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edenesth · 3 days ago

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ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

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@bunny4yungi @zl-world

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multipleoccupancy · 18 hours ago

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His heart started to sink as Mauve started explaining. In some ways he thought he knew that the Inspector was not offering her a deal too, he'd seen it, how she wasn't threatened, how he didn't offer his hand. But he had to get out, he had to leave, he couldn't stand another day let alone the threat of being stuck there for the rest of his life. He shook his head in some disbelief, almost a denial of what she was saying. He couldn't leave her either as tears started to roll down his cheeks too.

He let go of her hand and stood up, putting both his hands in his hair and pulling at it in his upset and stress while he tried to work out what, if anything he could do. He didn't want to stay in the ward, he wanted that deal from the Inspector, it was everything he had dreamed of but the thought of leaving Mauve in the ward, alone was such a horrible idea, that he should walk completely free while she was stuck. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right and worst of all he had the horrible knowledge that he would forget.

"I don't want to leave you here," he sputtered through his sobs, barely able to look at her as he wracked his brain hard trying to come up with a solution. He knew if he refused to leave without her he would just be left there too, for the rest of his life. Her plan to show Heartland the tentacle was some hope but what if it wasn't enough? And he'd just promised not to tell anyone, anyone else about monsters and that there were people fighting them. "Maybe, maybe you can sneak out with me?" he suggested, his voice cracking and squeaking as he plucked at straws. "I can stuff paper in the locks again, I can -" what could he do? "I'll come back! I'll come back and get you out of here if I have to." How long would that take though? He was only 16 and he had to be 23 before he even got into the academy.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

It seemed she hadn't lied very well, this time. Maybe she was too obviously sad, with her big red eyes and tears rolling down her cheeks. But if he had already figured out that this was goodbye, then maybe it was no use lying to him. Or maybe she just didn't have the heart to lie anymore. "Theo... I don't think they're lettin' me go," she croaked, squeezing his hand just a little bit tighter, "they won't let me leave with your parents, I reckon only my parents can pick me up from the ward and..."

"That man, Agent Davidson... He ain't gonna recruit me. He probably ain't gonna call my parents either." And even if, by some strange miracle, he did try to call her parents... well, there wouldn't be anyone on the other end of the line. "I think they were only recruitin' you."

"But you gotta go home, ok? I'm mighty glad you accepted his deal, and now you can be free, and you can become an FBI agent and do all the things you wanted to do. You don't need to worry about me. I'll be just fine. I'll find a way to get out, my own way. I'm pretty relentless, remember? I reckon they'll take the body out, but we still got that tentacle, in your cupboard. I'll show that to Dr. Heartland, and he'll have to let me go."

She couldn't tell him that she didn't belong here. That her parents were in another timeline. That a Great Old One had sent her here, and that only He could send her back home.

"You've got to promise me you'll go home, Theo."

#hvbris #killian #violet #asoue au

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he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not · 2 days ago

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It's also like, holy shit, Viktor convinced Jayce, CONVINCED JAYCE, to use his position in the Council to urge Mel to help the people of Zaun using Hextech. Viktor was in that room instead of the lab because this meeting was important to him, and to his people, and Jayce KNOWS this.

The one time that Viktor decides to be present to stand up for his people to bring them peace and opportunities, he's literally almost killed for it. It's like shit, what was it all for?

This sickly man with a small orbit of people who genuinely care for him in Piltover, using his dreams and resources to finally help those who are in the most need. Viktor, the only person topside standing up for them, nearly taken out by one of them. The way I also see it, past the shock Jayce is experiencing (which is why it took him so long to gather himself and remember that THIS TIME of all meetings, Viktor was in the room as well), he's battling within himself and we'll see it as the show progresses. He blames himself, undoubtedly, for using the Hextech which killed a kid in Zaun, and failing to use his position in the Council to help the people that Viktor cares for the most.

This was a conversation he and Viktor had time and time again when it came to using Hextech to help the people of Zaun, and it kept getting pushed back because Piltover's wealthy didn't want to endorse the mere idea of helping what they considered violent gutter rats. In this scene we see a lot happening but also past the fuzz of shock and fear, Jayce undoubtedly blames himself for holding this peace treaty and call for aid off for so long. If it had happened sooner, then everything wouldn't have built up and bubbled over the way it did. Holding it off for so long led to what happened in that room, led to Viktor standing for his people in front of Mel and the rest of the council who still disrespect him, only to be taken out for it because they waited too long. It's amazing how this show writes consequence.

Because obviously Jayce could not have known or predicted the absolute shit show that was taking place in Zaun after he had spoken to Silco, but they all waited despite knowing it would be for the best because despite Piltover flourishing to the point that it was excessive and unnecessary, the people of Zaun were being further neglected, and Viktor pointed this out multiple times.

It was never fair to Viktor, who worked long hours on his own on the Hexcore as his health deteriorated. He should have had a say in it since the start. But he's from Zaun, he's not a priority in the eyes of the Council, they only care about what Jayce has to say.

And the moment that it's agreed upon once things start escalating, it's already too late.

FUCK such good writing.

#arcane #jayce talis #viktor arcane #league of legends #jayce x viktor #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #jayvik #jayce/viktor

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theonottsbxtch · 17 hours ago

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I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send�� before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

198 notes · View notes

danidrabbles · 13 hours ago

Text

This was so devastatingly sexy.....

First of all: LOVE the no-outbreak setting, I always enjoy reading about that softer pre-outbreak Joel getting to live his life without being so hardened by everything that happens to him in canon. Second: This taking place on and around Bill and Frank's wedding is such a stroke of genius, what a fun setting!

The tension between them is so apparent from the start, the way he calls her sweetheart, the way she's immediately wound up the moment he's in the room. (The way they're both touching themselves to the thought of the other, oof...)

The moment when she helps him with his buttons and his bowtie was SO good, I loved that they both had this sense of "Is this okay?" but couldn't help themselves.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again. You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and– The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

I could just feel this 😩

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

She's so brave for just going for it. It's so fun and refreshing.

And your Joel kills me his, “If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”, “Shit, sweetheart, she’s soakin’ for me.” and “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”, but ESPECIALLY

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

I love the ending so much, the way he pulls her in for "one final, saccharine sweet kiss", and thanks her, and the promise of more between them... wow. Thank you so much for writing and sharing!!

every breath you take

➔ (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader

➔ 5.3k words

➔ Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdad’s best man.

➔ Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frank’s adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)

➔ Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months 😂) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33

June, 2013.

After months of planning—stress, sweat, and tears abounding—the big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.

With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soul–you want this to be perfect.

Someone else shares your determination, too.

You would’ve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dad’s. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldn’t be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldn’t be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Bill’s best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. He’s been turning this wedding into a ‘friendly’ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. It’s infuriating—especially when he wears that smug grin that’s become his signature expression around you. It’s torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exception—he’s dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like he’s been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.

It’s wrong. The guy’s old enough to be your dad, and that’s aside from the fact that he’s your soon-to-be-stepdad’s best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy who’s old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yet…

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.

You’ve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now.

Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Well, rehearsal’s as important as the weddin’ itself,” he dutifully repeats the line that you’ve heard from your dad a million times over. “And this barn ain’t gonna decorate itself.”

“Well, that’s kinda my job,” you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you.

He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.

The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decor–as long as this barn has been a wedding venue, you’re certain no one’s ever made it look this good before.

The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.

Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal point–an eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. It’s definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bit–it was solely Joel’s vision. Apparently, he’s a lot more artistic than you’ve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; you’ve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they could–

You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you can’t get yourself under control you’re going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the ‘things you shouldn’t be thinking about a middle-aged man’ category.

He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, though…

Snap.

With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. You’ve finished with perfect timing–you’ve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.

You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but he’s nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldn’t at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesn’t have to answer to you. It’s a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelings–can whatever you’re going through really be called that?–your attraction, is one-sided. He’s here for Bill and Frank, not for you. You’re his best friend’s daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you can’t even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isn’t for him.

You avoid Joel the entire night, which isn’t easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easier–both Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so there’s no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if he’s looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.

Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, he’s got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, you’re looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.

He puts it out of mind as much as he can. He’s not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. He’s not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. He’s definitely not supposed to be wondering what you’re wearing under that adorable dress of yours. You’re his best friend’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re so far off limits that he shouldn’t even be looking in your general direction.

But he is. He’s looking, and he can’t stop looking. And most of all, he can’t stop wondering if you feel it too.

Evidently you don’t, because you won’t even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. You’ve probably figured out how much he’s been thinking about you and the kinds of things he’s been thinking, and you’re disgusted. He’s just a dirty old man to you, surely.

Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as you’re through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about it–blissfully unaware that Joel’s doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.

You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.

No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.

You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel.

Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredible–there’s overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. It’s almost overwhelming; there’s way too many options.

After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.

“Decided to sleep in a little,” you explain. “Where’s Bill?”

“He already had breakfast, he’s getting ready,” Frank explains. “Joel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we don’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck, after all.”

You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because that’s such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and function–you’re surprised he doesn’t have you working off of a schedule, too.

A small, annoying part of your brain thinks it’s really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and you’ve really got to stop thinking about him so much.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.

“Relieved, honestly,” he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. “I finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.”

You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.

There have been a lot of times where you’ve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life.

If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now it’s his turn to shine. You’re not letting anything get in the way of that–especially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.

With a little more resolve in your mind, it’s easier to get ready for the main event.

Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get ready–but when you’re ready, you’re a vision. Even though you’re not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning.

Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same.

With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts off–they’re doing more harm than good at this point.

You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dads–then you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.

Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, it’s surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.

You’ve never seen him quite so put together. He’s normally a bit undone–a symptom of being a long-time bachelor–but today, he’s perfectly styled. The hair he’s been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. He’s in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop him–to keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.

You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “wow.”

“Need help?” You offer before you can think better of it.

There’s a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.

Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you can’t back down now. With a deep breath–you’re so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologne–you will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.

His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. “You look… incredible.”

“So do you,” you whisper. Just when you think you’re out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.

“This too?” His warm brown eyes search yours–how could he ever expect you to say no?

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tied–all you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He could’ve easily done this himself; and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins.

Maybe this whole song and dance isn’t quite as unrequited as you originally thought.

You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and–

The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

“There you are!” Frank’s got an untamable smile on his face–his hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything he’s ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. “Wow, you two look amazing.”

“Hey. Thanks.” You’re fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your father’s happily ever after comes crashing in and you’ve never felt so proud. “First look time?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “Is Bill–?”

“Dressin’,” Joel answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll bring ’im out when he’s done.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearance–you’ve gotten under his skin. Good.

Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that you’re wearing much, but it’s enough that it’s jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.

You’ve never been so happy for two people before. You’ve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.

At some point, you become conscious of the fact that you’re holding Joel’s hand. You know you probably shouldn’t, that you could get both of you in serious trouble–but he’s not pulling away, so neither do you.

The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremony–it passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. You’ve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. You’re hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this day–it’s nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.

Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure you’re still presentable. A couple tissues later and you’re good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.

Joel’s standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.

His breath seems to catch when he sees you–he clears his throat before whispering, “Hey.”

For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. It’s just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.

“H-hey,” you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?

“I think it went pretty well,” he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if he’s nervous.

“It was perfect,” you agree.

For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. It’s right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You don’t know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.

And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.

“You really do look amazin’,” he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. “I mean, you always do, but–”

The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. There’s nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, but he doesn’t dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.

“I want to,” you breathe against his lips. “Do you?”

“God, yes.”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as he’s starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, strangely apt but also a reminder that you don’t have time. You made this playlist yourself–you know that there’s only three more songs after this one before you’re supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.

“Joel…” you moan out. “Joel, we have to be quick.”

“How quick?” He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.

“Ten minutes at the very most.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. He doesn’t pull away though–if anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. “You still wanna do this?”

As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you can’t do that to Frank and Bill. “You think ten minutes is enough time?”

“If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”

It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.

Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. “It’s definitely working.”

“Good.”

You know this is territory that you probably shouldn’t be crossing into, not when he’s twenty years older than you and he’s your new step-dad's best friend, but you can’t be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips. “She’s soakin’ for me.”

“A-always is,” you gasp out.

His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Joel, please…” Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you can’t help it when he’s touching you like this. It’s exactly what you need and he knows it–he watches your face for every little indication that he’s doing a good job.

“Please what?” He purrs quietly. “What do you need?”

You could go on like this for hours, you’re sure–and you’re sure he’d be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until there’s nothing left in your head but his name.

The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Need you.”

“It’s gonna be tight, sweetheart.” You’d think he was being overly confident if you couldn’t feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.

“That’s okay. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” In a flash he’s got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.

You can’t help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. He’s big. There’s no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry it’s not inside you already. You’re devastated you don’t have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until he’s begging to fill you.

Later, you remind yourself.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitation–the last thing he wants to do is to push you.

You’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

“Easy, honey. I’ve gotcha.” The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slick–for a moment, you’re mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. “Gotta tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I will, I swear, just please–”

The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretch–one that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Shit, sweetie,” he purrs, voice liquid gold. “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”

You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hilt–the feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lips–you can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. It’s nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.

“Good?” He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.

You give him a shaky nod in response. “Good.”

The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know you’re in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutter–little breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if he’s tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.

You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. You’re finding out that he’s a very intuitive and quick learner–you would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so.

The way his hips work–driving him deeper than anyone’s ever been; the way his fingers swirl–bringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark… it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.

“Y’feel like fuckin’ heaven,” he gasps out against your cheek. “Never gonna get enough.”

The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spine–you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know he’s wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize you’ve been coveting so deeply.

“Joel…” You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs aren’t cooperating.

“I know baby,” he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. “I know. S’okay.”

It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he purrs breathlessly. “Lemme feel it, come all over my cock.”

His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and that’s all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. It’s the best you’ve ever felt–you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, either.

“That’s it honey, holy shit…” He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. “W-where?”

For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if he’s about to–

“Inside,” you whine out after your moment of clarity. “Please–”

“Shit,” he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. “Y’sure?”

You’re not even conscious of nodding your head–all you know is that you need him completely. “It’s safe. Promise.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers. “Gonna leave you fuckin’ drippin’, won’t be able to stop feelin’ it all night–”

His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. There’s nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. You’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous man’s gorgeous face. Knowing that you’re the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.

He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. “Christ, honey… squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

“Not my fault you’re huge.”

He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. It’s lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again you’re struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.

The song outside changes to ‘Every Breath You Take’, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.

“Shit, Joel, we’ve got to go.”

He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but there’s hardly enough time to worry about that.

“How’s my make-up?”

“Perfect, darlin’. Not a thing outta place.”

“Thank god for waterproof,” you chuckle as you straighten your dress.

His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirt–there’s still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.

“We’ve gotta go,” you repeat when he halts by the door.

“Just a sec,” he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. “Come to my room w’me tonight.”

“Okay,” you promise–you’re surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.

He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesn’t let it go until he absolutely has to.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#fantastic!!!!#fic rec #joel miller x reader

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tetzoro · 2 days ago

Text

˖˙ ꔫ — A STARRY SKY AND HOPEFUL EYE

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : nightly routines revolve around keeping watch with zoro, but today is extra special as you get to start his birthday off right with an intimate moment and a special gift.

꒰ contents ꒱ : zoro roronoa x reader ; alcohol mention. elements of hurt/comfort, tooth rotting fluff + filled with love. — WC : 1133

happy birthday zoro ♥︎

“I'm here, don’t be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you.” A familiar, gravelly tone pierces through the thick fog of fear that was slowly consuming you. Zoro’s voice was every bit of him as ever — strong, driven, confident, protective.

It serves as a reassuring melody that tugs on your delicate heartstrings, commanding the attention that you so readily give. A gentle reminder that you’re secure in his arms and safely tucked away from the winds of change and everything else that the Sunny is drifting past.

But it held a serene tenderness that would only surface when the two of you were alone and under the stars, sailing across the open sea where the only witness to your love was the pearly moon that dreamily hung overhead.

You hum softly as you begin to fully wake, feeling the words rumble from his chest and caress your back, soothing all of your fleeting worries away. Zoro had a gift when it came to chasing away demons, a renowned hunter that would protect you from anything that dare brought you harm.

“‘m sorry.” You pivot a little, readjusting yourself to nestle into him better. “I didn't mean to fall asleep.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” He roughly gruffs out, a direct juxtaposition to the careful way he was cradling you. “Another nightmare?”

“They come and they go.” The fear of the dream subsides as you take in the night that beautifully envelops you both.

The stars begin to unveil themselves, gleams of hope scattered across the inky black sky. The sun had long since gone to rest but the night prevails as the two of you keep a watchful eye.

The vibrant colors that once bathed the sky in orange and pink hues were now stripped back without the comfort of the sun.

Keeping watch was a task you and Zoro would often face together. The norm was that each person would take two hours to complete their shift but overtime, yours had blended together. From the birth of midnight into the early cusps of the morning, this little cozy corner of the world was yours.

Countless times you’ve found solace in each other’s quiet wakes. Words would come far and few in between in favor of soaking up the comforting presence that bloomed whenever you were together.

Even still, the whispered exchanges were something that never failed to fill you with warmth in spite of the desolate chill of night.

“Get some rest. I'll make sure they don’t come back.” Zoro’s lips faintly brush against your temple in an attempt to ease your troubled mind. Everyone fell victim to the darkness that plagues dreams and he knew all too well the toll they could take.

“I wanna stay up with you.” The looming winter breeze glazes over your face, kissing along your skin in such a way that has you huddling to the source of warmth that surrounds you. “It's your birthday so I want to savor as much time with you as I can before the others wake up.” A pause. “Besides, I got you a little present.”

Zoro shifts a little so he has a clear view of your face, sharp gaze set on you. Mirth swims in his steely eye as he makes contact, lips twitching heavenward.

“A present, huh? Is that why you locked yourself in the crows nest yesterday?” It was true, you had shooed everyone away from the room under the guise of training. But Zoro knew better — you’d never deny him the chance to train with you but he didn’t push it, opting to train on the deck instead.

“Maybe….” You trail off, smiling sheepishly before sliding off of his lap to reach for the gift you had stowed away earlier. The shimmering moon provided enough light for you to see, casting a luminous glow that blankets you both in a loving embrace, glittering with an ethereal magic that only the depths of night could merit.

“You gonna show me or what?” He smirks, his face closer to yours as you settle back in front of him. You nuzzle his nose with the tip of your own, an act of affection he’s grown used to over the time you’ve been together.

Silently, you hand him the small box and your heart thumps viciously against your chest. He opens the tiny, yet neat packaging and is quiet for a moment as he examines what lays within.

In the box was a carefully leather braided bracelet with a singular bead woven in.

“You like it?” You falter for a moment. Before he can answer, you begin to nervously ramble. “I tucked my vivre card in the bead. That way if we’re ever apart, we can always find each other again.”

There's another pause and the only thing you can hear is your heart screaming for relief as it pounds against the cage of your ribs. Like clockwork, it eases back down as Zoro's face glimmers with an expression you hardly see, one that’s reserved for you during your most intimate moments.

“Hell yeah I like it.” Zoro's cheeks blossom into a soft pink, calloused thumb gliding over the textured leather. His voice becomes nothing but a fresh breath of air. “This is special.”

“It’s…” The word ‘nothing’ escapes you because it couldn’t be further from the truth. It means everything to you. Plus, he’d only chastise you for downplaying such a thing. “Good, I'm glad you do.”

“Put it on me.” Zoro demands, pulling you up into his lap. You hold onto his hand and gently wrap the bracelet around, the pads of your fingers trailing along his skin and he has to hold back a shudder. With a few simple motions, you tighten it so it’s secure and snug but not too much.

The sunless sky shines again as Zoro smiles at the gift, the light warming you from the inside out and chasing away the chill of night.

“Thank you.” Zoro wraps his arm around your waist, nuzzling his face against your cheek and leaving a kiss there in his wake.

“Of course.” Tension rolls off of your shoulders with the acceptance he so readily gives you. All day, anxiety flooded your veins and took the breath from your lungs as you tried your best to make the perfect gift for him. You even went as far as — “Oh! I almost forgot. I got you something in case you didn’t like it.”

Zoro makes a noise of protest but it almost immediately dies out as he sees you pull his favorite brand of sake out from where you hid it — comically wrapped up in a pink bow.

“Well I'd never say no to this.” He lets out a puff of amusement, taking the bottle from your hand and opening it with ease. “What do you say? Up to share a little drink with the birthday boy?”

“Duh.” A giggle spills from your lips as you watch him hide his smirk with the neck of the bottle, taking a healthy swig. Some of the sake drips down from the corner of his mouth in which you easily scoop it up with your finger, bringing it to your own lips to clean it off.

He leans in to give you a sweet, sake infused kiss. The slight burn of the alcohol dies down as his eager tongue swipes along your bottom lip, soothing the flames away and drenching you in adoration.

In a few hours, the rest of the crew would wake and who knows what they had planned for Zoro. But right now, with the stars as your only witnesses, this moment was for just the two of you.

And Zoro couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day than having his favorite person in his lap, a bottle of sake in his hand, and the warmth of love that buries itself into his heart when he looks at the gift you made him.

thank you so much for reading ( ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩) i hope you enjoyed ! ♥︎

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#dividers by cafekitsune #a little in awe i was able to finish this despite it all . but writing this felt like a little reward 🌟#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #zoro roronoa x reader

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astralis-ortus · 2 days ago

Text

spoiled

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— it really is in the little things he does.

w.count → 0.5k genre → slice of life, fluff notes → chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as babe, teeny weenie kith a.n → been feeling sappy whenever i see chan, and what’s the best cure if not to write about it♡ ⋆ see masterlist

growing up, you never really thought much about relationships.

well, it's not like you had the breathing room to do so anyway—with your parents' strained relationship and the way education had taken over the role as your safe space, the thought about crushes, falling in love, and jumping from one relationship to another like people around your age had resembled more like some faint, annoying whispers from the nether world rather than something you needed to experience as a young adult. instead, your goal revolves simply around graduating, getting a good job, and sticking with that—nothing more, nothing less.

well, that's exactly what you've managed to do so far…

with some minor adjustments.

"babe, do you want—oh, you're about to shower?"

you stopped a few steps from the door of the bathroom, eyes finding your boyfriend's curious pair just beyond the bedroom door while your arms hugged the fresh pair of pyjamas and a fluffy towel chris had bought for you a few months prior, right before your first sleepover at his place.

it still feels wild to you, the way chris just popped into your life one day and somehow managed to stay. the fact that you let him? even wilder. never in a million years would you ever thought you'd walk into your first and somewhat of a serious relationship not long after landing your first actual job, fresh out of university.

"yeah," you nodded, repeatedly blinking your eyes out of habit, "do you need to go? i might take a while since i'm gonna wash my hair."

"no no, i'm good," he replied, no longer looking at you when he turned busy, fumbling away at the cabinet under his kitchen sink, "but wait, there's something i want—found it!"

the curiosity in your eyes turned into sparkles of surprise when you noticed the rather familiar bottle in chris' hand as he heads over in your direction, sweet pair of dimples decorating his proud, cheeky smile.

"i got that body wash you said you wanted to try," handing the green colored bottle, chris lightly scrunched his nose alongside the click of his tongue, "kinda unfortunate—i was going to surprise you with it, but you beat me to the shower."

it's at times like this when you feel like your life in the past year has merely been a series of lucid dreams—when he looked at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, when he treats you like you're his entire world and more, when chris went out of his way just to prove that he meant everything he whispered in your ears between the ungodly hours of the night as he held you close when nightmares crept its long and sharp nails around your neck.

chris' affection still feels like a fever dream, and you don't know if you deserve to be at the receiving end of it at all.

"you're seriously spoiling me way too much, christopher," you finally chirped a response, mirroring your boyfriend's nose scrunch whilst keeping your unspoken worries locked away, "but thank you. i promise i'll use it well."

"i know you will," the dimpled smile made its way back to your boyfriend's features, igniting the familiar fuzzy feeling in the depths of your chest, and its rumble only grew louder when chris leaned in, faint scent of vanilla greeted you as he stole a peck from your lips,

"you know that's why i love spoiling you, right?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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chlmtsdoll · 3 days ago

Note

hear me out

reader and girl friends dancing and drinking at a nightclub after work when one of the girls says something like "holy shit, look at those two, they're hot"

when reader turns to look, she sees Patrick and Art laughing and having fun together

"i want the brunette one", one says, "are you crazy? look at the blonde, how hot he is", another responds.

"fifty bucks for whoever gets both"

reader smiles. it's showtime.

OH? IT’S GIVING SATC 🤭

This was supposed to be short but I got carried away I’m afraid ! 🎀 | 18 + smut, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m) receiving, heavy obnoxious flirting, kinda messy reader

When the club had been this crowded with a full dance floor and beautiful men nearly everywhere you looked, finally letting loose after a long work week with your girls was enough motivation to get the confidence pumping between the three of you.

Your friends were frozen. Facing the the bar area where this six foot blonde and brunette were standing, laughing like everything around them was funny. One had an infectious grin, hair untamed and a tight dark skirt that show cased his brooding arms. He was the tallest and had ‘a party girls wet dream’ written all over him. The other slightly more polished, could pass for the stereotypical Ken doll type with his charming smile, sterling blue eyes with golden locks combination. You couldn’t find why he would be here, he looked like the only interested in finding a wife type.

Either way, the two men had your thighs pushing against one another the second the girls began chattering about. And once you heard ‘fifty bucks for whoever can get both’ your ears were all game.

“Oh, I am so in. That brunette is scorching.”

“And ? Look at that blondes jawline, bitch.”

“Double the pay if they both finish.” You announce. Both of your girlfriend’s locks go up in the air as they whip around to see the smirk pulling at your lips. They quickly take upon one of their own as well.

“Oh… the competition just got serious.” One of them says.

“It’s been serious. Those guys are totally loaded..” The other comments.

Your eyebrow dips. “What makes you think that ?”

“Oh come on, what two guys that hot are going to come to the club and not be looking to spend their cash on a girl ?”

Her theory wasn’t too out of range. There was something quite different from the boys across from you all. Setting them apart from the other clueless guys around just trying to get as drunk as they possibly can. There was a more tamed and calculated aura to these two. Something that made them not only sexy, but stand out profoundly.

“..or, they could just be gay.” The other girl replies casually and the three of you burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

You giggle, slightly rolling your eyes to land on the two men occasionally eyeing the dance floor as if they’re considering joining in the crowd. And that’s when you caught the gaze of the one with the darker head of hair, he flashed you a smile that sent a thrill straight to your core. You tried not to blush so terribly your friends would be on to you and raise the stakes.

But you couldn't help but ponder if they’d been right too — not about the gay thing, but if they truly we’re packing bills.

And soon you found yourself worrying less about what was in you and your friends wallets, and whatever was in theirs.

“Okay. Let’s get in there. Game on.”

You and your girls were heading over to the bar, tight mini skirts and all with just the right amount of cleavage on display for your upcoming play date. And with hardly any nerves that you’d loose to the two, knowing you had it locked in with the way you just got checked out hard from the brunette all the way across the bar had your hopes high.

As you all were now getting ready to own that bar area, you let your friends have a try at playing with the men first — and it was certainly quite amusing to watch them try to flirt with both the blonde and brunette at the same time.

With fingers twirling in their hair, laughing a little too hysterically at whatever was said and trying to keep both of their attention, you wondered from observation if it crossed them that it wasn’t as easy as they’d think. One of the boys was either off staring at another cute girl or just looking for a drink when your friends hadn’t been trying to sweet talk them into a little more fun. The most they got was a couple flattering laughs from the two.. and you couldn’t help but chuckle yourself, their game play was adorable.

But they failed where you knew best. Multitasking.

So when it was your turn to get your head in the game, one of your friends walking past you in defeat from her attempt whispered, “totally gay.” in your ear post her rejection from the charming boys. You tried not to laugh in her face but you did crack and grin.

You were up next. And you wasted no time going in.

You played it all out in your head within a few minutes of taking note of the two and also of course where your friends lacked. It would be an easy job especially since you spent your week trying to sell to people at work. You knew charm like the back of your hand — soon enough you’d be making out with these guys in the back of the club in no time.

Hips swayed without any real effort as you found where the brunette had been standing nearby the vault of vodka and steely liquor at the bar. Purposefully leaning against the counter and close enough to his side for him to hear you call to get one of the bartenders attention, “Um- - could I get another drink ??” You attempted. But with it being rush hour, they'd all been too occupied.

And that’s when your plan started to make the magic happen.

The towering man beside you glanced over his shoulder at your presence, noticing you weren’t getting any luck with the attention of the bartenders and he inspected your soft and sweetened voice pretty quickly. But also with just how edible he thought you were from earlier, “what do you want, doll face ?” he turned to face you with a grin that was as overwhelmingly striking as they come. It could have made any girl want to drop her panties at the sight. And his voice sounded as if he knew that he absolutely could, “it’s packed in here, yeah ? I’ll get someone for you.”

If it wasn’t for your determination, you would have erupted into a melted pile on the ground after he winked down at you. “Oh- no, it’s fine. I’m sure my friends annoyed you enough.” You laughed lightly and he joined along with you.

“Nah, they’re cute girls… but I gotta admit, I was kinda hopin’ you’d be the one to come over and annoy me a little bit.” His eyes focused on the way your lips curled up into a swayed smile and your face was flustered quicker than the flashing lights on the ceiling. He could be bluffing. And he probably was. Even though that was supposed to be your job here — it was totally working.

You titter, “..really ?”

“Really.”

“Well than, I guess I stumbled into the right spot.” (You wanted to pat yourself on the back. You’d been farther ahead than you even assumed.) “What do they call you ?”

“Patrick, a hell of a fun time, Zweig. Your pick.” his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he took a swing of his drink, and you were all laugher as his green eyes followed you from over the rim.

This was when you could implement the gorgeous blonde to his right — eyeing off to a couple of girls on the floor. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you step a little closer to Patrick, glance going from him to other handsome work of art beside. The space getting less and less personal between you two didn’t scare him either.

“Well, Patrick… who’s your friend- - ?” Your eyes darted to where he stood and the brunette hit his poor friend in the chest to get his attention on you, when he did, you noticed the uniqueness of his eyes up close. You could of seen it from across the bar — but this is another level. Some kind of otherworldly matter, it got you choked up for a moment.

He was about to make you bank.

“This is Art.”

Of course it is.

Your were trying not to drool as you took a little too long to examine the way Art leaned up with a miniature straw pressed against his pretty lips with a soft sideways smirk,

“I think he’s a cutie..” You sputter as you bit your lip with a cheeky smile. Trying not to get lost in Arts gaze — you had to remember the goal, get your head in the game to why you’d walked over here in the first damn place.

“I think you’re both pretty cute..”

“Yeah?” Patrick chuckled and grinned at his friend, they looked at each other like it had been some hidden kind of communication. Like they already knew what the other was trying to say telepathically. That was a signal to you that this was for sure a package deal — you’d have both of them tonight. Not only did they welcome it, but they’d probably been here for that exact motive.

Art gave you a little smile, “We had our eye on you the whole night honestly, so that’s good to know…”

There it is.

You laughed a bit and shrugged. Eyes following back to the darker haired one. “So I heard..”

“How come you aren’t out there?” Art nodded to the dance floor full of bodies, his eyes ran over you, “you’re a stunning girl.. no way none of these guys asked you to dance.”

You hoped to god you weren’t getting flustered. They’re just boys. Ones that you needed to be bedded by till the sun came up, but still.

“I’m- uh.. a bit shy.” (You weren’t. You had your fair share of men in and out of your apartment. Not as stunning as Art and Patrick although, so making them feel extra special wasn’t too much of a stretched truth.) “so it’s rare I even talk to guys.. but you two- - I just had to say something.” You giggled and they were leaning into your laughter with their own. You could swear you smelled Burberry cologne being sent your way from one of them, if not both. Maybe your friends had been right about the wealth.

Art and Patricks attention had been solidly on you. And you didn’t know if it was the way you decided to style your hair tonight, and the way you made sure to keep lustful but sweet eyes between them, or if your friends just sucked at flirting. But you were already yearning to keep this going.

It was time to throw them a curve to lock in their undivided for the rest of the night.

“Well- - I should get back to my friends, they probably think it’s way odd of me to even be over here..” you tittered with a soft goodbye smile as you began to turn away from the men and before you could even step away from the countertop, “wait!” was being called your way from over your shoulder.

A smirk was ridden on your lips once again. You turned back to face their pitch with curiosity.

“Stay a little longer?” Patrick asked of you with a beam.

“Yeah, let us buy you a drink.. what are you? An espresso?”

“No. Man, she’s a cosmo girl, trust me. You are- - aren’t you?” When the brunette corrected his friend, blue and green orbs focused on your answer in desperation you’d keep them a little more company. And you couldn’t help your decisive but giddy expression that was all too pleased with your work here.

“I am actually, yes.” You chuckled before taking a stand between the two tall and handsome men with much more than a quick fuck and collecting your rewards on your mind now. You actually sort of liked them. And that was rare with any man you’d meet doing an activity like clubbing, especially two of them.

As time went on, Art and Patrick were racking up on buying you drink after drink. As many as you wanted. Within as little as an hour that passed, you’d been with the two boys as if you’d known them your entire life. It could have been borderline love bombing with how fast you went from zero to a hundred. Both men simultaneously wrapping their arms around you from behind, laughing loudly as you’d been glued between the two of them. Even dancing in ways more than a couple flirts could have gotten you.

The boys were more than happy to keep tipping the bartenders with haughty smirks after getting you sparked up and hanging on their arms of course, even having one too many of their own. The three of you took it to the lounge area and your friends would be somewhere watching in disbelief and slight envy of how quickly you were able to get handsy with Art and Patrick.

You’d been passed back and forth on their laps as you chatted and even snuck a couple kisses by now. Totally giddy off their energy and the liquids they’d been giving you. The way Art had slipped his wallet back into his back pocket after buying you another drink, was a straight turn on to the point you’d been sticking sugary kisses to his neck as he did so with a couple playful bites, the man grinned at your bubbly essence. Your not so careful hands slid up his chest and slung over his shoulders, “Mmm- -You’re the sweet one aren’t you?” You giggle, finger tips run over his jaw and Art bit down on his peachy lip while he held on to your hips nice and easy, yet with a respectful distance. He couldn’t find the words to define the way he’d been enjoying the way you stroked his ego all night long.

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s actually a menace.” Patrick scoffed as he sat man spread in the seat across from you two with a cigarette in hand.

“Fuck off.” His friend defended lightly. It was the way you could tell he enjoyed the playful banter when Patrick poked at him tonight that solidified to you just how close they really were. You thought it was adorable.

“You two really do everything together, huh?” You toyed with Arts now loose collar, casually sipping on something clear with flirtatious eyes, and the man shrugged a bit as he glanced at the brunette across from him who was hiding a sardonic kind of look behind his glass.

“I mean, well- - somethings..” The blonde nodded with a soft smile, but you raised a brow. “Most things.” He corrected, he and Patrick narrowed eyes at one another. You noticed with a devious little hum at the way the blonde had still been holding back. It made your lips turn up with a grin, watching between the two as Art struggled to confess the obvious. “Okay. Yeah- kind of.. everything.” With a flustered look towards the brunette, Arts eyes trailed off with a sort of blush as you leaned into his shoulder. All close to the blue eyed man getting harshly coy now.

“That’s so cute. Like brothers..” you smiled in Patrick’s direction and he immediately let out heavy laughter.

“Not exactly.” The other man grinned. You tilted your head some, and looked at Art again with wonder in your eyes.

“Like.. lovers ?” Your eyes were wide as you focused on the blonde and he shook his head and drowned out his flustered expression with a swing from his glass. Patrick had smirked at your final conclusion, but still, the two gave you not a significant confirmation spite lingering looks and the newfound heat coming from Arts body.

Holy fuck

not just one, but both your friends had been right.

You were already one step ahead with more questions to coax out of the two if a bartender hadn’t interrupted with a new round of shots and your mind was quickly occupied as you ‘ooo’d’ at the tray being set beyond you. Patrick met your gaze and grinned. “Baby, come take one with me,” you were cheerfully being swapped from Arts lap to Patrick’s — bouncing over his way and also grabbing a shot with him.

A quick clink of your glasses filled the air along with your energetic giggles as the man who groped you with firmness in his lap contrast Art, drowned the substance at the same time. Patricks roaming hands were coarse and just as bold as he was when you straddled him after letting the liquor flow down your throat with ease, you wiped your stained lips with the back of your palm.

“Shit.. you took that so well, pretty girl..” Patrick took the glass from your hands, his hooded eyes stayed on you with a smirk. You brushed your fingers over the light stubble to his chin and leaned in close,

“I can take a lot of things pretty well.” You whispered so only he could hear with a smile, you scanned the area proudly as you were very aware of the show you’d been putting up all night. Patrick shifted in his seat with arousal, lips inches away from yours so you went in deep with a kiss.

The man groaned, “Is that so?” He pushed your hips farther into his lap as you’d been lipping off his jaw with a prideful giggle. You were messing with the hem of his shirt as you remembered you still had your own benefit of the deal to seal — getting the boys somewhere you could have your way with them. You came this far, why stop now when you’d been so close to victory?

“Mmhm… want me to show you how?”

Your words were music to the brunettes ears. His eyebrows rose as he watched you lean up with a grin, intertwining your fingers through his knuckles and Patrick stood as you were able to grab Arts attention too. Abruptly stripping him of his seat as well. “oh- - we’re going somewhere else..” the blonde rushed to follow where you’d been leading for a little more privacy. A secluded vip party section that you were a hundred percent not allowed in without a fee — but something about the trespassing turned you on even more. With a finger to your lips, you gave the two a silent “shh” along with your little grin and lustful eyes. They were all in with thrill and eager hands to get on you anyways.

You had gone to the nervously flattered one first. Taking his hands to wrap them around your waist, you stood on your toes to press your lips against his, carefully moving your jaw with Art’s and melting into the dance of it on instant. Your fingertips crawl through his butterscotch tinted curls like you couldn’t get enough. And Art went to a little bit of a risk, he didn’t stop his hands from slipping down to grip your ass beneath your tight skirt.

“Mmm.. easy blondie- -” you giggled with a soft push to his collarbone so he’d been a tad away from you once again, and Art finally let himself breathe with a mumbled curse coming from his lips.

You then made your way to the brunette beside him — but before you could even take your stance, the man pulled you in without a warning. Pressing his broad body against you as he collided his mouth with yours in one swift motion and your whimpers had been an immediate reaction by the way Patrick left sloppy kisses wherever he could. Down your neck, over the top of your chest. You grinned as you eyed the man next to him while Patrick tore into your skin.

You found the vile rising tent in Arts jeans quite cute.

You let your hand trail to where his button began and you undid it as quick as you could with the way Patrick had been holding your body like some kind of rag doll. Art helped you unzip them, and when Patrick had flung you around so your back was flush against his chest, your jaw was unleashed as you squealed.

“You really aren’t shy are you?” His voice was richer than before — full of the whisky and pent up from the foreplay of the last hour making you let out a loose laugh while the man pushed past your messy hair to kiss on your neck.

“I am- - but even the quite ones have our needs.. right, Art?”

The blonde let out a coy chuckle before his blush took over more of his expression and with that you had been hiking up your skirt to tuck your thumbs into the hem of your panties to pull them down your thighs. “Oh, shit.. shit” Art was already softly groaning as you used his undone belt buckle as leverage to get the lacy pair from your feet and he watched with overwhelming interest in the way Patrick caught your drift and started to get his own belt gone faster than you got them into that room.

“Fuck” Patrick, equally aroused, groaned when he had got his hardened dick out of his boxers. Your mind was so clouded from the tension of the way he grabbed on to your clothed breasts behind your top, rummaging to find your sensitive nipples — you were panting from the friction of his throbbing member that was far ready to fuck you senseless, just brushing against your upper thigh. You bit down on your lip hard as you looked up at the finely built man behind you who had a smirk stuck to his face before he toyed at your already slick pussy with his fingers.

“Go on… put it in- -” your drunken mind went fuzzy when the dark haired man started to slide through your walls, your hand went slapping against whatever you could reach in the confined space you’d been in as a full moan escaped you — your eyes fluttered from the way Patrick stretched you open on his cock. Keeping both hands on your hips so you didn’t fall over as your legs already begun to go weak. He didn��t even hesitate to plunge into you with a grunt. “I wasn’t- - even planning on.. fucking you tonight, but fuck, I knew you wanted it.” Patrick groaned out while he snapped his hips against your ass and you turned into a mess of whimpers. You’d been in a slight arch for his entrance, cunt clenching around his length so much so you were sure to turn into a stuttering mess within minutes.

Arts reddened cock was on your mind as he’d been right ahead of you just in reach of your sloppy fuck with the brunette. And as “Oh ! Fuck.. yes, yes” was being thrusted out of you, you still reached out to start stroking him. Art hissed on contact with your warm palms on his shaft like you’d been a pro. And he was gorgeous, eyebrows knitted away as he melted into your heavenly coax of his dick, stiff enough to cum right then just from the voyeurism of it all.

“Baby.. faster- - just like that..” Art groaned before putting a hand on your waist that was being rutted by his friend. You spit on your hand quickly before going back to use it on Art. Your legs were in fact giving out — but the bliss due to the man fucking into you was just too good to let go to waste.

“Patrick..keep fucking me- - mmm.. please, it feels so-so good.” You whine while your wetness sticks to the curve of your inner thighs, you could hear the man’s haughty snicker run through your ears. He was now digging his fingers into your hips, slowing his movements to watching himself pump in and out of your hole with rhythm.

“Hold still, sweet girl.. I’m gonna make you cum- -”

That wasn’t what you needed. But what the heck.

With Patrick pounding a couple cries out of you down the line, he'd been putting his hands roughly in your hair to push you over the ledge as you began to make a mess on his twitching cock. “Mmmh.. f-fuck- yes..!” You couldn’t give a damn at how loud you were being. Your creamy juices were left on the man as he wasted no time to pull out of you and start pumping away at his cock on your backside. Using the wall as a rest with his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he released ropes of his cum on to the dip of your back with a low grunt. By the time he tapped the last few drops on your ass, you had a teasing little hazy smile on your face and Patrick held you up again like used goods.

You got one down. You already knew with a few strokes of your tongue, Art would have that sweet release too. So you got on your knees without a question and attached your generous lips around the blondes member. He closed his eyes to feel the heated wetness of your mouth closing on him. “Oh god,” he panted as you suctioned your lips around his tip. Te naughtiest kind of sounds leaving you while you sucked a climax from Art at the same time. The feeling of his cock down your throat, mixed with the moaning through the moment his cum flows through, made your mouth feel totally full and fucked out. Art cursed at the way you looked so pretty taking him on your knees like this — but he thought you were far too comely to be down there for long, so as soon as you swallowed he helped you rise to your feet with a small stumble, but the man managed to keep you aligned as he grabbed hold of you with a soft grin.

“You’re too good, even drunk. I mean, shit..” Patrick panted as he observed your state. Just like before. Arms flung over Arts shoulders as you leaned into him with flirtatiousness.

“You fuck good.” You eyed him back, your voice was a little too impressed to the brunette, but he was appreciative of the acknowledgement. You had focused on the blonde again, whose chest was against yours, running your finger over his cheek in playfulness with a small giggle.

“And you have to play Ken in me next time..”

He looked down as he just couldn’t help himself but shy away from your compliment. “next time, huh ?” Art questioned with a soft chuckle, You nodded and kept your place temptingly close to the blondes lips. “Well then, we’ve gotta get you home first.”

After Patrick and Art insisted on paying for your Uber back to your apartment, they were also nearly begging for your number as well — and after a few waters to sober up, and a kind hearted snap of your seatbelt from one of the boys, you eventually did give in.

You nearly forgot you had a pay to pick up from your friends at your hangover brunch the next morning, and of course the girls wanted all the details about everything from the previous night while bills were paid to you gladly.

You planned on giving the two hot guys at the bar a handjob and couple kisses at the beginning. But exposing to your friends that you got to cum on Patrick’s cock while you jerked off Art and sealed your deal was an extra bonus as they both ended up being as sweet as they come.

Maybe two boyfriends wouldn’t hurt.

#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #x reader #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x female reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers smut #artrick smut #artrick #artrick x reader #chlmtsdoll writes

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perksofbeingahalfie · 1 day ago

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Touya wanted to be a hero, to beat all might and surpass him. he was passionate about his goal from day one. he fought every day to keep that dream from slipping through his fingers. he fights fire with fire, taking Endeavor head on with aggression and passion and zeal. after all, anger is a secondary emotion, fear is what lies underneath. his driving motivation, the thing literally keeping his body alive and going was his hate. he burns himself alive, and then still says there are so many more arguments he wanted to have.

Fuyumi is the fawn. a gentler soul. A techer of children. the only daughter forced into the role of mother. relegated down to her gender, the only thing keeping the house from falling apart after rei is gone. she rolls over and does the labor because there is nobody else to. appeases the judge, jury, and executioner in an attempt of a lesser sentence, less pain. the one who tries to patch things up, who hopes for a changed father, because that's what's she's had to do for years. fear is instinctual, and prey often bares their neck when confronted by a predator.

Natsuo runs. he is ignored and cast aside. he has nothing to fight for and nothing to fawn for, endeavor will never see him with value anyway. at least Fuyumi can play the roleof motherwife. what is he for? so he gets out of dodge as fast as he can. rarely goes home. is always the one to leave arguments, to storm off. separates himself from Endevour, the source of pain. and if he separates himself from him brother, then that's also what's been done for years. after all, anger is a secondary emotion.

Shouto freezes. fire bares down on him and he stands still. the product of everything that came before him and the expectation of the future, but always in the present. cool under pressure, he prefers to freeze others in place so they're immobilized rather than hurt. socially and emotionally stunted, often coming off as cold. only using his ice. being stubborn and unmoving in the face of fire. stuck in the house, weathering the fear. endurance is his fortitude because freezing is the only response that doesn't remove the source of fear, just waits for it to pass. he takes it all. frozen in place. the heat burned him, but it was the frost that caused the scar. but he's used to it. single out since birth and isolated since he was an infant, he doesn't have any normalcy. it's not until he's in a safe place with safe people that he can grow and change. that his fire is his, and his icy exterior starts to melt. that his motivation is no longer fear or anger-disguised fear, but something new completely for himself.

no because its that they're the fear responses. the todoroki children are all just the fear responses. touya is fight, natsuo is flight, shoto is freeze, and fuyumi is fawn. when you stare down abuse every day you have to react somehow, and they all just developed different methods of coping with it

#i decided to add more words #bnha #shoto todoroki #blah blah blah #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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cheyisagirlkisser · 2 days ago

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Blue Collar Abby x Fem! reader HCS

—CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT!—

Blue collar Abby who loves to spoil you. She may not be rich, but best believe she’ll keep her girl happy. She’ll pay for you to get your nails done especially because she says, “my baby looks so gorgeous with a set of pretty nails.”

Blue collar Abby who asked you to move into her apartment so she could come home to you everyday. You have your own job, but you get home way earlier than she does. She works long hours, so getting to see you doing something cute like cooking for her or watching tv on the couch makes her long days worth it.

Blue collar Abby who hates cats. Abby’s more of a dog person, so naturally, when you BEGGED to go to the shelter and pick out a cat, she said no at first. She immediately changed her mind when she saw that cute downcast look on your face and the next day, you had an orange cat running around the house.

Blue collar Abby whose favorite thing is the nights she can spend with you where you just watch cheesy romance movies SWEARS she hates(she cried during Titanic and The Notebook) and eat take-out with you. A box of orange chicken and fried rice and her sweet girlfriend beside her is enough to make her feel like she’s winning in life.

Blue collar Abby who absolutely adores you. She is exhausted at times and spends unfortunately hours away from you, but when she can, she’ll worship you. Not just in sex, either. She loves pulling you onto her lap and admiring that cute flustered face you have. She’ll rub her roughened hands all over your hips and waist, whispering in your ear about how “you’re such a sweet girl.”

Blue collar Abby who does love sex, too though. I see blue collar Abby as not a stone-top but loves to give. A lot. She’ll let you ride her face until you physically can’t anymore, tease your throbbing cunt with a vibrator but never for too long because she just doesn’t know how to deny you. She can’t find it in her to tell you no. She loves using a strap-on on you because she is really fit from her job and feels extremely skilled with it. She’s active too, so her stamina is unmatched. I just imagine her even attempting to let you ride her strap-on and she can’t stay restless for long, so she’ll buck her hips up, eliciting a strangled moan from you.

Blue collar Abby who is mostly a stone-top because sometimes she does need a little attention, too. If she’s had a long day, you’ll catch on to her needs and cheer her up by letting her grind her cunt all over your face. She loves the sight of you on your knees, it’s a rare one but it truly does drive her crazy. Sometimes, she’ll fall asleep after and feel so bad about it, even though she was so exhausted that day. On those occasions, you’ll get some mind-blowing morning sex before she has to leave for work. She’ll always take care of you.

Blue collar Abby who really wants you as her wife. She wants to propose with a ring you’ll love and be able to help you plan the wedding of your dreams. You’re her princess, and all she wants is to make your dreams happen. She’s saving up, half-way there right now. All she wants is a future where she can provide everything for you and spoil you rotten. She daydreams at work about adopting or finding a sperm donor and you being her beautiful wife.

Blue collar Abby who finally reaches her goal, and takes you out to this nice restaurant. You look all pretty and she knows the moment’s perfect. After dinner’s over, she’ll walk you around this botanical garden and when you’re not paying attention, she gets down on one knee and reveals the most beautiful ring you’d ever laid eyes upon. It wasn’t some standard diamond ring, either. It was something that was tailored just to what you loved, the most perfect ring just for you. Of course, you said yes, and all those day dreams about seeing you in a beautiful wedding dress are a reality.

#divider by bloodibambiidoll #abby smut #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby x you #tlou fluff #tlou smut #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #fluff #sapphic smut

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mallowsweetmiri · 3 days ago

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Potter!Reader x Remus

Summary: after weeks of having a painful crush on your brothers best friend, you make a plan to seduce him.

Warnings: smutty and slutty

Word count: 6k

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You groaned into your pillow, wiping the sweat from your forehead into the cotton fabric. This was the second time this week you'd woken up sweating from a dream about Remus Lupin, and it troubled you deeply that the scenarios you imagined would never happen. For one, your brother would instantly shut you down if you even suggested going out with any boy, let alone his best mate. The more unfortunate part was that you were almost certain Remus saw you as nothing more than James' little sister, a title you were tired of carrying. You huffed again as you rose to start getting ready. How much longer could this crush go on? It had started on the train in September. You remember thinking to yourself that Remus had become quite good looking over the summer and left it at that. But soon, he started to catch your eyes in the hallways, then in the common room, until finally he had managed his way into your head. You were constantly thinking about him. Thinking about the glimpses of his chest you'd caught one time when his shirt was unbuttoned, thinking about the way his adam's apple moved in his throat, thinking about his hands...

You shook your head and stepped into the shower. If only you could know what he felt like, then maybe this incessant urge to be with him would go away. You felt the water fall down your back as you washed yourself up. You were a pretty girl, you knew this. If you were someone else, had a different last name, maybe you'd have a chance. Although, you'd never really tried before. You kept these thoughts to yourself, having nobody to talk to them about. Normally you would tell James everything, and he would usually play parent when it came to your school girl crushes. But you couldn't exactly go up to James and say, "Hey, do you think you could set me up with Remus? Y'know, your best mate? I really want to see what he looks like with his clothes off." No, you couldn't do that. But perhaps you wouldn't have to...

You stepped out of the shower feeling confident in your plan. You had spent all this time pining in silence over Remus, it was time for action. While you got ready, you made subtle changes. You hiked your skirt up just a little and slipped into the button down that was just a touch too small. When you did your makeup, you were sure to make your lips look extra lush and rosy. You put on your favorite perfume, the one you saved for special occasions. This seemed as good a day as any.

"There she is," James smiled and stood as you came down the stairs to the common room.

"Good morning, Jamie," you chimed, "were you waiting on me?" James laughed as he grabbed his bag off the floor, the two of you heading through to the portrait hole.

"I'm always waiting for you," James nudged you with his shoulder. "You look nice today." You raised your brow at him, his statement more of a question as if to ask "Is there a reason you're making an effort?"

"Thanks," was all you replied as you made your way to breakfast.

PHASE 1: Hook

When you got there, the other marauders were already sat down. Sirius was talking animatedly with Peter as Remus sat quietly reviewing notes.

"We've finally arrived," James said to no one in particular, taking a seat and immediately filling his plate. Remus look up from his book and mumbled something before delving back into his work. You sat next to James and made a bowl of porridge, listening to Sirius boast about the Quidditch match tomorrow.

"Ravenclaw is going to destroy Slytherin," he bellowed, thumping his fist on the table. "And then I am going to destroy a bottle of Firewhiskey in their common room." He smirked, earning and high five from James.

"That's the spirit, Pads," James cheered, taking a drink from his cup. You rolled your eyes and stirred your oats.

"I don't know how the two of you haven't died from overconsumption yet," you quipped, spooning sugar into your bowl.

"Genuinely," Remus added, looking up from his book, "you two are menaces." You hummed in agreement, bringing the spoon to your mouth to lick the extra sugar off. You caught Remus watching from your peripherals and made a show of it, bringing your glossed lips together at the tip of the spoon. When you glanced up thoughtfully through your lashes, he was still watching. It made you chuckle as his eyes quickly averted back to his book. Baited.

"Are you coming tomorrow, Y/N?" Peter asked, shoving toast into his mouth. You swallowed your porridge and swore that Remus' ears seemed to shift at the question.

"Y/N never comes to quidditch parties," James pouted, turning to look at you. You rolled your eyes.

"Correction, I never come to your quidditch parties," you teased, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I'll probably go tomorrow to see Pandora. If Ravenclaw wins," you reminded them. Sirius grumbled something but you couldn't tell what he was saying through his mouthful of sausage. James' face lit up with excitement.

"Ooh! Sibling bonding time," he gushed cheesily, squeezing your cheeks. Oh, for fucks sake. Could he stop? You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as his bloody little sister and he was ruining all your efforts.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm going to class," you grumbled, trying to hide your annoyance in front of Remus. The boys chuckled as you gathered your things and got up from your seat. If James was going to be a tosser, you'd have to up your game.

"Oops," you said innocently as you dropped your book on the ground, loud enough to make a clatter. You bent over to pick it up, praying that James was currently not watching.

"Merlin, Y/N. Pull your bloody skirt down," James scolded, making a foul face. You rolled your eyes at him again and stuck your tongue out as you continued to exit the hall. Well, if Remus hadn't been looking before, he surely was now.

PHASE 2: Line

You were more than excited for the Quidditch game, especially after spending yesterday evening stuck in the dungeons fixing your laughing potion. You were also excited because you had another chance to see Remus. You had only seen him briefly yesterday, and he was always buried in his work. Hopefully you'd be able to gain his attention today at the game.

With this intention, you slipped on a white babydoll top and watched yourself in the mirror as you buttoned it up. You looked good. You left the top button purposely unlatched, knowing it could catch someone’s attention. After slipping on your favorite pair of jeans, you felt confident- sexy, even. Just the idea of Remus thinking you were sexy made you bite your lip.

You didn't wait for your roommates to finish getting ready. You did a last check of your things, grabbed your coat, and started down to the common room. As per usual, the marauders were sitting around the couches, talking loudly and taking up space. This time, Remus was clearly in on whatever bet was being placed over the quidditch game. His crooked smile made you curse under your breath and fix your hair. You decided to play it safe and sit by Marlene in an attempt to hide your fluster.

“Hi Marls,” you chimed, plopping down next to her.

“Princess Potter! You look absolutely dashing today,” she gloated, giving you a quick hug into her shoulder. You blushed from her compliment and peered upwards from the hug. Remus was smiling at something Peter had said, but was looking at you. You sent him a small wave from under Marlene’s arm to which he nodded up in response before turning his attention back to the boys. Why was that so hot?

Within twenty minutes, the group of Gryffindors was ready to leave, so the lot of you began the journey down to the pitch. It was nice out today, one of those afternoons where the sun seemed to warm the grounds and the breeze. This meant that the entire school would be at the game. You weren’t usually a fan of crowded spaces, but you silently thanked the gods for putting you behind Remus as you filed into the stands. It was so packed, you could smell the cologne lingering off his clothes as you sat down on the bench. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile of satisfaction. It felt like the universe was helping your scheme.

“Y/N!” James called over the crowd, leaning forward to see you. You raised your brows and leaned forward to see him, giving him a forced smile.

“Yes, brother dearest?” You called back in a sickly sweet voice. At least now you had an excuse to lean over Remus, who was currently leaning back as far as he could to get out of the way. Perfect position to climb onto his lap, your brain thought intrusively.

“Your boyfriend’s up on the pitch,” he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, pointing to Theodore Pompous, a 7th year Ravenclaw. You leaned over Remus and Peter to smack your brother.

“Bugger off,” you grumbled. “I admit to having a crush one time in third year, and you still haven’t shut up about it!” You felt your cheeks blush as James and Sirius continued to tease you in the most immature manner. All you could do was roll your eyes and take it, those prats.

“Still have a crush on that posh boy?” Remus leaned in with a teasing smile. You internally groaned at him for joining in on the joke, but you wouldn’t pass up the chance to tease him back.

“Why, are you jealous?” You challenged with a devious head tilt. Remus scoffed and trained his eyes back on Theodore.

“Nah,” Remus replied coolly. “Besides, James would never let you go out with that git.”

“Oh, yea?” You asked, leaning in slightly. “And who would my brother let me go out with?” He turned to face you, his eyes meeting your provocative stare. His eyes flashed with something before Marlene tugged on your arm.

“Can you tell the boys to scoot down? Lily just got here.”

You stifled the urge to roll your eyes as you and Remus called out for the boys to move further down the bench. There wasn’t much room to spare, and you ended up wedged between Marlene and Remus. You were painfully aware of his leg against your own, though Marlene's thigh didn't seem to cross your mind. Remus leaned away from you, his hand behind Peter on the bench to support his weight. It was only a minute of this compromising position before they announced the start of the game. Then, everyone leapt to their feet, eager to watch.

It was a riveting match, and Slytherin almost took the win. Luckily, Theodore managed to catch the snitch at the perfect score ratio, ending the game and sealing the win for Ravenclaw. As the excitement and cheers began to die down, everyone started slowly filing out of the stands. You shuffled behind Marlene, the noise of chatter and brushing of shoulders making you feel slightly overwhelmed. The party was going to be packed tonight. You were almost to the stairs when your foot got caught on a raised step, tripping you into the walkway. You gasped as your heart lurched forward. You prepared for impact against the steps, but it never came. Suddenly, you felt that Remus’ hands had wrapped around your waist. Your cheeks flushed red as you twisted around to face him, his right hand still lingering on your body.

“Thanks,” you muttered sheepishly, your body still shaken from the almost fall. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on you, and was about to say something before James appeared next to him. Remus dropped his hand and shoved it in his pocket. You turned back around and kept following Marlene, carefully watching where you stepped.

“Y/N, fix your shirt!” James called from behind. You clenched your jaw as you kept trudging on, shuffling along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Marlene fell beside you and scoffed.

“He is such a prat about you,” Marlene complained, throwing a dirty look back at James.

“Tell me about it. I almost eat shit and all he cares about is my shirt buttons,” you grumbled, begrudgingly buttoning your top. Marlene cackled and threw her arm around you.

“Please tell me you’re coming to the party tonight,” Marlene pleaded, shaking you slightly.

“Oh, I’m coming to the party tonight,” you grinned delightfully, nudging her in response. “And James is going to freak out when he sees what I’m wearing.”

PHASE 3: and Sinker

"Okay, actually what the fuck are you wearing, Y/N. This is my last straw," James warned, pushing himself up from the arm chair. His outburst made the other three boys heads snap up. You couldn't help but smirk as you felt Remus’ eyes on your body.

"What? This is what people wear at Ravenclaw parties these days," you shrugged, waving past them towards the exit. "Not that you lot would know. You don't get invited." Sirius barked out a laugh, while James sputtered in disbelief behind you.

"She's right!" Mary called from the stairs, bouncing into the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor girls, all looking flawless. You couldn't blame James for his reaction- If anything, you should be thanking him. He's doing a great job of getting everyone to stare.

"While I respect your opinion James, I think I look great. And I can wear whatever the hell I want," you snapped, spinning around to face him with a stubborn glare. The girls cheered, shouting some excited "Hell yeahs!" as James gave up with a resigned eye roll. He knew better than to cross you on something you wanted, and you clearly wanted something. He just didn't need to know exactly what it was. The girls followed you excitedly as you started out the portrait hole. This was going to be a fun night.

As predicted, the Ravenclaw common room was packed. By the time you arrived, the moonlight was already pouring through the glass ceiling dome, casting everything in a dreamy glow. It wasn't hard for Pandora to spot you, pulling you onto the dance floor with an airy giggle. The music was pulsing through your veins as you finished your first drink, then your second. Pandora pulled you into her body, the two of you laughing as you swayed and twirled. For a moment, your eyes focused on the group of Gryffindors hanging out in the lounge area, laughing at something Sirius had said. Remus sat back in a chair, his casual demeanor seeming out of place in a room like this.

Remus.

Your swaying slowed as you trained your eyes on him sitting nonchalantly. He was watching you, his jaw tightening as his eyes dropped to where Pandoras hands rested on your hips. It was too bad that Pandora twirled you around and you lost your train of thought.

"Panda, let's go smoke. I'm getting dizzy," you called over the music, Pandora nodding in response. The two of you resigned to a quiet corner, where you pulled out a tin of cigarettes and lit one with a flick of your wand. You inhaled deeply, enjoying the relief of cool air away from the crowd. You leaned your back up against the wall as Pandora took the fag from your hands.

“Lingering eyes are on you,” Pandora sang, her spacey eyes falling behind you as she took a drag. You turned your head to see where she was looking and was met with Remus' stare.

“Perfect. Those are just the eyes I want lingering,” you replied, bringing your drink to your lips as you watched him. You half expected him to look away, but his eyes were burning through you. You watched as he scanned up your body, his eyes meeting yours before he downed the rest of his drink. He then quickly averted to James who was trying to get Remus' attention.

"I need another drink,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself off the wall, Pandora's giggles echoing behind you. You crossed the room over to where the drinks were. You couldn’t tell if the room was charmed to be slightly purple or if it was the night sky above you. Either way, the ambiance certainly added to your intoxication as you neared the edge of the room. You almost didn’t realize someone slipping up behind you.

"Are you teasing me, Y/N?" Remus asked, cornering you by the drinks table as you spun around. He moved quickly, and you peered behind him to check for any lingering marauders.

"I'm always teasing you idiots," you sassed, turning to grab a bottle off the table. Remus seemed to step even closer to you. If one of the boys saw you like this, they'd certainly take notice. He was being bold. Luckily, you were hidden by an abnormally large globe and the mist that seemed to float about the room.

"I see you everyday," Remus challenged, huffing out a laugh, "and I've never noticed you looking at me with those eyes, Y/N." You hummed as you filled two shot glasses.

“What eyes?” You asked innocently, looking up at him through your lashes as you held out a shot for him. He scoffed out another laugh and took the shot from you.

“Cheers, love,” he winked, clanking his glass with yours before downing the shot. You followed suit, happy to consume some liquid courage. He leaned in closer to you and lowered his voice, “You know, you should really be careful wearing something like that.”

“Why’s that?” You swallowed, the burn from the shot making your cheeks hot.

“You might catch someone’s attention who you don’t want,” Remus said darkly, making you bite your lip. You’d never seen him like this before.

“And what if I catch the attention of someone I do want?” You asked coyly, looking up at him again through a tantalizing gaze. Remus scoffed again for the third time, as if he couldn’t believe your audacity.

“And who is it that you want, Y/N? Hmm?” He asked, more of a challenge. At this point, you were certain that he wanted you. That, or you were about to be in serious trouble. Either way, the risk seemed worth the reward.

“You.”

Something broke in Remus as he stepped forward again, impossibly closer as his hands met your hips.

"You mean to tell me you wore this dress, just to get my attention?" He laughed, his voice low and teasing. You bit your lip and blushed, trying to hide your blatant satisfaction. Remus was smarter than he looked.

"Mmhm," you nodded, your poorly hidden smile spreading to his face.

"Fuck, Y/N," he broke and turned to scan the room, his hands still grasping your hips. You stared up at him, watching his jaw tense as he tried to locate the marauders. His hands were burning through your dress as you stood completely still. You felt relieved when he muttered, "Follow Me," and ushered you towards the exit. You weren't sure where your brother was, but you trusted Remus to get you into the hallway. Once you had exited the doors, he wasted no time as he pressed you into the wall, the force causing you to gasp. He held you in place as he pressed his forehead into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered and you almost scoffed. You tugged him by the collar and collided his mouth with yours, groaning when he deepened the kiss immediately. His hands were greedy, grabbing at your body as he pushed himself against you. This was even better than your dreams. All sense left your body as he continued kissing down your neck. He pressed his knee roughly in between your legs. A moan left you lips as he bit down, nipping and sucking at your skin.

"Fuck, Remus," you panted, your hips rolling up towards his body. He grunted and pushed you back against the wall. Who knew Remus Lupin would be so intense?

"Can I take you back?" he breathed heavily, as if he was barely holding onto his control.

"Do you even have to ask?" you teased, his body flush against your own. He huffed out a laugh as he kissed your neck again.

"You know I have to ask, Y/N," Remus muttered darkly, as though the act of asking in itself was a violation. And maybe it was, but you couldn't care less about the line he was crossing.

"Does this answer your question?" You whispered, pulling his hand down to touch you. He cursed under his breath as he felt you, his hand seeming to move on its own as he ran his fingers up your soaking panties. It took him a minute to regain focus.

"Okay, let's go," he commanded, guiding you down the hallway with haste. You giggled as he held your waist, moving you quickly towards the Gryffindor tower. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. It surprised and satisfied you that your plan had worked, that you'd managed to tip Remus over so far that he was bringing you back to his dorm.

"You're moving so fast," you fussed as he dragged you up the stairs. His legs were significantly longer than yours.

"M' sorry," he muttered, his eyes focused ahead. "I don't want to waste any time." His urgency was contagious, and you felt yourself pick up the pace. He released you as you stepped through the portrait hole, his grip loosening with surprising restraint. He was careful, and as much as it didn't concern you in the moment, you were glad at least one of you was being responsible. There weren't many people in the common room, everyone either asleep or at the party. Remus' hand found your back once again as he silently steered you towards the boys dorms. You went up the staircase until you reached their door, looking back at Remus for permission before opening it. The windows let in slivers of moonlight and a cooling breeze. Remus shut the door behind you and turned you around. Somehow his faced seemed more real as he stood there, his eyes searching your face.

"Remus," you breathed, feeling the weight of his gaze. He huffed out a breath through his nose, stepping close to you.

"Just tell me Y/N," he said, his hands finding your neck, "Just tell me if you want me to stop."

"I want you," you whined, standing on your tip toes and pulling him down by the neck. He gratefully returned the motion, groaning as his mouth found yours. Remus was everything you'd expected and more. He knew what he was doing, and his blatant want for you made your legs buckle under his touch. He walked you backwards, lifting you by the thighs and lowering you carefully onto his bed. His hand smoothed its way over your leg, pushing up the hem of your dress. His thumb swiped against your front, causing your back to lift slightly under his touch. He hummed into your mouth as he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel him through his pants, and you groaned at his size. Fucking hell. You ran your finger nails down the back of his shirt. Remus pulled his wand out of his pocket and closed his curtains, sitting up on his knees and unbuttoning his shirt. You watched, mesmerized by the show in front of you. The scars that ran down his chest, lower to his abdomen, and lower...

"My eyes are up here, darling," Remus teased, smirking down at you as he tugged off his shirt. You swallowed, looking up at his eyes which were no less intimidating than his body. He scoffed out a laugh as he climbed over you, running his fingertips down your body.

"If your intention was to get my attention all night, you did a good job," he breathed, pressing his finger into your clit. "Such a good job."

He stifled your moan with his mouth, his kiss wet and needy. His fingers moved carefully over your panties, provoking a response from your body that you'd never experienced before. You were trying your best to keep up with his kiss, but the overwhelming sensation of Remus had you melting into the bed.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back into the pillow as his fingers moved underneath the fabric. He hummed as he began to kiss roughly down your neck. His fingers swiped over your slickness, teasing your entrance. You grasped onto him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulder as he plunged a finger inside you. He pushed himself up to watch you as he pumped another finger into you, you hips moving rhythmically with his hands. By this point, you looked a complete mess with your dress bunched around your middle and your mouth in a permanent gasp. You groaned as you felt yourself beginning to pulse on the brink of an orgasm.

"Fuck, Y/N. Are you going to cum?" Remus mocked you, he fingers stealdiy curly up inside of you.

"Y-yea. M' gonna cum," You whimpered, screwing your eyes shut. Remus muttered a curse under his breath before ducking his head and finding his way in between your thighs. Without warning, he buried himself in you, lapping at your clit while pinning you down by the waist. You grasped at his hair, attempting to pull him off of you but it was no use. He was humming into you as you moved in circle around his face, teetering on the verge of your orgasm. He let out a particularly throaty grunt that sent you over the edge. You let out a muffled cry as you spilled your juices onto his tongue repeatedly. He finished you up, humming as he began to kiss up your body until he hovered over you again. You pulled him down into a rough kiss, your hips snapping up to feel his hard on. "You're so perfect, Y/N," Remus praised, pulling your dress down over your bum. Your tits were now fully exposed, Remus' hands and eyes exploring over your body like he was trying to memorize you. "So perfect... I want you so badly..." He groaned, kissing over you chest and rubbing your tit in his hand. You groaned with pleasure.

"Then have me." You didn't hesitate to pull off the rest of your clothes, helping Remus unbutton his pants and pull them over his ankles. He did the same with his boxers, his length springing free. You bit your lip at the sight, a little nervous for how big he was. This didn't deter you though as you sat on your knees and leaned forward, beckoning him to use you.

"You're so fucking-” Remus let out a groan as he pushed himself inside your mouth, grabbing the back of your head with his hand. You wet his shaft with your tongue, moaning as he began to move down your throat. "So fucking good." His praises made you clamp your knees together, groaning again as you took him as far as you could handle. He gripped your hair roughly and throat fucked you for a few seconds before pulling you off, as if he couldn't control himself. "Turn around."

You did as you were told and spun around onto you hands. He pushed you chest down into the bed lined himself up with your entrance. You tried to sit back onto him, but his other hand held your hips firmly in place.

"Please, Remus," you choked out, your face buried into the mattress. He groaned as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you out with every inch he pressed inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," Remus breathed, moving slowly to let you adjust to his size. This consideration didn't last long before he was pounding you into his mattress, calling you filthy names and tugging on your hair. All the restraint he seemed to have went out the window as he fucked you mercilessly from behind.

"R-Remus. Fuck- me-" you cried, whimpering with every thrust. His hand gripped your hip with a squeeze as he leaned over your body.

"You're taking me so well," He breathed, running his hand under you body. He snaked his hand over your tit and pulled you up against him, making you gasp with pleasure from the new angle. "You're doing so good, angel."

He had you melting from his touch as your body gave out underneath his hands. He bit your neck gently, sucking and kissing on the sweet spot he had found earlier. You groaned as your head lulled back on his shoulder. This was not what you were expecting. You had no complaints though as he reached down between your legs and started pressing on your clit, pushing himself deep inside of you.

“R-Remus,” you warned, struggling to hold yourself up. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach for the second time as his thick cock moved inside of you, putting more pressure on your nerves.

“Just like that, Y/N,” he murmured, his strong hands holding you in place. “Just let go, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice as you let yourself release around him, guttural sounds coming out of your mouth. You had no time to feel embarrassed over your moans as he pushed you back on the bed and started fucking you senseless.

“So good, fuck me,” Remus mutter incoherently as he rammed himself inside of you, grabbing at your hips. You looked back at him to watch, and were not disappointed at the sight. When his eyes locked onto yours, he broke. He snapped his hips haphazardly as he released himself inside of you. You moaned again at the feeling of Remus Lupin filling you up with his cum. He thrust into you one last time before falling over you, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck.

“So fucking good, Y/N,” he praised again, cleaning the both of you up with an impressive flick of his wand. You hummed and turned yourself around in a fucked out daze. He watched you pout as you pulled weakly on his neck. He chuckled under his breath and came down to kiss you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, lazily kissing as his hands rubbed gently down your body, a stark contrast from his rough actions just moments ago.

“I should probably go,” you frowned as he came up for air. He mirrored your response and sighed.

“You’re probably right,” he said, pushing himself off of you. “Here, let me grab you a shirt.” He pulled on his own pants before you heard him shuffle to his trunk. Just as you were about to move to get up, you heard someone bounding up the stairs.

“Shit,” you whispered, frozen in place. You saw Remus’ hands toss a shirt through the curtain before retreating, and you gratefully put it on. Luckily, your dress was still under you. You heard Remus kick your shoes under his bed.

“Moony? Why’d you leave so early?” You heard Sirius ask with a slight slur, stumbling into the room.

“Started boking,” Remus replied casually. “I feel like shit, I’m just gonna go to bed.” Sirius hummed and fell on his bed. You heard him kick off his shoes and manuveur himself under the sheets.

“You and me both, Moons,” Sirius groaned, seemingly too drunk to care about any lie Remus was spewing. Remus moved towards his bed.

“Alright, well. G’night,” Remus murmured, climbing into bed quickly.

“G’night,” Sirius muttered, rummaging through something. You looked to Remus with concern, who only put his finger to his lips as he came to lay down next to you. His haphazard smile seemed to relax you a bit as he pulled you into your chest, humming with content.

“Just go to sleep, love,” he whispered quietly and kissed your head. “I’ll get you back safe and sound.” Perhaps it was against your better judgement, but you seemed to trust Remus wholly to take care of you. That and your body was completely exhausted from him. You murmured a goodnight as you buried yourself into his neck, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. At some point, you heard your brother come in with Peter. Remus momentarily tensed causing you to shift. His grasp tightened on you before he heard Sirius grumble something along the lines of “sick” to James and the room fell silent again.

The second time you stirred, you felt Remus pulling away from you. You mumbled lightly, confused as to why he was getting out of bed. He turned to shush you quietly before stepping out. You heard him shuffle across the room.

“James,” he whispered, “James, wake up.” You sat up quietly in his bed. What the fuck was he doing?

“Mm,” James groaned, turning in his bed. “Moony?”

“Yea it’s me,” Remus said quickly. “Can I borrow your cloak? I think a Slytherin charmed my drink last night and I need to go on a quick mission.” You rolled your eyes at this. Remus was smart, and his lies would perfectly convince James. He would never turn down a prank.

“Oh, shit,” James said, slightly more awake. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” Remus answered quickly. “Uh, no. I’ll be super quick. I just can’t sleep until I know I got back at them.” This seemed to appease James as you heard him fall back into bed.

“Sure, Moony,” James yawned. “It’s in my trunk.” You heard Remus shuffle through his trunk before coming back around to the other side of your bed. You heard him slip on some shoes before holding the curtain open, once again holding his finger to his lips. You rolled your eyes at this and quietly stepped out of the bed, thankfully blocked by the rest of the room. Remus threw the cloak over the both of you and guiding you to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Both of you felt relief as you stepped into the stairway, making your way down to the common room. Nobody was here at this hour. Remus threw the cloak off of you.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, spinning you around to face him. “I should’ve been more careful.” You shook your head.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind using you as my pillow for a bit,” you chuckled lightly. “Besides, I could’ve used a bit more caution myself.” You blushed shyly at him. You hadn’t been the most discreet throughout the whole ordeal. Remus laughed at this and ran his thumbs across your hips, causing you to shiver. You wore only his oversized shirt and your panties.

“Nah,” Remus said with his lopsided grin. “I think I quite like your obvious pining for me.” You slapped his chest lightly as he chuckled. “I’ll just have to work extra hard to keep you to myself.” He leaned in to kiss you, and you felt your heart leap. So much for getting over your crush.

“Hmm, I’ll guess I’ll have to keep trying to get you attention then,” you whispered, pulling back from his lips. He hummed and kissed you again, as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Go get some sleep, love. I’m sure you need it,” he teased, flashing another grin at you. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t keep your smile down.

“Goodnight, Remus.” You started towards the girls dormitories.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Remus found himself staying in the common room with James’ cloak, not wanting to return too early. He tried to convince himself this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t justify it. There really wasn’t anything that could stop him from fucking you again. His mind flashed with images of your perfect eyes looking back at him as he rammed himself inside of your perfect pussy. His head fell back onto the couch with a thud. He was a goner.

362 notes · View notes

seitmai · 3 days ago

Text

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.” “Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Truly 🥲

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?” “I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

He is so erratic, it's hard to tell anything at all 🥴

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

I'm sure he is 🥲

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.” “I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said. Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

🥴😬🫣

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.” You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

Which is very natural and reasonable, if you choose these times yourself 🙈

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

Very different reasons 🥴

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.” “Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Geez Barnes just listen to her 🤦🏻‍♀️

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

I beg you, please smack some sense into him!

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.” “Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

This!!!

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now? “I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

Good god it's so up and down with him, im gonna get whiplash 🥴

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

She's better than me, I would have done a happy dance or something lol

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.” You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,”

For real 😒

Hold You Tight: Part 12

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 11 | Series Masterlist | Part 13

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Bucky gets under your skin when he takes you shopping.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dirty talk, mild dubcon (kissing, touching), tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how much time passed with Bucky’s head resting in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly moving through his hair. While his body relaxed, you remained rigid. You tried to think of positive things. Your upcoming trip to the winery, Addison’s wedding. The images in your mind darkened though as if a cloud loomed over them. In a way, it did because you didn’t know what Bucky had planned for those events. Because even if Bucky really let you go to the winery alone, someone would be watching.

You forced the cloud in your mind to lift. Things could still be positive. You could still have a good day and have the best time with your friends.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.”

“Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Brushing his pants off once he got to his feet, he helped you up and didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t attempt to pull away. He made sure to grab the money you left on the table before he paid the server and you tried to give the poor guy a smile when you thanked him. You just wanted to get on with your day.

As Bucky led you out of the cafe and back to the shop, you caught Ray’s gaze as he stood by the car and waited for his boss. Whatever concern he showed for you faded when he blinked. How did he deal with this life? Would he ever walk away from it?

“I’ll pick you up after work then?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t tell him when your shift ended, but he knew, didn’t he? “Thanks for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, but one more thing.” Bucky stopped you before you could enter the shop. “This regular customer you mentioned earlier. How often does he stop in?”

He asked as if he had no idea and maybe he didn’t in this case. That assumption didn’t ease your worries. “Once a month,” you said, your stomach turning slightly. “Listen, the roses he tried to give to me, I gave them to him first. They were his usual order and I thought it would be nice gesture and I was just-”

“I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad that you were kind to another person? That’s one of the things I love about you. It drew me to you,” he assured you. You oddly felt better by his assurance. “I don’t want you to stop doing kind things for others because you’re worried it might upset me.”

“So, it doesn’t upset you?”

“You being you would never upset me,” he smiled. He had said more than once that he loved you as a person, so maybe he was telling the truth. “A man trying to give flowers to you while going through a break-up is, at the very least, a little strange.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to admit that he had a point and that you were slightly put off when Clark tried to give the roses to you.

“I’m also well aware that you don’t hit on any guy who comes into your shop, so I wouldn’t view any act of kindness to a customer as trying to get their attention.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. Even Ray had pointed out to you that you didn’t give guys in the shop the time of day. Why would you when most of them were buying flowers for someone else? “But I just wanted you to know.”

You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered. Relief that Bucky reacted calmly to what you said? You didn’t dwell on it as he held the door open and smiled after you as you went back into the shop. It was time to concentrate on work again.

Mrs. Crandle smiled and waved to Bucky through the door. “Oh, he is a looker,” she winked. “How was lunch, dear?”

“The food was good and Bucky and I got to talk a bit, which was… nice,” you answered, glancing around the shop and wondering if the place was bugged, too. Could he get access to the shop? Letting you continue to work seemed too good to be true, but he’d have nothing to worry about if he had eyes and ears there, too. “He’s taking me shopping tonight.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.”

“I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said.

Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

As expected, Bucky arrived back at the shop a few hours later to pick you up. Instead of giving him the chance to go inside and speak to Mrs. Crandle again, you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door to greet him. He caught you easily when you nearly collided with him, and for the first time, you felt like you were intruding in his space instead of the other way around.

“Eager to see me?” He smiled, his voice teasing as he kept a hand on your shoulder and helped you into the vehicle when you didn’t immediately answer. “How was the rest of your shift? I hope no one else bothered you.”

Just you.

“It was uneventful. I got a lot done,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you from the normalcy of your afternoon. “And no one bothered me.” Your gaze flickered to him and he was hanging onto your every word. He also looked much more relaxed, like the moodiness at lunch never happened. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Also uneventful. A couple of boring calls. Kept thinking about you though and it got me through the day,” he said, slipping an arm around you as the car door closed. The way you two were speaking to each other sounded almost normal. Checking in on each other, seeing how the other was doing. “Steve asked about that double date.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for that,” you said, wondering if that poor coat check girl had any idea.

“We both are. You can find a dress for that, too,” he smiled fondly. “In fact, what would you think of me getting you a new wardrobe when you move in? Your style, your choice on everything. You name it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” You hadn’t done anything to deserve a whole new set of clothes and you hoped he wasn’t suggesting it to mold you more to his liking.

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You have great taste and I just want to spoil you,” he said, running a finger down your side. This was the man who let you go into his exclusive club wearing a dressed down outfit simply because it was you, so he’d probably let you get away with any sort of wardrobe you wanted. “Do you know how ravishing you look right now?”

“I’m not ravishing. I’m in my work clothes,” you muttered.

“You are ravishing,” he said, moving his finger back up as you shivered. “We should get some stargazer lilies for your first night in our home. I could strip you down, lay you out on our bed, and brush one of the petals along your skin.”

You inhaled sharply and closed your eyes, trying not to picture him spreading you out on a luxurious bed. He would say something like that when he was right in your space and you had nowhere to go. The man went from zero to sixty in seconds. No doubt he could feel you tremble and knew your heart was racing.

“Bet it’ll feel soft against your nipples,” he whispered, exhaling against your ear. “And your pussy.”

Your next breath was shallow, but you managed not to whimper. “Where are we going shopping?” You asked evenly, hoping to get to the destination sooner rather than later.

You stubbornly kept your eyes shut when he chuckled. “You’re changing the topic because you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Worried you’ll get your panties soaked before we get to the shop?” He questioned, your heart thudding. You didn’t want to think about it at all. You wanted out of the car so you could properly breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m not playing nice, am I? We’re going to one of your favorite stores and you can pick out whatever you want.”

You’d no doubt look at the price tags out of habit since you shopped on a budget and bought your nicer pieces on sale. “Do you ever really play nice?” You asked, opening your eyes. “One moment you’re being vulnerable and talking about your family and the next time I see you you’re talking about sleeping with me. I’m shocked the whiplash hasn’t scrambled my brain.”

The image of him destroying the utensil at lunch like it was nothing flashed in your mind for some reason. And him and his gang beating up John. Just how strong was he? Was he a killer?

“Sometimes we’ll talk about something tough or serious and the next it may be something more fun or intimate. That’s part of being in a relationship,” he said. If only it were an authentic relationship. “I want that with you, telling you what’s on my mind and how I feel.”

If he cared about what was on your mind or how you felt, he’d back off and let you have a bit of space. “Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust,” you said. Did he not see that the mutual respect wasn't there since he pushed for things to be his way? And trust was something he couldn't force no matter how powerful he was.

“I understand that. You also said a first date was getting to know each other and seeing if there's a mutual connection. I'm opening up to you, letting you get to know me. I’m getting to know you, too, beyond the things I knew in advance,” he said. What was he learning about you that he didn’t already know? “And you can't tell me you don't feel something for me.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, Bucky? That I want you and want to be with you?” You asked. Even if you did develop feelings for him, it would have to be classified as some form of stockholm syndrome. And even then, strong feelings wouldn’t be enough. He wanted everything from you. “That I don’t want anyone else?”

The hand along your side crept up to your neck, tension heightening when he gently squeezed. He loved putting his hand around your throat. “You do want me, you do want to be with me, you’ll never want anyone else once I have you and I know you love how much I want you,” he spoke with confidence, like he could make the words come true as you took your next breath. “Should I check your panties before we go inside and feel how wet they are?”

You needed to distract him. Fight him. Do something. “What’s your love language?” You blurted out. “Physical Touch?”

“What?” He whispered, your heart still pounding when he slowly moved his hand away from your throat.

“Your love language. You constantly touch me when I’m close to you, so I guessed Physical Touch,” you explained. He always had a hand on you.

He sat back with a pensive look. “No one has ever asked me that.”

“Oh,” you said as the car rolled to a stop. You blindly reached for the door handle. “Well, it’s something to think about if you don’t know.”

You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

“You also appreciate Words of Affirmation, even if compliments make you feel uncertain because you sometimes feel overlooked. The combination of those languages makes you feel seen and heard,” he continued, giving you a tender smile. “I can hear and see you if you let me.”

You found yourself unable to speak as he gauged your reaction, your throat tight as if gripped by an unseen force. He nailed it right on the head about your love languages, didn't he? “I need air,” you whispered, letting yourself out of the car once he let you go.

The tightness in your throat moved to your heart. Bucky saw and heard you in his own way, didn't he? Not just as a passing thought but because he genuinely believed he loved you, deeply and wholeheartedly. The more he sank his fangs in, the more venom he injected. You had to be your own antidote.

With a shake of your head, you glanced up at the shop. True to his word, it was one you loved. Another piece of yourself that would now be tied to him.

You jumped when Bucky appeared beside you and took your arm. “You okay?” He asked, studying your face with gentle eyes.

“Just fine,” you replied, smiling for his sake. “Let's go shopping.”

You walked into the boutique together, the air filled with a subtle mix of lavender and something sweet that made you feel right at home. The space was a blend of trendy and rustic, exuding charm and intimacy. Clothes lined the wooden shelves and vintage racks, showcasing a variety of styles that ranged from casual to bold. Delicate accessories sparkled in the soft light, inviting you to explore.

You could easily find the perfect dress for the winery here.

“Hello! Welcome to… Oh! Mr. Barnes,” the associate smiled, her heels clicking on the floor. She was a picture perfect example of style and beauty. “I have the back dressing room set up and I’ll be sure no one disturbs you or your girlfriend. It was sundresses you requested, correct?”

Bucky looked proud of himself. “Yes, the perfect sundress for my girl,” he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “And whatever dress you choose, you’ll need jewelry. Oh, and a clutch.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked. He must not have wanted a repeat of how the hostess treated the two of you at lunch. “Wait, you already have dresses selected for me to try on?”

“He called and gave us all the details. And we’ll make sure you have everything you need,” the associate promised as Bucky nudged you ahead of him to follow her. Was anyone else in the shop? “Would either of you like a water?”

“No thank you,” you said. You were never offered a water when you shopped there before, but you were never there with Bucky Barnes.

“Just let me know if you need anything at all,” she smiled, opening the dressing room door.

Bucky thanked her as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from the door, watching you expectantly. “If you don't like any of them, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’m sure they're fine,” you said, going into the room and shutting the door before he could say anything else.

Quickly slipping off your shoes, pants, and top, you turned your attention to a small rack with a range of sundresses. Checking each tag as you pushed through them, none of them on sale, it wasn't a surprise that they were all your size. And all something you'd consider wearing. After flipping through the dresses twice, you decided to try on a sleeveless white dress with small rosebuds. It would be nice for a vineyard.

Before you could put the dress on, the door opened. “Need any help?” Bucky asked as you spun around in your bra and underwear, his eyes slowly scanning your body before you had a chance to cover yourself.

“No. I…” you trailed off as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he breathed your name, want written all over his face. The dressing room felt small. Hot. You could hardly breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm you. And you couldn't do anything but step back as he stepped closer, a predator ready to capture his prey.

Your back hit the mirror when he brought a hand to your chin, your knees shaking as he leaned in. “You’re right about one thing,” he said in a husky tone. “I do crave Physical Touch. Yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you still and giving you no chance to turn your head away. It was a light, feathering sort of kiss before his tongue flicked out to trace your lips. He teased you until you opened up for him and allowed his tongue to sweep into your mouth. You couldn't think as he groaned and continued his claim. It was only a matter of time until he claimed you completely.

Bucky pulled away a little, his free hand moving down your torso in a possessive path. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped. You felt so small, your insides both frozen and melting from his touch. “Just wanna take you home and make you ride my face before I fuck you.”

You gasped when his knee moved between your legs, your hands flying up to hold his arms. He rocked his leg and you felt power in the motion, a promise of what was to come once he had you where he wanted you. “Bucky,” you whispered. The next word out of your mouth was smothered by his lips, but he didn't increase the urgency in his kisses. He took his time. Like the world could be burning around you and he’d let the flames take over as long as he was kissing you.

You bit back a whimper when he rocked his knee harder, the friction sending heat to your core. Another roll of his body and you were certain you felt the outline of his cock. Bringing a hand to his chest, you lightly pushed. It was already going too far. To your surprise, he broke the kiss. His eyes were still hungry though. “You said you want to hear me?” You asked breathlessly, your lip trembling when his thumb brushed it. “Then not here, please,” you whispered, praying he'd stop.

If he was going to have you, it wouldn't be in a dressing room.

You stayed upright when he stepped back and gave you space, but your legs still shook as he straightened up his clothes and looked you over once more. If he could devour you with a look... “Thank you.” He actually listened to you and didn't push it any further.

He glanced down as he adjusted his pants and you tried to avoid looking at the tent he began to sport. Horror filled you when your gaze went lower to the wet spot by his knee. He hadn't gotten you off, but you both knew he sparked some arousal within you. “Can’t wait ‘til you really make a mess on my pants,” he smirked, walking out just as quietly as he entered the tiny room.

Fighting back tears once he shut the door, you touched your lips. Bucky finally kissed you. Your mouth still tingled. You still felt him there.

Glancing at the rack of dresses, you wished he really was a sweet boyfriend trying to spoil you just because he could. But he hadn't given you a chance to pick them out yourself. He spoke for you, like you were a doll. It was just another piece he put in place for his twisted puzzle of your relationship.

What was wrong with you?

You pulled your clothes back on and flung the door open so hard it almost hit the wall. Bucky’s smug look immediately changed to concern when you walked out holding a sundress. “This one's fine,” you said in a flat tone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sitting up more in his chair. “You didn't try it on, did you?”

“It’s the one I want,” you said, calling for the associate before Bucky had a chance to argue. You gave her a stiff smile when she joined you and handed over the garment, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you. “Whatever jewelry and handbag you think will go with this, I’ll take it. I trust your judgment.”

“Oh, this dress is lovely and we have the perfect accessories for this. Would you like to look at shoes as well? Or maybe something to go with any of the other dresses?” She asked, her eyes wide as you brushed past her. “Miss?”

“I’m sorry. I need to step outside,” you said, not wanting to be rude to her.

Bucky called after you, but you ignored him. You were furious with yourself. You let him kiss you and allowed some of his words to get under your skin. He didn't fuck you, but he still won, didn't he? And you were letting him. Just like with everything else.

You took two steps out of the shop before you felt a grip on your arm. “Woah. Slow down,” Bucky said, turning you to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.”

“Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.”

“Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

“You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now?

“I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

But you also couldn't help but wonder why he was really giving you that space. Did Ray or someone say something to him? Was this another ploy to keep you in line?

“You won't see me. God knows I’ll miss you, but it's just a day, right?” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’ll miss me, too.”

“I appreciate you giving me that space,” you said sincerely. He needed that space, too, even if he didn't believe it. “And maybe I will.”

“We won't have to miss each other much longer once we're together in the penthouse,” he said, his tone soft and your heart sinking. “Will you answer one thing: Did that kiss mean something to you?”

You didn't want to answer that. If you denied it, it would be a lie or he’d either see through it or snap. If you confirmed it, it would feed him more hope. You still had to examine your feelings because you were afraid and you couldn't think with him staring at you with those longing eyes.

“It meant something,” you answered, not expanding on what exactly it meant when he exhaled. It wasn't smart to let him decipher it how he wished because he could use it against you later.

He took your breath away once more when he pulled you close and brushed his lips against yours. Just as quickly as he started, he stopped and brushed his nose against yours. Any passerby would think it was a sweet moment between a couple making up from an argument. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb moving along the racing pulse in your wrist. “Come back inside, please? Pick out a few things for real and then I’ll take you home so you can relax.”

You remembered that the bugs were still in your apartment, which took some more of your enthusiasm away. But if Bucky was really going to leave you alone tomorrow, you’d have to appreciate the time to yourself. Maybe you could pack a bag and get out of the city even sooner than planned.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right? What was the worst that could happen? Making him freak out over your safety? That could be bad.

“Okay. A few things for real and then home,” you agreed.

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.”

You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,” you said, missing the pair of blue eyes that watched you and Bucky go back into the shop.

So, a little bit of action. 😏 Will it be enough to tide Bucky over? Is he really going to leave you alone for a day? Who was watching you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 3 days ago

Text

The Return

Batter Up Chapter 7

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: After a month of being away from the game and the girl he loves, Joel Miller is back and ready to play. Warnings: smut, making a sex tape, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (reader has an IUD), cream pie, also regular pie, joel miller's dirty mouth, wine. Words: 5,000

A/N: Thank you to my dearest @devineconjuring and her beautiful brain for beta'ing and being my grammar goddess.

Masterlist Playlist

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The crowd chants Joel’s name, lights flicker through the stadium, the ground feels like it’s shaking beneath his feet. He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, the loud crowd drowning out every doubt he’s ever felt. After three weeks on the injured list and another week rehabbing in the minors–a month away from the big leagues–Joel Miller is back.

He walks to the plate, digging his heels into the dirt and tapping his bat against the plate as he soaks in the moment.

“Miller, good to see you back,” the catcher says.

Joel nods, and grunts an acknowledgment back.

His eyes settle on the pitcher, some young phenom throwing 99-mph with almost every pitch. Don’t worry kid, you’ll get old like me.

The first pitch whooshes past him—ball one.

Ball two.

Strike one.

The pitcher’s keeping it a little outside, Joel inches closer to the plate, squaring up. The pitcher winds up again, Joel takes a deep breath, feeling the vibration of the bat as it connects with the ball. The crack of the bat reverberates through the stadium as the ball soars past the infield, over the outfield, and disappears beyond the right-field fence.

Home run.

The crowd erupts, the celebratory bell tolls as he rounds the bases. His eyes scan the club box above third base, finding you amidst the cheering fans, your arms raised high, that smile of yours lighting up his heart.

Joel Miller is back, doing what he loves, and now in front of the woman he loves.

You’re so proud of him. You wipe the tears from your eyes as Joel’s feet touch home base. His recovery wasn’t easy. Every week away from the game for someone as old as him means double the work versus a young kid just in the game. Forty year olds aren’t known for being pro athletes.

With the long Labor Day weekend, you were able to take time off from work and travel by train to Philadelphia to witness Joel's celebrated comeback, which had turned into a legend after his grand slam. Suddenly, all of your worries are lifted away. The stress of telling your families that you're a couple, your demanding job as a column writer at Sporting Digest that revolves around the ebb and flow of games, trades, and record breaking moments–none of it matters now.

Your responsibilities at work have been stacking up over the past few weeks. Churning out articles on everything from college football predictions to analyses of NBA draft picks. When you were hired you agreed to not cover baseball, what with the conflict of interest and all. Now, you dream of the headlines you could write about your boyfriend’s triumphant return.

You’ve barely been able to leave your laptop. Last week, you spent three days shadowing a tennis star at the US Open, scribbling notes on her training and the pressure of being labeled the “next big thing.” You’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone do laundry, go grocery shopping, and, most importantly, be there for Joel. You put in countless hours of work to make this long weekend possible, just so you could witness his big comeback firsthand.

“Heck of a player that Miller is,” you hear the TV in the corner say. “He sure knows how to show everyone he’s still got it, doesn’t he?”

You clutch his number dangling from your neck, you’re so proud of him, always proving everybody wrong. Well worth every sacrifice.

The Liberties win, 4-0, all thanks to Joel’s grand slam in the first inning. Sports radio is going to have a field day with this.

You make your way down to the stadium’s corridors, where staff rush around with more important tasks than yours.

The Liberties clubhouse sits just ahead of you, the two large blue doors stay closed to onlookers. You rest your back against the cold cinder block wall and send Joel a text, telling him to take his time.

A year ago, you never could’ve imagined this. Joel Miller—rugged, no-nonsense baseball star, the man who occupied your teenage dreams—now your boyfriend. The man who keeps your favorite pasta sauce in his pantry. The man who goes mattress shopping with you. It feels surreal, yet so real at the same time.

Every time that damn blue door opens your heart skips a beat, hoping you’ll find Joel walking out. False alarm after false alarm.

Until…

Joel emerges, hair slicked back, wearing a gray Liberties shirt, khaki pants, and those cheesy white New Balance sneakers you tease him relentlessly about. Joel, you’re way too rich to be wearing these damn ragged shoes.

“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around you, pushing you further against the wall.

“Hi,” you breathlessly respond, smelling the body wash on his skin. Damn, he showered. “Good game.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile at how happy he is, back where he belongs, doing what he loves.

“Come on,” he says, pulling you close. “Let’s go celebrate.” His arm stays around your waist as he leads you through the corridors to his car.

It’s so freeing now, being able to cheer for—and love—Joel out in the open, for all eyes to see.

“You know you made me cry today, right?” you say, reaching for his hand resting on your thigh.

“I did, huh?” he replies with a smirk on his face.

He always looks so confident as he drives. Philly’s narrow streets, filled with potholes and pedestrians, are nothing like Austin’s, but he navigates them as effortlessly as he does everything else—injuries, tough teammates, media storms. He handles it all like he handles a fastball: with ease.

“Yeah, I’m really proud of you,” you tell him softly, grabbing his hand harder. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I’m just so happy to be here for you.”

He smiles that quiet Joel smile. “That’s how I feel watching you handle everything too.”

"So, where are we headed?" you ask, noticing you're not on the route to his apartment. “I hope I’m dressed okay,” you say, looking down at your simple red gingham dress.

"It’s a surprise. You’ll be fine, you look beautiful baby," he says.

The car winds through the city. You glance over, watching the city lights flicker across his face as the car turns off the main road, slipping into a quieter neighborhood.

The car pulls up to a small, unassuming brick building tucked away on a quiet side street. No flashy sign, no valet—just a discreet, vintage lantern hangs above the door. It’s definitely a place Joel prefers.

He turns off the car and turns to you, his hand still resting on your thigh. “Thought we’d keep it low-key,” his deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the car.

You nod, your smile widening. “Perfect.”

He steps out of the car and, ever the gentleman, comes around to open your door before guiding you toward the entrance. You wrap your arm around his, leaning into his warmth as he leads you inside.

—

“Mr. Miller, welcome to Vetri Cucina. We’re happy to have you here. Let me show you to your table.”

“Silvio," Joel says with a firm handshake. "Good to see you. Thanks."

Your eyes scan the cozy space. Shiny worn floorboards, warm amber walls, a glistening chandelier that hangs from the low ceiling–you’ve never seen a place like this before. Little did you know that behind the unassuming brick row home exterior there would be a whole functional restaurant. It feels like the perfect mix of a place for the two of you, rustic and intimate.

Silvio leads you both up a narrow staircase to a private room on the second floor. A table for two sits in the center of the room. A red glass chandelier hangs above it, candlelights flickering shadows across the golden walls..

“So, we’re still hiding our dinners with each other away from prying eyes?” you tease as Joel pulls the chair out for you and you take a seat.

“Not exactly,” he says, taking your hand in his. “I just wanted to show off that I can get us a private table at one of the best restaurants in Philly.”

You laugh. “I’m sure there’s a Golden Corral around here.”

Joel chuckles. “Very funny. But trust me—you’ll love it here. They’ve got all the fancy dishes with those French words you like.”

“You know me too well.”

“Better than you think,” he says, his eyes gleaming under the golden light.

—

A waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face. “Good evening, and welcome. My name is Royal, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. We have a special tasting menu prepared just for you, personally selected by our chef. It’ll start with an appetizer, followed by a pasta course, a main, and dessert.”

Your mouth waters as Royal pours you a glass of wine.

”Each course will be paired with a wine from our grand collection. Your first course will be out shortly. In the meantime, is there anything else I can bring you?”

Joel shakes his head. “We’re all set, thanks.”

“Wow,” you say once the waiter leaves, glancing around the elegantly set table. “I feel a little underdressed for a tasting menu.”

Joel shrugs. “I have a feeling they won’t care what we’re wearing once I pay the bill. Besides,” he says with a smile, “I like you in that red dress.”

“Atta boy, Texas,” you say, smiling as you sip your wine.

—

After a couple courses of delicious appetizers that you happily eat, but Joel barely touches, the water returns, presenting the main course with a flourish.

"For your entrée, we have our signature dish: salt-crusted tilapia with a bread salad of parsley and tomatoes, alongside grilled artichokes on a bed of smoked squash puree."

You glance at Joel as the waiter expertly cracks the salt crust, revealing the perfectly cooked fish underneath. You know Joel hates fish and artichokes. The waiter sets down two glasses of white wine and disappears, leaving you both alone with the dish.

"Baby, what are you going to do?" you ask, eyes wide as Joel picks up his fork.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m here to impress you,” he says with determination before spearing a piece of the fish. He takes a bite, his nose crinkling ever so slightly as he chews.

“How is it?” you ask, biting back a smile.

Joel grimaces. “I’ve had better.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Please don’t eat it. I know the only fish you like is fried.”

“Always been more of a Filet O Fish man myself.”

“I don’t think they’ve got tartar sauce here, so please, for me, don’t force yourself.”

He sets down his fork with a relieved sigh, his hand finding yours again. “Anything for you.”

When the waiter returns, he doesn’t comment on Joel’s barely touched plate, but you notice a subtle, appreciative smile as he clears away your empty dish.

“Well,” you say, leaning back, happy and full from dinner. “At least there’s dessert.”

“Never said no to dessert,” he chuckles, before looking you in the eyes with adoration.

"You know," he begins, his voice low and serious, "I couldn't have done this without you. Coming back after my injury—”

Joel's voice trails off as he searches for the right words. His eyes stare into yours. You squeeze his hand encouragingly, needing to hear more.

“It wasn’t just physical,” he continues. “It was mental. Wondering if I still had it within me, if I was too old, if it was time for me to hang up my cleats. But you—you never doubted me for a second.”

Tears pool in your eyes as his thumb brushes back and forth against your knuckles.

"I’ve always been your fan, Joel. I’ll always believe in you.”

He nods, a small smile lighting his face. “I know, and that’s what got me through. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile through tears.

The waiter approaches with dessert, you silently thank the interruption so you’re not left sobbing in the middle of this beautiful restaurant over how much you love your boyfriend.

A familiar slice of pie is placed in front of you and Joel.

“Uppercrust?” you excitedly ask, your eyes widening at the large, glazed pecans laying atop the golden crust.

Joel gives a shy, satisfied nod, his lips curving into that familiar, gentle smile. "Thought we’d end the night with our favorite. Had Sarah overnight it to the restaurant."

“Jooooel,” you breathe out, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. You stare at the pie, stunned by how deeply he cares for you.

“All for you baby,” he says softly as he lifts his fork and cheers with a playful smile. “Cheers to Austin and that hotel bar.”

You laugh, grabbing your own fork and tapping it against his. “Cheers,” you whisper, trying to steady your voice.

“Oh my god,” you moan around the fork at the first taste of sweet pie. “I can’t believe you got this. You’re too good to me.”

He barks a laugh. “Baby, this is nothing, I owe you so much.”

The pie is sweet, but your boyfriend is sweeter.

The sweet wine served with the pie warms your body, Joel’s smile from across the table warms you even more. You sneakily slip your foot out of its sandal, and run it up his leg, making your way up to his crotch. He jumps in surprise, his eyes leer at you as he takes a sip of wine. Your foot finds its target, against the soft fabric of his pants, thankful for the white tablecloth that hangs from the table. He places a hand on your foot, pushing it closer to his crotch. You giggle as your toes wiggle back and forth, teasing him.

“So, what’s next?” you ask, with a mischievous grin.

"Well, after we finish dinner, I'll pay the bill, grab some leftover pie for later...and then take you home and fuck you," he responds confidently.

A small hmph escapes your lips at the promise. “Is that so?”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he replies, a sly grin spreading across his face. He leans in close, his voice lowering to a secretive whisper. “Just think about it—my place, those fancy sheets of mine you love so much…”

His hand wraps around your foot, pressing it harder against him.

“Now you’re just making me impatient,” you tease.

—-

The plates are cleared, the leftover pie is boxed up, Joel settles the bill and rises from his seat, extending his hand to help you up.

Your fingers lace together as you step out into the warm summer night. Joel leads you to his car, unlocking it and opening the door for you. You lean over and seal your mouth over his, relishing in being able to kiss him out in the open. You pull away and give him a smirk before getting in and sliding across the passenger seat, your heart racing with anticipation for the next stop—Joel’s apartment.

Your time together has been precious and few. Your career keeps you north in New York, Joel’s training and rehabilitation game have kept him busy and all over the states. But now, you finally have three nights together—the most time you've had since his injury a month ago.

He glances over at you and winks before he adjusts the rearview mirror. You miss his truck back in Austin, the front bench seat allowing you to slide over and cuddle him close. You curse the existence of the center console.

“Buckle up, baby,” he says with a grin. Your heart races at the double entendre.

—-

Taking the elevator up to Joel's penthouse brings back memories of that first night together, when you couldn't believe how handsome he looked in that golden elevator at the hotel, not believing you were about to sleep with Joel Miller. Now, his body presses against yours as you lean on him, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he leaves sweet kisses down your skin to the matching pendant of his number you wear, leaving a kiss against it before his eyes meet yours.

“I can’t tell you how much I love seeing this on you, baby,” he says before licking his way up to your mouth, sealing his over yours. He grabs your ass, lifting you into his hold, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders.

The elevator doors open and he carries you into his penthouse, crowding you against the entryway wall. His mouth moves against yours with fervor, deepening the kiss as your fingers tangle in his hair. You gasp against his mouth, the cool wall chilling your overheated skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. “I’ve missed this—missed you.”

He turns and carries you to the living room. The ambient city lights shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows light Joel’s way. He gently sets you down on the couch and slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, pausing to look into your eyes.

You nod, breathless and eyes wide. “Please,” you whisper.

He grins, standing back slightly, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his couch, dress askew. “You look so damn good.”

His hands rest on the hem of your dress and, with a cocky grin, he slowly lifts it up, exposing the soft skin of your thighs.

“God, this is all I’ve been thinking about. Drove to the ballpark thinking about you, stepped up to the plate thinking about you, and, baby,when I saw you in the stands… all I could think about was you naked in my arms.”

“Joel…” you struggle to find the words, already lust-drunk on his words.

“I need to taste you.”

He drops down to his knees in front of you, his large fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear and sliding them off.

You bite your lip as he grips your thighs and spreads them apart.

He breathes out a deep sigh at the sight of you. A low whistle leaves his lips. “There she is, she’s so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans closer and places soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasingly slow, making your heart race even faster.

“Joel…” you plead.

He spreads you wider, warm breath teasing against your core. He licks a long, slow line from bottom to top, humming appreciatively at the first taste of you.

Your back arches, a gasp escaping your lips. "Oh my God," you breathe.

His rough palms grip your thighs, thick fingers digging into the flesh as he holds you steady. His hot breath tickles your skin as he licks you. "God, you taste so good," he murmurs against you, his voice vibrating against your cunt. “Missed this taste.”

His tongue explores you as your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping the soft waves of his dark strands.

Two thick fingers slide inside you, stretching you perfectly. Plush lips close around your clit, sucking and lapping at your sensitive nub.

It's been almost a month since he last touched you like this, and now with his skilled mouth and fingers all over you, your body is ready to let go.

“Joel,” you moan. “C-close.”

He enthusiastically hums against you, deep brown eyes staring into yours from under furrowed brows. His fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit. Your pussy pulses against his thick fingers, squeezing them as you bloom under the pleasure of finally feeling his touch. Goosebumps rise all over your skin, cheeks heating, legs trembling, and your eyes tightly shut… and when he curls his fingers upwards inside you, your orgasm crashes into you, your pussy soaking his hand and your voice screaming his name. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and tease you through your orgasm until it's all too much and you're pulling at his hair.

He pulls back with a satisfied smile and kisses your inner thigh before standing and placing a kiss on your lips. You taste yourself as he licks into your mouth. His plush lips sucking against yours.

Before you can catch your breath, Joel scoops you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you into his bedroom. You giggle as he smacks your ass and growls.

He sets you on the edge of his bed, the crisp white sheets cool against your overheated skin. He steps back, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Stay right there,” he says as he moves to the closet, rummaging around for a moment before returning with a black camera and tripod in hand.

Your breath catches at the sight as he sets them up, carefully adjusting the angle.

The tiny red recording light blinks on and the little screen lights up. There you are, all disheveled—dress hiked up, your lips full and swollen from Joel’s mouth.

His eyes meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, excitement running through your body. “Yes,” you breathe.

He grins as he removes his shirt, tossing it to the side before he steps out of his pants. He stays behind the camera, standing in the shadows like a director. “Go ahead baby, take it all off.”

You stand slowly, your heart racing at Joel and the camera’s attention. Dark brown eyes watch you intently from behind the camera, his eyes never leaving your every movement. You reach back and unzip your dress, pulling it down, as you slowly slip the straps off, letting the dress fall to the floor, the red gingham fabric pooling at your feet.

"God, you're gorgeous,” he whispers.

You reach behind to unclasp your bra, staring at Joel as you let it fall away. Your breasts are exposed to his eyes and the camera, your nipples hardening in the cool air. You’re completely bare now except for the necklace with his number.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," he instructs softly.

You smile, running your hands slowly up your sides, cupping your breasts. Your fingers glide over your nipples, teasing them to stiff peaks before you back up against the bed and lay across it, spreading your legs wide for the camera and Joel. Your hand snakes down your body, across your stomach, down to the apex of your thighs.

You lock eyes with Joel as you slowly circle your clit, your breath hitching. His gaze is dark from behind the camera, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs as he watches you pleasure yourself. Your fingers dip lower, sliding into your wet heat.

"That's it, baby," he groans. "Show me how you like to be touched."

Your other hand kneads your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple.

Joel steps out from behind the camera, moving to the edge of the bed. He strips off his boxers, his thick cock springing free. He strokes himself slowly as he watches you.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls.

You whimper at his words, your fingers moving faster. "Please, baby,” you whine, “I need you."

He grabs your foot and turns you on the cool, slick sheets. Glancing over at the camera’s small display screen to check the angle of your body.

He climbs on the bed and you instantly welcome the warmth of his presence and his broad body. He positions himself between your legs, gripping his cock and running the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Your breath catches as he slowly pushes inside, a smile lighting your face at finally feeling him inside you.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he bottoms out. "You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet for me."

You moan as he starts to move, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm. Your hands glide over the expanse of his shoulders and down his muscular back, relishing in feeling the flex of his strong muscles with each thrust.

He leans down, capturing your lips. His tongue tangles with yours as he picks up the pace, fucking you harder.

"Look at the camera, baby," Joel murmurs against your neck. "Let's show it how good I make you feel."

You tilt your head, looking directly at the camera lens with heavy-lidded eyes. The knowledge that you are being recorded, that Joel will watch this later, that the two of you will get off while watching yourselves… it’s a new thrill for you. You moan louder, arching your back higher as Joel fucks you.

"Touch yourself for me," he commands.

Your hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

"Oh god, baby," you moan, your fingers working furiously at your clit as he pounds into you. "I'm so close."

Joel's rhythm falters slightly as he watches you touch yourself, sweat glistening on his brow. "That's it. Cum for me. Let me feel you."

Your voice echoes through the room as you cry out Joel’s name, your body trembling as your walls clench tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips snapping against yours. “So fucking good, you cum so fucking good for me. So fucking tight.”

He pulls your body towards him, sitting up on the bed, his cock still buried deep inside of you. You take control and ride him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you grind down on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need from me,” he growls.

Your hands tangle in the short waves of his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongues exploring each other’s mouths, bodies glistening with sweat.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his nose bumping against yours. “I love you. God damn baby, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you moan as he thrusts up into you.

He captures your lips again. “I’m close,” he groans against your mouth. “Cum with me baby. Give me one more.”

His hand snakes down between your bodies, his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles against it as you bounce on his cock.

You cry out his name as you orgasm, Joel’s fingers and cock working in tandem to push you over the ledge. You turn your head to the camera, staring into it as you chant Joel’s name while your walls clench around his cock.

“Oh fuck baby,” Joel groans, his hips stuttering. “I’m gonna cum for you.”

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he chases his own release. Your hands run down his back, feeling the flex of his muscles with each thrust.

"Cum for me, Joel, I want to feel you cum inside me."

With a final and deep thrust, Joel stills above you. He groans your name as he empties himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. He fills you with his release, still gently fucking you with soft thrusts, pushing his seed deeper inside you.

He leans over and grabs the camera, his cock still plunged deep inside you. With a sly smile, he films your face, capturing the bliss across it.

“Look at you,” he admires, “smiling all sweetly, all drunk on my cock and cum, aren’t you baby?”

You moan a response and nod eagerly.

He chuckles as he pulls out, shuffling his body down to settle in between your legs. Joel positions the camera between your thighs, spreading them apart and running a finger through your cunt, swollen and slick with his spend pulsating out of you.

“Look at you, leakin’ everywhere,” he groans, collecting himself across his fingers and sticking it inside you. “Can’t have that, now can we?”

His eyes stay focused on the little screen, watching his fingers pump in and out of your overworked cunt.

“Fuckin’ filthy baby,” he angles his fingers, your slick squelches loudly across the room.

Writhing and whining under his touch, your skin is overheated, your pussy radiating heat across your body.

He pulls his soaked finger out, wiping it across your folds. “Show me how you drip baby, let me see.”

A gush of his cum leaks out of you, the warm liquid runs down your ass, pooling on the bed.

“Fucccccccccck,” he growls. “Can’t stop looking at this.”

He zooms out, capturing your whole body in the frame.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” he instructs.

“Yours,” you breathlessly respond.

“That’s it baby,” he growls, before his eyes lift from the camera and into yours. “I love you,” he softly says, his eyes rounding in reverence.

“I love you too.”

He grins, standing up from the bed and switching off the camera before placing it down on the bedside table.

“That was incredible,” you sigh. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

A smile spreads across his face as he leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips. "We'll have to watch it later," he says before heading to the bathroom. He returns with a damp towel and gently wipes between your legs, before planting a kiss on your forehead and turning to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” you slur, too blissed out of your mind.

“To get pie. I’m starving.”

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Series Masterlist

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #baseball au #baseball joel #joel miller tlou

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