amnesia."

"I wish I'd wake up with amnesia right about now." Lily muttered unintelligibly before saying heatedly, "I'm the mother of your son, you git."

"We're married?" The way James feigned surprise almost had her fooled, almost made her heart drop out of her stomach, if she wasn't so used to James' mischievous ploys, "Like, actually really married?"

"Yes James," she said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, "Sirius married us at Elton John's birthday party after you proposed to me riding a fucking white stallion on the beach in Greece."

James looked delighted. "Yeah, that sounds like me too."

Lily tapped her foot on the floor, "You really worried me James," she blurted out emotionally, "I thought something happened to Harry or—" she faltered before she could say you because all jokes aside they'd not crossed the line of friendship since three years ago.

"Come here." He ordered suddenly, seriously, and not at all like himself.

Lily walked forward to his bedside. James grabbed her hand and yanked her down so they were eye to eye. Lily watched as he licked his lips. She considered that she'd never seen him flirt with her so readily and she wondered where on earth his charm had been since the night they'd met. His left hand brushed her fringe from her eyes and a sad sigh escaped her mouth.

"Why?" she whispered.

James' face went a pink as they stared at each other, his eyes less bloodshot than they'd been an hour before. His right hand left the grip of her fingers and trailed up her arm, until his thumb was pressing into her chin, His tender touches were sending her back to the night when he'd had her pushed up against a mattress, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. His hitched breath was bringing her back to when they were complete strangers and had no emotional attachment, which seemed easier than the feeling currently sitting in the pit of her stomach.

"I love you, Lily."

Lily pulled away and stared at him in wonder, never had he ever said those words to her—unless accompanied by mockery or fun. This time the words were tense with passion she hadn't heard of or seen from James in years. The last time he'd seemed so serious about loving Lily was the day she gave birth to Harry.

"What?" she blinked owlishly.

"What?" he copied her cautious tone.

"You.. you love me?"

James grinned cheekily and her knees felt weak, "well, I married you didn't I?"

Lily stared at him. She was aware he was getting closer to her. He'd sat up completely in the hospital bed, the IV tubes shaking as he moved his spare hand to her cheek, pulling her close. The world around Lily stopped as she felt his warm breath trace her lips coyly. She knew she shouldn't kiss him since it was clear to her now that James was suffering some sort of amnesia since he believed they were married…but Lily hadn't kissed him in years and she couldn't resist when he was so willing to hand out his love despite the history between them.

"You gonna kiss me or not, Mrs. Potter?" he teased.

She inclined forward and pressed her lips impulsively against his. James sniggered against the movement unexpectedly but his laugh switched to a feeble whimper when her tongue pressed into his mouth. It was like the past three years of all her feelings were coming out in the hospital where it all started. Lily's hands were gripped in his shirt, yanking him up a little too roughly for someone with a concussion but she didn't care at all.

All the months, weeks, and days of tension between the couple lifted as his teeth grazed her skin and his hand wrapped around her waist to pull her closer to him in the bed. He lips tasted like he'd been drowned in tequila but Lily savored each hint, getting inebriated off his kiss alone.

It was the loudspeaker above James' bed calling for all doctors to go to room 31 that woke her up from the dream spun real life. When Lily pulled away from James she had to lean her forehead against his to catch her breath, her was heart pounding in her chest.

"Holy shit." James gulped, rubbing his nose against hers when she smiled perceptively.

It seemed James was having as much trouble breathing as Lily and his heart rate monitor was beeping madly. Lily tried her hardest to not think about the repercussions of kissing her best friend when he was just that—her friend who also happened to be the father of her child. Lily's chest rose and fell rapidly as his fingers came to brush against her cheek lovingly.

"I hope I really don't have amnesia." He said when he'd caught his breath.

"What?" Lily pulled her forehead off his.

James licked his lips, swollen from her sharp biting and pulling. His hair was in disarray and some of the tape holding the gauze to his injury was slipping off. Lily recognized the lighthearted look on his face. His bliss was accompanied by something else…something she saw often on James' face…a victorious look…like he'd just won a huge game.

"I said, I really hope I don't have amnesia," James repeated, "because I never want to forget that kiss."

Lily suddenly felt awful. He was totally in love with her and she wasn't even his wife. She had to come clean that she'd unthinkingly taken advantage of what she thought had been a joke.

"James," Lily swallowed regretfully, "I'm not actually—"

"Lily, I was just teasing," James declared.

"Huh?" Lily tilted her head at James in confusion.

"I know we're not married."

Relief settled in Lily's chest, "you do?"

"Yes." James answered shamefacedly, "I thought we were teasing each other."

"James Potter you git! I knew you were teasing but you seemed so—serious!"

"I didn't know you thought I was serious!" James protested, wincing when she smacked his arm out of frustration (relief), "I thought you'd break me off the minute I went to kiss you!"

She flushed, "uh."

Then he grinned presumptuously, "I had no idea you were holding back, Evans."

Lily fell into the chair closest to his bed and covered her face, "For five seconds I thought you were dying." She told James, "I thought Harry would have to grow up without you and that I'd—that I'd—" she pulled her fingers down to stare at him with a tortured expression, "and then you said you love me and fuck it all if I don't love you too, James Potter."

James' mouth dropped open at her confession. Lily waited for him to tell her she was out of bounds. She wanted him to tell her that he felt the same way but she knew it was more likely he'd tell her they had nothing but a baby together.

James reached out his hand for hers suddenly and she grabbed it hopefully, the space between them alight with their confession, "what have we been doing the past three years?"

Lily sighed and let her forehead fall onto their connected hands. "You're my best friend James," she said, "I just didn't want my feelings to get in the way of raising Harry."

James said, "Lily, my feelings for you haven't changed since the day we met."

"You asked me over on a dare."

"You came over for a quick shag," James countered back, "and by the time I realized I loved you, you said you didn't want to marry a pro ball player."

Lily remembered the conversations they'd had after she found out she was pregnant. James had asked her if she wanted to get married so her judgmental sister couldn't call her a whore or slut or whatever else she did end up calling Lily in the letter Lily had burned in the fireplace. Back then; James was still the ball player who spent money on luxurious cruises with women Sirius introduced him too at parties. Back then; he wasn't anything but a man she'd made a baby with.

Now though, James was so much more than anything Lily had ever expected.

Even when he drunkenly jumped out windows onto trampolines.

"I didn't love you then," she acknowledged, "you kind of crept up on me, you surprised me."

"Surprised you?"

"Well," Lily disclosed her secret thoughts, "when we met it was because you'd gotten into a fist fight on the field and you were this big shot footballer in magazines and I just thought—Hell, this would be fun for a night."

"Really?" James' eyes were fluttering, it was obvious he was exhausted and was struggling to stay in the exchange, occupied by their revelations.

"Yes." Lily supposed, "and then, I found out I was pregnant. All I could think of was how weird it would all be." She smiled and kissed his fingers, "But then we began raising Harry together and somewhere along the way though adventures of potty training and telling him he can't have the last cookie in the cookie jar—I fell in love with you."

"Come here." He demanded again, yanking her fingers so that she laughed and stood up, allowing him to pull her in for another chaste kiss that only lasted long enough for her to smile against his touch, "I'm sorry I worried you."

She shook her eyes, squinting her eyes shut, "it's my fault, you've been so distant the past few weeks, I should've known you were growing bored of domestic life."

"Bored?" James protested, "Bored?"

"Yeah," Lily said, confused, "you've been so…well we haven't been hanging out as much and I know you'd rather be partying on some yacht with Sirius and his harem of friends—"

"Lily." James cut her off, "stop."

"What?" she pouted.

James' fingers traced her lips, "I'm sorry you thought I was bored or mad or whatever…I wasn't being distant because I'd rather be partying on a yacht. I was distant because for the past few months it's gotten harder and harder for me to pretend to not be in love with you."

"You really love me?" her green eyes widened.

James nodded fervently, "I know I can be a git sometimes and drive you mad." He reasoned, "I know that our relationship hasn't always been the most—consistent. I mean, thought I wanted to play professional football and travel the world Lily, but the truth is that I'm my happiest when I'm home with you and Harry."

Lily laughed through a few tears that slipped from her eyes and she wiped her cheeks as he winked at her. Hearing James say he loved her made her heart swell and she chewed on her lower lip as James continued his speech.

"It's been a nightmare to consider that Harry's going to grow older and wonder why his dad was such an arse and never put a ring on his mum's finger." James smiled at her kindly, "And I didn't know how to tell you I was in love with you so I just—pulled away because I figured, I didn't deserve to have you love me back."

Lily leaned forward to press her forehead to his, closing her eyes as she whispered fiercely, "James, I wish you would've said something."

"I got plastered with the intention of saying something when you got home from your shift in the morning." James chuckled, "the night took a disastrous turn when Sirius dared me to do a triple backflip off the roof onto the trampoline."

"Wait." Lily yanked her head back, "Off the roof ?"

"Inside voices, Lily. My head aches." James winced at her high-pitched squeal but she didn't care, she was in distress.

"Yeah of course your head fucking aches!" Lily scolded, "I can't believe you jumped off our fucking roof onto the trampoline! You're an absolute idiot!"

"I was dared!"

"If Sirius dared you to jump off a bridge would you do it?"

"Lily…" James half moaned, half laughed, "have I told you that your mom-voice really turns me on?"

Lily pushed her fingers into her bun and tugged it as she stared at him in disbelief, "how can you—"

"Come here," he said for the third time that night, kissing her slowly until her mind left the roof and was back down to the hospital room.

"Marry me," he begged when he finally stopped kissing her useless.

Lily kept her eyes closed when she said, "maybe ask me again, tomorrow, when we're sure you only have a concussion and aren't bleeding from the brain."

She opened her eyes to see James staring at her in horror, "wait, what?"

She was pleased she'd scared him, even only a little, perhaps it'd keep him off their roof for the rest of his life. Lily touched his forehead lovingly before stepping away from his bed.

"Concussion is a brain injury and has to be taken seriously." She said in her medical voice, "You'll be sidelined from work until Dr. McKinnon clears you."

James' face was paler than it had been when lily told him she loved him, "Shite." He cussed, "McGonagall's gonna murder me, dig me up, make me run three hundred yards, and murder me again."

Lily hummed in agreement, "I already texted her."

"You didn't!" he wailed and she laughed at his despair, "Evans, she can never know how it happened!"

"Oh, you can bet your arse that I'm telling this story at least ten times at our wedding."

James considered this, opening and closing his mouth before settling with, "do you want to go ring shopping tomorrow?"

"Let's get you out of the hospital first." Lily told him, pulling back the curtain, "let me go find out where your nurse got too."

"You're the only nurse I need." He asked cheekily from his bed, "want to do a full body scan? We have three years of catching up to do."

Lily's eyes twinkled as she glanced back at James through his curtained door, "I do have bad news on that front."

"What's that?" James questioned.

"Until Marlene clears you in about three weeks, all physical activity is banned." Lily smirked when she saw the disappointment written all over his face.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do for three weeks if I can't shag you, run with Sirius, or play football?" He muttered moodily, playing with the covers on his hospital bed.

"I'm sure Harry has some safe options for you."

"Well his trampoline is broken now so—"

"I was thinking board games James, not death traps that Godfathers buy their godsons."

"Board games." James scoffed as she finally left him to find a nurse, "Our son needs to experience life. Jump on trampolines. Skateboard at the park. Not play board games."

"He's two."

James wrinkled, "I'm not playing chess with Harry, or he's going to end up liking folding laundry and doing the dishes on a school night."

"Just like his old-softy dad." Lily teased.

"I'm a football legend." He scoffed, "And I took six shots a tequila tonight like it was nothing."

"You ended up in the hospital," Lily laughed at him ridiculously.

"Only after doing a double backflip off a roof onto a trampoline." He countered.

"I can't beleive I'm marrying you." She said, although affectionately.

"Epic way to get engaged, if do say so myself."

"Stay put, I'm going to go find a nurse to see when your MRI is scheduled so I can make sure I'm not engaged to a dying man." Lily teased as the curtain shut between her and the stupidly (adorkable) love of her life.

"I'm gonna die anyways once McGonagall get's ahold of me." James' voice was muffled now, like he was slowly falling asleep.

"Good." Lily said, "maybe Harry and I will finally be able to watch something other than sports on the telly."

"You can't get rid of me that easily!" James called through the curtain barrier and she giggled behind her hand, "I'm feeling great, no concussions here!"

He was such a fucking liar, but she loved him either way.

[haddieyu]

Overbearing Tension: part 1

Christian Yu x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, masturbation (f), slight exhibitionism (kinda?), sexting and sexcalling (mainly f receiving), I think that's it, lmk if there should be any other warnings!!!

Summary:

He needed a date for his second cousin's wedding and nobody else was available so he called you up. Not realising what the next night would be like.

Note: couldn't be bothered proof reading ngl so sorry if there's mistakes 😭 hope you enjoy!!!

You and Christian were never that close. You met through a long time friend of his, Dabin. You knew of him, of course, but you never thought you'd meet, or let alone call yourself friends with him, or whatever you two were.

Not that you two ever even flirted with eachother, but it wasn't that hard to feel the gazes. To feel the tension of his subtle attraction. You tried denying it though.

Why would he even be attracted to you? You were pretty simple, just a digital artist for Dabin's albums.

But fuck, the butterflies were there. Even a glance at him at your insides all fluttery. You wouldn't ever be able to look at him without a tiny tingle between your legs either.

You two occasionally began to talk, just subtle things like events coming up for DPR, but what you didn't expect was for a late last minute call at 1am.

Seeing his contact name, you picked up the phone, "Chri-"

"I need you."

Woah.

Holy fuck was an understatement. Already feeling an ache in your gut.

"I need you to be my date for my second cousins wedding."

What?

That was not what you were expecting.

"Please?"

You sighed, looking at my wall as his voice rang through the phone speaker.

"Why?"

"because I don't know who else would be available."

Really? That was it? Because you were available? You expected more. Maybe that he wanted you to be his date or something.

Shrugging off your thoughts, you recalled the few times he would listen to your problems. You guessed you could. A favour for a favour.

You finalised you decision, "Fine."

"Thank you." You could hear his sigh of relief. It was just a day, one day you would go to a wedding with him, even simply a few hours.

Wasn't that hard, right?

"No problem." You said with a little defeat, not even bothering to put up a fight as you began hanging up the phone.

The earler heart palpitations that came from how he said he wanted you were still there. The flutter between your thighs. That was so random, 'I need you.' Who the fuck says that first thing on a call?

"This man.."

"Uh... How's this?" You turned, looking at yourself in the long mirror of the dressing room. Shopping with him was one thing you didn't exactly expect. You thought maybe you'd just get a nice dress or whatever, but he insisted on matching.

Looking to him, you barely met his gaze. He was too focused on how it looked on you.

Not that it was a typical silk dress, it was fitting on the top but had a small lift on the bottom that went down in a long cascade, making your waist look longer and more snatched than usual.

"So?" You asked, verbally seeking affirmation on his opinion.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Huh?

Staring at him for a second. You recalled how he was usually a very sweet man, of course he would say something like this. Nothing to get all bashful and weak about. But you did.

"Are you sure..?" You asked a bit quieter.

"Darling... You look incredible."

Your face heated up, smiling at him. How you wish you could kiss the lips that parted as he said that sentence.

"Thank you. Should I get this one?" You turned back to the mirror, your hands on your sides as I looked and moved to see how the dress would look in action.

"Mhm."

*Closing the curtains, you sighed, trying to catch the breath you lost when you saw how he looked at you. You couldn't be going insane, he was clearly checking you out. And the compliments? Ugh.

If this man is seriously single you were gonna try to change that.

After purchasing the dress and holding the bag, you walked out with him. Already having have looked at suits for him.

"So.. this is a pretty fancy wedding, huh?" You tried making conversation, not wanting it to be awkward even if you were crippled with attraction for him.

"Uh, yeah." He was staring at his phone as you two walked.

Thinning your lips into a line as you looked at his phone, was he texting someone?

"Busy?" You asked suspiciously.

"Mh, a little.. just wedding things. They think you're my girlfriend."

Pause.

"What?" You immediately responded, stopping in your steps.

"Yeah.. I guess my mom just wants me to finally settle down or something."

"Ah.." you trailed off in momentary understanding. Gosh, being his girlfriend would be a dream. if only he knew the sight of his arms alone had your pussy fluttering for him.

"Does she bug you about it alot?"

A soft chuckle left his lips, "more than a lot. Constantly. She didn't fully understand how much I try to work. Especially with my.."

You

nodded at him, not needing him to continue. You knew even if he was very mature and emotioanlly available when it came to communicating, his mental health was rather touchy.

He gave you a soft smile, but you swore he wasn't looking at your eyes, but rather at your lips. But you looked away, nervous from how handsome he looked even glancing at you.

Get a grip, what the fuck?

"Let's eat," you changed the subject.

"yeah, yeah, okay," he followed as you went into whatever restaurant was close.

Taking your time to order and sitting a bit silently with eachother as you waited for the food.

You went on your phone, scrolling through social media silently since he seemed a bit out of it.

The feeling on a shoe gently tapping yours caught your attention, glancing forward to him only to be met by his playful gaze. A soft one.

Smiling at him, you tapped his foot back. Noticing his small smirk as he gently rubbed the tip of his foot against your ankle. Just what was he doing?

"you okay?" You questioned.

"Why wouldn't I be, darling?" God, that would always make you crumble.

"Nothing," you rubbed his ankle back, searching his face for a reaction. When the sight of subtle desire illuminated his expression, you gently bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress the desire you were hit with like a heat wave.

Staring into his eyes silently since you didn't know where else to look. The tension between you in that moment was definitely palpable. Not thick and heavy, but definitely there in a way that turned you both on.

Being disrupted by the food was a blessing and a curse, focusing on eating but your stomach make you feel quesy. You were definitely going to need some sort of release by the end of the night or you'd go insane.

Heading home after bidding goodbye, you flopped onto your bed, sighing as a small smile lit up your face. He had to be into you. Or else you'd be insanely delusional with no explanation.

Your core ached for him, for some sort of release you knew some rubbing or toys wouldn't be able to help with. That's how badly you were attracted to him. Settling with a pillow between your legs as you'd watch some videos, even reading some sort of smut to distract you and get you off.

Nothing worked.

Turning off your phone and closing your eyes, you began to imagine. Mentally creating a scenario.

You went back to earlier in the day. When you were in the dressing room.

Slowly rocking your hips, you imagined if he had walked into your dressing room. The look of surprise that would be on your face before he would hold your face and start kissing you. His hand slipping into your panties and beginning to feel the we-

*Beep!*

Trying to ignore it as you continued rocking against your p-

*Beep!*

'Who the fuck is texting me?' you thought, opening your phone to the label of Christians name. Your eyes widening as you quickly sat up, opening the DM.

« you felt that too right?

What?

« felt what?

« the tension.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this happening?

« just kidding. I was actually going to ask you a favour.

Is he for real? You just got soaked for him with a single text and now he's saying he's joking?

« can you pretend to be my girlfriend?

WHAT?

« excuse me? 😭

« sorry, darling. I know it sounds weird but I really need this. So my family will leave me alone atleast till the wedding is over.

This was so stupid. Was he being for real?

« aren't I already your date?

« yes but that's different. That's just my date, not my girlfriend.

He's a bit.. dumb.

« uhuh. So then why should I be your girlfriend if it's so different.

You were upset. Being his last option wasn't flattering but now he wants you as a fake girlfriend?

« because I need it. I need you.

Fuck... When he puts it like that..

« mmmmmmmmm maybe?

« darling.

« hmmmm 🤔

« I need you.

Staring at his text, an evil thought went through your mind.

« how badly do you need me, hm?

You responded. Your hand beginning to slip into your panties. Wait. This was wrong. You shouldn-

« Please, darling. I need you to do this for me.

Gently rubbing your arousal up and down to wetten your clit before you softly rubbed it, typing with one hand.

« you can do better than that.

You responded.

« fuck, please? I need you.

A tiny sigh of air left you, still rubbing your clit.

« darling?

You didn't respond, too cloudy with desire as you touched yourself with his text's.

« my love.. what are you doing?

Your heart skipped a beat, your hand stopping it's movenents as you quickly responded,

« nothing?

Your heart skipped another beat.

« don't lie to me. You just made me beg for you over text and you haven't responded once for 5 minutes. What are you doing?

Fuck, were you caught?

« sorry I was a just making my bed

« were you touching yourself?

Cough. A choke of spit getting caught in your throat as you read the text.

« WHAT?

« Don't give me that. You were, weren't you?

What the fuck? Were there cameras in here?

« uhm, what? That's a bit fucking weird to text me about ??

« so you were.

HOW DID HE KNOW?

« how? Were you rubbing yourself? Slipping your fingers inside? And to my texts too.

You didn't know how to respond to that, just staring at the screen with your jaw dropped.

« keep going.

Your breath caught in your throat. What?

« what do you mean?

« keep touching yourself.

« I

« Christian..

« nono, keep touching yourself.

A soft moan of desire emitting past your lips, rubbing your clit again as he continued typing.

« are you doing it like a girl good?

« nyes

You could barely type since it was with one hand, so turned on your eyes fluttered.

« are you all wet for me?

« I am

« have you been aching for me, my love?

« yessjendrj

« can't even type? You're so fluttery right now, aren't you?

Your finger sank inside your aching cunt. You never felt much when you fingered yourself but in that moment you wanted something inside you. You wanted him inside you. You needed it.

« fuck, Christian. I need you so badly.

That was extremely risky to text, but he already knew you were clearly touching yourself for him, what else could you lose?

« I know you do, darling.

« can you pick up for me?

You stared at the screen as his contact photo showed up with the green and red button, sighing shakily as you pressed the green button. Silent as you waited for him to speak first.

"Darling?"

You could practically hear the desire radiating off his voice, even through the phone.

"Yeah?" You answered quietly, a bit shaky in stabilisation.

"Fuck, you're shaky, baby."

"mh.." all you could muster was a noise.

"Are you touching yourself because of me?"

"yeah.." you breathed out, softly rubbing your clit with the finger that was inside you before.

"fuck, you don't know how much that turns me on."

"Christian.." you murmured his name softly. Wanting to somehow turn him on more, even if you were so clouded by your own desire.

"Are you rubbing yourself?"

"mh.. yes.."

"That's my pretty girl. Keep rubbing yourself for me, baby."

A soft whine left your mouth. All you wanted was him, and it was obvious he clearly knew that now. But fuck, how would you even face him after this?

"Just like that.."

He cooed softly

"You're making me so hard, all for you. I'm aching for you too, especially when I saw you in that dress, looking all.. fuck.."

Your eyes fluttered shut, your hand that was holding your phone began clamping so tight that your phone fell to the side of your head.

"Need you.. need you so bad.." you whimpered with all the strength and dignity you had left.

"Shh.. I know darling. Just keep rubbing your little nerves for me, okay? Imagine it being my fingers, softly tapping and rubbing your clit. Treating you the way you deserve.. all soaked and fluttert for me."

That was enough for you to mewl softly, finding the feeling that meant your orgasm was close.

"Close.." you whispered with all your might. you were clearly extremely shy and he loved it.

"keep going, you're doing such a good job for me."

Whimpering quietly, your eyes closed as you found your orgasm, the feeling overwhelming you from how hard it was, if anything it overstimulated you. Making you whine a bit louder as you continued rubbing your clit even if it hurt a little bit.

"That's it, just like that.. good girl.." he said softly through the phone.

Catching your breath, your eyes opened a bit tiredly, looking at the ceiling as the gravity of what just happened. And fuck, you wanted more.

"Thank you.." you said quietly, sacred someone would hear you as if you didn't live alone in your apartment.

"You did such a good job for me, cumming so sweetly all over your fingers for me.." he praised, making you needy again, but you were too tired to continue anything.

"Stay on call..?" You asked sleepily.

"Of course, baby. Close your eyes and sleep, hm?"

You yawned, closing your eyes. You were so tired from how hard you orgasmed that your hand was still in your panties.

Your mind slipped into a state of post-orgasm bliss that you fell asleep within one minute. Soft murmurs and sounds from your sleep went through the reciever, making him smile. Even if he had a boner as hard as rock.

"Goodnight pretty girl." He murmured softly before hanging up.

He leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling as he realised what happened. He couldn't wait till he saw you again, that was for sure.

I hope you enjoyed!!!!! That's just part one, expect part 2 soon 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[the-velvet-worm]

actually one of the craziest things about harrow and gideon's relationship is the fact that they're like, unhealthily obsessed with each other but also both think the other does not care as much as they do. gideon literally died for harrow and thinks that harrow hates her so much that she erased her from her memory. harrow lobotomized herself because she couldn't allow herself to destroy gideon's soul. and they're both still just like, "she could never love me." ARE YOU BOTH FUCKING STUPID??????? (the answer is yes)

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

The first person that Kyoshi greets with words first was Hei-Ran and you just KNOW Rangi was fucking losing it (in love) on the inside. I'm surprise she didn't just call it for the night and yank Kyoshi away from the party right then and there. TT0TT

Like we call her a bottom but damn does she know to make her girl swoon

Kyoshi: *being the best daughter-in-law to her mother-in-law* Rangi: *legit fucking swooning*

[thedeviljudges]

I’m gonna need the rest of the world to stfu. Genuinely I’m so tired of seeing y’all’s posts about “I’m glad I don’t live there” etc etc like good for you??? There are millions of us who tried and will keep trying. No country, no government will ever be perfect and instead of having a modicum of empathy, you’re saying useless shit that isn’t making things better. The system is rigged and many of us know that, but god now is not the time to dismiss us and be so incredibly mean spirited especially as we deal with this bullshit for the next few years.

[hollypies]

Finding out my mom has tumblr account an actively likes/reblogs Harry Potter × Snape is

[gregoftom]

TO ME, THAT’S CINEMA

[themintman]

Idk if it's the autism or what, but the way the text options in the sea temple gaslit me is wild. Like when Jack is apologising for freezing up when he stumbled upon his friends corpse and I tried to be supportive but accidentally ripped him a new one. Jesse why did you make me say that.

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

Yeah yeah twitters the bad place but also if you comment on an nhl team’s tweet for Hanukkah with two Jewish players “please tell me they aren’t Zionist” that’s not like. Progressive. That’s literally just antisemitic and you should be embarrassed and go be sad in your basement bc no one invited you to their holiday party.

[wizardnuke]

mildly inconvenienced by men behaviors. back at it. and by it i mean. raaaace you to the top

[emblazons]

got my city legit on fire with the guy I’m talking to’s house burned down and you want my comments on fandom? ☠️

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh