#i have a feeling this song is going to be stuck in my head for the next 24 hours now

[temiizpalace]

☆┊MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

SUMMARY: many heroes wished to share this dance with you, yet you chose him.

CHARACTERS: HEARTSLABYUL

GENRE: fluff

OTHER: heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia pomefiore ignihyde diasomnia

NOTES: thank you for an entire year, tumblr! as celebration for my first anniversary, have a small mini scenario as a token of my gratitude.

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

PROLOGUE ☆˙∘

excitement fluttered within the confines of the classroom. a nationwide gala was being held this evening for students all over twisted wonderland, and this years selected host was none other than the prestigious night raven college. you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous with how everybody spoke of such an event.

even if dances weren’t your thing, it was still worth it to go, right? “myah.. what’s with all the blabbering? it’s just a borin stuffy ball, right? all ya do is stand around for hours. i can guarantee ya not everyone’s gonna have a dance partner.” grim huffs, beginning to grow annoyed with the gossip.

“well, there’s going to be food from all over the region. at least then we’d have something to do, right?” you grin, your partner in crime suddenly very excited for the dance. “why didn’t ya start with that?! we needa go prep our outfits right now!”

evening came sooner than you anticipated. as chaotic as nrc was, somehow this was 10x as lively as usual. everybody had spoke with someone new while you were stuck at the snack bar with grim. a new face appears, wishing to have a small chat.

🌹┊RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS∘˙✩

“so you’re the magicless prefect, hm?”

a young boy leaned on the table, his unexpected presence startling you. “and you are..?” you question, curious as to how he knew you. he looked unfamiliar, but you couldn’t help but notice his pristine and well dressed appearance. he was handsome, certainly.

“where are my manners? amias reinheardt, a pleasure.” he smiles, bowing slightly before you. “i have heard lots about you, meeting you in person is truly an honor.” the way he spoke so highly of you was flattering, it was almost too much. but all his praise leads back to the same question: how does he know you?

“it’s nice to meet you, but how do you know me exactly?” you ask, raising your brow. “you’re quite popular. my classmate neige had many things to say, i just had to meet you myself.” he chuckles, and suddenly it clicked. classmate? “you’re from rsa?”

“correct you are.” he chuckles. now it all made sense. he was surprisingly chatty, but not in an off putting way. it was actually nice having someone not stuffing their face anytime you tried to talk to them. however, your chatter and laughter caught the attention of a nearby redhead.

“riddle, calm down.” trey sighs, seeing as riddle grit his teeth from afar. “what are you on about, trey? i am perfectly calm.” unfortunately, riddle was not raised as a good liar. “just go up to them, im sure it’s fine.” the boy in glasses sighs, adjusting them so they don’t fall off his face.

“it’s rude to interrupt conversations, you know.” riddle frowns, crossing his arms. despite his attempts to act unbothered, his gaze would still find its way back to you. seven why must you do this to him?

maybe he should just go over there. why fight it if there’s nothing to gain but seething jealousy?

a slow song starts to play, students suddenly stopping and taking their partners to the floor. amias paused as well, looking to you with a small smile. “oh? prefect, shall we?” he holds his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it.

riddle, on the other hand, was not going to stand for that. “[MC].” riddle struts over, causing you to whip your head over in his direction. “riddle?”

“may i have this dance?” he puts a hand behind his back, bowing slightly while reaching out for you. “pardon?” amias interjects, looking to riddle then back at you. “i believe i had asked first.”

oh. taken aback by their sudden proposals, you had to take a moment to ensure this is reality and not some weird vivid dream you were apart of.

you hesitate for a moment before taking riddle’s hand. “im sorry amias..” you mumble, shooting him an apologetic look. “don’t be. maybe someday..” he trails off, watching as riddle led you to the dance floor.

“at least try to be more cautious around strangers, prefect. not all of them have good intentions.” he sighs, waltzing you around the ballroom. his movements were refined, not perfect but not imperfect either. he made sure not to step on your foot no matter how bad your dancing may be.

“oh come on, he wasn’t a bad guy. maybe you’re just jealous.” you laugh, his silence a clear enough answer for you. his cheeks were red, but it was far too endearing.

“i wouldn’t want to share this dance with anyone else, riddle.” you hold a firm grip on his hands as you spoke, unable to hide your own flustered expression in turn.

“..im happy to hear that, [MC]..”

❤️┊ACE TRAPPOLA˙∘✩

“you [MC]?”

you turn to find a short boy invading your personal space, taking a few steps back to get a clear view of him. “uhm.. yes? and you’re.?” you answer, confused. his outfit was a tad disheveled, like it was barely put together. there were wrinkles and folds in his suit, but he had an odd charm about him.

“alan. alan fletcher. upcoming star player for rsa’s basketball team.” he grins triumphantly, his expression almost cocky. “ohh, i have a friend in basketball!” you reply, making the boy flinch.

“what?! err i mean, i heard a lot about ya. popular dude from school talks about you sometimes.” he shrugs, like he was reading your mind. you were just about to ask how he knows you!

“well there’s not much to know about me.” you laugh awkwardly, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves.

“yeah right, you’re from a different world! cmon, talk about it! im curious. what’s different there?” he asks, leaning on the table. it’s been awhile since you’ve last got to talk about home. with all the chaos at nrc, you’ve almost forgotten you’re trying to look for a way back.

“i guess there are a few things.” you chuckle, causing the boys heart to flutter.

ace frowned from afar, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy coming over him as he stared. “ACE, THATS WAY TOO MUCH PUNCH! STOP POURIN.” deuce yells, his cup overflowing and spilling onto the tablecloth.

ace looks to deuce. he was absentmindedly scooping punch into his cup without realizing it. “gah, we need napkins! professor crewel would kill us if he saw this.”

while deuce was fretting over the spill, rushing over for napkins or any cloth he can find to mask the spill, ace felt lost. has he always been this jealous over you? i mean, sure he’s given a few dudes the stink eye every now and then, but this felt different.

the song changed abruptly, everyone now finding a dance partner or stepping off the floor. alan looks at you, waiting for you to say something. you try to avoid his gaze, his stare beginning to grow unsettling.

breaking the silence, alan spoke. “hey, do you wanna—”

“yo! [MC]!” ace shouts, running over to you with a cheeky grin. “been lookin for ya. cmon, let’s dance!” he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the middle of the ballroom.

“what?! hey!” alan calls out for you, but by the time you turned around to apologize, he was already out of sight.

you frown at ace, to which he scoffs in return. “what?”

“that was a bitch move, ace.” you pinch his nose, causing him to wince in pain.

“OW! look, we can apologize later. shut up and dance for awhile!” he chuckles, spinning you around.

“thought you were gonna dance with deuce. you jealous?”

“..i said shut up dance.”

(deuce was pissed to see ace leave him with the stain but at least you’re having fun).

♠┊DEUCE SPADE∘˙✩

“are you the student with no magic?”

a boy in a tacky looking hat smiled at you, making you stare for awhile before finding his eyes. aside from his hat, his suit was quite.. eccentric. colorful, for sure. somehow it all tied together, but he would most definitely stand out in a crowd. “i am..” you nod slowly.

“the names thistle!” he grinned, holding his hand out. as you reach out to shake his hand, he pulls a rose out of his sleeve and hands it to you elegantly. somehow this guy reminds you of a certain somebody in pomefiore.. interesting.

“are you familiar with che’nya? i know he sneaks onto your campus at times.” he laughs.

“i see him at unbirthday parties. didn’t know he talked about me so often.” you chuckle, finding the thought flattering.

“he tells me you’re from another universe. care to talk about it?” he asks, resting his chin on his hand.

“hm.. to kill time i guess.”

deuce stared at you, his expression blank and empty. you were laughing and having a good time, he should be happy, right? why does his heart ache so much?

seeing you with a rose in hand and a huge smile on your face would be such a breathtaking sight if it weren’t for who was next to you.

ace took notice of deuce’s expression, or lack of thereof. he smirked and nudged him gently. “looks like the prefect is hot on the market.” Ace teased, a cocky grin on his face.

deuce shoots him a glare, suddenly frowning at his partner in crime. “shut up! they can talk to whoever they want! im not jealous.” he huffs, crossing his arms.

“i never said anything about jealousy. yeesh, lighten up.” ace holds his hands up in defense, backing away slowly. “if you’re really upset just go talk to em. im sure your presence is welcomed with open arms anyway.”

“you think so..?” deuce felt his eyes lighten up, his gaze averting back to you.

the ballroom crowded to the center, students finding their partners to dance to the slow rhythm. thistle looks at you, putting his hand out. before he can even ask, a loud shout from across the ballroom stops him in his tracks.

“[MC]!!” deuce sprints over, stopping in front of you while panting for breath.

“deuce?! where did you—”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO DANCE WITH ME?” he asks in between breaths, eyes shimmering in a newfound confidence. realizing he sounded a little pushy, he finally regulates his breathing and asks once more.

“uhm— i meant uh.. may i have this dance.?” he holds his hand out, bowing slightly before you.

you look to thistle, he smiled and gestured for you to take deuce’s hand. before taking off, you mouth an apology before turning to deuce and bringing him to the center.

“you didn’t have to run, yknow. i would’ve turned him down anyway.” you laugh, noticing deuce’s stiff movements.

“s-sorry. i guess i was just scared.” his dancing was robotic, missing his steps constantly. he stepped on his foot, but you managed to pick up the slack.

“ah! sorry!” he mumbled an apology, to which you grin in return.

“don’t worry, we can work on your dancing together. how about next week?”

“r-really?”

“really. consider it a date.”

“A DATE?! oh, i mean— sure. sounds good!” despite deuce’s attempts to seem calm and collected, he couldn’t hide the dopey grin spread across his face.

♦┊CATER DIAMOND˙∘✩

“so it’s true! nrc does have a student without magic!”

a startling shout from your right catches you off guard, turning to meet a rabbit beastmen with a huge smile. he wasn’t really wearing a suit, more of a vest. it wasn’t buttoned up all the way, but you must say he had really nice hair. looked so smooth.. “uh, tadaa?”

“what’s your name?” he asks, looking at you intently. “what’s yours?” you asked in turn, putting a hand on your hip.

“woah, woah, i asked first didn’t i?”

“well you initiated the conversation.” you shrug.

“alright, alright. im timothy parker, and you are?”

“[MC], nice to meet you.”

“i’ve heard so much about you from a friend of mine! we should get to know each other! have you played 20 questions?” he was a quick talker, you barely had time to reply before he talked about something different.

“i think ive played before.” you recall, nodding your head. “cool! ill start then!”

cater watched you, two drinks in his hand held firmly within his grip. he wasn’t one for jealousy, but something about this guy doesn’t sit right with him. his expression was usually so well hidden, but he couldn’t hide his frown. riddle took notice of cater’s dismay and raises a brow.

“cater, the drink might spill if you hold the cup so tightly.” riddle sighs, catching the attention of the boy beside him. “whoopsies! sorry, riddle! got a little distracted, haha!” he tries laughing it off, but that only makes him less believable.

“is something bothering you?” riddle questions, crossing his arms while looking in the direction cater was staring at.

“nope! don’t worry about it, cay-cay is fine!” he gives riddle a wink before walking towards you with a smile. “[MC]! heyy!”

you turn to see cater approaching, flashing a smile before waving enthusiastically. “cater!” timothy looks over, his smile faltering slightly at the sight of a new face.

“timothy, cater, cater, timothy.” you introduce them to each other. both boys stay silent for a moment before breaking the silence with a few casual greetings and fake smiles.

“hii! names cater, [MC]’s bestie!” cater hands you a drink, to which you eagerly accept. “hello. im timothy.” he replies dryly, much different than the way he greeted you.

the conversation flowed normally, though you chose to ignore their obvious distaste for each others presence. such cheery guys choosing to hate each other instead of bond, it made you kinda sad.

the music shifts to a slow song, cater immediately looking at you with a smile. “[MC], wanna dance?” he asks before timothy could, not failing to see his frown. cater put out his hand, gesturing for you to take it.

you felt your cheeks warm up. you put your drink down to hold his hand as he takes you away from the snack bar.

“isn’t this fun!” he beams, waltzing around with you. “i should take a photo!”

“if you do, you should send it to me. we can have matching profile pics.” you laugh, twirling him around.

“that’s so cute! smile for the cam!” he holds his phone up, snapping a quick photo of you two together. he posts it quickly, putting a string of emojis on the caption before putting his phone away and spinning you both around the room.

your smile means the world to him. it always will.

he didn’t want a viral post, he just wanted to keep your smile preserved for all time.

♣️┊TREY CLOVER∘˙✩

“boo!”

you jump, turning to find a floating head beside you. that head looked familiar. “che’nya?”

“meow how’d you guess?” suddenly, in the blink of an eye his full body appeared. his outfit was definitely not up to dresscode, lots of patches stitched onto an already brightly colored vest. it does suit him, but it feels like you were flashbanged.

“just a hunch. did you need something?” you ask, only to be met with his usual catlike smile. che’nya looked somewhere, grinning mischievously before averting his attention back down at you.

“wanna see a trick?”

“uh, sure?” and with that, he pulls out a deck of cards. he gestures for you to take one before suddenly changing the deck into a full tea set.

laughing in amusement, trey couldn’t help his heart from singing. why did his damn friend need to tease him like that? he clenched his fist tightly, feeling a little embarrassed for being jealous like that.

“trey-trey, let’s take it down a notch! che’nya’s just playing!” cater reassures his friend, patting him on the shoulder. trey sighs, adjusting his glasses properly.

“i know.. i shouldn’t even be jealous. it’s not like we’re together or anything.” he laughs awkwardly, making cater tut in response.

“don’t you see the way they look at you? when they bake with you it’s more than just being a helping hand, yknow?” cater crosses his arms, causing trey to stiffen.

“huh?”

“enough chit-chattt, let’s go join their convo!” cater drags trey to the snack bar, actively ignoring his protests and obvious refusals.

the melodies of slow violin play across the ballroom, students around beginning to slow dance.

“now’s your shot! go!” cater shoved trey towards you with great force. trey nearly fell to his knees but he managed to find his balance before he embarrassed himself.

“GAH!”

che’nya smirks, pointing behind you. “what?”

“trey?!”

“[MC],” trey puts his hand out for you. “may i have this dance?” a small smile hinted at the corners of his lips, you swore butterflies began to erupt in your stomach.

“it’d be an honor.” you take his hand, leading him away to the middle of the floor.

trey was surprisingly good at slow dancing. much better than that time with the ghost bride. “taking dance lessons, clover?” you ask, laughing as he averts your eyes.

“i’d rather not humiliate myself for a second time, haha.” he chuckles, swaying you around.

“i was honestly a little jealous seeing you have a good time with che’nya.” he admits, in which you burst into laughter in return.

“whys that? im sure you know he was just playing?”

“you can never be too sure.”

“don’t worry trey, this dance was reserved for you.”

“that’s reassuring to hear..”

A/N: names for these NPCS were harder than the actual fic 💀💀💀

date published: 11/27/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

divider found here! ☆

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

⋆.˚ ☁︎ TEENAGE DREAM ☁︎︎ ⋆.˚

—sometimes at eighteen, young love is anything but a teenage dream.

genres・fluff // young love // awkward confessions // meet cutes. summary・love is embarrassing, especially when you're in high school. from the cozy coffee shop to the local campus, eight boys stumble through the awkward world of crushes—trying, and failing to confess to you.

a/n・I haven't been on here for a little while, but I wanted to do something silly and fun to celebrate 500 amazing followers! All of these ideas are still in the works, so the plots may change, but I'm having so much fun writing them. I get hit with a pang of nostalgia every once in a while, remembering my very first fanfiction, haha. If you want to be tagged in any of these, just comment down below or send me an ask—and always remember to support your content creators; it means the world to us!!

☁︎︎ COFFEE CUP ☁︎︎

BANG CHAN loved being a barista; not only did he get exceptional employee discounts but it was peaceful—he handed people their coffee, they said thank you and walked away—nobody ever bothered him. that is, until one night, ten minutes before closing, you walked in with your bright smile and garrulous chit-chat. It only took you one sentence to have him hooked, eagerly waiting for your next late-night visit. what is bang chan going to do when he finally works up the nerve to write his number on the sleeve of your coffee cup, only for you to toss it away without ever seeing it? (coming to your shelves December 10th)

☁︎︎ ROSE ☁︎︎

LEE KNOW was famous for being the star quarterback turned heartless bachelor—or so everybody thought. nobody could have guessed that the reason minho chased every woman away was because, hidden 60 miles from home, there was the animal shelter where he volunteered. the reason he drove an hour every day to nurture abused pets? you. what is minho going to do when, no matter how many roses he gives you, you just can’t take the hint? (coming to your shelves soon...)

☁︎︎ MOTORCYCLE ☁︎︎

︎SEO CHANGBIN. there’s nothing he loves more than his motorcycle—well, that’s not entirely true. he probably loves you more, but his motorcycle is certainly a close second. with prom looming, changbin finally gathers enough courage to ask out his long-time crush and childhood best friend. what is changbin going to do when, halfway through, he chickens out—and, in a panic, ends up ramming his motorcycle into your mailbox while trying to back out of your driveway? (coming to your shelves soon...)

☁︎︎ MY MUSE ☁︎︎

HWANG HYUNJIN has been in love with you for about as long as he’s understood the word love; stuck in the seat beside you since elementary school, hyunjin grew to adore the soft curves of your features. one day, in the middle of art class, he's struck with the urge to draw you. overcome with the fear of never getting the chance to tell you how he feels, hyunjin stuffs the picture in your locker. what is hyunjin going to do when he overhears you talking to your friends about the drawing—and you mention his enemy's name, and not his? (coming to your shelves soon...)︎︎

☁︎︎ LYRIC BOOK ☁

HAN JISUNG is dedicated to securing the top spot in his songwriting class, and nothing is going to stand in his way. that was, until three years ago, when you walked through the door, head held high, speaking of your goals as if they were already part of the present. jisung never thought there would be any competition—until there was. now, he doesn’t know whether to write songs about his overwhelming hatred or his overwhelming ardor. what is jisung going to do when, one day, you’re paired with him for a project, and you discover all the love songs he’s written about you? (coming to your shelves soon...)

☁︎︎ SUGAR AND SPICE ☁︎︎

LEE FELIX, the school's sunshine, the universe’s fallen star—nothing was going to get him down. well, except for you. no matter how hard he tries, felix just can’t form a sentence around you; his tongue twisting into sailor’s knots whenever you look his way. what is felix going to do when he tries to confess through a cake, baked fresh in the culinary class you share, but trips over his shoelaces and smears the cake all over your shirt instead? (coming to your shelves soon...)

☁︎︎ BASEBALL ☁

KIM SEUNGMIN worked with a focus nobody else seemed to reciprocate, constantly practicing to be the best pitcher this world has ever seen. his teammates respected him, his coach loved him, and the school only ever saw his poised manners—not the awkward teenager he really was. that is, until he meets you—equally shy and almost as painfully awkward, studying on the bleachers every day after school. there's something about your concentration, the self- assured direction you set for yourself, that makes him want you even more. what is he going to do when, one day after practice, he scrawls his number on a ball and chucks it toward you? and for once, the ball doesn’t go where he aimed. instead of landing in your lap, he nails you right in the forehead. (coming to your shelves soon...)

☁︎︎ THE BOOK WAS BETTER ☁︎︎

YANG JEONGIN lived in the library. on the days when he wasn’t cramming for an exam, he was relaxing with a good book. the library had always been peaceful for him—a sanctuary that students rarely ever touched. that is, until one random morning, he sees you walk in—captain of the cheerleading squad, with your tiny skirt and sparkly eyelids, jeongin almost expects you to laugh at him and his pathetic seating arrangement—all alone. but then, checking to see if anyone’s watching, you pull a book from the shelf, and begin to read it. that's how it started—now, every day during lunch, you come and read your book, safe in the shadows, creating a home nobody else knew about. what is he going to do when he starts falling for you, through the notes he slips into your book after you leave? And what will happen when the wrong girl comes in and tries to take the book? (coming to your shelves soon...)

a special thank you to @jeonginsleftcheek who helped me flesh out all these ideas. I couldn't do any of this without you!! I hope you like these stories <33

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 20 🍒

"Baby Loves Me"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 8,823 (she's a big'un)

Summary: A blizzard, a wedding, family secrets, and two people who can't stop thinking about each other. Are these fateful events going to drive you apart for good, or bring you even closer together?

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place a few days before Christmas 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of health issues, oral (m & f receiving), Ellie has anger issues, use of guns for recreational shooting, jealous!Joel, mutual pining, reader wears makeup and dresses, unprotected piv, creampie, TW for minor heart attack and hospitalization (everything is okay in the end), getting back together and having a happily ever after. In this universe everyone is alive and happy.

Author's Note: this series was the first story I ever posted on AO3 and then recently here on tumblr. I had no idea so many people would love it, and it's currently my most liked, most commented-on, and most bookmarked work on AO3 ♥️ It feels so good to finally have this complete, but I will write some one-shots about this couple in the future, because part of me really doesn't want to let them go. Much love to those who stuck around and showed their support while I got this story hammered out. I love and appreciate all of you!

Please enjoy this playlist for your listening pleasure, songs that either appear in the series or provided inspiration

Series Masterlist

It's early when Joel wakes, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he puts his hand to his heart, eyes scrunched closed tight as he prepares himself for the increasingly painful palpitations. He grunts in suffering at the agony of the erratic pounding of his heart, body tense until it passes, and he sighs with relief, head in his hands as he runs his fingers through his greying locks.

It's been almost a week now that he's had these pains, happening every day now that Sarah's wedding day is nearing. He gets them on and off but lately stress has been catching up to him and reminding him he's not in his thirties anymore. Hell, he'd give anything just to be in his forties again.

He gets up to get a glass of water, quickly throwing on a shirt before going downstairs. The house is quiet though he can see the electric glow of the television light on underneath yours and Ellie's rooms. He hesitates just outside of your room, putting an ear to the door, hoping to catch some tidbit of your voice, some clue as to what you're doing in there, but it's quiet, just the low volume of something playing on TV.

With a sigh he goes down to the kitchen.

Alone with his thoughts, affected by the presence of you and Ellie under his own roof, he takes stock of his life, of all the moments he failed you when he should have been there for you.

That first night he set foot back in Austin after serving time in the Bexar County jail, wondering if he should call you, he'd gone instead to a bar and met Hailey. He didn't recognize her at first, but she'd come on so strong, and the alcohol ran freely that night, so by the time he'd taken her home and her warm, tight little mouth was wrapped around his cock, it was too late. He didn't expect that that one night would lead to her wanting more, but by then you were gone, tucked back safely away in Houston where he couldn't get his hands on you and where you could (he'd hoped) in time forget about him. You were too much of a good girl with too much potential to waste it on someone like him. Hailey was someone who was always going to be stuck in a small town, so he didn't have to worry he was holding her back. But he soon came to realize that all they had between them was fucking. Not that he'd ever minded it in the past, but after having you, experiencing what real love was like, what Hailey offered felt like a cheap replacement, and he just wasn't that man anymore. He knew Sarah hated her, so when he caught Hailey stealing from him he knew that was the last straw and ended things.

Sad to say he went back to his usual routine from before he met you. Working from sunup to sundown, coming home with new aches in his joints to a meal Sarah had had to cook herself, or pizza that had gone cold. On the weekends he'd be at the bar, either with Tommy or more often alone, and he'd find a woman and wind up at her place. He could never bring them back to his, not in his bed that he shared with you.

Seeing you in New Orleans that summer night had been a shock to his system. He thought he'd managed to get over you just a little, but seeing you, a little older than the last time, looking soft and happy and bright-eyed as you laughed with Tommy.. and that fucking rock on your finger that signaled you were taken. Something primeval in him stirred when he ran into you in that restroom hallway, your lips full and glossy from making out with his brother, jealousy surging through him that you'd be so willing to cheat on your husband-to-be with someone other than himself.. it led him to want you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Leaving you the next day had been the hardest thing, but he had to remind himself you were going to belong to another. He couldn't get in the way of that, not when he'd only shown his love for you by fucking you in a bar restroom. You were going to marry a military man and have a respectable life, that was what he wanted for you. To have a life with Joel would only make you sordid, ripe for gossip. He was old enough to be your father and you were in fact his his best friend's daughter. He couldn't sully your life with his mistakes.

On a last minute whim he'd come to your wedding, sat at the very back as you were oblivious to him, staring into your husband's eyes as you spoke your vows, each word a piece of jagged glass in his heart. He'd left before you could see him, driving back to Texas at a high rate of speed, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Why hadn't he just objected? He could have done it, raised his hand and told the entire congregation that you were his god damn it. He would have led you out, carrying you bridal style, ripped your damn dress off you and fucked you senseless.

It was later that Tommy suggested the dating app. Joel wasn't a fan of technology, and in fact still had his old Nokia phone that Sarah was warning him was becoming obsolete and cajoled him into upgrading to a smartphone. Once she and Tommy had helped him with setting up a profile on eHarmony, the requests piled in. Women from all over the state showed their interest. He had his pick of almost anyone. While he went on a few fruitless dates (some of which actually ended up in sex) there were few that actually interested him.

Until Tess. She was so much like him, and more suited to his age. A divorcee, she knew what she wanted in a relationship and stuck by her values. Beneath her tough exterior Joel found she was actually very kindhearted, even sweet. She cared about animals, liked beer, and was a homebody. She'd resisted his charms at first, but eventually neither could give in to the spark they felt. It took some convincing to get her to marry him. She accepted only on the terms that he move to Boston. She'd visited Texas a few times on business, but she wanted to stay in the northeast, and Joel, in love again for the first time in years, acquiesced.

The problem was they were too much alike. Both wanted to lead, and while he was happy to let Tess have the reigns now and then, it became an issue. This led to more arguments, tense discussions over things that shouldn't have mattered. The divorce, when it finally happened, was a blessing in disguise. Joel followed Tommy away from Boston and found comfort here in Wyoming, in a place he could start anew.

Sarah had been none too subtle when she brought you up in conversation. "Did you know she's a teacher?" "She's single now, divorced actually." "She's in California with her daughter."

Every damn day there was a phone call or a text where you were mentioned. And now, with you here under his roof at Sarah's behest, it was apparent that she was trying to get you two back together again.

He knew he needed to speak with you about that comment you uttered, about "our" daughter Ellie. He'd done the math in his head, just to be safe, and had calculated that he could indeed be her dad. But he had to get the honest answer from you.

It'd be easy if you would at least acknowledge his presence.

Your cold shoulder is more like an arctic icy blast. Your refusal to even meet his eye is like an arrow through his heart. He wishes that you would at least glare at him, or say something sarcastic or hurtful, but your silence is the coldest thing, even with the blizzard outside.

He's hopeful during one moment the next morning, as he's going into the hall restroom while you're coming out. Freshly showered, you're wearing a towel around your body, skin glowing, hair combed back and damp. The steam that surrounds you from your hot shower makes you look like a figure from a movie, an ethereal angel come to earth. His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your beautiful eyes wide and plush lips parted. Then you resume your coldness, pulling your towel tighter around you as you go to your room. When he steps in he smells the jasmine aroma of your body wash still in the air around him his dick hardens in response.

Hearing that Sofia has arrived is the one bright spot in your time here.

You meet her at the Tipsy Bison after everyone has helped out shoveling snow off the path. You'd found yourself working next to Joel and said nothing to him, ignoring his silent appeal for you to talk to him.

Now the crew is indulging in some food and beer at the bar while you catch up with your cousin.

"How did you get in? I thought the roads were impassable," you tell her after a big hug and an introduction to her fiancee Ruby. It had come as a surprise to you when she'd told you she was marrying a woman, but Sofia had said she'd only followed her heart and didn't consider herself stuck to any sort of label. Ruby was the perfect person for her and there was no looking back.

"Tommy sent a pilot friend of his to pick us up from the airport when our taxi couldn't make it through the snow," she says, nearly knocked over as Ellie pummels her with a bear hug. "We were helicoptered in, like a couple of VIPs."

It's like old times as you share a booth altogether, different kinds of appetizers in the center of the table as you catch up on things.

"How did you manage to still stay friends with Tommy?" you ask when Ruby and Ellie go to make change for the jukebox. Hearing that Sofia is staying with Tommy and Maria during their visit, you can't help but wonder how other people can so easily put aside the past.

"I think it helped that we were friends before we started dating," she shrugs. "And.. to be honest, our relationship never got that serious. Not like you and Joel," she finishes in a whisper, darting a glance at the elder Miller brother, who's knocking back some beer with Tommy and a few others.

"Why do you ask?" Sofia continues.

"I don't know how to deal with being under the same roof as Joel," you admit. "Everything that he put me through.. I know we're only here for a few days but it feels like an eternity. It's becoming harder to avoid him."

"You should talk to him," she says gently. "You don't have to be best friends or anything, but you're a friend of the bride. You should at least be civil."

You sneak a look over your shoulder at him, just to find he's already staring at you. You quickly turn away.

"Does he know about.." Sofia motions with her head toward Ellie, who's at the jukebox with Ruby.

"No," you respond. "And he doesn't need to know."

"That's not fair to him," she softly scolds you.

"You are the only one I've trusted with this, Sofia. Please do not make me regret telling you."

Sofia is really the only family you have left. You never saw you father after that fateful night when Joel fought him, and your mother disowned Ellie when she came out, causing you to disown your mother in return. Your circle is small but faithful.

She backs off. "All right," she relents. "But what about Ellie? She'll resent you for keeping this a secret this long."

You watch your daughter, who's drifted from the jukebox to one of the pool tables, mindlessly spinning the cue ball upon the soft green surface. She's distracted when she sees another girl across the room, a pretty dark-haired girl around her own age, watching Ellie furtively, as if fascinated.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Ellie shouts, causing the girl to run away.

"Ellie!" you snap at her, and to your astonishment Joel walks past you to go to her. You freeze, watching their interaction, but all seems to be okay as they talk quietly.

"I don't know what to do for her. I don't know how to help her.. she's so angry, especially since the divorce. And Justin rarely ever sees her. The only thing he's good for is the child support." You swig your beer, itching to go and talk to her, but the stubborn side of you refuses to be closer to Joel than is necessary.

Sofia folds her napkin in sections. "She called me and told me about Riley.. and the little mishap at the mall."

Earlier that year, Ellie and Riley had been picked up by the cops for trespassing in an abandoned mall and vandalizing some stores. It was completely unlike her, and even though you both sought family therapy for all the issues you were going through, it didn't seem to be making much leeway.

"She doesn't seem so angry now," Sofia mentions, and you turn to see Joel and Ellie starting a game of pool. You both watch as she tries to pull off complicated trick shots and Joel just shakes his head in feigned frustration. Once again your gaze lingers too long and you lock eyes, but this time you offer a tiny smile, mouthing 'thanks.'

"Hey Mom, can I go with Joel and Finn? Joel said I have to ask you."

You look up from where you're steam-cleaning your dress for the rehearsal dinner tonight. "Where are you going?"

"It's near the woods on Joel's property. We're just going for a hike," she shrugs.

"I guess.. just behave yourself, okay?"

She grins, glad to have gotten permission. You follow her down to the foyer where Joel and Finn are getting their hats and gloves on. "Be careful," you tell them, though it's mostly meant for Joel.

"Of course. You're okay with her shootin'?"

"What?!"

Ellie manages to look chagrined. "I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew guns would be involved."

"Well you thought right!"

"I won't let her if you won't allow it," Joel offers.

"Come on!" Ellie groans.

"Just remember that you're on thin ice back home," you tell her without wanting to let on to the others about Ellie's troubled past.

"Somethin' the matter?" Joel asks, eyes darting between you and her.

"Nope," Ellie's all smiles when you hesitate to answer. "Let's get going!"

She and Finn race out the door into the snowy yard just as Joel stops for a brief moment. "I won't let her shoot if you don't want her to," he says solemnly.

The nearness of him, the rich baritone of his voice could easily bring you to your knees. It feels like a chore just to swallow that emotion and consider it dead, a mistake.

"Just be careful," you repeat, a smile flitting on your lips. Heat rises in your face when you see his gaze drop down to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his own lips.

"You could come with us."

Your first instinct is to refuse, to keep that wall built between him and yourself. Good fences make good neighbors and brick walls keep people from reliving past trauma.

But damn it's hard to say no when he's here right in front of you, after all this time, and the parts of you that have healed just want to give in, to go into his arms again.

It's not a surprise when you're in the passenger seat of his truck, like old times. And though it's a newer model and the seats have warmers and the upholstery makes the whole car smell like it was just driven off the lot, in a way it still feels like summer 2003.

Finn's done this before, the apple of his grandfather's eye. Even with the skill of a child, he shoots with ease, knocking down most of the targets Joel had set up on a fence.

When it's Ellie's turn she's eager for the gun, but her practice shots are haphazard: off an old fallen tree, a random snowbank. She huffs in frustration.

"Wide right," Joel tells her. "You're flinchin'."

Ellie shakes her head. "The target's too small."

"I made it bigger than I should've. Eject the cartridge."

You watch your only child move with precision, handling the gun with ease despite being new to this. "I'm not flinching, the rifle just sucks."

You and Finn exchange a look, suppressing your laughter.

"Okay, give it." Joel changes places with Ellie, who quips, "It doesn't aim right, you'll see."

It's hard to tear your eyes from him as he sets up, moving with the ease of someone half his age. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it," he says, ignoring Ellie's teasing remarks. "Gentle, steady, nice and slow."

"You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" she smirks, and when you laugh out loud Joel shakes his head, pulling off the perfect shot.

After, you rest on the tailgate of the truck while drinking warm beverages from your thermoses. Ellie and Finn gather their energy quickly enough, playing in the snow and chasing each other. It brightens your day to see your daughter smiling.

"I wanna apologize for the other day," Joel says, his eyes flicking to you. "I was outta line. I've apologized to Ellie too. I think she and I are good now."

You nod, somewhat relieved that he'd brought it up first. "I'm sorry too. I guess I get pretty riled up when someone tries to out-parent me."

Joel looks away, towards the mountains that peak their grayness against the clear blue sky. "He been outta the picture long?"

"Who? Justin?" You notice Joel winces at your ex husband's name. "Long enough. He was supposed to spend time with her for Christmas but chose his new wife over his own daughter. She didn't take it very well."

"Fuckin' bastard," he mutters. "Always figured there was a reason for me to not like him."

You give him a strange look. "You didn't know him."

"Didn't need to. He took you away from me. That's reason enough."

"Joel," you say quietly, both a scolding and a scoff. You remember his body against yours that night, the way your sheets bore his scent until the day before Justin came back from out of town and you had to wash away the evidence of your betrayal.

"I'm sorry I didn't go after you. There were a million opportunities and I failed each time."

You say his name again, with softness this time, your hand finding his, his palm almost completely dwarfing yours. You think about his fingers inside you, teasing you for the first time, showing you how to open up to him, and how you ended up giving away your whole heart.

In the moment where you can say the most heartwarming or romantic or even angry thing, what comes out of your mouth is: "You never accepted my friend request."

Joel looks puzzled. "What?"

"My friend request. On Facebook. I tried to add you but you never accepted it, so I canceled it." Cringing at your own words, how needy they sound, you take your hand from his, but he traps it within his own again.

"Darlin', I never look at that stuff. I only got one 'cause everyone else goaded me into it." His eyes look mirthful as he sees your doleful eyes.

"And that's how I found out about Tess.."

"Oh." The mirthful look is gone, replaced by a dark, blank look. The first marriage, the only marriage he ever had, so late in life, ended.

"What was she like?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He looks at the ground, as if the snow is so interesting. "What was that idiot fuckboy husband of yours like?"

You almost laugh, surprised that he's jealous, even after you've moved on from your marriage.

"He wasn't as great as I thought," you shrug. "But that doesn't matter now."

Joel smiles, agreeing. "Tess was.. we were good for awhile but you're right, doesn't matter now."

"Because we both turned out okay.. me and you."

He thinks it over a bit, eventually nodding. "Yeah.." His deep brown eyes meet yours, and you catch a glimmer of the man he was before, twenty years past, a single dad with a teenage girl and an interest in the new girl next door. "I'm sorry.. for everything. We happened so fast that my brain had to catch up with my heart."

You're afraid that if you think about it for too long you'll cry and never stop. "We don't have to talk about that.."

He nods, looking a little sad that you declined. "You're right, we don't."

"Look at you with all this land," you smile, gently teasing him to change the subject. "What are you gonna do with all of it?"

Joel shrugs, looking at his property, thinking again of the possibilities. "I might decide to turn it into a ranch, raise sheep," he shrugs. "They're quiet and do what they're told."

He's quiet another moment, before his voice drops an octave. "I'm really glad you came, babygirl.. it's really good to see you. Don't think I said that before."

A smile graces your lips, a genuine one, and the warmth of his words melts what's left of your defenses. "Joel.. there's something I need to tell you.. about Ellie.." The words are out before you even think.

Your heart pounds, taking residence in your throat as if to keep the truth from spilling out. Joel turns his whole body to you. His eyes search yours, without question or condemnation, as if he's willing you to say it because he already knows, because he just wants it made real.

When the moment passes it's a disappointment to both of you. It's getting later in the afternoon and you still need to get ready for tonight. The kids trudge back to the truck and you get in next to Joel in the front. There's a quietness that fills the space, thick and somewhat desperate.

The Tipsy Bison has gone through another temporary makeover for the rehearsal dinner: garlands of lights arch across the ceiling from beam to beam, creating a pleasant, dreamy atmosphere. People mill around waiting for the bride and groom who are running a little late. Drinks are served and tables of food boast different kinds of cuisine.

Ellie makes a beeline for the hors d'oevres, immediately picking out what she wants and stuffing it straight into her mouth as if she hasn't seen food in months. Joel watches her from the next table over, trying hard as hell not to call her out too harshly, but as his stomach growls he joins her in the hunt for sustenance.

A tray of pastel-colored macarons catches Ellie's eye and she takes a light green treat with her fingers. "What are these?" She scrutinizes it, taking a quick sniff.

"It's some kinda cookie.. or something.. how the hell should I know?" he grumbles.

"Pistachio," she grunts in disgust, putting it back on the plate.

"Well, now don't put it back, you've already touched it and sniffed it and everything.." Joel quickly pops the discarded macaron into his mouth.

"If you want 'em they're all yours," she says, giving his shoulder a couple heavy claps before moving on down the line of food.

He just shakes his head, looking around for you for the tenth time tonight, finding you with Sarah and her soon-to-be inlaws at the bar. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you in a dark red dress, long-sleeved, cinched at the waist, and he feels a familiar rush of blood to his cock as he eyes the thigh-length slit on one side of the skirt.

"That color is sensational on you."

You turn to the voice you've just heard, as the group you were talking with disperses.

"Hi," you tell the older, well-dressed man in front of you. "I don't believe we've met." But then it hits you, and just as he introduces himself you realize you already know his name.

"I'm Frank," he says, a Duchenne smile lighting up his features and crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. He's handsome, and very friendly. And he was friends with Joel during his marriage to Tess.

He introduces you to his husband Bill, who regards you with a certain suspicion and gives a gruff acknowledgement to your hello. "He's like that with everyone," Franks explains in a stage whisper, while rolling his eyes. "He's just a big grump, but I love him."

"I'm a friend of the bride," you tell them after giving your name, and also introducing Ellie, who's arrived next to you with a plate piled high with shrimp, pulled pork sliders, and mini cheesecakes.

"She's a friend of Joel's," Frank tells Bill, as if to clarify.

"Um, yes.. I'm also a friend of his," you agree. Pretending to spot someone across the room, you excuse yourself, giving a subtle motion for Ellie to follow you, but she stays where she is, popping a whole shrimp in her mouth, eyeing the couple.

"There's a story there," Frank says enticingly as he sips his beer.

"What do you mean?" she asks, curious about the gossip.

Bill gives him a look and shakes his head. "She's a kid, she doesn't need your dramatic stories."

"Now I have to know!" Ellie insists.

Frank feigns annoyance. "Oh all right."

He weaves the tale of Joel and his wife Tess: happily married at first, so alike in attitude and hobbies. She thought she knew everything about the man she married, but when Tommy, in a drunken game of poker one night, recalled a certain young woman who Joel knew, a woman who could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue, Joel told his brother, in a similar drunken state, that he remembered her fondly, missed her like crazy, she was the one who got away.

Tess wasn't the type to hound someone for details, but she didn't like there was a part of Joel's past that she didn't know about. Especially if that past was filled with him falling in love with and screwing a college girl. This naturally led to arguments that Tess refused to drop. Joel didn't want to relive that time with you, and insisted it meant nothing since you were well and truly out of his life.

But the damage had been done, and the thorn of jealousy had pierced Tess's heart. You were a stranger to her and still could not be defeated.

Frank recalled with suppressed glee the night Tess had stormed out on a dinner party, ranting at Joel about "not being able to get over a stupid ass teenager" and causing a scene for the others to eat up. It had embarrassed Joel deeply, but when news of Sarah's wedding had become known, Joel couldn't keep it secret from the friends of his ex-wife. He'd come to like them in his own way, especially Bill, with whom he shared a predilection for quiet and keeping to one's self. They hunted and fished like old times and soon enough both he and Frank were invited to the wedding.

"There's a saying that goes," Frank is telling Ellie, "'everyone can see it but them.'"

Ellie glances at you across the room, and then at Joel. You and he trade silent, surreptitious glances at one another, filled with longing. You glance at him and he catches you before you glance away, and vice versa. The signal between your gazes is irrefutable. There's something there, has been all this time. All it needed was a little meddling from Sarah to bring the spark back to life.

For the first time Ellie sees you as something more than her mother. She realizes you had a past, a life before she was born, and a fraction of that life was spent in love with a man she just met a couple days ago.

"Hey Mom, can you help?"

Hearing Ellie, you immediately shift into Mom Mode, stopping your own get-ready routine to assist her. She's in your doorway, holding out her wrists. She picked out the suit herself, but the cufflinks are something new.

"Did you get these from your dad?"

"Joel let me borrow them for today."

It's finally the day of the wedding, and as the ceremony isn't until the evening, the whole house is a kind of organized chaos from morning through the afternoon. As if your nerves weren't already on fire, Sarah had approached you early that morning (fortunately for her while you were drinking your coffee) and asked if you'd replace one of her bridesmaids who'd come down with a cold overnight and couldn't attend.

You'd reasoned with her that you didn't have a bridesmaid dress, but that was easily solved when it was revealed the bridesmaids were all wearing jewel tones, and the sapphire gown you'd purchased off the rack would do just fine.

You had anticipated being part of a crowd. Now you'd be at the front of the congregation, all eyes on you, especially Joel's.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you finish helping Ellie with her cufflinks and let her entertain you with whatever teenage thought is flipping around in her brain while you touch up your makeup.

"I'm supposed to meet with Sarah and the bridal party at the church. You can ride with me or you'll have to find a ride with someone else."

"Joel will take me."

You brush away some stray powder on your cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe he could take both of us. Want me to ask him?"

"No--"

But she's gone before you can stop her.

You feel Joel's eyes on you as you during the short drive to the church, and you blame the heat you feel coursing through your body on the seat warmer.

"It's a nice thing you're doin' for Sarah, steppin' in at the last minute," he says, eyes finally on the road.

"I can't let down a bride in need," you say somewhat cheerfully. "She'd do the same for me."

"Maybe at your next wedding." Ellie pipes up from the backseat, and Joel's frown is not lost on you.

The lead-up to the actual ceremony is a blur, as it was at your own wedding fifteen years before. The bridal party clusters around Sarah, who looks radiant, as she promises she isn't nervous. You can sense her agitation in the way her knee bounces as she's seated, one of the bridesmaids doing a last minute touch up to her hair. The air is heavy with excitement, the scent of hair spray and perfume all around you, reminding you that you're flammable.

"Remember this day," you advise her, and she looks up at you with a grateful smile. "It goes by unbelievably fast."

You wonder if you'll ever have this again, the butterflies in your stomach as you wait for the moment when you see your man at the aisle, awaiting you. You were lucky to have it once. Twice would be an anomaly, considering you haven't had a real relationship in so long.

Joel knocks and, granted entrance, the bridesmaids flutter about, getting ready for their entrance into the church. The bride and her father are left alone, no doubt exchanging words of love before he gives her away to her true love.

You had no one to walk down the aisle with when you were a bride, and the memory threatens to cloud your mind as you take your small bouquet of white roses and camellias. "Canon in D" starts, and the line makes its way down the aisle, towards the altar where Theo and his groomsmen wait.

Situated at the altar, the congregation rises as the music changes, and Sarah walks in, arm in arm with Joel.

Your eyes are on him the entire time, and your heart feels to big to fit in your chest. You've never seen Joel in a suit, but this one is perfectly tailored to his broad, strong physique. His hair is perfectly styled, his grey visible through the curls you long to run your fingers through.

When Sarah and Theo exchange vows your gaze unexpectedly meet Joel's and this time neither of you look away. You catch the glimmer of a tear falling down his cheek, which he does not wipe away. The bride and groom's words seem to ring loud and true: a promise of love through hard times and illness; of love that only grows in each others' absence; of love that does not die even after death.

The reception is held at the Tipsy Bison, and you marvel at how it's managed to disguise itself once more from a saloon to an elegant wedding atmosphere. A lot of money has gone into the week's events, and you know it's all Joel's doing. He's giving away his daughter, sending her off in style, giving her a day she'll remember forever.

You watch Sarah and Joel during their father-daughter dance, a tradition you didn't get to have yourself. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland starts up by the band onstage, and it tugs on your heartstrings to watch them. In the back of your mind you see them, Joel still thirty-six and Sarah still fourteen. By the time Sarah and Theo have their first dance as husband and wife you're already in the ladies' room, splashing cold water on your face so no one can see you've been crying.

Later, the bridesmaids and groomsmen have scattered, dancing or drinking at the bar, mingling. You stay at your seat at the now nearly-empty wedding party table, fingers twirling the stem of your champagne glass.

Mired in your own thoughts, you don't realize Joel has approached, crouching next to you.

"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice nearly a rasp with how nervous he is.

Wordlessly you take his hand, which practically dwarfs your own, as he leads you to the dance floor. You fall into a rhythm as the band starts up "Tennessee Whiskey", swaying softly to the music. His right hand rests on your lower back, gently guiding you. Your heart pounds as you gaze into his eyes. You haven't been this close to him since the night you conceived Ellie, the fateful night that threw a wrench into all your plans.

"It was a beautiful wedding," you lean in close to be heard over the music.

Joel shivers at your proximity, the brush of your lips against his ear, and he pulls you a little closer. "I'm happy you came all this way for it. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you affirm, your hand gliding up to his shoulder.

The air is thick with tension, much like in the days you'd first met. You have to turn away or risk your feelings made known to everyone here.

Ellie's at one of the booths with the dark-haired girl from a couple days ago, watching something on her phone. As the girl laughs you see Ellie looking at her with a warmth you haven't known her capable of for anyone else.

"She's going to hate me for having to take her away again.." you tell him. "I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

He clears his throat. "Maybe now she has a reason to return." He nods towards Ellie and her new friend.

Your limbs stiffen a little in response. You're not yet ready to think about the future, the possibilities it holds. You've barely begun to mend your friendship with Joel.

"Maybe," you relent, quietly, a promise made in the ether.

Joel's silent as the music moves smoothly in the air between you. His grip tightens on your body as he asks, "She's mine, ain't she?"

You snap from your thoughts, your heart in your throat as you stop dancing. "Excuse me?" Your eyes bore into him, daring him to speak the truth for himself.

"The other day you said 'our daughter'.. the timeline's right, I'm not that bad at math," he manages a smile.

"Joel, I.." you shake your head. "It's all too much. I can't think about this right now."

"Just tell me the truth," he says quietly.

"What would it matter if she was?"

"It'd make a whole hell of a difference. Two daughters, two Miller girls. Don't you think somethin' like that would make me happy?"

For a rare moment you let yourself think about the day your mother came to get you, pull you back home to Houston seeped in shame and regret. She'd lied and manipulated facts to get you on her side. You vowed you'd never be like her or put Ellie through that.

"Yes, Joel.." you whisper. "She's yours.."

The joy that shines in his eyes is like nothing you've ever seen before. When his arms wrap around you your lips find his as if twenty years has never passed between you. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, you're making out like teenagers.

"I want you," he growls.

"Let's get out of here," you agree.

You're barely through the front door of his home when he presses you to the wall, his mouth hungry for yours. You hadn't thought you'd experience this level of passion again, but time has not diminished it for either of you.

"Joel," you moan as he presses himself to you, the blunt hardness of his erection teasing you. "Fuck me, Joel.."

He groans at your words, body aching with desire as he goes to his knees in front of you, lifting the hem of your dress. He presses messy kisses along your thighs while his hands roam over your hips and ass, his breath hot against your skin as he approaches the spot he most wants to taste again.

"Been too long, darlin'," he murmurs as he pulls your lacy underwear down your legs. "Been too damn long since I had you like this."

You kick your panties off, hooking one leg over his shoulder as he dives in, tongue lapping at your sweet pussy like a thirsty man finally finding water.

He stays there, tongue dancing between your folds and then tickling your clit, tasting you so deeply that you cry out, head falling back, body arched towards him, fingers tangled in his hair. Joel feasts like a man starved, slurping you up, inhaling your scent that surrounds him. There's nothing about you that's changed. You're still so sensitive to his touch, responsive to his lips, tongue, and now fingers pressed deep inside, finding the spot that makes you scream while his lips purse around your throbbing clit.

He doesn't stop after you come. He feasts on you over and over again, making up for lost time, pleading for your forgiveness this way, literally on his knees until you scream his name, convulsing around his fingers, your honey collecting on his large digits. Only when you feel completely boneless does he remove them gently, licking up your syrupy taste.

Joel picks you up, your dress falling back in to place as he carries you bridal style up to his room.

All roads have led back to him. No matter where you went, no matter who you chose, Joel was always going to be there at the end of the path, your guiding light, even when you thought you hated him and when you thought he would never choose you again.

Even now, his body over yours, he's the missing piece of the puzzle. He teases you with his cock until you beg him to just put it in, to make you whole again. The glorious slide of his flesh into yours causes you both to gasp and your bodies still for a moment, taking in the significance of this act which you've done so many times before.

He's older now, but his vigor is not gone. He fucks you gently at first, then with impatience, as if he's afraid you'll dissolve like a dream in daylight. You'd know the feel of his cock among any other, the smooth outline and the ridges, the way he's molded his perfect shape into you, marked you years ago when you were a virgin, as if leaving his initials inside you. Mine.

You've never had a man to match him, never had someone so in sync with your body. He knows all your buttons, every dip and valley that his hand caresses. He's mapped out your skin like a cartographer, claiming the land in his own name.

You come almost too quickly the first time, before he flips you on top of him, gripping your hips as you ride him. "Love you," you moan as you come close to the edge again, heart and soul flying ahead of you into the bliss you've only really known with him.

Beneath you Joel's eyes go wide when you come, his hips lifting up into you, warmth spilling into your core.

"Babygirl," he whispers, a choked grunt as he turns pale, his skin clammy and sweaty when he loses consciousness.

As soon as Sarah and Ellie arrive at the hospital you hug them, overcome with worry for Joel's medical emergency.

"How is he?" Sarah asks, still in her wedding dress. Even in the emergency waiting room she's generating a lot of interested looks her way.

"They just took him in a few minutes ago," you tell her, secretly glad she wasn't there to see her dad in such shape. "I think it was a heart attack.."

"Oh my god," she puts her hand over her mouth and sits on the nearest chair, Ellie right next to her, comforting her.

"The party's winding down at the bar," Ellie explains. "Only a few people know-- Theo, Tommy, Maria.."

"We didn't want to worry anyone else," Sarah adds.

You look at her, heart aching. This is supposed to be her special day.. and if something happens to Joel--

Don't think like that.

The three of you sit down, drinking stale coffee from the machine down the hall. Soon Tommy joins you, Theo staying at the house to keep an eye on Finn.

The worst thoughts poke through your brain, teasing you and taunting you. But at last the doctor comes out, a guy even younger than yourself, green scrubs and white coat.

He talks with the family, letting them know the diagnosis. "It was a silent myocardial infarction, basically a mild heart attack," he explains it. "He's going to be fine and he's resting right now."

"A heart attack?" Tommy and Sarah exclaim together.

"At his age it's not uncommon.. he's fifty-six years old," the doctor checks the chart. "Now, we have him on some aspirin and beta-blockers. Tests show he doesn't have enough blockage to necessitate surgery, but he'll need blood pressure medication and to keep a healthier lifestyle."

"Can we see him?" you ask.

"Yes, two at a time, preferably. We want to keep him calm while we're monitoring him." He checks the chart again and looks at you. "You brought him in, correct, ma'am?"

"Yes.. why?"

"What was Mr. Miller doing before he exhibited symptoms of his coronary event?"

"Um.. what?" you pretend not to understand.

"What was he doing before he had his heart attack?"

"Mild heart attack," Tommy emphasizes.

"Well.." you race to think of what to tell him.

"I take it you were celebrating a wedding," the doctor says, seeing Sarah in her dress and the rest of you in tuxes and gowns and whispers a 'Congratulations' to her.

"Yes. Well, we danced.." you answer, and the doctor keeps his eyes on you as if he knows you're lying.

You go up to him, giving a subtle whisper. "We were.. intimate--"

"Sexual relations," he nods, writing it on the chart. "It's important for us to know what was a causing factor in his event. Now, two at a time can visit him."

Tommy and Sarah go first. He gives you a sly wink. "Y'all were fuckin'!" he teases, passing by. Sarah gives you an excited smile, to which you just purse your lips.

It's quiet but for the bag of Lays Ellie has opened, eating the chips slowly. "So you and Joel?"

You nod.

"But not just tonight.. a long time ago, right?"

There's an odd sensation in your stomach, as if the unspoken truth is fluttering around inside, beating its wings as it tries to find a way out. "I guess there's a lot I need to tell you. But only when you're ready."

Ellie seems to steel herself for whatever conversation is on the way, nodding at last, crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the bin. "Ready."

Seeing Joel in the hospital bed is a sobering visual. Years ago your age gap represented something illicit, scandalous. Now you're reminded that no matter what road you and he take from here, you will most likely outlive Joel Miller.

He's awake when you and Ellie go in. It's obvious he doesn't like being here, but in his current state is not fit to complain.

"Hey," you say softly, going to his side. "How are you feeling?" You caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

Joel's eyes close at your delicate touch, and when he opens them there's a warmth in them that can't be denied. "I've been better, babygirl," he says. "But I'm damn glad you're here."

He glances at Ellie, seated in a chair on his other side. "And how about you, kiddo? You okay?"

"Am I okay?" she says incredulously. "Dude, I'm not the one in a hospital bed." But her face clearly shows relief that Joel's all right. You also see her brain working over everything you've told her (well, the gist of it.. there are some things she doesn't need to know).

"I was so worried," you tell him, your voice soft and warm, all your feelings coming to the forefront. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

Tears appear in Joel's eyes, which he brushes away impatiently. "You ain't losin' me yet, baby. Not for a long time, not if you don't want to."

"Joel.." you whisper. "Do you really want to do this? After everything that's happened.. all the hurt we put each other through.. all the secrets.." you cast a glance at Ellie, who looks more reserved than you've ever seen her before. Sensing this is a moment you want to share alone, she gives a fleeting smile before she leaves, giving Joel a playful mock hit on his shoulder. Still smiling, Joel pats the space beside him in the bed and you snuggle in with him, his body warm.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Joel asks softly, eyes imploring you. "You're mine and I'm yours. That's how this thing of ours operates: you belong to me and I belong to you. Despite everything that's happened in the last twenty years, that's been the one constant." His hands grips yours, thumb running over your knuckles. "I don't care if I've got thirty years or thirty days left of my life. I wanna spend the rest of it with you, babygirl."

You search his eyes, seeing nothing there but the truth, laid bare and ready for you to either accept or deny.

He continues, "I don't wanna keep failin' you. I'm too much in love to let you go again." Then he gently lifts your chin, making sure you meet his eyes. "But only if you want me back."

Some would say you're on a precipice in the choice you're about to make, but it's not that difficult to choose. It's simply the separate paths you're on, converging at last. for good.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," you whisper. It's not a fancy declaration of truth, a bit surprising coming from an English teacher, but it's the only thing Joel needs to hear before he pulls you close for another kiss.

Joel's released on Christmas Eve, and the two of you don't waste any time.

You and Joel are married in a small, intimate ceremony in the spacious living room of his home. Ellie, Sarah, Theo, Finn, Tommy, Maria, Sofia, Ruby, and even Bill and Frank are in attendance, watching as a judge from town and friend of the Millers officiates.

Joel promises you a nicer wedding when the frost thaws, anywhere you want in the world. You tell him you can't imagine a more perfect place to marry the most perfect man for you.

Your first wedding went by in a blur, but this time around you engrave it upon your heart, make note of every little skip of your heart when you and Joel hold hands, his delicate touch as he places a gorgeous sapphire ring on your hand, the sweetness of his lips when you share your first kiss as husband and wife.

After Christmas, Sarah and Theo leave for their honeymoon to Maui, and with the weather more agreeable the guests take leave too. Tommy sees to it that you and Joel have your house all to yourselves for your own honeymoon.

You insist on taking it easy with Joel, but he tells you he'd rather die while inside you, his name pouring from your lips the last thing he ever hears. He seems to get a second wind with you, making use of every possible flat surface in the house. You feel better about such activity when he takes his medication, promising to take it faithfully so long as you follow it with a kiss.

One morning after a particularly strenuous night, while drinking coffee in the kitchen and discussing your plans, Ellie returns, calling out to you before she enters.

"You're not doing anything gross in there, are you?"

"No," Joel laughs.

"Yes we are, we're working on making a sibling for you," you smirk over your coffee, glancing at Joel and giving a little shake of your head when his eyes go wide.

"Gross," she mutters, walking in. "Joel, Tommy says everyone's meeting at the Tipsy Bison for lunch later. But he couldn't get through to you on the phone." She makes a playful, pointed look, eyeing the two of you.

She's lukewarm to the idea of calling Joel 'Dad', and there's going to be some legal hoops to go through regarding Justin and his parental claim. But it all seems so small in comparison to the problems that plagued you before. You can get through anything because now you have each other.

You and Joel get ready as Ellie goes back to Tommy's, enjoying spending her time with Finn and getting ready to leave with them instead.

Unable to keep your hands off each other, it takes you twice as long to get dressed, hands going into each other's back pockets, lips finding each other's throats.

There's all the time in the world for it now.

Driving up to the Tipsy Bison, Joel turns on the radio. "Cherry, Cherry" starts to play, and you sing along with Neil Diamond, catching your husband's eye as he smiles and sings along too. The road before you is smooth, mountains standing guard in the distance, staying the same grand height no matter how far along you drive. Joel's hand finds yours, presses a kiss to it before entwining your fingers.

"Babe?"

"Yes, Mrs. Miller?"

You smile. "Let's not go right away. Let's drive around a little, play this song again, just soak in this moment."

"Of course, babygirl. I don't want to share you with the others just yet anyway."

Neil continues on the radio: No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to Girl, we do whatever we want to Ah, I love the way that you do me Cherry, babe, you really get to me

It's come full circle, and it only took two decades to complete. You and Joel in his truck, your song playing, the sun shining through the hazy clouds. You could close your eyes and it'd be 2003 again.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

<- prev chapter

[pixeltwix]

-Unrelated McGucket Ramblings

Because my mental illness is metal illnessing my brain has been having a wonderful time combining interests. Specifically gravity falls and the Odyssey of all things?

The parallels between Fiddleford, Emma May, and Tate -& Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus is driving me bonkers. EVERYTIME I hear songs like ‘There Are Other Ways’, ‘I’m Just A Man’, and ‘Love in Paradise’ I can so vividly see Fiddleford so ardently longing for home, for his wife, for his son, but something or some event keeps pulling him back every single time he has a mind to just go home. I can’t help but let my head make the connections and rewire silly lyrics to fit closer together than I already feel they are.

‘Back at home my wife awaits for me, she’s my everything, my Emma May. And she’s all my power, all my power, but it’s been (x) long years. Oh (x) long years since I have seen my wife, and now the god of (chaos) is out to end my life-“

Additionally while I do not see Emma May as Calypso to any degree, her few lines in ‘Love in Paradise’ stuck out so hard to me if it was outside of the context of Calypso & Odysseus’s no good very bad situation. Just the-

“It will be fine dear, come back inside dear, love of my life come back to paradise. I know your life’s been hard, I’ll stay inside your heart. I love you my dear, I love our time here, life would be so much worse if you had died. Please stay away from harm, stay in my open arms.”

Is SO POST FIRST PORTAL TESTING FIDDLEFORD CODED- when Emma May finally comes up for herself to check on him in Gravity Falls and sees his condition. I refuse to believe for a moment that she didn’t at least try to understand what was going on before fearing for her and her sons life. Finding her husband most likely stumbling around like he doesn’t even know himself or where he is, trying to soothe and bring him back to her. And at first it seems like it’s working, like he’s slowly piecing together what she’s putting down, but then he’s sparking, spiraling again. She tries a final time to coax him from whatever whirl of madness he’s gotten himself into, but it never gets better. In fact it keeps getting worse. But just the vISUAL ALONE of her with that part of the song trying to bring him away from harm all the while he’s still deeply haunted with the ‘all I hear are screams’. AHHH-

Additionally the narrative of Penelope stalling her suitors for YEARS because she’s hoping, praying, that her husband is still alive, still out there somewhere. That maybe just maybe he’ll come home. I am screAMING and pointing at the Emma May core of it all. I’ve been meaning to develop elderly FiddEm dynamic be it platonic for the sake of recovery, but my biggest thing with her design is despite after all these years she sTILL carries aspects of her husband with her. Be it wearing his old specs he left at home or still keeping her floral motif with her brooch. She still loves him deep down- she always will, and she’s always gonna mourn the life that could’ve been if Bill hadn’t been involved, but still. Keeping him as apart of her even if she ‘hated’ him for so long kept her going.

Also idk plus just the-

‘Hell no, I could kill you where you stand. I’m no pet, I’m a married man.’

Is silly to me because I know it would be very ooc for Fiddleford to have THAT much bite even if he is capable of ‘lashing out’. Regardless it’s still amusing brain movie content to envision-

If I didn’t already have so many other ideas on hand I’d draw this all myself, but raaaaa so many other concepts I wanna draw first :(

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Seven - Take Me to Church

knight!benjicot x princess!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Song: Take Me to Church - Hozier

a/n: Benji pov fans (me) RISE UPP!!

Benji's mind is spinning in circles like never before.

What has he done?

Why has he done it?

He looks at you, your cheeks an intense shade of cherry-red and he wants to throw up a little bit.

How could he do this to you? How could he have done this to you?

You are so soft and innocent, you are to be wed, you are the king's daughter. 

His uncle must be right. He is a man barely in charge of his instincts. 

"Would you stop looking at me like that," you say.

He clears his throat and steps back. "Apologies," he mumbles. Then he takes another, precautionary step back, because he feels the closeness is only making things worse. 

There is an arm's length distance between the two of you now and you are looking at him very confused. 

Maybe he should jump off the tower. 

You hum an unsure sound, a question of what to do now. 

Benji clears his throat again. "Apologies, princess, I should not have been so..."

"So un-knightly?" you offer to finish his sentence. 

He nods. Now you look a bit hurt and he wishes he could turn back time. 

Ser Benjicot of House Blackwood was certainly no stranger to a woman's touch but this is certainly new territory to him. This is a woman far above him. He had never had affiliations with somebody like this. In all honesty, he had never even spoken to a noble woman that outranked him for longer than a fleeting moment before he had met her. 

None of this would have happened if he hadn't threatened to kill the entirety of the Bracken clan during their meetings to make peace. 

A statement he still feels is justified given how those depraved heathens act. 

"Benji, would you please say anything," you plead.

"Hmm, can't." It comes out sounding as though he's swallowing his own bile, which is also what is happening. Oh god in heaven above, what had he done. 

You pick up the discarded tiara and per instinct he averts his eyes, as if his tongue hadn't just been stuck in your throat mere minutes ago. 

They were going to execute him for this. And you would be shunned.

Who even is ‘they’? Nobody knows. 

"Nobody can ever find out," he says.

You snort as you sort your ridiculous feathered monstrosity of a tiara out on your head. "I wasn't about to tell the town-crier, Benjicot, I am not slow."

No, that is right you are not. Why had you even kissed him? Or had he kissed you?

"My god, all those stories about you impaling people and yet you stand before a woman quivering."

He meets your eyes and it feels like a punch to his stomach, right where he is the most vulnerable, but he doesn't understand why he feels that way.

"I'm sorry."

You seem mad. "I will go to my chambers now. Will Ser Corrigan take the night's watch?"

Ser Corrigan? What an odd face to think about at this moment. A weathered, old man, such a harsh contrast to whom he is looking at now, with your soft edges and your softer lips and those eyes that are looking at him with much intensity. 

"I believe yes." 

You nod and lift your dress, decidedly making your way down the stairs again. 

He remains where he is, incapable of moving even as he listens to your steps get quieter. 

Why, why, why can he never ever think before he acts? 

His feet drag across the floor, heavy with the weight of his decisions as he follows you down into the heart of the castle. 

He catches up with you just as you're about to slam the door into his face. 

Per instinct his hand shoots out, just for it to be squashed. 

You gasp in horror, which is so tooth-achingly sweet that it makes his veins burn. 

Ser Corrigan is standing by the door and glances back and forth between the two of you.

"My god, Ser Benjicot," you scold and open the door a little wider. 

There's a twitch in your fingertips and he'd like to think that it's because you want to reach for him, even if it's only to see if he's injured.

Which he isn't. "It's fine, I will just bruise."

You pout, in that angry way you tend to, clearly not satisfied with his answer. 

"Step inside, I wish to have a word for you."

Ser Corriggan harrumphs. You both look at him confused. In fact you look a little bit like you are realising just now that he is also present for this exchange. 

"Princess, I am certain that the Lord of the house will soon arrive to question your early departure from dinner," he reminds you. 

Benji wishes that ugly toad would fall down a flight of stairs. The Cathcart toad. He doesn't have an issue with Corrigan. Except, perhaps, for the fact that he is here and talking when he feels the very deep-rooted need to explain himself to you. 

You sigh. "Would you please send him away when he comes? I am in no mood to be infantilized by an overgrown boy."

Ser Corrigan nods. but there is doubt etched into the lines of his face. 

Benji wants to say something to him but he has no time to, your fingers are forceful in the leather plates on his forearm. 

Tamsyn looks terrified. 

Benji is painfully aware that she is terrified of him. He misses Marion. Not that he knew her well, but she didn't look like she may hurl the moment he laid eyes on her, the way that this girl is.

"You are excused," you tell her and he's glad but yet there is an inkling of nervosity in his chest, scratching at the walls of his insides. 

You grab his hand, twist and turn it. He tries to not let it bother him. "It doesn't hurt," he says.

One thumb presses into the back of it. "Does this hurt?"

The wince is stopped in his throat but he can't hide his facial expression betrays him.

"Why in the world would you do that? The door cannot be locked anyway," you scold and drop his hand.

You cross the room, a glimmering green flurry of layers. 

He stands there, like some sort of unwanted fixture until you return from your vanity with a tiny vial and a long white piece of fabric, the function of which he cannot identify until it is ripped by your wrathful hand. 

"Is that your veil?", he asks. You don't answer.

Instead you grab his hand and leave a generous trail of your oil across his knuckles. "It's arnica, lavender and rosemary. This is supposed to be your good hand, you cannot ruin yourself so carelessly."

"You are being theatrical," he tells you and regrets it when your face goes sour like spoiled milk.

"Am I? Am I being dramatic? The only reason you are still here is your ability to kill quicker than you think." 

It hurts him where you want it to hurt him. "Why are you so enraged?"

With a poking finger you guide him to the bed. "Sit," you order. If he wasn't already on thin ice, he'd make a joke about how commandeering you can be.

It reminds him of when you had set his nose, except then you had cowered down to be at eye level with him. You don't do that now and with a lot less gentleness you wrap up his hand. 

Entirely unnecessary, but he feels he should let you or else you might actually break a finger of his. Or two. 

"You know what I meant." It becomes a question as it rolls off his tongue. 

"You didn't even say anything to be misunderstood, Lord Benjicot Blackwood." 

His name is an insult, by the way it drips with venom. 

"I must have, because why else would you be trying to strangle my wrist."

Your touch loosens in an instant. 

"Well, if you must know, I would have hoped for something more than watching you nearly throw up into the courtyard right after shoving your tongue into places where into places where it isn't supposed to be."

It is hard to not grin but social complexities aren't entirely lost on him. 

"My apologies."

"Not accepted," you mumble through gritted teeth and finish up the bandages. "Find some herbs for me and I might consider accepting."

He nods as he looks up at you, praying that you don't notice that you're still holding his hand.

Your face is stern, a look so unnatural on you, he wants to wipe it off. 

"I will find herbs," he promises and unthinkingly, maybe unknowingly, he isn't certain, his thumb swipes a circle across your knuckles.

Knuckles that have never hurt, knuckles free of scars, softer than his hands have ever been.

You wince and pull your hand out of his grasp and he thinks he's overstayed his welcome but you sit down next to him. 

"Benji."

"Witch."

You scoff. Fingertips begin twisting the rings on your fingers. 

"You know I cannot be careless about this. I cannot go forth and pretend it didn't happen."

He wraps his hand around yours again. "I know."

"Now you must tell me what your intentions are."

Benji halts and looks at you confused. You roll your eyes. 

"That is how one courts a lady," you explain further. 

"Ahh." Now he cannot hide the grin. "I cannot court you, you know this."

"You can court me in secret."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "My intentions are pure-hearted little witch."

"I highly doubt it. You are a rake. And also you are nicknamed 'Bloody Ben' which is just ridiculous if you ask me. And even further you constantly look like you've just buried a body, to the point that even Marion feared you." You throw your free hand up in exasperation. "Marion!"

His hand is beginning to hurt now that the adrenaline has ebbed down a bit. "I'm not so bad, you know. I didn't rat you out. I didn't even complain when you drooled onto my pants the other night."

Every single time he sees you flush his heart grows so far he swears his ribs are digging into it. 

Suddenly, he can't remember why he was so terrified earlier. 

"I promise I will try to not be careless. And I will attempt to look less...bloody?"

You shake your head. "I don't want you to change. You're alright as you are. I am more so concerned with your ability to handle secrecy."

"I am an excellent keeper of secrets."

"You don't wear a mask." 

He frowns at you. "What? Are we at a masquerade ball?"

"No, I mean you wear your emotions on your face. It's your greatest flaw. I don't know how this can be, I don't imagine you do this when you fight people."

Benji had never thought about this. But then again, there are many things he hadn't thought about before he met you. There's a lot of things he never thought about before today. 

There's a weird thing between the two of you now. It looms over you as you squeeze his hand and when you drop your head against his shoulder. He isn't courting you.

You are to be married. 

He's kissed you, feverishly, with all-consuming passion and he can't go back and he doesn't want to but he can't go ahead either. 

He's stuck. Once again. Though it is starting to feel less like he's stuck as your knight. 

Quite an easy duty, with a princess like this. 

There's a bang on the door and the two of you jolt apart in an instant. He misses your hair tickling his jaw instantly. 

"Your highness," Lord Cathcart sneers through the door. 

"Wanker," Benji mumbles beneath his breath. 

"What?" You yell out.

"Come out. I wish to speak with you."

You get up but Benji is faster once more, cracking open the door the tiniest bit. "The princess has retired for the night. You may speak with her on the morrow, my good Lord."

The slimy man pries his hands into the small opening. Fortunately he has no real strength compared to Benjicot, who stops the thing from moving as far as an inch. "You forget yourself, bloody Ben. This is my castle."

At this, Benji opens the door far enough to push himself through and Erik away. The fool stumbles. 

He can't say it's not amusing to him. 

"And these are the chambers of a woman. You have no right to them. Only the king does."

He pauses and does a dramatic look around the hallway. 

"And as far as I am able to tell he is not here."

Eric sputters and reddens. Not like you do, but in an angry entirely off-putting manner, that almost makes Benji want to giggle. 

"You rest assured Blackwood boy, your days as a knight are counted."

Benji shrugs. "The Brackens will surely be happy to have me as their neighbour once more."

Lord Cathcart scoffs. "You'll be lucky to get out alive." 

And as if he hadn't heard a word just spoken he heads to the door, where you are standing. 

You look a bit dishevelled and Benji is a bit proud but he can't think on it too long, as Erik towers over you with the last shred of authority he can conjure up. "You will be my wife. I offered to go about this smoothly, but you went ahead and disrespected me. You will be my wife and then you will have no choice but to obey. I shall see to that."

Benji doesn't need to say anything this time. Ser Corrigan steps between your figures and clears his throat. "The princess is not to be spoken to in such a manner. I think it best we all rest tonight and tomorrow there will be a new day to set things right."

Erik Cathcart is not one bit pleased but he realises he has not much choice and so he yields and scurries off like the little weasel that he is. 

The sight of him makes Benji want to ram his head into a wall. 

The king is a fool for sending his daughter into the arms of this man, for removing her from the castle, for running the entire kingdom into the ground like nobody in his ancestry before him had ever managed.

One could only hope that a fallen woman like Lady Cathcart is worth this much trouble. 

Hell, Benji wouldn't ever care about the societal standing of a woman but he has never let last night's fuck influence today's mood in his life.

He looks to you and then back at Ser Corrigan, who has become very hawk-eyed all the sudden. 

"I think it's for the best if I retire to my bed as well," he says and you nod in acceptance, though he can't help but notice the smidge of disappointment in your eyes. 

His feet guide him to the yard and then the stables where a young man bows to him in panic. 

He remembers that this is Bracken affiliated ground. God knows what cruel tales have been told of his fights. They all likely think him to be a man with no honour. 

Benji wants to and saddle a horse, desperate to clear his mind, when his gaze flickers out the door and falls on the church. 

He hesitates for a moment, debating his choices, when he decides that it can’t hurt to pay the confessional a visit. 

It’s a small church, not very decorated. The one at the capital has huge stained windows and your dresses tend to look quite…pretty in that lighting. That is also about the only thing he could fathom to like about being inside that place.

He’s never been religious, nowhere near as much as he likely should be. 

The thought of a god looming over his head has never made him anything but uncomfortable. 

He finds it unsettling that he might be judged by an omniscient creature. He also finds that religious people are often liars. 

And yet, there he stands, in the hallway, staring at the altar. 

He’s not even sure how confessions even work anymore. 

The priest floats into the room at the other end of it, the same one as from the dinner. He’s such an odd looking person. 

“Ah. I thought you might appear here, son,” he says, his voice echoing. 

Benji scrunches his nose a little. “Did you now, father?” He takes a few tentative steps forward. “I’d like to confess something.”

The priest nods and points towards the confessional. For a third time, he contemplates his choices but he decides that he’s no coward and takes a seat on his side of the booth. 

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

There’s a beat of silence until Benji remembers what to do. “Amen,” he says after clearing his throat. “Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been…I don’t remember, since my last confession.” 

Here goes. What’s there to lose? Maybe his mind, Benji thinks to himself. 

“I have corrupted somebody.”

The priest doesn’t speak. 

Benji clears his throat again. This feels violently tense. He’s not sure it should be. 

“I suppose my sin is cardinal. Sin of Lust.”

The priest’s gown makes a ruffling sound. “Ah. It is a common one.”

“This one has pretty high stakes involved, I assure you, father.” He is fairly certain that being sarcastic with a clergyman in a confessional booth is not something you’re supposed to do. But what’s it matter? He doubts a quick trip here could save his soul anyway. 

“Perhaps I should go.”

“No. Stay. Tell me what troubles you, son. Only God can help through all.”

Benji sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “Well, I have kissed a girl. She is promised to another and I have put her virtue at risk.”

He glances over, through the barred hole in the wall and distantly makes out the side profile of the priest. “Did you force her hand?”

“No. I have killed men but I do have some dignity.”

“Well, then the girl is also guilty of a sin. But it is normal. God has made us flawed creatures. It is the way our lives go. You made the good choice, coming here. Pray the litany of Mary Magdalene three times, son.” 

He doesn’t enjoy the fact that the priest keeps calling him son. That should be reserved for one person only. He wipes his hands clean on his pants, clean of nothing in particular. He gets up to leave.

“Wait,” the priest commands. “I must warn you.”

Benji frowns. “Of what?”

The priest’s voice drops to a whisper. “There is treachery afoot in the house of Cathcart. Other houses too. I do not know the extent of it.” The priest’s gown rustles. “You must worry. You must watch yourself.” There’s a pause. “And you must write to the heir to the throne.”

Benjicot stares at him now. “What?”

“You think the Lord to be a fool and in many ways he is. But he is part of a grand scheme. I cannot tell you more.”

Benji hurries out of the booth around to the other side. “What the fuck are you blabbing about?”

“This is a house of God,” the priest reprimands at his cursing. “And I will not. I mustn’t endanger you. You need to be alive and well to serve the princess, do you not?”

“Is that a threat, old man?” 

The priest shakes his head. “I am helping you. Write to the prince. Tell him to tread carefully.” 

He points towards the entry. “This betrothal is a curse.”

He has to suppress the urge to point the dagger in his pocket against the man’s neck and get more out of him. But he remembers you and your words. He does not know how to handle the web of conspiracies that are spun around the nobility. He does not know how to solve them without laying hands and even then that would rarely diminish the problem. 

Benji steps back and considers the priest. “Well, then. Three litanies.”

With that he hurries out of the church. On the morrow he shall tell you. For now, he falls into his bed, mind continuously spinning around your kiss. When sleep comes for him, you leave with his thoughts and enter again through his dreams. 

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie 

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters 

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

@chainsawsangel

@esposadomd

@juhdoche 

[rainydayarcaneimagines]

One Last Night(Jayce x reader)

Warnings: SHIELD YOUR EYES FOR THE UNCOVERED ANKLES (smut. There is smut.)

It was all a shock. To land in an alternate reality where everything was fucked up. But it was an even bigger shock to him when he went to go back to his own and still ended up in the wrong reality.

There he was and everything was…

Great?

Life was almost a damn Utopia. What was crazier was Zaun and Piltover were put together and better functioning than his own damn reality. He walked the streets absolutely fucking baffled by what was happening before him. He heard tidbits and realized that in this reality his creation killed Vi, but was destroyed in the process.

From what he managed to understand, he had basically gone through his trial by getting his experiment confiscated. Even weirder, Jayce was successful in other ways but not… actually hextech.

It was beyond bizarre. Especially since… you were alive. No hextech meant no advanced weapons, no explosion, no explosion meant you were alive. Now he was fixated on finding you. If he was stuck there, he had to find you.

He had looked high and low.

And nothing.

Not a freaking sign. He sighed, sitting at a booth in a bar with his head in his hands when the gods seemed to finally answer his prayers.

“Can I get you anything sir?”

Jayce’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. You were fucking beautiful. Your hair was longer, dyed a vibrant color, just like you always said you wanted but weren’t ballsy enough to go through with it. Your eyes were brighter. You seemed happy.

“Y/n..” he breathed.

“Yeah that’s my name dude, don’t abuse it.” You chuckled.

“Jayce— it’s me Jayce.” He said staring at you. You squinted.

“Uh… do I know you man?” You asked confused. Oh fuck. No hextech meant you never got hired at the academy to be his assistant…

“Fuck uhm…” he sighed. You looked at him confused.

“You okay?” You asked. Your kindness was definitely still there.

“Uh… Shit I uhm.” He couldn’t form words. You were alive. The love of his fucking life was alive. But didn’t know who he was.

“…Need a drinking buddy?” You asked.

“…Yeah that uhm… Yes please.” He nodded.

“Vander! I’m taking my break!” You called out. Holy crap— Vander and Silco were alive?! And running a damn bar—“what’s got you so weirded out right now?” You asked.

“Why do you think I’m weirded out?” He muttered.

“Because you looked… bugged out, like you just took a fucking ice bath dude.” You shrugged. Glad to see your bluntness was still intact too.

Jayce smiled sadly before sighing. “I uhm… well I just… feel like a fish out of water.” He admitted.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“…” did he risk sounding nuts, potentially causing you to freak the fuck out? Did he risk pushing you away from him? Fuck it. Things were still out of control in his reality, he needed to find a way back and there was someone he knew had a brilliant enough of a damn mind to make it work. “This is going to sound crazy but—“

He explained it all. From start to finish. You of course, stared at him like he was nuts. “Yeah but do you have proof dude, because right now you sound batshit.” You said after the explanation.

He sighed leaning back. “Your favorite song is Midnight blues. But you always say it’s Eros.” He says. You snorted.

“Okay weirdo maybe you just lurk on my Next tune—“

“You are allergic to peanuts. You always wanted a poro but your allergies stop you so you have a hairless cat instead. You love to sit on top of the old factory at night because it overlooks everything and you love to see the city at night, you love ionian literature, you hate the sounds of trucks that run too loud and flip off the driver every time you see one.” He listed off. Some of those were habits you knew no one would know. And he knew this. “You wear your grandmother’s locket. It has a picture of both your grandparents inside, the damn thing is almost eighty years old and has their initials engraved on the heart.” That. That detail made you believe him. Because you wore your locket, yes. But it was tucked inside your shirt so the pendant wouldn’t fall off.

You stared at him “..How did you—“

“Because in my reality we were together.” He said softly.

“…oh” you said. That’s why this guy stared at you like you completed his life just by merely existing. “Did we break up or something—“

“You died, Y/n… some girl— uhm… she went nuts and shot off a missile into a council meeting. Killed half the council, my partner got severely injured and… you died.” He muttered.

You blinked “…No offense, really. But if… your reality is really that shit, why are you so eager to go back?” You asked.

“Because before I ended up in this one, I saw what happens when I don’t succeed. I gotta say. It’s bad.” He said. You sighed.

“Why… tell me all this?” You asked.

“Because I know your mind. I know your talent Y/n, if anyone can help me I know it’s you.” He said softly. You stared at him before sighing again and running your fingers through your hair.

“…I mean I don’t even know how to start with time travel.” You admitted.

“I don’t either.” He admitted. “But… I think if we work together we can figure it out.” He said softly. He put his hand over yours that rested on the table and you pulled away. He mentally scolded himself that you didn’t know him in this reality.

“Okay I mean I can try but don’t be disappointed if me in this universe isn’t a damn genius.” You said leaning back in the booth. You seemed to have a lightbulb moment. “But my dad might know.” You added.

Your dad. You never mentioned even in your relationship in his reality who your dad was. He assumed he wasn’t around in his reality.

“Hey! Dad!” You called. Silco looked over.

“Yes kid?” He asked. Jayce froze. Silco? Silco the gods damned inventor was your dad? The man who basically made Vi’s sister into Jinx was your dad? That’s why you never mentioned this?!

“Come here for a sec.” You motioned. He walked from behind the bar and sat down. With zero hesitation you explained everything Jayce had told you. You trusted Silco. You clearly loved your dad too.

“…Well this is… interesting.” He said.

“Yeah. Any idea where to start?” You asked.

“My best educated guess is string theory. You made a major event. You came back here from a major event. So maybe make a major event. Your uh… hex something or other, doesn’t exist in this world, do you know how to make it again?” He asked.

“Yeah..” he admitted.

“Then I’d start there. And maybe try to do what you did to your core in your timeline to that one?” He suggested.

“That’s… solid advice. Thank you silco.” He nodded. The fuck? Silco never said his name..

“Right. Be careful Y/n.” He muttered before getting up.

“Thanks dad.” You nodded. Jayce looked at you. “What?” You asked.

“Your dad is Silco?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. Why? Was he not in your reality” You asked.

“No he was but… nevermind.” Jayce sighed.

“We can use my dad’s workshop. Plenty of space. Come on.”

You started working. Days Jayce spent close to you, working on calculations and making a hexcore. Many nights he found you sleeping at your desk. And every time his coat would be wrapped around you in the morning when you woke up.

It was strange. A man you swear you had never met loved you so much that you could tell that the closer you got to cracking this, the more he struggled with the idea of losing all you over again.

It had been a week. You walked over to him sitting on the couch with calculations.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked. He looked up and nodded. “…Were we happy?” You asked softly.

His focused gaze cracked to a soft fondness. “We were.” He told you.

“…And even though I don’t really know you… do you still love—“

“Without question.” He said softly. You stared at him in silence. You almost felt sad. To have such a firm romantic love from someone, even if it was from another timeline but not be able to know, to share that feeling with this man that seemed to unconditionally love you…

There was guilt. You thought of throwing him a line, flirt with him. But you didn’t want what you knew were his last memories with you to be a lie. You couldn’t force yourself to love this stranger either.

“Jayce?”

“Mhm?”

“What if we went on a date?” You asked. He seemed shocked by this suggestion. “I mean… you feel this love for me. And judging by the way you mentioned your memories of other me, it was mutual and it… bugs me that I can’t really share that.” You said.

He looked at you like he was happy yet still… sad. “Sure, Y/n. Where would you like to go?” He asked softly. He couldn’t refuse one last lasting memory with you. Not when this wound still felt this fresh.

“Uh… well I dunno. This version of me never went on a date before so..”

“Mm. I can figure it out. Come on.” He said getting up.

“Oh— now?”

“Yeah. I know where we should go. Come on.” He said softly.

So you went. On a date. From that moment on, every night was a date. Spend the day working with this strange little blue glowy ball, then go off to dinner. What was worse? You knew this version of you was going to lose him. But you still fell in love with him anyway.

It was the final night. The last piece had been clicked into place thanks to Ekko and Heimerdinger in the same damn predicament. Heimerdinger insisted he needed to make adjustments. In reality he was giving the boys time to say goodbye.

You sat across from him in your apartment. “So this is it… after tonight you’re going back.” You said softly.

“Yeah… yeah I uhm… I am.” He nodded clearing his throat.

You looked in his eyes “…I didn’t expect this to be hard.”

“For what to be—“

“You leaving.” Jayce went silent. You drew in breath “…after these dates, these… times… I get why I loved you, Jayce.”

He swallowed hard. “Then… let’s treat this night like it really is our last.” He said softly.

You looked over at him “how?”

He pulled you closer to him from the chair you were sitting in. “…Let me love you for one last night.” He said softly. You broke at that. This was your last night. You were losing the only romantic love you have ever known. You had had “situationships” that pretty much were just sex but nothing like this. You had two options. Cry….

Or cherish it.

You kissed him. For the first time you kissed someone. Was this absolutely bizarre? Oh fuck yeah. But you didn’t regret it.

He pulled you even closer, into his lap, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He needed you like fucking air right now. One final victory before the bigger fight he knew he’d come back to.

He kissed you, over and over again, his fingers in your hair, his other hand on your back holding you close. You slid off your shirt and his eyes widened.

“Y/n are you sure—“

“I don’t want to think anymore Jayce… I just… I want to feel.” You whispered. So that’s what he did. He kissed your neck, unhooking your bra, cupping your breast in his hand. He rolled your nipple through his fingers and you buried your face in his neck.

“We can back out at any time Y/n—“

“Don’t stop” you breathed out. No. Not breathed. You moaned. Any semblance of control the man may have had flew out the window as he pushed you onto the couch.

Kiss after kiss, hickey after hickey his hand moved lower undoing your pants. He slid his hand past the hem of your panties and you gasped, your hands covering your mouth.

He pulled them away with his freehand. “Let me hear you.” He said in your ear, rubbing circles over your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hands moving to his hair as you took moaning breaths.

“J-Jayce I need—“

“I know baby. I know.” He said pulling off your pants. There you were sprawled out naked under him as he pulled off his belt. He let it hit the floor with a soft clatter and he gently spread your thighs.

“Gods if we had time I’d be worshipping you right now,” he murmured. You kissed him as he lined himself up. With a gasp from you he pushed in and you gripped the couch moaning as he moved. He went the pace he knew you loved. Deep, and fast.

“Oh gods— don’t stop please don’t fucking stop!” You moaned.

“That’s it. Let me hear you.” He whispered in your ear. Gods his voice as he was absolutely railing you was making this very difficult not to finish on the spot. It didn’t help that his fingers found their way back to your clit rubbing circles as he kept going with his thrusts.

In.

Breaths kept mingling

Out.

Kisses and moans filled the room.

Back in.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

Back out.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as he thrusted, your head tilting back. The release hit you both, his face buried in your neck as he panted against you.

After a few minutes he pulled away looking in your eyes. You looked at him with that same warmth. That soft smile. But from both of you it had an underlying sadness. You looked in his eyes before you swallowed hard, looking down.

“…Jayce..?” You murmured

“Yeah?”

“Do you… really have to go?” You mumbled. He sighed softly.

“Believe me. If I didn’t, I would stay right here with you.” He muttered.

“What if I went with you..?” You muttered.

“Baby, I don’t know how that would go… you died in my reality. If I brought you from this one… you might die… again.” He said softly.

You looked sad. “I’m never going to see you again… am I?” You murmured.

“…I don’t know. I will find a way to come back once all this shit in my reality is over.” He murmured. You swallowed hard.

“And if you can’t?” You muttered.

“I will.” He said determined. You looked in his eyes. You could tell he meant it.

“Then let’s get you to that weird little core then.”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: so excited to share my fic for the eras tour fic challenge, so creatively and wonderfully put together by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy 🥰 my song was ‘the last time’ so i definitely leaned into the angst here (with an extremely healthy dose of smut). it’s not necessarily a toxic relationship, but i think there are undertones of toxicity there. anyway! enjoy and let me know your thoughts!! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 3.9k

tw: on and off relationship with some minor toxicity, oral (f receiving), fingering (f recieving),

summary: william’s at your door again and you keep letting him in even though you shouldn’t

“No.”

Your tone is flat and you cross your arms over your chest, a protective measure as much as it is a display of your feelings towards the man standing in front of you. Your lips flatten into a straight line and you can feel your shoulders tense up.

“Sötnos,” William murmurs the Swedish term of endearment and braces his hand on the doorjamb.

“No,” you repeat yourself, just as firmly. “How did you get up here?”

It’s a stupid question. Your doorman, Gus, loves William - thinks the sun shines out of his ass, especially after William had dropped comp tickets off at his desk a few times during the season. Of course Gus is going to let him upstairs, not that you’d actually told Gus to ban him. You should’ve told Gus to ban him.

“Don’t answer that,” you snap, before he can open his mouth. “Just leave.”

He looks rough, dark circles under his eyes and a downward curve to his lips that seems deeper than superficial. The Leafs had been eliminated two nights ago, bounced by the Bruins in seven games after William had been the only one to score a goal in that final game. A sharp, uncomfortable pang of sympathy for your ex settles in your chest and you wish it didn’t.

“Sötnos, c’mon. Let me in,” he’s borderline close to a plea. The term of endearment falls too easily from his lips, your second name during the time you were dating.

“I’m serious, William,” you sigh, suddenly exhausted down to your bones. “I’m not doing this. I can’t do this.”

His blue eyes sharpen and his jaw sets. “Do you have someone over?” The question is sharp and uncalled for, jealously practically dripping from his pores. At any other time you’d love his reaction, but it’s too little, too late and just annoys you more.

“Even if I did,” you hiss, “it’s none of your fucking business since you dumped me, remember?”

You’ve been on and off for more than a year, both of you too stuck in your ways to really commit. It was simple at first, to be at each other’s place when you were both in town, to say you were dating - boyfriend and girlfriend had been easy labels - but for all of William’s easygoing Swedish ways, he can be difficult and stubborn.

Not that you’re perfect either, happy to have your free time and flirt at bars with handsome men after a few drinks with your girls. But somewhere along the line, you’d made the stupid mistake of wanting more from him. Sure, you’d gotten a drawer in his dresser and your stuff occasionally cluttered his condo, but you’d also spent four of the last six months broken up when William decided that he needed to focus on hockey.

He’d come around your place after his eight-game goalless streak was broken and you’d gotten back together just as the Leafs were clinching a playoff spot. You’d spent the night with his head between your legs, him wearing your thighs as earmuffs and eating you out until his beard was soaked and your legs couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d thought that time was different, all the sweet words he’d spoken into your skin, alternated with pure filth.

There’s an 88 blue satin bomber jacket in your closet, unworn, that you thought was a sign that things were different. A jacket that William had apparently approved when the other girls had asked him about including you.

Joke’s on you.

Dumped two days before the playoffs started, by a William who was stressed and anxious and, as you found out later, suffering from migraines that would keep him off the ice for three games.

The sympathy settles again, like a rock in your stomach.

“I remember,” he says now, shoving a hand through his hair. “Let me in, please. I just want to talk.”

“The last time we talked,” you air quote the word, “you fucked me so hard I nearly forgot my own name and then dumped me three weeks later. So, forgive me if I’m not feeling chatty.”

Subconsciously though, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and William’s stepped inside. The door is still open, his body blocking you from being able to close it, until he moves to the side and closes it himself, leaning his back against the wood.

“Then let me talk,” he says. “You just listen.”

You’re mad that you even brought up the sex, but you’re surprised that William didn’t latch onto that with a sly comment and a smirk.

“I don’t want to listen,” you sound petulant. “I’m tired of letting you in, thinking things are different, only to find out that I don’t matter to you.”

William’s eyebrows fly up his forehead and his eyes go wide. “What?” He nearly shouts, suddenly fired up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t matter to you,” you repeat, slower, emphasizing each word. It feels like a knife in your chest, to voice the feeling you’ve had for weeks. “We’ve been doing this dance, you come to me when you’re on an upswing, drop me when you’re not. It’s pretty obvious, William, where I land on the list of things you care about.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not obvious to me,” he says, stepping away from the door. “Explain to me where you think you fall.”

“I’m not doing that,” you snap. To your horror, tears well up in your eyes. “If you don’t know what I am to you, I’m not explaining shit.”

“Of course I care about you, of course you’re important to me,” he says, reaching for your hand. “It’s hard, with hockey, to balance…”

You can’t help it, a scoff slips past your lips, the derisive sound stopping William in his tracks. “You’re not balancing anything,” you mutter. Ticking them off on your fingers, you list out the last three breakups, “you dumped me when the season was staring, when you’d gone on the goalless streak, and now, when playoffs were starting. Clearly, I am not as important to you as hockey is. So, I’m done. This is the last time I let you in, go play hockey, William.”

His entire face pulls down in an unhappy expression, eyebrows scrunching together over his nose. “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you want me to say? I’m not used to having to take someone else’s feelings into consideration, but I’m trying,” he reaches out for your hands and you don’t stop him, against your better judgment.

William’s hands are warm and dry and you hate the little spark of desire that flickers low in your stomach when he rubs the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles.

“It’s too late,” you shake your head, your hands still in his. “I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to let you keep stomping on my heart.”

“Let me make it up to you,” his tone is sweet, cajoling. His hands move up your arms, thumbs tracing over the veins on the inside of your wrists. You shiver and he smiles. “Let me prove how much I care about you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners and you fight the smile that threatens. William’s hands trail up your arms, cupping your elbows briefly to pull you closer and you go, stumbling slightly on the step into him. His fingers tighten around your elbows and you pout at him, your resolve weakening with William’s proximity, the woodsy cedar scent of his cologne filling your senses and making your head fuzzy.

You’re good at this, the both of you. Being fun, flirty with each other. The sex is unbelievable, it’s so easy to fall back into his arms when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes all liquid heat and desire.

“Are you going to let me show you how much I care, sötnos?” William’s voice is a low rumble that makes goosebumps rise on your arms, the memory of that voice speaking filth into your hair as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

“This is the last time,” you swear, rocking forward on the balls of your feet. William grins and meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands are cupping your cheek, the back of your head to position you at an angle for him to deepen the kiss.

You moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against the length of his. You can feel the ridge of his erection against your stomach, hot through the layers of clothes. William’s fingers tangle in your hair, tugging until there’s a sharp prick of pain in your scalp and you gasp, arching against him.

“Make the best sounds,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back slightly, grinding his hips against yours. “Missed those sounds.”

He feels so good, solid against you and you’ve missed him even though it’s only been a few weeks.

“Will…” you whine his name, gasping when he bites and sucks at your pulse point, a flood of arousal between your legs. You roll your hips mindlessly, desperate for more. You’re unbearably wet for him, your body intimately acquainted with his talents and ready for more after being deprived.

His beard scratches your skin and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, the edges of his teeth pressing against your skin. “I know,” he mumbles, biting gently. “I’m gonna give you everything you want, promise. I’m gonna make it so good for you, you’ll forget your own name.”

You’re being moved, walked backwards to your couch, with William’s lips all over your neck and collarbone. His hands are on your hips, holding you flush against his cock, and you wiggle in his grip, whines falling from your mouth around pleas for anything, everything.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch and you’re falling, wrapped in William’s arms to cushion the impact. He braces himself, still landing on you with a little exhale and a laugh, making you giggle too. Sex has always been fun with him, laughter filling any room you’re in, and this is no different. He peppers your face with kisses, making you laugh even harder, until you’re pushing at his chest and gasping for him to stop so you can catch your breath.

“No, no,” he grins wickedly, “I’m not stopping, I’ve missed you.” His hand slides over your hip and up the hem of your shorts, two fingers teasing at the damp fabric of your panties. You buck your hips into his touch. “Feels like she missed me too.”

Heat flushes your chest and you turn your face away from him, embarrassed at how wet you are from just kissing. You mumble something, incomprehensible to both you and William, and he laughs again, teasing at your clit through the fabric. Your legs twitch to wrap around his waist, but he’s got you pinned in place with his thighs on the outside of yours.

“Don’t hide that pretty face,” he leans down to kiss you, adding more pressure to your clit so you moan into his mouth. “Had to think about you and this perfect pussy every day to get some relief. My dick’s never been harder than when I’m remembering it buried in you.”

To emphasise the point, William slots his hips between yours, pressing the thick bulge of his cock against your cunt, thrusting his hips lightly to work you up even more. Your breath hiccups in your chest and pleasure builds in your stomach, desperate for relief.

“Don’t tease,” you whine, digging your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down to leave marks. Neither of you have ever shied away from marking the other and William’s the first one to tell you to mark him up. “This isn’t happening again, do it right this time.”

“We’ll see,” William grunts, shifting so he can kneel between your legs and hook one of your thighs around his hip. You’re still completely clothed, but with your legs spread open, you feel bare to him. “We’re good at this, sötnos, we can be good at everything.”

It’s not true, you think hazily, because you weren’t good at keeping the relationship going when an outside issue popped up, but the thought is gone just as fast as William’s pulling aside the elastic of your panties and plunging two thick fingers into your cunt with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound.

“Oh! Fuuuck,” you gasp, dragging the curse out on a moan. His fingers pump in and out of you relentlessly, dragging along your front wall and pushing you closer to the edge of your orgasm. You chant his name, heels scrabbling at the couch cushions.

“Come on,” he encourages you, holding your hip in place with his free hand. “Come for me, I can feel how close you are. So tight and wet, going to cream on my fingers, sötnos?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god,” you wail, William’s thumb pressed firmly on your clit, making you see stars. It doesn’t take too much longer for you to gush around his fingers, soaking his hand and dripping down the curve of your ass. You can barely process the force of your orgasm and the shit-eating grin on William’s face before he and his hand are gone.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly empty, and your voice is slurred even to your own ears when you mumble, “what- Will…”

His voice drifts up from the floor, where he’s kneeling and pulling at your knees. “Told you I was going to show you how much I care,” he kisses the inside of your knee, rubbing his cheek against your skin like a house cat. “Going to worship you on my knees.”

You’re yanked forward on the couch, a yelp escaping your lips. William’s got your shorts and panties on the floor and your legs tossed over his shoulders before you can blink and his mouth is on your cunt in the next heartbeat, his tongue flat against your sensitive cunt. It’s hard to suck in a breath with the way he eats you out. He traces your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing at your entrance with one blunt finger while the other hand has a vice-like grip on your thigh.

He hums against you, face buried between your legs to the point where you wonder briefly if he can even breathe. His nose presses against your clit next and all thoughts are gone, blue-screened as he laps at your arousal, the scruff of his playoff beard rubbing painfully against your sensitive, soaked skin.

William grunts when you kick his back, unable to control your legs as pressure builds again. Your hands find their way to his hair, twisting your fingers in the blond strands and pulling, holding his face in place so your hips can move, grinding over his nose.

You’re barely recovered from your first orgasm and everything is still sensitive. William’s tongue is stiff as it fucks in and out of your entrance, two fingers pressed inside your cunt, keeping you feeling full. You clench around his fingers and he groans into you, nudging the tip of his nose harder against your clit.

“Oh my god, there, right there,” you babble, digging your heel into his shoulder blade, rolling your hips over his face. It’s not enough and you wail his name, desperate for more.

William nips at your inner thigh and then dives back in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, hard. You scream his name, back arching, and fingers tightening around his hair. The bastard laughs against your clit, the vibration sending an electric shock up your spine and snapping the tight coil of pleasure in your lower stomach.

You come again, eyes pinched shut, and moaning loudly, wantonly. It feels too good, too overwhelming and you’d be embarrassed by the force of your orgasm if it were anyone but William between your legs.

William’s face pops up between your legs, your thighs trembling on his shoulders. His hair is flopped over his forehead, messy from your abuse. He’s got a massive grin on his face and his beard is soaked with your arousal. Your hands fall from his hair and land on the couch cushions, as limp as the rest of your body. You manage a shaky grin back, breathing heavily.

“Next time,” he quips cheekily, wiping a hand over the lower half of his face, “I’m bringing a snorkel so I don’t drown in that sweet, wet pussy of yours.”

Somehow, you still have the facilities to remind him, “no, there’s no next time. This is the last time, no more,” in a slurred, faint voice. You’re still dripping for him, his fingers lazily playing at your entrance, smearing slick all over the place. Your thighs tremble and twitch and he turns his head to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, nipping gently and licking at the spot.

He hums and you try and wiggle away from his touch, gentle as it is on your clit, you’re bordering on overstimulated. “How can I convince you that this time is different?” He asks, making eye contract from between your legs. His blue eyes are serious, pupils still blown with arousal. William’s fingers are distracting between your legs, slowly stroking you to another orgasm. Fire builds low in your stomach, stoked by his continued chatter. “Another orgasm on my fingers? You’re always so sweet after I make you come, content to curl up like a cat. Maybe I need to fuck you hard and fast, get you strangling my cock so your thoughts that you don’t matter to me are gone.”

You whine, clenching around his fingers, rolling your hips over his hand. “William,” his name is a gasp punched from your lungs as his fingers find your g-spot and bully it until you’re coming, squirting down his arm and all over the couch. Your clit throbs painfully and you sob from the overwhelming strength of your third orgasm.

William’s other hand is between his own legs, stroking his cock - you can see his shoulder moving, hear the little grunts he’s trying to muffle - and you pant, trying to catch your breath. It’s impossible and when William finally removes his hand from between your legs, sucking his fingers clean, you sob from the relief. And something else, clicking in your chest, a feeling you don’t want to feel.

He leans up higher on his knees, concern etched in the lines on his forehead. “Sötnos,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over your hips and splaying them over your stomach, stroking gentle circles, “I’m sorry, that last one was too much. Talk to me, are you okay?”

You shake your head, hiccuping and gasping. Your hand snakes out on the couch and reaches for a throw pillow to throw over your face, everything is too exposed, your legs are in the air still draped over William’s shoulders. With a wiggle, you swing your legs off of him, fighting to curl up on the couch.

“What happened?” William asks, hands on your waist, you can feel his body heat when he leans in to pluck the pillow from your face. “Talk to me, please. You’re freaking me out.”

“I…this wasn’t supposed…” you gasp out, wiping at your face with the heels of your palms. Your chest feels tight. “I don’t want to keep doing this! I don’t want to keep falling into bed and loving you and getting my heart broken, William! Orgasms aren’t going to help, it doesn’t…I can’t be in love with you and only have…”

You cut yourself off, miserable that you admitted to loving him, still fuzzy and shaky and wet from the orgasms.

William clicks his tongue and lets out a little sigh of your name, affection and amusement laced in the syllables. He manhandles you easily, slipping your shorts back up your legs and dragging you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, his cock hard and hot under your ass. “Sorry,” he laughs, kissing your cheek quickly.

You drop your face to his neck, curling close even though you just want to run and hide. “Stop being nice to me,” you wail. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Sötnos,” William peppers your cheek and neck with light kisses, hands splayed over your back. “Don’t be. I didn’t realize, I’ve been in my head too much.”

He hasn’t said it back, you can’t help but notice, your heart hammering in your chest. You want him to say it back, but only if he means it. You can’t handle any other option.

“I can hear you thinking,” he murmurs, mouth right next to your ear. “I don’t want to say it when you’re sad like this. I want it to be a happy memory for you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest and your tears taper off, the shoulder of William’s shirt damp. “I hate feeling like this,” you sigh, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes. “I need you to promise me that this is the last time I have to do this.”

William grips your chin between his index finger and thumb. “I promise,” he says seriously. “I’ll be better. We’ll be better.”

He pauses and his eyes twinkle before he says, “come with me this summer, back home. To Stockholm. I’ll show you a Swedish summer and we can figure it out.”

You find yourself nodding, encouraged by the excitement in William’s voice and the smile that transforms his face. “Okay,” you agree in a quiet voice, nodding as you talk. “Okay. What does a Swedish summer entail?”

You’re picturing long walks with the dogs, holding hands and falling deeper in love. Your heart squeezes, fragile hope and delusion at war with each other.

“Hm, chocolate definitely,” William grins and you relax on his lap. “Meatballs,” he continues on a laugh, his hands ghosting down your sides and coming to rest on your ass. He squeezes and kneads your skin, fingers digging into your muscles, “massages.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, tracing your fingers over the seams that run from the collar to the sleeves on his shirt. William’s hands trace up your sides, under your shirt, and cup your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them to stiff, painful points and you arch into his touch, a little whimper slipping out of your mouth.

He’s hardening under you, cock twitching against your inner thigh, and you grind down a little on him.

“Let’s go to your bedroom and get the summer started,” William kisses you soundly, lips and teeth and tongue working together to make you dizzy. As if you haven’t already lost all your senses to three orgasms in quick succession. As if you’re not already in too deep.

You barely have a chance to answer before he’s locking his hands under your ass and standing up, carrying you into your bedroom. His mouth finds every inch of exposed skin and trails heat down your neck and over your chest, teeth scraping at your collarbone.

You whine a little and William promises to be good for you, to make it good for you.

You can only hope he’s a man of his word.

You don’t know how many last times you have in you.

[yourdrugisafartbreaker]

I finished Episode 3 of the Sam and Max Save The World remaster on my Nintendo Switch a few days ago and I felt obligated to draw this

[theinfinitedivides]

the rest of the Heeramandi soundtrack just dropped and it's giving Bajirao Mastani meets Muskurahat from Gangubai meets Qala meets Kavita Seth's work on A Suitable Boy. very interesting soundscape choices Mr. Bhansali sir i approve

[capricioussuns]

What are some lyrics that unexpectedly cut through you? Like, you completely wouldn't have expected them to, or on paper they look mediocre, but hearing them just hurts

[bisexual-slime]

is hermes from futurama autistic or am I reaching

[lesbianshadowheart]

blue knees is BEHIND and will FIND. what he has been looking for.all alooooong. all aloo o one. where. he. belooongs

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

It's so funny you mentioned needing to come up with a name because for all the years I've followed you I've been calling you just “80s phase” even now with the new username 😂

omg I KNOW, sometimes i still call myself that in my head. i'm so indecisive, i've been wanting to choose a name to use here for YEARS but nothing feels like it fits so i've just gotten used to my old url instead and it's like. if i DID choose a name years ago, it would feel normal by now because i would have settled into it over time, just like how i did with my old url. and my old url was not good for a NAME. like it was fine for a url when i was posting more 80's things, but not a NAME. and IT STILL STUCK. it makes me laugh but also i need to choose a name.

[salsa-di-pomodoro]

I've been playing Luigi's Mansion 3 blind for the first time despite having had the game for three to four years and i just want to say i absolutely love Luigi. I thought this when i played Luigi's Mansion 2 and i think it now this guy is so brave. Like he's just a little guy and he's got a resting happy blank face and he's so so scared but he's being so so brave about everything, people don't give him enough credit. Guy is a scaredy cat and still chose to stay in the haunted hotel where everything wants his ass dead just to save his friends and family. And he's doing a damn good job of it too, King Boo and the other one are getting increasingly pissed every time i see them <3

Anyway yeah if my brain wasn't already occupied with like three different blorbos he'd be a great candidate for one. Luigi my beloved (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

(if he gets paired up with someone i'm glad it's Bowser. He deserves someone how treats him right and we all know Bowser is the guy for that)

[hauntedpotat]

I got to hang out with friends at a pep band performance today. It's like midnight and I'm kinda tired so here's a pic a took during a break

I just think it looks very soft

(dw I blurred the school name don't dox meee)

[camgoloud]

you know what? fuck you *takes on your me*