#just made up that word; like bedazzled

[marlynnofmany]

Secondhand Solutions

Mur gave me a smug look, curling and uncurling one tentacle like a yo-yo. “Told you it was a waste of credits,” he said.

I sighed. “If those human ships were here, it wouldn’t be. This stuff is prime Earth nostalgia.” The small pile of items on the hoversled had seemed so full of promise when I’d bought it at our last stop: cat posters, harmonicas, and a dozen packs of googly eyes.

“Pity we’re far from Earth,” Mur said.

“Yeah,” I agreed, eyeing the locals of this alien marketplace. Lots of scales and exoskeletons. Not many hands that would appreciate the softness of a cat’s fur, and very few mouthparts that would be able to do much with a harmonica. The merchant I’d gotten the stuff from had been a Heatseeker all too happy to unload her stock of cut-rate human nonsense. These folks would likely have similar opinions. I said, “At least it doesn’t expire.”

Mur straightened the individually-boxed harmonicas. “And it shouldn’t take up too much space in your quarters until we meet up with more humans eventually. The captain won’t want to hang around here waiting for them to show up.”

“True,” I admitted. It was gossip from our last stop that had told me they’d be here now. I should have known better than to trust it.

“Well, back to the ship,” Mur announced. “Maybe you can cheer yourself up by decorating your quarters with eyeballs.”

I had to smile at that. “Maybe.” He was already walking back to where we’d parked, on the far side of an over-cultivated garden area. I towed the hoversled after him.

Then I caught sight of some locals who’d run afoul of multiple birdlike beasties, and an idea started to form.

The locals, a half-dozen Heatseekers whose scales ranged from red to pale yellow, were trying to eat a nice lunch at the dining section of the garden. The squawking bird-things, which were half-lizardy with speckled brown feathers and wide beaks, had apparently claimed the bushes for their own. They were contesting this claim by spitting at the Heatseekers every time their backs were turned. These looked like pretty gross spitballs, impressive for birds.

It occurred to me that I’d seen those feathery characters all over the place here. A look behind confirmed it; they lurked in nearly every tree I could see. And judging by the way the locals were abandoning this picnic table, they were a known hazard.

They still only spat at fleeing enemies, hiding or freezing in place when pinned by eye contact.

And that was my idea. “Hey Mur,” I said. “I’ll bet you one shanty sung on a table that I can sell some of these googly eyes right now.”

He stopped and looked around, full of skepticism. “To who?”

“Do you take the bet?”

“Ah, sure. There’s no way anyone here is interested.”

“You say that now,” I said, grabbing a pack and waving down one of the hurrying locals. “But you don’t know how we deal with tigers and magpies.”

“With what?”

I didn’t answer, busy as I was explaining to the local that the false eyes were adhesive, and would give the impression of eye contact from both directions. They were just as interested as I’d thought they’d be.

After a demonstration, during which I strolled through the picnic area and didn’t get a single spitball on me, the birds were unsettled and the locals were more than happy to buy everything I had.

This was a new colony town, you see, and no one had come up with a good solution for the annoying fauna that came with the territory. But these folks were prepared to make everyone’s day.

They certainly made mine. That was five times as much as I’d paid for the stuff in the first place. And they didn’t even want the posters and harmonicas.

I waved goodbye, but they weren’t paying attention, so I turned my grin on Mur instead. He had draped a tentacle around his pointy squid head in exasperation.

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken the bet,” he declared. “But I was so sure it was pointless.”

“And I am sure that whichever song you choose to regale us with at dinnertime will be delightful,” I said, tugging the hovercart around the bushes. The birds watched me carefully, noting the eyes still stuck to my hair, and leaving us both alone. “If it’s a song I know, maybe I can play a backup melody with a harmonica.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[solardrop]

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead. 

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you. 

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you. 

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display. 

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall. 

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’  names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile. 

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!” 

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero. 

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip. 

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting. 

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there. 

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits. 

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored. 

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him. 

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck. 

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words. 

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise. 

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile,  “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing. 

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

[ellecdc]

I feel like poly!marauders would have s very funny debate around group halloween costumes. Lots of Sirius being dramatic and James pouting. Only for reader to do a couples costume with Barty.

Love your writing!

hahaha aweee poor boys

poly!marauders x fem!reader who isn't matching with them on Halloween [576 words]

CW: ....none I don't think? the boys' theatrics? a prank? pouting?

“For the last time, Sirius, no.” Remus groaned, earning him a disbelieving scoff from Sirius and a whine from James.

“But why, Moons? It’s perfect.” 

“It’s not perfect, it’s ridiculous.” 

“It’s whimsical.” James interjected.

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“Halloween costumes are supposed to be a little embarrassing!” Sirius argued, earning him a head tilt from James.

“Well, now, I don’t think they’re supposed to be embarrassing. Maybe…funny? Quirky?”

“I don’t care what they’re supposed to be, we are not dressing up as the big bad wolf and the three little pigs.” Remus declared with an air of finality, causing Sirius to deflate rather spectacularly. 

“Well what do you suggest we dress up as, then?” He muttered just as you entered their dorm. 

“Uh oh. Why’s Sirius got his pouting face on?” You commented as you pulled off your school robes. Sirius turned his pout towards you and gave you his best puppy dog eyes.

“Moons is being s’mean to me.”

You made a sympathetic cooing sound that had Remus rolling his eyes before you took Sirius’ face between your hands and kissed his pouting lips. 

As you pulled your lips away but not your face, you whispered to your grumpy boyfriend. “Was he being mean to you, or did he just say no?” 

Sirius balked at you as Remus let out an inelegant snort and James’ laughter bounced off the stone walls of their shared dorm. 

“You know what? Fine, screw all of you. I’m going to wear whatever the hell I want and you all will just have to figure out your own costumes.” Sirius huffed as he pretended to turn away from you, only for him to fold the second you started to walk away and pull you into his lap. 

“Wait, wait. You guys haven’t figured out your costumes yet?” You asked in disbelief, clearly wondering how the three of them could put so much thought and planning into their pranks and mischief, yet completely fumble Halloween. 

“Well…no?” Remus asked as James blurted “what do you mean you guys?” 

“Guys, I’ve had my costume planned for weeks!” 

“Weeks?” Remus parotted. 

“Weeks.” You insisted. 

“But…” James started helplessly. “I…I thought we were going to match?” 

You looked somewhat sympathetic for him, but grimaced at your admission. “Someone else asked first, bubs.”

“You’re matching someone else?!” Sirius shrieked as he all but threw you off his lap so he could look at you. 

“Oh for Merlin- yes.” 

“Who?” The three boys chorused with varying levels of theatrics. 

And the next night, one could find three pouting marauders sitting dejectedly in the Gryffindor common room dressed as the three blind mice under the suggestion of their girlfriend. Their girlfriend, who was currently wearing matching costumes with Barty Crouch Junior - a pirate and his Treasure. 

Remus might’ve found it in him to be a little more miffed about it if you hadn’t looked so sodding good in gold and bedazzled all to hell. 

“Note to self,” James muttered defeatedly, “spend less time planning the Halloween prank and more time on the Halloween costume next year.” 

The end of his sentence was punctuated by screaming when the multiple 12 foot skeletons lining the room started walking on their own accord. 

It was way less funny than they had imagined it would be when Barty threw “his booty” over his shoulder and took off out of the portrait hole. 

“Duly noted.” Sirius sighed as he took another swig of his drink.

[deadghosy]

Hi! I saw that you wanted 'Sly. Boys react to' ideas so I thought I'd give it a go.

How about, Slytherin boys react to a animagus!reader? Maybe they're a small common animal like a cat or maybe a fantastic/magical one like a Niffler or Thestral

-🎃

A/N: Hello 🎃 anon!! Thanks for this request💕

Slytherin boys react to an animagus!reader

Ft. The riddles, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, && Lorenzo Berkshire

Tom Riddle

When you turned into a cat in front of him…he immediately just looked up from his book with a raised brow like “wtf”

But his reaction is to just pick you up and sit you on his lap. Getting back to his book

He’s like a villain, petting you with you on his lap with an evil smile.

Oddly he will stuff you in his robe so he can go to class. Not worrying about you messing up his dorm.

You could be chilling in the room, reading a book in your human state. And out of nowhere…

“Transform into a cat. You’re coming with me.” Tom says busting into your wand with a glint of mischief in his eyes

Mattheo Riddle

Picks you up and puts you in his lap

He’s never letting you go unless you change back to Normal

But neither the less he is still holding you down and kissing your face

He’s never letting you 😭

Draco Malfoy

Kinda like Tom, he’s stuffing you in his damn robe 😭

“Sssh be quiet!” Is something he says so you won’t meow when he’s in class

Would have a bedazzled cat bed for you ☺️ soiling your human form and cat one.

He loves your both form equally

Blaise Zabini

Pets you a lot!

But he prefer you were back to human so he can physically kiss you.

As much as he loves your animal form, he loves your human form more! 🫶🏾

Theodore Nott

Meows at you 😭PLEASE HE THINKS YOU UNDERSTAND HIM BUT YOU CANT

Would lay on the ground with you and just play with you. Babying you with soft words in Italian

He feels like he loves your animal form more so he can just pet you more. He loves you! It’s just you’re so cute as a cat.

Probably buys a collar only for you to run.

Then he pulls a wand spell and makes you stay still…you scratched his hands so bad

Lorenzo Berkshire

Petting you with every chance!

As much he loves your human form, he loves your cat one because of how small, fuzzy, and adorable you. But it’s not like you arent adorable your own self.

Is cautious to let another student pet you. Specifically mattheo-

Buying a lot of cat stuff for you.

He made sure your cat bed, if you ever turn accidentally. Would be by him. 🫶🏾💕

Definitely “pspsps” at you 😭😭

He loves to give you nose boops. He finds it cute.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

[beneathashadytree]

LOVE YOU TO DEATH - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : slightly suggestive, making out, alcohol consumption, allusions to “sinning”/religious imagery, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : domestic fluff with lots of tension!

Word count : 4.5K words (oops…)

Additional notes : This has been a seriously long time coming🙏🏽 It was a commission made by a friend here on Tumblr, based off Type O-Negative’s song “Love You to Death”, and may or may not have gotten carried away with it (hence the delay and the absurd word count😭). Hope you like it!! And let me know what you think of this guys🫶🏽

Commissions are open!

Tip jar

Masterlist

“Madame!”

The frantic call came from behind her, and with a practiced turn, she faced the red-faced man who’d been running up to her. Keeping her facial expression as placid as possible wasn’t as easy as she was trying to convince herself it was—and especially not after having spent 3 hours in a bedazzled ballroom, head splintering already from the wine and the rapid-fire conversations she’d had to entertain—but she somehow managed it. Coolly, she arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

And though she eyed him with no disdain, her indifference was intimidating enough to force the man to swallow thickly and shift in his place. A flush had settled on his face, fueling her amusement as he took a hesitant step forward. “I… you said you were waiting for something. If… if you don’t mind, would you, well, care for a dance?”

Poor thing. He probably had no idea. She felt a little sympathetic, but her resolve was still hardened. After all, she was well aware that the only possible reason he’d deemed her fitting to approach in the first place was the fact that she was inarguably the most powerful person in the room. This was only mere exploitation, not actual admiration. His hesitation could be chalked up to intimidation. “Thank you, but I’ve got an escort.”

“But, please, you were talking about the firearms deal—!”

A rich chuckle resounded in her ear, followed by the soft smack of lips against her cheek in a kiss. Fond as that gesture was, the upwards flicker of crimson eyes was no less sharp as his gaze became directed at the overly-ambitious upstart. “I see you’re feeling rather bold tonight, Richter. Directly going for such business talks when asking for someone’s hand… a rookie mistake.” Punctuated by the hand settled on her waist, stroking over the silk, it was made more than apparent who her ‘escort’ was.

The young man’s face paled, and she couldn’t deny the twinge of enjoyment she felt as she played along with Sylus. “Indeed. Anyone else would be put off by such open exploitation.”

“But you’re not anyone, are you? I’d even say you like it when I bring up these things,” he quipped back, bringing her in closer by the waist and tucking her against him, before turning to the wide-eyed, speechless man whose trembling seemed to amuse him even more. “We’ll be off now. Be more careful next time.”

And though he said nothing more, it was clear that Sylus’ warning wasn’t just about being tactless. It was a reminder that the most poised, fanged woman in the room stood by his side, and no one else. The only secrets she’d divulge would be to him, in the confines of their own bedroom, and Richter would do well to remember it. Next time—if there ever were to be one—he’d make sure to remember it, or else he wouldn’t be as lenient.

Arm in arm, they left the stuffy ballroom together, and as soon as they were out in the open air, she heaved a sigh in relief. “Gods, I was about to suffocate. Everyone was going on and on about that deal.” Rolling her eyes, she stopped on the sidewalk to slip out of her heels, stretching her toes as they settled against the gravel. “Approached by ten different people, no less, all trying to butt in and include themselves to ensure some profit or the other.”

Within a second, Sylus had already kneeled down to take her heels, carefully twisting her ankle this way and that to try and soothe the ache of the long evening. She sighed again, and his gaze was hard as he looked up at hers. “You shouldn’t have let them bother you. You’ve got enough influence to prohibit them from ever mentioning it in front of you. And I wouldn’t mind exacting punishments in your stead.”

“A privilege I won’t be using any time soon, thank you very much.” With her heels in one hand, he began to steer her by her back with another. Frowning, she looked away from where she’d initially set her sights. “You didn’t let Luke and Kieran bring the bike around tonight for us to go on a joyride after?”

Sylus gave her a pointed look, slightly exasperated but still dyed in fondness. “Given the dress you’re wearing, I’d have to be particularly stupid to force you to hike it up to your hips to ride on. It would’ve been an entirely different thing if you’d worn one of your velvet suits, though.” Maybe he hadn’t noticed it, but his hand on her back was leaving fluttering touches and strokes over the small of her back, right where the fabric started. And maybe that was his little give-away that he enjoyed seeing every inch of exposed skin with that dangerously low-cut back.

It wasn’t long before they were sliding back into their respective seats in his sleek car. The fresh smell of new leather, cooled wine in the compartment, and something a little heady—a little him—made her grow dizzier with each second. Barely a few minutes had passed with her legs crossed when his own rough palm slipped through the slit of the dress and between her knees, gently prying them apart and gliding over the soft skin, before settling on her thigh right underneath the lace edge.

And though he’d done nothing else at all, save flicker his eyes back to her in the rear view mirror and quirk the corner of his lips upwards, squeezing her thigh before turning his attention back to the road, she felt like he’d bared a fraction of his mountain of carefully-hidden desires. And that was one mountain she knew only she had the ability to watch tremble and shake. Perhaps that was another privilege she had, standing by his side.

***

Sylus’ hands on her feet felt like a small piece of heaven made perfectly with her tired self in mind. After he’d carried her out of the car like she’d weighed nothing with her heels dangling from two of his fingers, he’d let her unlock the door with her fingerprint and quickly settled her into the couch without so much as a grunt. And soon his deft fingers were kneading at her soles, earning a hiss or two here and there that let him know he was definitely doing the right thing.

“I take it you failed to break into these new shoes,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he felt out another small knot that had been killing her the entire evening.

Groaning, she clutched at his wrist, the sudden pain sharp and unyielding. “Wasn’t exactly my priority, with so much going on. I was more preoccupied by the fact that Denise fucked up in the middle of the information chain. Had me cleaning up after her.” Despite her twitching, he went on massaging their tendons and muscles, until the frown on her face slowly morphed into a relaxed expression.

“Why do I have to keep telling you not to concern yourself with what’s beneath you?” Again, he sighed, as though it truly pained him to hear her putting herself through this, and then went on to reverently stroke at her calves, gently lifting her legs up for a second so he can take a seat in her place. “You shouldn’t have to do the dirty work. We’ve got lackeys for that.”

“You say that, but you’re really just pushing more work onto Luke and Kieran,” she scoffed, flicking his fingers away, instead pushing forward and draping herself across his lap, the slit on the side of the dress revealing more of her thigh as she did. A not-so-small part of her absolutely reveled in the way his eyes tracked her every movement, following the fabric as it slipped away and darkening with every inch of soft skin it exposed to his gaze. “And besides, I kind of like letting everyone know that I’m aware of everything going on, now and then.”

“An ego trip then?” Sylus teased, before bumping his nose with hers, hungrily taking in the catch in her breath. “Mm. Well, it’s a highly deserved one, sweetie.”

With her heart hammering in her chest, it was a wonder she could even come up with any sort of reply, let alone one with her whole heart and snark in it. “Flatterer,” she breathed out, eyes betraying her to glance at his lips, perfectly curled and awaiting her every beck and call. If she wanted to regain her senses any time soon and not completely surrender to the gaping maw of his desires, she had to pull back for a second.

And that she did, though her entire being protested to it. No disappointment marred his features; in fact, if she could call it that, she could detect a glimpse of deeper yearning burning behind his ruby eyes. “You know I don’t. Flatter, I mean. You’re just that good.” His words were double-edged. Her power in the position she held was undeniable, but neither was the fact that he never needed to win her favor to have her feelings in his palm.

It’s just that Sylus always did like the chase, more so than the ever-so-pleasant rewards he reaped afterwards. Part of him always urged her to let him earn her affection, and the wickedness within her wanted to see him grovel for it, just a little. And with how utterly infatuated he was—if those all-consuming eyes of his were anything to go by, in their blazing glory and darkened depths—he’d have no qualms with that. If he truly didn’t like going down on his knees for her, then why did he look so sinfully good doing it?

And why was that image of him imprinted in her mind, playing in an endless loop, tempting her to indulge more and more in his attentions?

Still at what she felt was a safe distance so as not to get devoured by him, she gently patted his cheek, her thumb stroking in rhythm with his own fingers wandering to caress her waist ever-so-tenderly. “Then, why not reward me for my proficient skills?” she coyly asked, nodding her head slightly to the rack so conveniently placed beside them.

“Isn’t it too late for that, sweetie?” he asked, though his arm was already reaching over to the assortment of wines he’d so carefully picked out and left to cool in their chilled compartments. Though Sylus had never said it outright, it was no secret to anyone around that he was a wine connoisseur of his own right. The fact that his darling only wished to indulge in the sweet, sweet aftertaste of ludicrously expensive alcohol with him only made him more eager to have it ready at hand—particularly for moments like these, when the sultry look in her eyes paired with her fluttering touch drove him half to insanity.

It wasn’t so absurd to say that he would do anything to keep her so pliantly perched on his lap, every bit as demanding of his attention as he was willing to give her all of him. And the saccharine smile that grew on her face as he reluctantly pulled away from her waist to uncork the bottle was proof that she knew just how desperate he was for her hands all over him and her eyes solely focused on him.

Expertly, he began to pull out the decanter, only to be stopped by her fingers snaking around his wrist, tugging it back. “Not feeling very patient. I’d rather not wait for it to be aerated.”

He chuckled—a deep, pleasant sound straight from the depths of his chest—clearly pleased by her brazenness. “Straight from the bottle and to the glasses it is. I like it when you demand what you want.” Maybe a few years ago, she would’ve flushed deeply at the manner in which she put herself on the line. But with him, she knew that there was no line, and there was no ‘out there.’ For he was a part of her, nestled between her breasts and buried deep inside her, dormant and yet so awake.

Hadn’t they both willed it to come this far? Hadn’t they both wished to be so entwined that all possible lines blurred and faded? And wasn’t this complete and utter surrender to one another only natural after such implicit involvement with each other? She didn’t mind it one bit, if it meant that he was as much as hers as she was his in every meaning of the word. Perhaps that’s why the prospect of being so bare in front of him wasn’t at all daunting. In fact, part of it even felt somewhat exhilarating.

“You make it a habit to bring out my most selfish traits,” she breathed out a semblance of a laugh, watching as he pulled out the two most luxurious crystal glasses he owned, reserved only for their late night wine-entrenched conversations. “I suppose you’ll have to do as I say then, to make up for ruining me like that.” Her voice dipped into a low purr, and she grinned at the flush that colored the tips of his ears, despite how focused he seemed on the task at hand. Like clockwork; like it was some sort of muscle memory he’d acquired over the years he’d spent enamored by her and the words spelled out by her tongue and coated in an almost-innocent tipsiness.

“I’m already bartending for you now. But you can have three more wishes before the night’s done,” Sylus lazily said, stoppering the bottle once again as the sweet scent of his favorite Merlot enveloped her senses; a scent dipped in promises and secret whispers of devotion.

Part of her wondered when she’d started finding drinking so enjoyable, particularly when with him. She couldn’t really think of a specific point in time when his lavish lifestyle had started imprinting itself on her, but somewhere down the line she’d begun to wait for quiet nights of winding down like this. Wrapped up in his embrace, her body heating up with every single one of his achingly tender caresses, both with his practiced fingers and his gaze full of intent… more often than not she ended up sprawled all over him, clothes in various states of disarray as he ravished her—heart, body, and soul.

Leaning further into him and hooking her leg around his waist, the fabric of her dress completely exposed her leg hip-down. She pretended not to notice how he faltered in his actions, momentarily distracted by her as he always was. After all this time, it still left a pleasantly bubbling feeling in her chest to see him react that way to her; like he was being bewitched by her silhouette for the very first time. Laughing, she asked, “And will that power over you vanish at midnight too?”

“It depends on whether or not you play your cards right,” Sylus simply said, after having topped off their wine almost right to the brim, splurging over her just like he always did.

He knew all too well that she could manage him just as expertly as she handled every extravagant ballroom, every meeting hidden in the shadows, and every viciously-worded deal. There were no wrong cards in her deck.

Remorse was something she should’ve been feeling at least a twinge of; engaging in Sylus’ hedonistic lifestyle wasn’t something she’d have been proud to admit a while back. But then again, everything was a whirlwind of passion and earnest intensity when it came to him. Getting caught up in the eye of the storm was no surprise. And when the storm had eyes that twinkled over twin glasses of red wine that matched it, and a smile so wicked and yet so unbeguiling as she was handed one to sip from, then there was nothing to stop her from hurtling towards the edge and accepting the devil’s hand.

Maybe she’d have to beg for heavenly forgiveness for indulging in all her vices, unabashedly. But Sylus had far too much to atone for, and if she knew anything about him, it was that he’d much rather get on his knees to please her than to plead for mercy from divine powers. And though he wasn’t below her at the moment, looking up with lascivious want, he made sure that his palm drawing shapes at the small of her back let her know just exactly how much he craved the closeness of her body.

She carefully sipped on the wine, savoring its tang and sharpness paired with its sweet warmth in the way she’d grown to enjoy, all without breaking eye contact with him. It was a calculated move; almost devious of her to do that when she knew that no matter how much he feigned being collected in front of her, it was no more than a front—one that quickly collapsed after she pulled the glass away and daring to lick drops of Merlot off her lip for a few more seconds.

She could practically feel him groan before she could hear it, and she wickedly flashed him her canines, intently pressing the inside of her thighs against his hip, soft flesh flush against his suit pants, the fabric between them not stopping him from feeling every inch of her. Still, her movements were languid and relaxed. It couldn’t have been the wine; she’d barely had a few sips, not even half the glass, and her drinking habits in public weren’t known for being excessive. But perhaps she was drunk on him and on this moment, and she could feel her body easing into that relaxed state that only he’d ever witness her in.

To the entirety of the N109 Zone, she was unmatched in power, with or without Sylus by her side. To be able to command a room with so much refined and perfected grace, she’d have to have already long demanded respect with her presence alone. But in his arms, playfully peering into his eyes and watching how they roved over every inch of her, and how his Adam's apple bobbed with his thick swallow, she was just a lover who’d stripped away all her inhibitions—and his. A lover he was clearly too entranced by to properly function, if the slight tremor that shook his hand and spilt a few drops of wine onto his throat was anything to go by.

And gods, just seeing the rouge staining his skin and slowly trickling down to his clavicles was enough temptation to drive her insane. Impulsively, she placed a hand on the broad planes of his chest, leaning in so close that she couldn’t escape the scent of his cologne and slight musk. Her tongue darted out, licking a stripe up his neck, and earning a sharp hiss of their name. “Spilled some wine,” she mumbled into his skin, as though that were enough of an explanation, lips sucking a deep red mark onto him. Tensing underneath her, his own hand instinctively dug deeper into her back, pressing them even closer together.

“Minx,” his deep voice rumbled, all out of sorts as though she’d sent him in a daze. Some pride swelled within her as she pulled back a bit to admire her own work of art, the soft skin marred by her stark claim on him. His silver hair had gotten mussed along the way, strands falling in front of his hooded, lust-addled eyes. Even if he hadn’t said it out loud, it was clear that she’d turned him to putty with just one kiss to his neck. With a smirk, she slowly took his half-empty glass of wine and set it on the coffee table beside the couch.

How many times had Sylus regarded her with this much unadulterated want, like if she disappeared for a moment he’d grow mad? She couldn’t count on one hand; couldn’t even begin to recall the first time he’d tied himself down to her. But there was something so dizzyingly satisfying about having such an intimidating man submit to her in every way. Something about the way his hand traced up a path to her shoulder blades, barely covered by the almost-backless fabric of the dress, and his eyes consumed her whole, wine-stained lips curled in a lovesick smile… something about him almost made her delirious.

“You’re the messy drinker,” she shrugged, feigning innocence as she hooked an arm around his neck and toyed with the silken hair at his nape, delighting in the way his eyes momentarily fluttered shut at the contact. “Can’t blame me for taking the chance.”

He inhaled sharply, then let out a breathy laugh as his now-free hand settled on her waist, perching her right on top of him and completely disregarding just how dangerously close he was to completely baring her with that open slit of the dress. “Though I disagree on that slight to my character, at least now you can’t blame me either when I take my chances.”

And then Sylus was kissing her, all softened lips and cherry-flavored lip balm showered in the headiness of well-warmed wine. His hands soothed her aching muscles and yet kindled fire to life underneath her dewy skin, while his tongue caressed hers like a lover’s touch after a long absence. He kissed her like he’d missed her; like he’d been wanting this for too long that he’d nearly forgotten how to breathe properly without her lips on his, and without her wet moans.

He swallowed her every sound like he possessed it—and her, with the greediness of a sun threatening to burn her world whole. But all he ever really was was the all-encompassing night, his shadows curled around hers and his reverent touch bathed in moonlight streaming through half-drawn curtains. Adoration seeped even through his sighs and soft-spoken mutters between stolen breaths, and she wondered if sin should taste as pure as it did from his mouth.

Her hand reached up and her fingers dug into his hair, seeking purchase to ground herself and try to regain an ounce of sanity. An impossible feat that was, especially when his hand had dipped to lightly finger her spine and elicit shivers from the depths of her, while his lips ravished her. Daringly, she nipped at his bottom lip, slightly raising herself off his lap for a moment as she relished in the shaky curse that left him. And with a swift tug, he pulled her back down flush against him, the carnal passion in his eyes completely drowning out his irises.

Not for long though, as the sudden jerk had caused a sloshing sound, and they were both made aware of the fact that it had slipped her mind to set aside her now-empty glass of wine. Whatever was left of it now stained Sylus’ shirt with rose splatters, the wet fabric sticking even more taut against his skin. The glass had already come precariously close to slipping from between her fingertips, with the way he’d distracted her from reality and all common sense with his wicked mouth—but now, he was positively drenched, and somehow, miraculously, without even an annoyed pinch between his eyebrows as he set her glass down.

Perhaps it was because he knew he was to blame for her spiraling in a haze.

Failing to hold back a chortle, she tried (to no avail, of course) to pat at his shirt with a tissue from the coffee table. “If it’s any consolation, pink suits you too,” she managed to make out between peals of laughter. “Though we could’ve bought a rose shirt instead. Less of a hassle, y’know. Infinitely easier to clean.”

Shaking his head as he snickered, Sylus extracted her hands off him, tissue and all, and she climbed off his lap so that he could move freely. “And make your life less interesting? Now, where’s the fun in that, sweetie?” He was quick to shuck off his clothes, throwing them off on the arm rest and running a hand through his hair.

Flushed and disheveled, with kiss-swollen lips and a dampened chest and neck, he looked like the epitome of godless and lawless beauty. No heaven would take him when he lived like he did, but he was a small piece of debauched heaven she stowed away for herself. And having him shirtless like this while she stood above him with shaky legs and warmth trickling through her blood like thick molasses was going to be the death of her.

“You’re getting drunk.” He didn’t ask it, merely stated it as an observation. It didn’t take her long to ponder it, and then she nodded, earning a huff of a laugh from him. He stood up, readjusting the waistband of his pants and gently picking her up in a clumsier carry than earlier. Her dress creased in his grip, but it seemed that neither of them had it in them to care at the moment, nor did it matter that her entire leg had slipped out of the slip. “Lightweight.” And that teasing jab was all he needed to say for her to know that their little fun had been put on hold—just for the night, of course, as he carried her off to bed.

“Like you’re usually any better. Spoilsport,” she bit back, though it held no malice and little force. If anything, fondness seeped into her voice, enamored by the realization that he’d pulled back for her. And how could she have it in her to complain, when he’d taken such good care of her the entire evening? Such tender-hearted care didn’t go unnoticed; not when her eyes only ever saw him, and her ears nestled against his chest could find solace in the rapid fluttering of his heartbeat.

“You’ll thank me in the morning, when you don’t have to nurse a hangover or a sore body.”

Climbing up the stairs shook her body in his embrace, and she tightened her hold around him. Unsurprisingly, as though he’d truly predicted it, she could feel herself growing more drowsy with each step he took, and it took her effort to keep her eyes half-open. Her words were little above a mumble when she replied, “Take my makeup off and I’ll double my thanks in advance.”

“Mm. I’ll ask to cash in, first thing when you wake up.” Even his voice sounded more distant now as she could vaguely sense him pushing their bedroom door open.

“Greedy.”

“And shameless,” came his soft agreement, before slowly setting her down on the plush mattress and nestling her head into her pillow. Her eyes focused on him for a second, taking in that lovelorn smile and affectionate gaze that always, always followed her, before non-verbally handing him her trust and letting go of him, leaving him to walk off.

And before Sylus had even come back with her makeup remover in tow, she’d already succumbed to the viselike grip of a blissful slumber, surrounded by the familiar scent of him all over their bed, and the soothing pressure of him on top of her, taking such achingly gentle care of her like he’d always promised to.

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[cal-flakes]

hi lover!! can we see dealer!rafe teaching innocent!reader how to do a bump pretty please 😋😋 my fav trope!!!

yes yes yes yes you fuckin’ can my love. (not proofread i apologise i am a sleepy girl rn)

‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆

— “you lost or somethin’?” a smug voice appeared behind you, causing you to flinch in fright, lost in your own mind. you peered up at him, all glossy lipped and doe eyed, just like he expected. “oh— rafe! sorry, i was jus’ seeing if i left my charger in here” you explained, a sweet smile gracing your face. his brows furrowed, yet his shoulders relaxed, simply unable to keep up the intimidating act while you beamed up at him the way you did.

“and why would it be in here?” he questioned further, eyes narrowing slightly while a smirk tugged at his lips. “oh no— i mean, i didn’t leave it in here, but sarah said she might’ve let you borrow it or something?” your grin faltered slightly, picking up on the undertone of annoyance in his voice.

it wasn’t that rafe was scary— well, he was, but he made an effort not to scare you. how could he? his sister friend who always showed up in sweet little dresses, neatly styled hair, perfected makeup. the last thing he wanted was to scare you, if anything he wanted to know more. unbeknownst to rafe, you were just as intrigued— ogling him over the kitchen island when he came back to tannyhill late at night, interrupting your and sarah’s girly nights in. always offering to help whenever he seemed stressed.

taking a step back, he reached into his bedside drawer with ease, pulling out a familiar bedazzled iphone charger. “m’messin’ with you kid, y’mean this charger?” he chuckled, watching carefully as you let out a quiet, shaky breath before quickly regaining your smile. “that’s the one! thanks rafe!” you giggled, taking the item from his hands before heading for the door. “y’know, why don’t you stay for a bit? spend some time w’me? she’s got you all to herself all the time”

your hand retracted from the door immediately as the words left his mouth, though mentally scolding yourself for seeming so eager. “well— i’m sure she wouldn’t mind, just for little while”

— before you knew it, hours had passed, the only noise in the house being the movie rafe had picked as well as your giggles. you’d found yourself laying down on his bed, head resting on his knee as he lay against the headboard.

“y’look tired doll, y’okay?” he hummed, resting a lazy hand on your cheek as you released a surprised yawn, not wanting him to think you were getting bored. “jus’ a little, s’okay though, i can stay up a bit longer..” you spoke softly, turning over to face him now.

“i’ve got somethin’ that can help” he stated nonchalantly, reaching again into his bedside drawer, this time pulling out a not-so bedazzled baggy. your brows knitted together. “whas’at?”

“you trust me?” he tested, cocking an eyebrow as he sat up slightly. “course’ i do rafe” you smiled naively, watching as he opened the bag, tapping it gently as he poured out a small pile onto the back of his thumb. “this, is everything you need”

his other hand beckoned you forward till you were within his reach, carefully pulling you into his lap, legs slotted beside his as you tugged at the hem of your dress, doing your best to cover up. “now, your gonna close your other nostril, and sniff up— hard, m’kay? you listenin’ baby?” he instructed, tapping your jaw slightly as if you bring you back into the room, noticing the vacant look in your eyes as they stared at him in awe. “mhm”

swiftly, rafe pressed his hand to the back of your head as his other came up to your nose, guiding you through it as the grainy powder made its way up your nose, an unfamiliar feeling that only made your eyes water. “s’okay doll, it’ll hit you in a second alright?” he cooed, using the same hand to wipe away the pools building in the corners of your eyes before pulling you further into him.

“not just sarah’s little friend after all, huh kid?” he smirked, allowing you to nuzzle into his chest for a moment as you both waited for the high.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Additional thoughts on the Twins are Billford kids. ( Link to post here)

Stan having to baby proof everything when he realizes his tiny shape niece and nephews have float him frantically tapping bubble wrap on all the doorways.

Grunkle being their word... Stan crying.

Him having to figure out how to raise them and also homeschooling them... they both know a lot about pick-pocketing.

Them suing their powers sometimes in the shack for tourists or authorities. Also 'If you 2 can warp reality you can clean your room'

Mabel making sweaters even before she has her human form just tiny little pink star with a sweater all around her body only eye visible. She also made a hat for dipper to hide his birth mark so he has hat even in shape form.

The twins knowing about gravity falls traditions but never being able to do them before because not human, they have tried to sneak out before and lead to shenanigans of Stan getting them back home.

In human form the twins having 1 human eye 1 demon eye, they can hide it but not always, Stan luckily always has eye-patches on hand form the Mr mystery persona...Mabel has bedazzled hers.

Stan seeing the twins human forms looking so much like him and Ford and just trying so hard not to cry.

The twins eyes flaring up or even reverting back to demon form and changing colors when emotions get to mcuh and Stan fumbling to make sure no one sees 'AH LOOK OVER THERE A DISTRACTION'

The twins seeing Bill when Gideon summons him and just exchanging a glance and ....ohhhhh fuuccckkk and 'Hey Grunkle Stan we think we found out other dad'

Bill either 1) Not realizing the kids aren't human he's not paying mcuh attention to them really only 1 Pines interests him... at least for now or 2) he realizes firstly freaks out because how are you like me I destroyed everything and then...ooohhhhh fuuuuccckkkkk as he remembers a karaoke night and this will change plans.

Stanford comes back sees twins 'Stanley you had children' the the twins eyes glowing and 'No sixer I'm not the one who had kids... congratulations'

[frehyun]

Makeup

idol!hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: none!

genre: fluff

word count: 868

author's note: just a little silly something I wrote on my way to uni, very much inspired by Hyunjin's make up in this tiktok! hope you enjoy 💗

(not edited </3)

masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

“What brought this on?” – Hyunjin giggled as you strode back into his bedroom, closing the door behind you so Changbin didn’t have a chance to peek inside.

“I wanna do your makeup!” – you emphasised your words by waving a palette and brushes around dramatically, making your way to the bed where he was situated on.

“Am I not pretty enough?” – he batted his eyelashes up at you.

Menace.

You waved away his teasing words with a pout, pushing him back into the pillows and climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, your palette and brushes safely put away onto the bedside table.

“You know you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, so don’t even start with that. Now, tell me, what color? Glitter? Ohh, I think glitter would make you look so good!” – you excitedly patted his chest, urging him to voice his own wishes. You were going to give him at least some choice in the matter. Only a little, though.

Hyunjin layed one of his long, manicured fingers against his chin and tapped it, letting out a loud hum, overdramatically indicating that he was thinking about what was going to be his hardest choice of the day aside from what to order for dinner tonight.

You sighed, moving to lay your head on his chest while he got his theatrics out.

“Wake me when you’ve decided.”

“Hey, I don’t take that long to decide these things!”

“I’ll just choose for you, you big baby.” – you smiled teasingly and reached over to get the palette and brushes off the table and sitting right back up.

“Oh my God, you don’t love me, I’ve always known” – he makes a dramatic gesture, covering his eyes with his arm and playfully frowning to really sell the act.

While Hyunjin was busy getting a standing ovation for his main role as the Drama Queen in his own stageplay, you opened the eyeshadow palette and took a look at what colors were still left. There was still quite a bit of the glittery grey and black left, playing right into your plans of bedazzling your boyfriend.

“Are you gonna move your arm or do I have to resort to tickling? You know I will.” – you asked him with a raised eyebrow, threateningly placing your free hand on the sliver of skin that was revealed by his shirt riding up his stomach. That earned you a squeak alongside him wanting to fold together beneath you, grabbing your hands into both of his larger ones.

“I give up, you win”, he giggled and sunk back into the pillows behind him, “just make sure that it’s so good, that at least Han or Felix get jealous, I feel like bragging.”

“Always the best for my princess. It’s gonna be black and grey, by the way.”

He just gave a lazy hum in response and with that you leaned your body over his and started applying the eyeshadow to his eyelids. His hands eventually comfortably rested on the side of your thighs, squeezing every now and then, as he dutifully stood still for you to do your thing. The whole process was weirdly therapeutic for both of you.

For you, because simply being this close to him was already a comfort, the motions of your brush calming as it glided over his soft skin but also because making your boyfriend look pretty was kind of one of your favorite things to do. You already looked forward to him admiring himself in one of the mirrors, smiling softly to himself and that alone made the whole thing worth it.

For him, because he also revelled in the fact that you were so close that he could idly play with the fabric of your clothes but also because Hyunjin simply liked feeling taken care of. You going through the effort of applying make up to him just because you wanted to made him feel just that, an ease settling in his heart.

Time flew by and soon you moved back from his face, letting out a small groan accompanied by ‘my back hurts’. Despite Hyunjin’s protests and whines, you got up to get a small hand mirror to show him the results.

As soon as his eyes fell upon the glittery eyeshadow decorating his eyelids, he let out a little ‘ooh’ before grabbing the mirror from you to see your work closer. The smile that found its way onto his lips made your heart jump in your chest in happiness.

“Maybe you should become one of my stylists. You get to do my make up all the time and I get to annoy you every single day” – he mused, turning his head from left to right to get different angles of his makeup.

“You know what, maybe I should. Then I get to see Felix every day” – you sighed and hugged him from the side, nuzzling your face into his shirt.

“Yah, you’re supposed to be there for me!”

While giggling and playfighting, the two of you eventually sent a few pictures of your artistry into the groupchat, letting Hyunjin brag like he wanted to.

Felix, Han and even Chan did end up demanding that you do theirs next.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt 16 with Logan on the fluff list! thinking that their messing around and reader accidentally confesses and it’s a toooootal love bomb after that

Confession | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.7k…did I get carried away? Yes.

Author’s Note: Okay but why am I sobbing at my own writing? This request was so cute, thank you for this nonie!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Wade when I said we should watch The Wizard of Oz, I didn’t mean that you need to dress up as Dorothy and act out the entire movie!” You exclaimed in the living room, trying your hardest to suppress a laugh as Wade twirls in front of the couch. The blue and white checkered dress swirled in the air as he spun, arms wide out as he threw his head back. In the background, droning on was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” to which Wade decided it was the perfect time to lip sync. Days like this are what you cherished most, especially when things were a bit shit all around. The world wasn’t as safe as it used to be, but in this little apartment – it was comfort. Solace, everything you all needed to wait out the storm down below.

“You may not have wanted that, but they did.” Wade lets out nonchalantly, whispering the last part at the brick wall, causing you to look around him. Every so often he would stare off into a hidden camera, like it was The Office, speaking to the “audience” about what was going on. At first it was funny, charming even – but when it got to be quips about you, it was almost instinctive how you needed to roll your eyes. Now? It was just another thing about Wade you admired, how he could keep himself entertained like this and forget how things were outside, there was no judgement but pure love and laughter. Shaking your head with a smile, you sigh out as you stand from the couch, stretching your back. “Whatever you say, Wade.” As you felt your tailbone crack, you smiled softly at the release. It felt nice to get up and walk, to stretch out a bit before engaging more with Wade’s antics of today. It was endearing to see him doing this – you knew everything was getting to him as well, and you both needed a good laugh. What you silently hoped for though, was for Logan to join the two of you.

It was obvious your feelings for him, Wade called that out the second you both first met. The way your eyes went from thin slits of weariness to full blown hearts was enough to make his head spin – Logan on the other hand seemed to have no effect. But that’s what he wanted you to think. It had been months since your apartment flooded, causing you to move two floors up with Wade, Logan, Laura and Al. But it had been the best months of your life, creating new friendships and hoping to blossom out of the awkward phase with Logan. A stoic, quiet man who truly needed this – needed a friend – needed to know he was loved. You wanted to help him with that, if only you could get over this little hump of self-doubt. It was a silent battle you faced internally; Rejection scared you and hurt more than anything else – but you’d respect the decision if it happened. The struggle was the worst part of it, how it ate you alive. Wade would always try to help quell it but alas, your mind could be very fickle.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you rounded the counter, back facing towards the living room as you hummed along with the song. Lost in your own little world, you didn’t notice when the bedroom door to the left started to slowly open, your head down to face the coffee maker as you stuck your mug underneath, using the hot water for your tea. It wasn’t until you saw something sparkling out of the corner of your eye that it caught your attention. You knew Mary Puppins had a flashy little get up, since Wade spent four days bedazzling her suit, but then you remembered Laura had taken her out for a walk a few minutes prior. Cocking your brow, you turn slowly to see what that shine is – not expecting to see what you did. “Holy shit,” you mumble out, your eyes shooting wide open. There was no proper way to react except shocked, your body freezing at the sight.

Logan was home after all, hiding away in his room. But what you didn’t realize was that Wade had gotten him to dress up for the movie. Standing there in his gray and black flannel, gray sweatpants, and white socks was your Logan – face covered in silver face paint, sparkling against the orange hued lighting of the kitchen. You stopped to stare at him, admiration making your heart grow as Wade let out a dramatic gasp, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “Robocop has arrived!” Wade cheered, hoping over the back of the couch and standing on the opposite side of the kitchen. At the comment, Logan growled in Wade’s direction, sending him straight daggers. “Don’t give me that look, Pookie. You know what you signed up for.”

Logan could help but groan as his gaze shifted back towards you; The silvery color making his eyes glow brighter than usual. A soft green, like a meadow on a cloudy day always stared back at you. But today, it was Emerald City. The glints of golden flecks and little silvery tendrils drifted through his irises, causing your heart to race. You didn’t mean to gaze so deeply into his eyes, finding your own eyes losing focus the further you delved in. You couldn’t tell but Logan’s heart was racing a mile a minute under his shirt, his claws quivering inside his hand. “You’re taking shine bright like a diamond to a whole new level, Lo.” You let a bright smile cascade over your lips as you looked up at him, tilting your head to the side to admire his application skills. Under all the silver you could see a gentle pink blush creeping up his neck, fanning over the little exposed patch of skin beneath his flannel. It wasn’t everyday that Logan blushed – but with you, he couldn’t stop. Even at your teasing, he was a mess.

“His idea.” Logan snickered as he pointed to Wade. “Dipshit told me we were all dressing up as characters.” Of course he did, because that is just how Wade is. He always says one thing, then never tells anyone else. In a way you knew he said it for you, knowing this was your favorite movie and all. To have Logan dress up like the tinman was all for you. A simple admission you made not too long ago about how he was your childhood crush; Convincing Logan to dress up as him only seemed right. Wade could tell you both were mutually pining over one another, and he was tired of the will they won’t they. All he knew was that he wanted his two best friends to be together, to be happy; He knew you’d be good for one another. Wade blew Logan a kiss as he spun in his dress, twirling his way through the kitchen and living room.

“Wade you dirty dog.” You laugh as you roll your eyes, shifting your focus back to your now freshly brewed tea. Taking the mug away from the coffee machine, you bit your bottom lip as you giggled, nudging Logan with your shoulder. “When we need a disco ball for Al’s 70th birthday, we will just strap you to the ceiling and spin you.” You winked in his direction as you slightly raised a brow, indicating that you were joking, but also being a tease. Logan liked when you did that, finding it invigorating how his heart would pound out of his chest. A hearty, sincere laugh slipped from his silvery lips as he narrowed his gaze. Leaning against the countertop, Logan crossed his arms over his eyes, his lips turning up into a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah? You think so, beautiful?” He let out without question, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you up and down. He could hear, smell, how hard your heart was racing as he leaned closer, how your palms grew clammy, how your body shivered under his gaze. There was something so primal clawing its way beneath his skin; He wanted all of you, to be the only one to make you feel this way. “I know so!” You shot back without hesitation, trying to keep your cool.

Logan thought it was cute, how hard you were trying to fight yourself off. Trying so hard not to spill the beans or say what was on your mind. It was a game of hardball, and Logan was going to come out on top like always. Huffing with amusement, he placed his hand softly on your shoulder, letting his wade palm graze down your arm, fingers drifting over the expanse of your wrist. Leaning closer to you, only a hairsbreadth away, Logan whispered as he held your hand lovingly. “Well what if I…”  You were so entranced with how he was coming onto you, months of tension finally reaching its peak as the knife cut through it, releasing that hold on you. Closing your eyes as you prepped yourself for what he was about to do next, you pursed your lips instinctively, waiting to feel him on you. Alas, that never came.

In a singular second, Logan roughly pulled you close to him as he rubbed his face all over yours. The burn of his beard across your cheeks made you yelp out, the slippery feel of the face paint flowing over your skin made you laugh. A fit of giggles and playful pushing ignited the room, filtering out the sound of Mary Puppins and Laura coming back from their walk. You couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing, trying to muster up the energy to speak as Logan held you close to him. Though you felt his touch burning through your clothes, not one of a friendly nature but one of pure passion. The way he gripped your hip with one hand, and the side of your neck with the other. The way his face slid over yours, it was pure love. Your mind was reeling with endless thoughts of what it would be like to be in love with Logan, never realizing how you spoke aloud. “Ohmygod, I’m in love with an adult man-child.” The words fell out before you had anytime to think about it, not realizing what you had said as you fought yourself through the giggle fit. You didn’t realize what had come out, until Logan stopped.

The tension in the air was palpable, your heart pounding in your ears as you caught your breath. Logan stopped the ministrations on your face, his grip to your neck and hip growing harder, steadier as his breathing picked up. “In love!?” Wade and Laura yelled out from the living room, Mary Puppins gave a little bark as well. In that moment you stopped, your eyes growing wide as you panned upwards. “In love?” Logan asks, his eyes turning from a vibrant green shade to mocha, his pupils blackened. Meeting his gaze, you swallowed back the words I’m kidding, because in reality you were not. It was out there now, there was no taking it back even if you had tried. There wasn’t anything that would make this moment easier to digest, it was all or nothing. “Shit.” That was your only response. The movie in the background grew quiet. Laura, Wade, and Mary Puppins stared at you with wide eyes, trying to process it themselves. Al on the other hand sat by the open window and laughed, keeping his head towards the street below.

All you wanted to do was run; Fight or flight kicking in made you want to scream. It wasn’t the way you announced it that made you scared, nor nervous – but how Logan was staring at you. His once playful demeanor was now clouded with something unreadable, enough to make tears well in your eyes. At the end of the day, if he didn’t feel the same there were no hard feelings, and you both could live with that. But right now, you wanted to be alone, to calm down from the panic rising in your chest. “No, no running away.” Logan whispered for you, and you only. His hardened grip on your neck moved to gently hold your face, his thumb sweeping against your cheek. He could see the fear in your eyes, the unknowing – he wanted to settle that for you. Logan leaned forth to press his forehead against yours. The switch of Logan gave you whiplash; Usually he wasn’t this affectionate with his actions, always keeping to himself, not thinking himself worthy of love. But today, that all changed. “Sweetheart…do you mean that?” Logan’s voice broke slightly as he asked, his own eyes welling with tears.

“Of course she does! She’s in lov-“ Wade began, not even giving you a second to explain yourself. Logan grew tense at hearing him speak. He never pushed his face away from yours as he growled out into the room. “Shut the fuck up!” A shiver ran down your spine at the dominance in his voice, your hands instinctively going out to hold onto his hip as you steadied your breathing. “Ohhh my god,” was all Wade could respond with as he sunk back into the couch, Laura holding her hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything more. It was now or never; Forever hold your peace or tell Logan how you really felt and see where it led from there. Taking a deep breath, you nodded against Logan’s forehead, a shaky breath exhaling from your parted lips. “I do.” The words felt right coming out, there was no line of awkwardness or reluctance to them. It was the truth, and now it was known.

You refused to open your eyes as stare at Logan, hearing the deep inhalation he made at your comment. You knew if you opened your eyes tears would fall, and you were not about to have that. Nothing came to mind on what you could say, nor could you move from where you were planted. Internally you begged someone to say something, to break the silence. Logan must’ve heard your internal thoughts. “Finally, didn’t know how long we were going to play that game, sweetheart.” Logan let out, causing you to open your eyes. He extended himself to his full height as he held your face, peering down into your soul with a genuine, loving smile. It was in that moment his words fully clicked inside of your brain, the mutual pining was over. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. I could tell you were too, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, if you weren’t ready. I wanted it to be on your terms, when you felt it was right.” Logan’s word held you tightly, holding you close to show you just how loved you are, how cherished you are, how appreciated you are. You could tell Logan had more he wanted to say but, actions speak louder than words.

Surging forth, you pressed your lips lovingly against Logan, feeling how the world faded around you. The dull, orange lighting of the kitchen burnt out around you. The hum of the coffee maker, fridge, and lights became silent. The only thing that could be heart was your heartbeats, merging into one. Around you swirled endless love and possibilities, flecks of the brightest yellows and blues flowing out like clockwork, binding you two together. This feels so right. Everything felt so right. Logan felt so right. Nothing in life ever felt like this, nothing ever felt meant to be. Only now did you realize, the love you have been waiting your entire life for, finally arrived. In the form of Logan Howlett, The Wolverine. Your hero.

-----

Hugh Jackman Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo

Logan Howlett Taglist: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444

[gilverrwrites]

If that ask was too long and elaborate, I have another one!

What about a fic with Batman, where the reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Bruce since he already has mature/ teenager kids and she doesn’t know if he wants to raise one from the infant stage to adulthood.

She kinda overthinks about it and distance herself from Bruce. He notice it and when she would confess, to her surprise, Bruce would get super exited!

What I don't understand

AN: I'm back baby! At least partly, my hand is still on and off achy so I won't we posting as activiely as I have previously. I've done so much research on pregnancy that all my adds are now of pregancy tests, fertilitie test, baby stuff, I'm worried my bf might start to suspect that I'm pregnant which would be akward Bruce Wayne/F!Reader, 3.9K words CW: Husband/Wife dynamic, pregnancy, feet (none sexual), mentions of vomit, body dysmorphia, lying/sneaking around, prenatal anxiety/depression, martial problems, swearing. Fluffy ending tho!

Pregnancy brain is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Or maybe that's insanity, who knows? You ponder the thought as you fidget with the flimsy cardboard packaging of the pregnancy test you're awaiting the results of as if you don't know the answer. You'd already taken countless tests, trialling different brands in the hopes of a different outcome but every single one of them had confirmed your situation with variations on lines and plus signs. They'd never offered you a negative, and yet you keep trying.

There was no denying it, and pretty soon there would be no hiding. You were fast approaching the end of your first trimester at 9 weeks but had only found out about a month ago. The task of informing Bruce while there was still time to act seems to grow bigger and scarier with each passing day. Not to mention; it's becoming increasingly obvious that he already suspected something is wrong.

3 weeks ago:

The cold tile against your aching feet felt like ecstasy. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and lean against the wall, relishing in every second of release as you awaited Jason’s return.

You’d spend hours hiding your pain, precariously balancing in a pair of heels as you kept up appearances during a charity event being held at the manor. Bruce was currently being cornered by a visiting dignitary, and as bad as you felt leaving him alone, it might have been your only chance. You’d slipped away to an off-limits hallway, grasping Jason’s who had drawn the short straw for event appearances along the way. Once out of view to your guests you’d begged him to retrieve a pair of pumps from your bedroom, the petty prospect of keeping it secret from, and thus getting a one-up on his adoptive father being the primary motivator. That and he owed you, a lot, for defusing many situations in which he and your husband had butt heads.

The weight of your discarded shoes hung heavily from your fingers, you hadn’t realised how weighty they were. A shame, because they were so pretty. They were a gift from Bruce, strappy and bedazzled, the perfect colour to match your dress. Another pair for your ever-expanding collection, he’d always favoured gifting you shoes and purses, and you certainly didn’t mind, at least not until your ankles had begun swelling at the mere notion of being used for their primary function.

“Are you okay? You seem off.” Jason’s voice returning to the hall made you jump out of your stupor, and he watched with concern as you tucked your heels behind a curtain and slipped into the flats he’d brought you.

“Fine, fine.” You smile, patting his arm with a reassuring smile. “Just didn’t wear those in properly and now I’m paying the price.”

“Right.” He still seemed dubious and was about to say something else when a door creeks open, redirecting both of your attention.

Bruce stood in the doorway, stern, arms crossed. He glares at the both of you, he and Jason have a very similar glare. His eyes focus in on you, identifying you as the main culprit, his gaze roves across your form, lingering on your feet for an uncomfortably long time before speaking.

“If I have to suffer through this, so do the two of you.” He points behind him. “In.”

Jason’s face is obscured as he takes the lead, but Bruce must not like his expression because his frown seems to deepen.

You followed close behind, careful not to step on the hem of your dress now that you lack the additional six inches the heels had offered but your integration back into the crowd is halted. Bruce traced his hand along your back, cupping the curve of your waist and directing you to a lesser populated spot amongst the outskirts of your visitants.

The stony look on his face was gone, replaced with a polite smile for the crowd and softer eyes for you.

“What happened to your shoes?” His voice was low, in-perceivable to anyone but yourself.

“My feet were sore is all.” It’s not a lie.

“Too sore for dancing?” He asks, voice as slick as silk and you don’t want to agree but yes, they are too sore dancing. Not to mention you’d gotten nauseous from standing up too quickly only hours earlier but damn if you didn’t want to dance with your husband. Want to feel his chest against yours, his hands on your curves, admire the smile on his face. There are few things you enjoy more than any form of intimacy with Bruce.

“Maybe later.” You sighed, “I think I need to sit down for a while.”

2 weeks ago:

‘Breast changes are another very early sign of pregnancy. Your hormone levels rapidly change after the egg is fertilized. Because of these changes, your breasts may become swollen, sore, or tingly.’

You groaned aloud, rereading the entry on WebMD once more. You hadn’t expected your breasts to change so early on, incorrectly assuming any swelling or pain would be a result of breast milk, but you were wrong.

Believing you had the house to yourself, you figure now was as good a time as any to read up on more early pregnancy symptoms, to correct any other misconception you might have. You were midway through reading about progesterone and how it causes constipation when your laptop pinged.

A notification popped up in the corner of the screen, a DM from UserDC27, Bruce’s bat-server codename. You click to open the message and audibly gasp when a screenshot of your browsing history greets you, framed in red with its own ‘suspicious activity’ notification in the corner.

‘Pregnancy trimesters in weeks’ ‘Swollen breasts pregnant’ ‘Early pregnancy symptoms’

Amongst all the suspicious browsing habits of this family, of course yours had flagged up! Fucking ridiculous!

UserDC27: ? UserRI01: For a friend UserRI01: dw UserRI01: Love you x UserDC27: is typing… UserRI01: has signed out.

1 weeks ago:

“Good morning.” A familiar voice greeted you, strong hands slink around your body, brushing against your back and hips before settling on your stomach. What should have been a sweet moment frightened you, disturbing you from your train of thought and causing you to almost spill your morning decaf coffee.

“Woah there.” Bruce laughed, the warmth and proximity of him soothing you quickly. He effortlessly took the mug from your hands and settled it on the kitchen island so he could pull you closer without spillage.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, turning your head to rest it against his chest. The strength of his cologne is always so much stronger in the mornings, the scent of the man you love, of citrus and woodsiness does wonders to comfort your frantic brain no matter the time or place. “Just lost in thought.”

After a second you realise your mistake, you’ve allowed him an opening to ask what you’re thinking about and that exact moment certainly did not feel like the right time, what with Damian in the next room. You should be alone, completely alone.

He surprises you however, always one for keeping everyone on their toes, by spinning you around to face him and telling you, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“What do you think it is?” You tried to keep your voice airy, relaxed, unsuspicious but even you can hear the guilt in your tone.

“I think you’re tired.” He watches you with a playful glint in his eye, but the next words out of his mouth are accusatory no matter how light his tone is. “Where are you sneaking off to in the mornings, oh wife of mine?”

“W-what?” You heard him fine, you were stalling while you calculated a response. You had been sneaking off in the mornings and the fact that he’s asking so playfully, as opposed to interrogating which he is not unknown to do even with you, means he knows more than he’s letting on.

Bruce isn’t exactly an early riser, often too tired from long nights of crime fighting and case filing, but he is a light sleeper. Always on alert. He’d already caught you in a bought of morning sickness once. Roused by the unpleasant noises you’d been making. You’d lied about it, citing an upset tummy from something you’d eaten. You weren’t sure which was worse, the vomiting, the sombre expression he’d given you as he approached to rub your back throughout, or the look of horror on Alfred’s face when Bruce had brought up your supposed food poisoning later that day.

Ever since you’d purposely been rising early and sneaking off to dispel any nausea in one of the many guest bedrooms.

“Nowhere, I’m just becoming more of a morning person I guess.”

He eyed you sceptically, and you thought you might crack under the pressure. His hands reach up to cup your face, preventing you from turning away. His touch is so gentle, so soft for a man of his stature. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”

“Of course.”

As if you couldn’t feel worse he adds; “I miss waking up to you beside me.”

“Oh Brucie-“

You’re already on your tip toes, ready to concede, to apologise, to shower your sullen husband with kisses when you’re saved by the signal. Literally, a call from Duke 'The Signal' Thomas, with a reminder of your apprehension; an active situation that needed Batman’s participation.

Your relationship, and now marriage to Bruce had always hinged on an unspoken understanding that Gotham comes first. Even with Tim taking over most of his responsibilities at Wayne Tech, Bruce simply does not have enough time to raise a baby. You can't expect him to take turns with the nighttime feeds, with the frequent nappy changes, with the constant attention an infant will need.

You’ve no doubt Alfred would delight in assisting you, he's been dropping hints about wanting a baby Brucie since the engagement, and you love him very much but if you’re to raise a baby, you want to do it with your husband, not his butler.

That’s presuming your husband even wants a child. Another child. He already has enough children to populate a small village. Children with lives of their own. Children who in some way or another have followed in his vigilante footsteps. You think of the stress and trauma each of them has faced, and how it has affected them and their father. You think of Steph and her tremulous relationships with Bruce and Arthur. Of Jason’s deaths, plural. Of Dicks ineptitude to form meaningful relationships with anyone outside of the lifestyle. Of all the childhoods so many, but especially Cass and Damian missed out on. Could you be responsible for putting another child through any of that?

Furthermore, if your child wanted to live this life, could you really stop them? Nobody stopped Tim. Nobody stopped Barbara, when Jim had tried it only caused the rift between them to grow bigger.

Could Bruce stop your unborn child? Would he want to?

Speak of the Oracle. The chime of your phone draws you out of your spiral of perinatal anxieties. It’s Barbara, informing the girls-only group chat that she’s running late for lunch. Crap. You’d completely forgotten that you’d promised the girls lunch and shopping. Barbara had some tech on hold, Steph wanted to try the new caramel cookie waffles at Goodilicious, and Cass needed new boots whether she knew it or not.

Hurriedly, you shove the used test into a previously disused makeup bag that is now full of other used tests. It's starting to smell, but you don't have time to figure out how to stealthily throw it out, so you hide it at the back of a cupboard behind a basket of sanitary products before rushing out the door.

Later

Catching up with the girls had been fun, it had really helped you forget about your predicament and just relax for a while, but it had also taken a lot out of you, keeping you out well past dinner. Your body just was not functioning as well as it used to, for obvious reasons.

Upon returning to the mansion you’d made it to the ground floor lounge, feet too sore to even consider the stairs, and collapsed on the closest couch, exerting just enough energy to pry your shoes and sock off of your swollen feet prior to falling asleep. Just a quick nap you tell yourself, to regain some energy, you’ll be right as rain in time for Damian’s bedtime. He’s old enough now to put himself to bed, especially given that he often patrols with his father until the early hours of the morning, but tonight is his night off and you’d always make the effort to wish him sweet dreams when you can.

You’re awoken by the feel of calloused fingers pressing into the arches of your feet. You hadn’t heard him enter, but Bruce is sitting on the arm of the couch, in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. Between his bare chest and cowl hair, he is a welcome sight, bruised chest and freshly cut lip and all.

“What happened to you?” You ask, voice husky from your impromptu nap. You manage to draw your eyes away from Bruce long enough to check the time on an antique wall clock, it’s 4 AM. You’d far exceeded a nap. “Where’s Damian?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Damian is asleep. When you didn’t wish him a goodnight he came to look for you, that’s how I knew you were here.” He asserts. He looks at you with a furrowed brow and pinched lips, working his thumb into the arch of your feet with just enough pressure to make you mewl in relief. “Are you punishing me for something?”

The question hits you like a ton of bricks, it’s not without merit. You hadn’t intended to spend the night on the couch, but you can understand how it must look to him, especially in tangent with the ways in which you had intentionally been avoiding him; sneaking out in the mornings, not allowing him to see your naked body for fear that he’ll notice your swollen breasts, and growing belly. You hadn’t had sex in at least three weeks.

All at once you are overcome with remorse. You’d been so consumed with the pregnancy and how best to approach the subject with Bruce that you hadn’t stopped to think how your actions would weigh on him. He’s so strong, your anchor, an unchanging presence for the whole family. He locks himself and his emotions behind the big bad bat or billionaire Brucie so well that sometimes he forgets he has them. Sometimes you forget. Even now, clearly hurting and concerned for his marriage, he’s rubbing your feet.

“No of course not Bruce, I’m sorry…” your mind starts to form the end of your apology ‘I was just so tired’ or ‘it’s been a long day’ and they wouldn’t be lies but they’re not the right thing to say. You can’t keep postponing for the ‘right moment’ that will never come, can’t keep chickening out. He needs to know the truth. “I’m- I’m pregnant.”

You’re not sure how you’d expected him to respond really. You’d feared anger, hoped for joy but instead, he continues to stare at you, his brows raising in a way that implied he needed more information. He swaps your left foot for your right as he awaits your resumption. When you don’t speak he nods and states; “I know.”

“You know?” As though possessed your tired body launches into an upright seated position. “How could you know?”

Bruce smiles in response, an amused, tight-lipped ‘Are you kidding?’ smile.

“Well, to name a few things;” he counts off each observation on his fingers. “You’ve stopped wearing heels because your ankles are constantly swollen, your breasts are also noticeably swollen even under your clothes, you now only drink decaf, you seemingly have ‘food poisoning’ every morning and at no other time of day, a massive increase in urination, and my personal favourite, the bag full of positive pregnancy tests behind a crate-full of menstrual products that haven’t been used in almost three months.”

He’s trying to hide it, but he’s smug about his own detective skills. His mouth might be straight but there’s a fire in his eyes that has you drawing your legs away from him with a huff, abruptly ending the massage you had been enjoying. “How long have you known?”

“I’d had my suspicions for about 6 weeks, but I wasn’t certain until I found your stash last week.” Typical of Bruce to have figured out you were pregnant before you’d known yourself. “What I don’t understand, is why you didn’t tell me. Why you’ve been lying.”

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I was going to but…” You trail off,  straightening your thoughts as best you can and finding your composure, preparing to begin monologuing about your concerns. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, what with you know, already having so many kids. Everyone but Damian has flown the nest, Dick and Babs are married! They’re all so grown up, do you really want to start again? And then…”

Conscious of your rambling you cut yourself off, looking to Bruce for reassurance that you’re not talking too much, that he’s not offended by your worries. He consoles you by coming closer, sitting on the cushion beside you and easily coaxing your legs over his. His firm hands are gentle as they grasp your knee.

“And what?” He questions.

“I wasn’t sure how I feel, I wanted to figure that out before talking to you.”

“What do you think you feel about it?”

“I think I want to have your baby Bruce, our baby.” So caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed your husband’s hands creeping higher and higher up your body until a hand settles on your stomach, his thumb stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You’d been so self-conscious of its growth but as you look at it now, under Bruce’s sturdy fingers, you realise it isn’t much bigger than it had been pre-pregnancy. How tedious your problems seemed when voiced and put into perspective, except maybe one. “I’m just not sure about how… well I guess I never thought about raising a child within your lifestyle.”

“I understand.” He nods, confirming his statement. He’s done well to keep his face soft but neutral throughout, a staple of his Batman facade but also a careful way not to let his own emotions interfere with yours.

“What do you think?” He looks down at your abdomen as he considers his words. You follow his gaze, watching as his fingers lift your top, exposing your skin to him. Without warning he lowers himself to pepper your belly with gentle kisses, the ticklish motion causes you to giggle and writhe beneath him.

When he looks up at you again he’s smiling, the motion causing the scab on his lip to split and bleed. Without thought you pull yourself closer to him, using his broad shoulders as leverage. Once close enough you dab at the minor wound with your thumb soaking up the fluid as best you can and examining the cut to ensure no further damage.

Bruce watches you intently the whole time, cupping your face in his hand when you appear satisfied. The adoration in his eyes makes you feel sheepish even after everything you’ve been through together.

“I think,” his voice is low, sincere. “I couldn’t be happier to be growing our family together. I think this child, like all our children, will be lucky to have you as a mother, whatever life they choose to lead.”

The amount of pent-up tension in your body had not been apparent to you until now. Until your body noticeably lightens in response to his words. The relief of no longer sneaking around, no more fretting over how he might react has you wishing you’d done this a long time ago.

“Bruce?” You sag into his chest, breathing him in. His arms unconsciously wrap around you in response, pulling you in for a tighter embrace. “We’re having a baby.”

“Were are having a baby.” He confirms, pressing more, tender kisses to your neck, the curve of a smile apparent as his lips press to your exposed skin. "I've been waiting for this moment since the day we me. But, I think it’s time we got to bed, it’s late.”

Swift and practiced, Bruce lifts you from the couch, cradling you in the bridal position. You stretch to check the clock, 4:34 AM.

“Technically it’s early.” You jest, expecting him to punish your cheek by jolting you in the air or throwing you over his shoulder as he normally does, but instead, he chides you with an amused glare, clearly too concerned about the baby for play fighting.

“Neither of us has been to bed, it’s late.” His grip tightens on your body as he makes his way up the stairs, one steady step at a time. “And I expect my wife to be in our bed when I wake up.”

“Hmmm.” Your morning sickness has eased in the last few days, you’d only persisted in sneaking out to be safe, but he doesn’t need to know that just yet. “I’ll try, but I might be in our bathroom.”

“I can cope with that. At least then I can care for you. And we can throw out your hoard.” You don’t fuss over the likelihood of him having to rush off to save the day or for an urgent board meeting, you just throw your head back, laughing at yourself for trying to hide anything from Bruce.

When you reach the bedroom he lays you in the bed and climbs over your form. He’s in full caretaker mode, a manner you could get used to. He carefully removes your clothes, offers to redress you in your sleepwear and to bring you your lotions, or anything you should need from the bathroom.

Dawn is breaking behind your blackout curtains by the time you’re both settled in bed, entangled in each other’s arms. Sleep has nearly taken you again when Bruce whispers; “I do have one other thought.”

“Oh?" You peer at him curiously over your shoulder. "Yes dear?”

“I think you should be the one to tell Damian.”

His request hangs heavy in the air as you consider the implication. “Tell Damian that he will no longer be your only blood child?”

The room remains silent, he doesn’t expand because you know what he’s getting at. Damian probably won’t mind, because he’ll still be the oldest, the first in line and you’re certain he’ll be a wonderful older brother, he’s great with animals, so why not babies? Right?

“… That's not fair.”

“Think of it as penance for lying to me all month.” There’s an air of humour in his voice as he pulls you closer still, squeezing himself into your back and planting sleepy kisses against your neck. “Besides, he’ll probably take it better from you. I think he likes you more.”

[bitterspoons]

For once, I thought it was me.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate au where you can hear the songs your soulmate is listening to. Fred asks your best friend—Angelina—to the ball thinking she's his soulmate.

use of y/n

Warnings: Angst and just a lil' fluff

Word Count:

part one / part two coming soon

A/N: of course the first thing I write is a soulmate au 😭—it's fine and I hope you like it.

"Angelina!" Y/n calls, running over to the Gryffindor table—almost tripping over her feet before placing a hand on Angelina's shoulder.

"Yes?" Angelina looked up from her conversation with the Weasley twins and smiled at her best friend. The Great Hall was bustling with noise.

Y/n panted, catching her breath as she fixed her hair. "Sorry—I just—I ran—oh god I'm dying—" Y/n tried to catch her breath before waving her hand at the twins. "Give me a second—continue your conversation..."

Angelina chuckled before turning back to George and Fred. "This is my friend, Y/n." Angelina introduced. "She's in Hufflepuff so I doubt you would've met her."

Y/n waved, stealing some of Angelina's water.

"Why haven't you invited her to some of our parties?" George asked, batting his eyes. "It would've been nice, seeing a pretty face more often."

Angelina rolled her eyes at the flirt, making space next to her for Y/n. "Yeah, I've asked her but she's not a huge fan of social events." She explained. "It's a miracle she's even in the Great Hall—why aren't you with Willow?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out after Divination. Turns out my detention with Professor Sprout is cancelled!" The Hufflepuff said happily, still a bit red from George's flattering.

"Hell yeah!" Angelina cheered. "I told you she loves you."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah but turning her favorite plant into a pair of heels is pushing the line."

Fred cackled. "Y/n, You did what?!"

In her head, a symphony sounded. Him just saying her name sounded like an orchestra.

Pops of warmths fidgeted around her. She had always had a crush on the Weasley, and she never really knew when it happened. She hasn't told a soul and she never would. It was just— he always seemed so happy. She had made him happy, she made him laugh.

Y/n beamed as she explained how she had gotten too caught up with her conversation with Angelina about what shoes to wear for the Yule Ball, she had completely forgotten about the spell she was casting.

"Little Chéri's a troublemaker huh?" Fred teased, scrunching up his nose.

"Chéri?!" Angelina cackled—not a fan of pet names in the slightest.

George grumbled. "Fred has been learning French so he can impress girls."

Y/n laughed, taking a sip of Angelina's water again. "I think it's cute." She bit the tip of her thumbs, an old habit of hers.

"Ever the hopeless romantic, Y/n." Angelina commented, stealing her drink back.

The four engaged in conversation until a Slytherin tapped on Y/n's shoulder. "Uh—Y/n, I think I have a fitting right now." She said awkwardly, getting glares from the Gryffindors.

"Oh!" Y/n shot up, grabbing the last strawberry off of Angelina's plate before grabbing Angelina's pen—sticking it behind her ear—and running off, dragging the Slytherin with her.

"Hey!" Angelina protested, grumbling as she bit into her toast.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, battling Ron for the last corndog.

"Huh? Oh—Y/n and I are helping organise the Ball." Angelina explained, not seeing how Fred watched her run her fingers through her hair as she grabbed another pen to do her Potions Homework. "She's helping make and tailor people's outfits."

"Y/n?" Hermione clarified, popping into the conversation. "She's ridiculously talented, she made the dress I'm wearing!"

"She made adjustments on mine!" Angelina looked at Hermione. "I didn't like how bland my dress was, so she helped bedazzled it."

"Do you think she can fix Fred's dress?" George asked, earning a punch from Fred. "Ow! No seriously though, his tie is all wonky and his pants go way past his feet. Poor bloke's gonna trip!"

Angelina laughed, packing her stuff away and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Find out yourself! I have to go check up on the Frog Choir."

Just a couple minutes later, Fred heard oddly croaky choruses from his soulmate.

●●●

Fred was trying to go the sleep that night, but all he could hear was stupid music.

When he couldn't decipher whether he was hearing it through his soulmate or if he was hearing it in the common room, he shoved his slippers on and slowly went down stairs.

As he peeked his head around the corner, he saw Angelina dancing with somebody—a CD player in the background as they laughed.

It was the same music playing in his head...Is Angelina—actually his soulmate?

He watched Angelina dance with her friend, practicing their dance for the ball before slowly going back upstairs.

Y/n and Angelina fell the floor in a heap, almost crying of laughter as Angelina stepped on Y/n's foot and then went crashing to the floor.

"So, are you planning on asking your mystery crush to the ball?" Angelina asked, rolling onto her stomach and popping the CD out.

Angelina didn't have a clue about her crush on one of the Weasley twins. Y/n refused to tell her, but she did give vague details about why she liked him so much.

"You think I have time for that?" Y/n questioned, brushing her hair. "Even if I did have the time to ask him, he's probably not even my soulmate."

"Who cares?" Angelina asked, exasperated.

Angelina was one of the people who couldn't hear music from their soulmate, it happened more than you'd think—about as common as dyslexia.

Angelina didn't give two fucks about whether the person she was dating was her soulmate, she tended to do whatever she wanted.

"Well—my soulmate is pretty cool too." Y/n protested.

"Well obviously!" Angelina retorted. "They has to be good enough for our Y/n"

"Oh stop it." Y/n laughed, throwing her hairbrush at Angelina. "I won't have time to ask someone and besides, I think he likes someone else." Y/n looked down, fiddling at the edge of her pink pyjamas.

"Your soulmate or your crush?"

"Maybe both!"

●●●

Fred woke up early today, mostly because he couldn't sleep. I mean, he just found his soulmate! This is the moment that everybody waits for, and it finally happened!

Fred was utterly in love with whoever his soulmate was. The two soulmates have sang duets with each other since they could talk—never making any action to try and find each other but Fred would be lying if he said he hadn't blasted music in his ears just to see if someone in the Great Hall would react.

His soulmate was constantly listening to music and singing songs, it comforted him whenever he heard it—especially since he's heard it since he was little.

And it was Angelina, a girl he was been trying not to crush on for ages.

Fred walked down the stairs, almost laughing when he saw Angelina.

Angelina and Y/n were completely passed out on the common room couches, paper sprawled out as they were doing a history of magic essay.

Fred shook Angelina awake. "Angie...Angie!"

Angelina fell off the bed. "What?"

Fred grinned. "I just thought you might wanna head to bed before the rest of the house wakes up."

Angelina rubbed her eyes before looking around—seeing essay papers, pens and her best friend, still sleeping as she sleepily held the tip of her thumb in her mouth and lulled herself asleep. "What time is it?"

"You have a little less than three hours before everybody else wakes up."

Angelina sighed, getting up and separating their papers and pens. "Hey, Fred?"

"Yeah?" He said hopefully.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Angelina handed him a messenger bag with little bows and gold chains decorating it, he took it without question as she continued.

"Do you think you could get Y/n to her common room? This is.. um This is the longest she's slept for a while and I don't know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room."

Fred thought for a moment—but who was he to deny his soulmate? After all, getting into the Hufflepuff dorms were easy—having learned the ins and outs of practically the whole school.

So Fred slung the bag across his shoulder and walked over to Y/n, still sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you!" Angelina grabbed her own supplies and started going up stairs. "You're the best!" She called. "I'll get you a tailoring with her today! Is dinner alright?"

Fred nodded, slowly picked Y/n up, putting her on the couch so he could give her a piggy back ride to her common room. "Hold on..."

Almost as if her sleeping body could hear it, Y/n's body tensed up, making it easier for Fred to carry.

So Fred walked out of the Gryffindor dormitories and started walking in the halls to go to the Hufflepuff common room.

The sun had barely risen, shining dull lights into the hallway and Fred felt Y/n shift in her sleep—ignoring how his skin fluttered as her breath rolled on top of it.

Fred almost stopped walking as Y/n shifted once more, making a small whimper, trying to pull her hand closer to her face.

"Chéri, if you move your hand, you're gonna fall—okay?" Fred said softly, adjusting his grip on her legs, making sure she wouldn't slip.

Y/n hummed in response, tucking her head on Fred's shoulder as he kept on walking.

Fred was halfway to the common room—walking slowly as to not wake up Y/n when he froze.

Having her thumb clasped between her fingers around Fred's chest, supporting her upper body weight—Fred felt her head twitching, needing something to soothe her to sleep.

Not wanting to have to explain the situation to the sleeping girl or disappoint Angelina—Fred adjusted the girl, now giving her a piggy-front, letting Y/n head sit comfortably against his neck.

Fred debated checking whether his face was on fire when the sleeping girl began to press little kisses on his neck, trying to substitute something for her thumb.

Fred continued walking, but why was he so flustered?

Maybe it’s his soulmate’s best friend.

What was her name again? Y/n?

Fred knocked on the Hufflepuff dorm door in the tune of Helga Hufflepuff. Before walking in and taking the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

Trying not to feel awkward, he searched the dorm labels until he saw it.

______________

Girls Dorm #207

- Susan Bones

- Lia Diggory

- Y/n L/n

______________

Praising Merlin that she didn’t have too many roommates— He knocked on the door a few times, jumping up again to make sure Y/n didn’t slip.

"Hello?" A small voice asked, a very tired red head opened the door.

Fred gave an award smile. "I have a delivery?"

The girl smiled before letting him in and pointing at the empty bed and messed up desk.

Feed walked over, clutching on to Y/n as he quickly flipped the blanket open and tucked her instead. Y/n immediately latched onto the blankets.

Fred smiled before looking at her desk—tons of dress designs a long with tons of reminders everywhere when a certain one caught his eyes.

The Weasley Twins Inspired Dress

Curious, he picked up the sketch to see that she managed to make a confetti canon dress, inspired by that time he and George covered the Slytherin team in confetti right before a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

"I think you're cute together," Susan whispered bashfully, her cheeks pink.

"Oh no," her face fell when Fred denied it. "I already found my soulmate today."

"Oh I'm sorry." Susan apologised, combing her hair. "I just thought your h—never mind." She began to point at her neck before waving it off. "I assume you know how to take care of it?"

"Yeah! I'm planning on asking her to the yule ball!" Fred said, not having any idea what Susan was talking about.

"What? Ya know what—" Susan dug through her make up bag before grabbing Fred's arm and swatching some concealer shades. "You're lucky, you're my winter shade." Susan tossed Fred a concealer wand before shooing him out. "Bye!"

Holding onto the concealer, extremely confused, Fred walked back to him common room before going into the bathroom.

"Shit." Fred vocalised, realising why Susan Bones has thrown him concealer.

A light hickey lay on the side of his neck where Y/n had been.

Fred spent the next two hours trying to figure out how concealer worked.

He didn't understand it—instead opting for a scarf instead to cover up the blotchy disaster he created on his neck.

●●●

Y/n genuinely didn't question why she woke up in her bed and more concerned on her planner—you could see her running up and down the halls all day.

"Professor Moody, may I borrow Ron Weasley please?"

Ron showed her his suit for the ball. "Never mind, you're beyond help. Professor Moody, you can have him back." Y/n said, scribbling something out in her planner.

Taking the stairs, Y/n just started walking—flipping to the back of her planner to edit some sketches and ideas for dresses—not noticing the stair cases changing directions.

Walking up and down and sideways along the halls, Y/n kept walking until she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" She said automatically only to be shushed by two voices. "Huh—?"

""SHH!" Y/n looked at the two Weasley twins.

"Why?" She asked, looking around to see nobody.

"I don' know," Fred admitted.

"We're skipping, so I assume we have to be quiet." George finished.

The Hufflepuff scoffed. "I'm not skipping. I did all my work in advance so I could focus of the dress making." She looked down at the planner. "And on that note—you have a appointment with me in two minutes. We can't be late!"

"Does that mean you have the answers?" Fred asked as he got dragged away.

"We can discuss answers after we're on time for our session."

"If it's our appointment, how can we be late?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “It’s fine we’re almost there, Willow’s gonna be upset.”

“Who?”

Y/n dragged Fred near a tree where a small desk, mannequins and color swatches were, Y/n thrust Fred upon a little platform until tree branches began to swing around chaotically.

“Willow! Calm down! This isn’t Ron! This is a different Weasley!” Y/n started yelling.

“Willow? As in the Whomping Willow?!”

“Stop moving!” Y/n snapped, petting the branches. “Willow didn’t like it when your brother nearly killed her with a car. I think she has like— Weasley trauma.”

Fred cackled. “Weasley trauma?” A tree branch slapped the back of his head. “Hey!”

“She’s very sensitive.” Y/n defended. “Speaking of Ron, please tell me your suit isn’t as hideous.”

“Don’t worry— I just have a normal suit… I wasn’t sure if I should’ve brought it so I just wore it—”

“That’s perfect. Mind shrugging off the jacket and scarf?”

Nervously, Fred took off the scarf and jacket, revealing the concealer mess on his neck.

“Oh sweetie, what the hell happened to your neck!” Y/n cooed. "Goodness, let me help you. You're gonna break out... Accio makeup kit!"

"I have every shade under the sun, I'm helping people with their makeup too." Y/n waved her hand down. "Get down, off." Y/n stepped onto the platform as Fred stepped off, facing Y/n.

Y/n took a makeup wipe and cleaned up the spot before taking out a whisk and spinning it on the hickey.

"When did you learn how to hide hickey? Does that even work?" Fred asked, watching the metal kitchen utensil.

"Oh hush, it's common knowledge." Y/n pushed his face away, continuing to whisk. "It helps the blood disperse. Next time, put ice on it before it bruises."

Shade matching and blending it in, Y/n hoped Fred couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest as she finished hiding the red mark. "See? Like it never even happened."

Willow presented a mirror for Fred to see for himself, thank god because that scarf was very itchy.

"Now, how much are we thinking off the tie?" Y/n held up a tape measure and a sharpie, tucking the sharpie behind her ear. "It supposed to be around your belt buckle...Do you feel comfortable with it over here?"

Fred nodded, looking at her in the mirror more than him. Why hadn't he seen her more often? Has she been friends with Angelina for a long time?

"Lovely...okay do you mind if I take this?" Y/n took the colorful tie off Fred and held it up to Willow." Willow, this is Fred's tie." Willow held onto the tie.

"Okay just one second..." Y/n brought out a sheet of brown fabric and a sheet of black fabric and hopped onto the platform with him. She pulled the black one around half of his chest and the brown one around the other half.

"Okay so I think the brown is more flattering on you, I feel like you look paler with the black one—Hey!"

Fred's head started tilting to one side as he imagined Angelina and her hanging out—still in disbelief he had actually found his soulmate.

Y/n grabbed his jaw and moved it so that it faced her. "Sorry, I just need to see—" Y/n furrowed her eyebrows confused as Fred pointed at something in the distance behind her.

Y/n looked behind her only for her jaw to pulled back and facing Fred, pulling the same move she had accidentally done to him. "Touché," She smiled—desperately hoping she wasn't blushing.

"How long have you friends with Angelina?" Fred asked, snapping Y/n out of her mental freakout.

"Oh—uh, since first year. We met on the train." Y/n cast a spell to turn Fred's suit brown. "Yeah that looks better—you looked like you were going to a funeral."

“Then why do I never see you guys hang out?”

Y/n thinks before answering. “I like to keep myself busy, that or I just eat in the kitchen.”

“Why not hang out with Angelina?”

“Uh- Well Alicia and I don’t really get along so I don’t want to make it weird for Angelina. Besides, most of the time Angelina hangs out with me in the kitchen.”

So that’s why Fred never sees Angelina in the Great hall. “Why the kitchen?”

“Because the house elves love me.” Y/n smiled, writing her to do list. “Besides, I like baking.”

Fred stepped off the platform and watched Y/n write. “Do you bake any of the food in the Great Hall?”

“The brownies, but sometimes I also cook the ribs but I like baking more than cooking.”

Fred loves the brownies, he eats them every time they show up on the table.

“Speaking of food… It’s dinner, you better hurry before all the seats are taken.” Y/n starting putting things away and getting out a dress presumingly belonging to her next appointment.

Fred stepped off the small platform, checking his covered hickey once more before starting to turn around. "You aren't going to dinner?"

"Maybe later." She responded quickly, casting a spell on the dress. "Not hungry. " She said briefly. "You can pick up your tie by like tomorrow."

"Alright then, I'll see you around?"

"Sure. Angelina! Can you grab that?" A piece of fabric swirled away in the wind near an approaching Angelina.

Fred walked away, happy with his day and his fitting appointment.

(A/N lmao I have nooooo idea how to end these. Part two could be ready tomorrow or in 3 months, we'll see.)

[surielstea]

Bejeweled Daggers

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Bimbo!FemReader

Summary: Reader struggles to find her place in the Inner Circle, Az comforts her.

Warnings: Amren’s a bitch but it’s canon | angst (not inflicted by Az) | Hurt/Comfort

3.8k words

I pad into my mate's study with a wild grin on my face, holding my minidress tight to my body as I approach the male who was peacefully reading.

"The others will be here any minute," I croon and Azriel's eyes drag from the page of his book to me, raking up my figure, the strapless dress putting the expanse of my neck and collar bone on display. "Can you tie me?" I whirl around and as a reply he grips the strings of my corset and then pulls tight, knowing exactly how much I hated it when it was too loose.

"I haven't seen this dress," He muttered as he tied the strings into bows. I turn my head to look at him.

"Cause I bought a new one, duh," I roll my eyes. "I should've guessed," He smiled softly and once he was done with my corset I spun back around.

"You like it? The clerk said it looked like it was made for me when I tried it on," I flash him a toothy grin and he returns it with a smirk.

"It's very pretty, but we talked about length," He hums and I groan, slinging my arms around his neck.

"C'mon Azzie, everyone knows I'm yours," I sing, kissing up the column of his throat, he swallows thickly in control.

"Cassian needs a reminder," The shadow singer grumbled beneath his breath and I giggled, rising onto the tips of my toes and pecking his lips, which he returned chastely.

"You're so cute," I say and he smiles down at me.

"Likewise, love," He inclines and presses a kiss to my temple, then pecks all over my face until he finally finds my lips.

I sling my arms around the back of his neck and lean closer, pulling him into me as my chest presses against his.

I smile against the feel of his lips sealed over mine, the familiarity and warmth of it making me grin like a madwoman. He pulled back with a sloppy smirk and I giggled at the blush tinging his cheeks, reaching forward and wiping the lipgloss off his bottom lip. "If you ruined my makeup I'm gonna kill you," I threaten and he shakes his head.

"It's just lipgloss," He shrugs innocently, clearly guilty of messing it up.

"It's expensive, I can't reapply it every five seconds because you want to kiss me," I reason and he frowns.

"I'll buy you all the lipgloss you want," He hums. "Just let me kiss you," He sighed, his hands roaming from my waist down to the curve of my ass, gripping it in his large hands. I squeal at his sudden urge and pull him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

"Now you're all glittery," I murmur, pulling away and wiping at his neck.

"Everything you touch turns to glitter," He says and I scowl up at him. "In a good way, my love," He smiles down at me but before my grin can return he adds, "Except that one time you bedazzled truth-teller, don't ever do that again," He said, his voice cold but my mischievous giggle cut right through it.

"It was so funny when you had to torture that guy with a sparkly knife," I murmur past my laugh and he glares at me.

"It took me weeks to get that shit off, I'm still finding sequins on it," He sighed and I only continue to cackle, entirely forgetting that Cassian and I had done that when Azriel foolishly left the sacred knife out on the counter.

"I was trying to teach you a lesson," I roll my eyes.

"Yeah? What lesson is that?" He looks down at me pointedly and I smile like a maniac.

"Not to leave sharp objects out," I shrug.

"You're right, I should've known two fully grown five hundred-year-olds would put glitter on my knife," He grumbled.

"Or, children, I'm just saying don't make a habit out of putting weapons in low places," I add, wrapping my arms around his torso, propping my chin up on his chest as I stare up at him. He looks at me with slight shock. This is the first time I had ever expressed wanting a child before, to say he was stunned as well as relieved was an understatement.

A knock at the front door makes his shoulders tense and I beam, rising onto my toes and pecking his lips before slipping from his grasp and leaving the office.

When I opened the door I was met with a wide-grinned Cassian and a thoroughly annoyed Nesta. My smile matches the Illyrian’s and I open the door wider for them to come in. "You guys are early," I croon.

"Cassian insisted on it," Nesta huffs, shucking off her jacket and hanging it on the hook

"Oh don't act like you don't want to be here," I beam wildly at her. "Or are you still pissed I missed training?" I sigh dramatically.

"For the third time in a row? Yes," She nodded, making her way to the dining table where a charcuterie board sat lined with cheeses and crackers, she opted for a grape, popping it into her mouth with a contemplative look on her face.

"I don't understand, if Azriel shows up to help train what are you doing at home?" She grumbled but before I could reply Azriel's arm slithers around my waist.

"She insists on getting her beauty rest," Azriel excuses and I smile wickedly.

"It's not my fault I'm tired after you keep me up all night," I tease and Nesta's cheeks flush pink, making me giggle. "I'll come to the next training I promise, I'm sure Cassian will have my head if I don't," I say, looking to the warrior who was currently stuffing his mouth full of cheese and crackers, not paying any mind to the three of us.

The knock at the door makes my grin falter slightly but Azriel was quick to answer it.

I had always been the closest with Nesta out of everyone in the inner circle. Feyre was kind and Rhys was charming, but they all kind of looked at me as if I was only some ditzy girl. Which, granted, wasn't far off but they belittled me and took pity on Azriel for being stuck with a girl like me as a mate. Nesta saw the way they looked at me and knew how it felt to be undermined.

Azriel had reassured me a multitude of times that I was the only one for him, that I was a Carynthian warrior far greater than a pretty face. "Deep breaths," Nesta mumbles as Amren, Rhysand, and Feyre with Nyx in her arms file into the house. I bump her lightly with my shoulder and she returns it playfully.

I greeted the guests with a bright smile on my face, and Nyx was particularly pleased to see me. "Hi, little lord," I say as I take the two-year-old from Feyre's arms, propping him on my hip.

"Auntie I missed you," He clings to my side, nuzzling his face into my shoulder and I giggle.

“I think Uncle Az and I are watching you soon," I say and he cheers with a wide smile, that smile is one of the reasons I wanted a kid in the first place. If baby fever was a person, it'd take the form of Nyx.

The inner circle had come over to talk strategy on how to get each court to sign Rhysand's new peace treaty, humans included. Apparently, they've been working on this since the war with Hybern, the entire thing managing to fly under my radar.

Everyone was in the sitting room, staring at a large map of Prythian sprawled out on the coffee table along with dates and schedules scribbled along the borders of it. I had tuned out most of what they were saying, using confusing language and names of people whom I did not know made me lose interest and grow frustrated with my lack of comprehension.

I stuffed my face into Azriel's neck defeated, my legs sprawled over his lap as he traced with the hem of my skirt.

"You tired, baby?" He murmurs quietly and I shake my head no with a huff. "What's wrong, hm?" He nudges the side of my face with his nose and I slowly lift from the crook of his shoulder to look at him.

"I'm just confused, I don't know this stuff," I sigh, toying with my hands anxiously. His fingers intertwine with my fidgeting ones, calming me. I hated not understanding, it put me on edge. Being raised in the hewn city without a clue of what the real world was supposed to look like would do that to you.

"I'll walk you through it later tonight okay?" He tilts his head and I nod with creased brows. His other hand comes to my jaw, scarred thumb brushing over my cheek reassuringly. "Don't worry so much, I'll explain whatever you want alright?" He stresses and I reply with a dip of my head, then lean on his shoulder again.

I place soft pecks on his neck throughout the rest of the meeting, ignoring the others and focusing on my mate, and him alone. After a few more minutes of just dwelling there, attempting to tune out their words I begin to wear out and know better than to distract Azriel with my boredom.

I swing my legs off of Azriel's lap and stand with quiet movements. Azriel looked up at me curiously, hand linking with mine, silently asking where I was going.

"I think you're right, I'm just tired," I whisper and he hesitates, then inevitably nods— but before I can leave his grasp he pulls me closer, quietly demanding a kiss with a dramatic pucker of his lips. I roll my eyes at his dramatics but lean down nonetheless and chastely plant a kiss on his mouth.

"I'll see you in the morning, alright?" I murmur against his lips and he nods with a soft smile. I mirror it and he allows me to leave his hold. "Night Nes," I pat her shoulder and she looks up at me tiredly.

"I better see you at training tomorrow," She warns and I wave her off with a flick of my hand.

"We'll see," I tease as I travel down the hall.

I tried to sleep but it hadn't come. Truthfully I wasn't tired, I just wanted to get away from the stares of the others. I could still feel their eyes on me. Defiling and obvious like they weren't trying to hide their dislike for me.

I run a bath, eager to wash that feeling of their eyes on me off. I tie my hair up and add soaps and oils to the water, running my hand under it until it gets hot before stripping down and stepping into the basin that was slowly filling. A shiver runs down my spine at the sudden change of temperature, my body tensing at first then muscles relaxing into the water. I sigh in slight relief and lean onto the back of the tub, pearlescent bubbles slowly beading along the surface of the water in a pastel pink shade.

I smile and gather a pile of foam in my hands, lightly blowing air into them and creating a larger bubble. I smile but the expression drops when I hear a loud shout over the sound of the running water. I crease my brows when I recognize the voice as Azriel’s.

Quickly I turn off the faucet and allow the room to go silent. Azriel never shouted, so I was confused as to what all the ruckus was about.

“You have no right to speak of her like that,” My mate claims on the other side of the wall and my back straightens at the coldness in his voice. He was beyond angry.

“I’m just saying, she doesn’t really belong with the rest of us,” Amren’s unmistakable voice made the water around me suddenly feel cold.

“What the hel is wrong with you?” Nesta spews.

“She's my mate, I don’t give a fuck if you think she belongs or not,” Azriel claims, and my eyes widen, my hands coming up to my mouth. They were talking about me. Quickly I move closer to the wall, hovering beside it to get better audibility. Was it eavesdropping if it was me they were discussing?

“Amren you promised you wouldn’t do this,” A voice sighed so quietly I couldn’t make out who it was.

“You talked about this before you came?” Nesta rages, her voice louder as if she was standing now.

“She’s a Carynthian, most of you can’t even claim that title yet you’re so quick to underestimate her,” Cassian’s defending voice was close, like he was leaning against the connecting wall between me and the sitting room.

“I’m only stating the truth, what does she bring to the table?” Amren continued and I could practically feel Azriel’s bloodlust seeping through the walls, the lights of the bathroom flickered and I realized he was draining the light, his shadows absorbing any existing brightness.

“Get out of my fucking house,” Azriel seethes and offers no other words to the eldest of the group and I imagine she stormed off because the next thing I hear is the front door slamming shut.

There's a moment of shared silence, but no words come before the same door opens and shuts again.

There were muttering and sighs in the next room over but there were no words I was capable of making out. I could tell by the tone as well as the femininity that it was Nesta speaking, I could only assume Cassian stuck around with her as well and was proven correct when I heard the familiar warmth of his voice a moment later.

It wasn’t long before they left as well. Leaving the house silent and the lights dim.

I couldn’t help but let the tears slip from my eyes, I felt pathetic for silently crying over Amren’s lone opinion but it hurt. The inner circle knew Azriel better than anyone, if they truly thought I didn’t bring anything forward then perhaps I wasn’t the one for Azriel, maybe the cauldron managed to get it wrong, even if I loved him more than anything.

“Love?” The soft knock at the door makes me startle, quickly wipe away my tears as I move away from the wall I had my ear pressed to.

“Come in,” My voice cracks but I pray he didn’t recognize it. The door creaks, shadows come in first, then him. I smile at him softly and he mirrors it.

“I thought you were going to bed?” He asks and I shrug.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I murmur and he comes closer, grabbing the stool from my vanity and pulling it to the rim of the tub, placing himself on it and I find myself amused at the view of the intimidating Shadow Singer on my fluffy pink stool.

“You hear all that?” He creases his brows. I give a dip of my head with a small frown pulling at my lips. “Don’t let it get to you, alright?” He stresses and I nod again while muttering, “I know.”

He sighs, his expression softening as I avoid his gaze and continue to admire the pastel bubbles that made the room smell like peaches. “Come over here, I’ll wash your hair,” He offers and I flick my eyes up to him with a small look of hesitance, he nods reassuringly and I do as he says, turning around and backing myself against his side of the tub.

He tilted my head back before pouring warm water down my locks, running his hands through it smoothly with the gentlest of detangles when he found a knot near the ends. After my hair was successfully wet he lathered it in my most luxurious shampoo. I cared deeply about my appearance, it took a lot of time to look as pretty as I did, but at this moment I hadn’t felt any of it, just dejection and a sense of exclusion.

Shadows dipped into the water and then sprung from the surface in playful loops, noticing my low spirits and attempting to cheer me up. I smile and reach my hand out towards the darkness, to which the strands swirl up my forearm excitedly. Azriel rinses the soap from my hair before moving onto the conditioner. “Do you want to talk about it?” I tilt my head back, catching a glimpse of him from my peripherals.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I know I love you and that’s all that matters” He replies and a frown pulls at my lips. “Unless you want to talk?” His hands freeze their massage on my scalp. “I’m fine,” Lie. “I don’t need comfort, and I don’t need to be protected,” I murmured. “But I appreciate you defending me,” I turn my hand to the side to look at him with a weak smirk.

“I can tell when you’re lying, love,” He intones and I flush looking back down to the suds in the water.

“Okay so maybe what Amren said got to me,” I huff. “She was right,” I confess.

“She wasn’t,” Azriel’s tone was unwavering with no hesitance. There was no swaying him.

“Azriel, think about it. What do I bring to the table?” I ask as he washes the conditioner from my hair.

“You made all the food, and set up the whole meeting,” He explains and I roll my eyes.

“You would’ve had the meeting with or without the food, the fact that’s the only thing you can come up with shows just how pathetic I am,” I spell out and his expression hardens before he says, “You didn’t let me finish.”

I look at him longingly, then let out a sigh, hinting that he can continue. “Don’t worry about what you bring to a war meeting, it’s not your scene and that’s okay,” He murmurs, gathering a fluffy towel for me as I step out of the warm bath.

“But it’s your scene,” I argue as he wraps the warmed towel around me, his hands patting down my body until I am dry.

“I love that we’re different, you’re a breath of fresh air from all of that, like sunlight in a cell,” He smiled, scarred hands coming up to cup my cheeks. I never forgot Azriel’s background, how torturous his half-brothers were, his father locking him up in that cell like he was some kind of animal. “We’re cauldron fated, made for each other aren’t we?” He points out.

“My parents are mates and my father used my mother until she died,” I state. “You don’t have to like each other, you’re just paired on offspring,” I shrug and a soft smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

“But I do love you and that won’t ever change, isn’t that enough?” He asks and I look up at him, into those familiar eyes that always managed to read me like an open book.

“I don’t want to come between you and your friends,” I whisper.

“You’re not, Amren’s always going to have her issues until you risk your life or save someone else’s, she’s just like that,” He shrugs.

“Okay,” A shiver runs down my spine from the cold of the room against my dripping hair.

He notices and guides me out of the bathing chamber into our bedroom. He walks me to the armoire where he collects my softest nightgown and a pair of undergarments.

Silently he helps me get dressed, his touches tender and reassuring as he slips the cotton underwear up my thighs then pulls my baby pink nightgown over my head.

I walk over to my nightstand and brush through my damp hair a few times before slipping into the bed with a tired yawn.

Azriel climbed in next to me after stripping until he was half-naked. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me right into him, my hands press against his bare chest and he smiles down at me. “Feel better?” He mumbles and I nod with a smile, it was the truth. I was coming across the realization that it didn’t quite matter if I thought I belonged or not, because I knew I loved Azriel, and I knew no one could rip me away from him even if they tried.

“I love you too, by the way,” I whisper and he presses a kiss to my forehead before a smirk stretches over his lips.

“I know,” He murmurs.

I look up at him with a beaming grin, then scoot up only an inch to press my lips onto his, my hand coming up to his cheek as I bare my soul onto his with the action, so innocent yet so powerful, like an electric charge between us, a current of both devotion and admiration that was outmatched against anything I had ever felt before, and the sensation returned every time his lips were on mine.

“Go to sleep love, you have to get some rest because I think Nesta might take down that door if you don’t show up to training tomorrow,” He hums and I groan, remembering I had to stay true to my word. “Valkyrie forced to do Valkyrie training, a true travesty,” He mumbled into my neck, dipping his head down into it.

“Shut up, Azzie,” I pout, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into my breasts to silence him.

“Yes ma’am,” He mumbles dreamily and I giggle, loosening my arms so he can look up at me. I pinch my lower lip between my teeth as I brush his hair back, admiring his sharp features. I run my thumb down the bridge of his nose, then trace beneath his lips that I never got sick of kissing.

“We could sleep, or we could find a better use of our time?” I suggest.

“I’m not fucking you senseless then forcing you to go to training tomorrow, you’d be too sore,” He shakes his head.

“Then don’t fuck me senseless?” I suggest.

“You know I’m incapable,” He replies and I crack a smile because I know he’s right. He pushes up and chastely pecks my lips.

“After training tomorrow we will, you always look your best in those tight leathers anyways,” He smiles, his hand coming to my upper thigh, notably gripping it for emphasis.

“I think I just always look my best,” I toss back and he nods.

“Also true,” He murmurs. “Now sleep, I’ll be here in the morning,” He mumbled tiredly and I nodded, leaning down once more and pressing one last kiss to his lips.

“Night night, Azzie,” I murmur.

“Goodnight, my love,”

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[chlorinecake]

Okay this is my first time doing one of these but could you do like how the enhypen members would react to seeing you practice their part in the choreography of one of their songs

「 ✦ enha reaction’s WHEN YOU LEARN THEIR PART IN A DANCE CHOREOGRAPHY ✦ 」

𓂃 𓈒 or when they see you dance for the first time

idol bf ! 엔하이픈 x non idol ! f. reader ⃘ 🎧

contains ∿ 🧋 pet names, kisses & teasing genre fluff, crack, est. dating 1192 words

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 ✴︎

He would be quite impressed honestly, taking pride in his sweet girlfriend wanting to mirror his talent in some way.

“You gotta get the head isolation down at this part, though,” he critiqued, putting a finger to his lips while dancing Sweet Venom.

“Well, if it looks wrong, blame yourself, because that’s who I’ve been copying this whole time,” you teased, poking him in the side of his waist and making him chuckle.

“Hmm… maybe your performance just needs a little bedazzling... Be right back!”

Your boyfriend ran out of the dancing studio, telling you to close your eyes once he came back before nestling a cowgirl hat atop your head like an angel on a Christmas tree.

You reacted immediately upon seeing your reflection in the mirror, a now smiley Heeseung standing behind your frame, “What?! Wait- When did you get this?”

Literally your face right now: 😭 

“People don’t call me an ace for nothing, babe. Now c’monnn, let’s dance together this time…,” he urged in a sing-songy voice, playfully tugging at your hands while spinning you around, “I wanna see my pretty cowgirl dance for me some more...”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 ✴︎

“Yeah, I literally have the world’s coolest girlfriend now…,” Jay huffed proudly, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head after catching you dance in the living room.

“Now? What do you mean now?!?!,” you asked offendedly, pouting at him slightly.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned to bring this up, but are you ready to become my Mrs. Park?”

“I've been ready since the day we met, Jay,” you smiled, burying your face in his chest while hugging him, “But I would've danced your part in a song a lot sooner if I knew it'd get me a ring...”

“Oh? So a diamond is all you want me for now? Wowwww, babe-”

You gave him a look that automatically let him know you weren't too fond of the comment he just made, “Kidding” he said, ruffling your hair playfully, “I know you love me... enough to copy me, apparently.”

“Should we break out in synchronized dancing now?” You offered, playing Sacrifice Eat Me Up from the beginning on your phone.

“Yes… but only if you can keep up with me, of course.”

*Insert Jay's infamous Roblox smirk*

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 ✴︎

The definition of 🧍‍♂️when you pulled him aside to show off the new choreography you'd been working on for the past hour.

Goofy laugher pt. 1

“Is this actually happening right now?,” he asked while laughing shyly, just after you finished ✨performing✨ for him…

“What do you mean? D-did it look bad?,” you asked worriedly, part of your heart still feeling warm though from hearing his shy giggle earlier.

“No, no, you did great, it’s just… why my part?” He continued, hoping to draw the conversation in a different direction, given how flustered he truly felt.

“Because you look hot while doing it... I felt inspired,” you said cheekily, walking up to Jake and placing your hands on his chest, Jake’s hands wrapping around your waist as he looked back down at you.

“Babe, you can’t say stuff like that then act all playful without expecting my brain to short-circuit,” he sighed, face heating up as he looked back down at your giggling frame within the hug.

“Well, did I at least do your part in the dance any justice or did that make your brain-malfunctioning even worse?,” you pouted with puppy-dog eyes as if to persuade his anger, even though you already could tell he liked it.

“No, love… I'm just in shock, honestly... you did criminally well.”

*Insert second-hand embarrassment from Jake's corny ahh pun*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ✴︎

Sunghoon was initially kinda salty about you having locked yourself up in the garage all morning on his day off, but all those feelings went away once he caught on to what you were up to.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could come in here,” you yelped, just as your boyfriend barged in the garage, catching you mid dance move.

You had been practicing Chaconne because you knew it was one of his favorite songs and you figured it'd cheer him to see you supporting his interests.

“Don’t mind me,” he started, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, “I’m just observing... please, continue.”

“God, Hoon, you’re embarrassing me,” you whined, covering your face from the way he was staring you up and down in this moment.

“It’s cute, though… watching you stress yourself out trying to dance like me when the pro's been one call away this whole time.”

The pro?, you thought to yourself, the self-proclaimed title being enough to snap you out of your bashfulness.

“I might’ve been practicing for a while, but I’m already doing some parts better than you,” you scoffed competitively, making him laugh at your words to the point where his dimples started showing.

“Cocky and shy? What an interesting combination… did you get that from me, too?”

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 ✴︎

Sunoo smiled knowingly as he walked into the dance studio, grabbing a nearby rag to pat-dry the sweat on your face, “you’ve been avoiding me all day and working out like crazy, so what’s going on?”

“I’ve been working on this tough choreography, actually … but since you’re here, maybe you can help?”

“Oh, okay,” he chirped, watching as you started to dance out the steps to Fever, stopping when you got to the part you’d been struggling with.

“How do you do this part? It just looks so much better when you do it…,” your voice stalled as you saw his cheeks expand with a smile on the mirror, “SUNOO!?”

Goofy laugher pt. 2–

The guy was quite literally laughing his ass off at you right now, feeling both a mix of embarrassment and flattery at your actions.

He noticed you pouting, covering his mouth to stall his giggles before speaking, “I’m sorry babe, you just looked so cute while dancing, I couldn’t hold back!”

“It’s supposed to look sexy though,” you whined, knowing that it’d get him to hug you in response.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ✴︎

“So is this your new idea of teasing me?,” Jungwon asked upon getting back home from work, the first thing in sight being you in front of the TV, quite literally passing the mic to one of his fancams.

You audibly scoffed at his words, pausing the video and giving him a look, “This is hardly teasing, Wonie… just ‘cause I’m your girlfriend, it doesn’t mean I can’t fangirl over you from time to time…”

He sat his duffel bag on the ground, walking up to give you his usual ‘I’m home’ kiss and hug before responding, “Fine then… but you definitely need to keep practicing that footwork if you want me to take you seriously.”

“Heyyy,” you whined, playfully smacking his shoulder which only made him laugh at how adorable you look, “now who’s teasing?”

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 ✴︎

“Okay, I do not stick my butt out like that when I do it. Watch,” Niki corrected, initially having cringed upon catching you dance Bite Me, but had now turned your little activity into a whole ass dance-off.

“Yes, you 110% do... you always have to babygirl-ify the dance moves,” you replied matter-of-factly, starting from the pre-chorus and flipping your hair more than necessary just like him.

“I know you’re about to start spewing trash whenever you use made up words,” he scoffed with fake annoyance, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips after seeing you dance so passionately.

“Stop, I can tell you’re smiling! Just admit that you’re impressed by me, Riki, and take the L… or W since you have a talented girlfriend…”

“Fine… you’re right… I am highly impressed… both by your dancing skills and choice of vocabulary,” he confessed playfully, giving you a side hug and kissing the top on your head.

“Maybe we should work towards debuting as a couple duo now... I just know that everyone would bias us…,” he thought out loud, making you giggle at his words.

tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[briefalpacashark]

~Drunk Boys~

The boys from 141 get drunk and you have to pick them up.

Warning: Drunk, violence.

Parts inspired from New Girl. If you know you know.

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One lovely evening you sat in your little office space. The boys had headed off quite some time ago for a few drinks. Your usual Friday night outing didn't include you that time because of a few reports you had put off. It was pulling onto 1am when your phone started to ring. It was a new number you had never seen before.

“Hello, this is Y/N speaking,” you said.

“Hey uh doc?” It was Gaz voice that came through the call. 

“Gaz?” you asked.

“Who you talking to?” you could hear Jonny ask in the background.

“I'm talking to doc,” Gaz stated.

“Oh, why?” Jonny whispered.

“I don't know,” Gaz murmured back. It didn't take a detective to establish by their slurred tones that they were drunk.

“Gaz, why are you calling me from a random number?” you asked.

“I don't know. Our phones got wet,” he explained.

“Our?” you asked.

“Yeah Me, Soap, Ghost and Price,” he stated with a sassy tone, as if it was your fault for not knowing. 

“So you fucked you phones?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Gaz nodded.

“And you called me, why?” you asked. There was silence for a bit.

“Captain, why am I calling Doc again?” Gaz asked.

“Because we lost the fucking car and we need a lift back to base,” Price snapped in the distance.

“Because we lost the fucking car and we need a lift back to base,” Gaz tone was much calmer and sweeter than Prices. A small smile worked its way onto your face.

“Alright, ill be there soon. Where are you?” you asked, making your way to the door.

“Not at the base,” Gaz said.

“I know that Gaz. Where are you now?” It was like talking to a toddler.

“Oh, We're at McDonalds,” he said before the line went dead. There were three McDonalds in the town. You thought they would be at the one closest to the bar. You were right. You were about to pull into the car park when you paused. Alittle down the street, right under the McDonalds sign sat four blobs. Driving up to it, you slammed on the brakes at what you saw. 

Price was sitting with his arms crossed. His hat looked to have been ripped in half and then shakily put back together with some staples, a tuft of his hair sticking out the top. Next to him Ghost with a traffic cone on his head and one tucked in his lap as he sat cross-legged. He was hugging it, and the one in his lap had been drawn on, and made up to look like a person, with a hat and a bikini loosely tied around it. One of his jacket sleeves was missing as if it had been torn clean off. Jonny sat next to him shirtless, with a patch of hair missing from his chest. Over it a pink glittery 21st birthday sash. His mohawk sprinkled with glitter and a kilt. Gaz had left in a pair of jeans, he was now in a pair of pink booty shorts that you would place money on that had some word like bitch or booty on the back of bedazzled gems. A crown of beer cans ducked taped around his head compelled the fit. All about them, strewn across the floor was a variety of McDonald's food, ranging from ice-creams to nuggets. They were all happily munching away. And they were all missing their left shoe?

You got out of the car phone at the ready.

“Say cheese boys,” you called. Drunkenly, they all looked up in your general direction, taking a photo. You chuckled, pocketing your phone and hands as you looked over them all. Wondering what the hell happened to them. 

“Ah, it's doc. What are you doing here, lovey?” Jonny asked in excitement, throwing his hands to the air.

“I'm here to pick you boys up,” you said.

“Pah, no we're alright. We've still got to go to another bar. Ain't that right LT?” Jonny asked, waving you away.

“Aye. I want another lager,” Ghost stated defiantly.

“I think you boys have had enough. Just look at the state of ya,” you gestured to them. 

“Wow, body shaming. Shame on you Y/N,” Gaz slurred, shaking his head disappointingly.

“Your all wet. Each of you has a piece of clothing damaged and all of you haven't even made eye contact with me yet,” you explained. Instantly, they all turned to stare into your eyes.

“Bull shit,” Jonny hiccuped before taking a bite of his burger. 

“Sargent, Report,” Price spoke up. You paused, considering his words as he stared down at the road in front of him.

“Report sir?” you asked. He nodded, tipping forward ever so slightly. Your eyes widened. He was absolutely plastered. They all were. 

“Your all drunk as fuck,” you said simply, your sentence finishing in a bewilder chuckle. The boys could hold their liquer, hell you have ever seen Gaz and Jonny drunk. 

“Am not,” Jonnys offended tone had you laughing again.

“Of sorry. My mistake, your only eating ice cream burger because you want to,” you jabbed you fingers at the burger in his hands. The ice cream was dripping down his arms and it looked like he had stacked nuggets, chips and a shit ton of cheese into the mix.

“As a matter of fact I did want to,” he said moving his hand about, the contents of the burger slopping onto the ground.

“Awww,” Jonny whined.

“Five second rule bruv,” Gaz said reaching bow to pick up a handful of the mess reconstructing the burger and handing it back to Jonny.

“Thanks Gaz,” Jonny seemed genuinely thankful. You held back a gag as he moved it to his mouth.

“Don't eat that,” you warned. You sure as hell didn't want him getting sick of all the gems that were now thrown into the burger mix. 

“I'll do what I want to do, because I can do whatever I want to do because I can do it,” he slurred.

“Jonny you eat that burger and I'll never speak to you again,” you proposed the ultimatum. He paused, pondering for a moment.

“What if I drink it?” he asked.

“Your gonna drink a burger?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“Aye,” he nodded confidently.

“I bet you a tenner you can't,” Price spoke up. The poor man looked to be dozing in and out of sleep.

“I'll take that bet,” Jonny said.

“Jonny that was on the road,” you pleaded.

“And?” he asked.

“Put it down,” you ordered sternly. With a grumble, he chucked the burger down like a toddler throwing a tantrum. The boys held back their giggles. You heard that right giggle. And it was stared by none other than the man himself. Price. He was giggling. The high-pitched noise sounded off coming from him.

“Ohhhhhhhh mums mad at you,” Gaz joked, nudging his side.

“Sod off,” Jonny grumbled.

“Alright where’s the phone you called me from?” you asked.

“Why?” Gaz questioned.

“Because you called me from a random number, which means you had someone else’s phone. By the state of you lot I wouldn't be surprised if you stole it,” you explained.

“Right, it's over there,” Gaz grabbed his thumb to the phone booth. You first thought they had called you from it, but when you noticed the little pink box, you walked up to it to get a closer look. It was an iPhone. In a pink case, it was cracked to kingdom come and they had somehow lodged it in the credit card reader. You tried tugging it out to no avail. What you did find was Gaz’s phone propped up on the little stand with his contacts open with your name and number on it. Deciding not to question the backwards thinking that led them there you pocketed Gaz’s phone, walking back to the boys.

“Alright, I want the truth ok. What happened?” you asked a little concerned.

“Meet up with some airforce boys. They tried to act all high and mighty,” Price shrugged.

“Said they could drink more than us,” Ghost added.

“We had to prove them wrong,” Jonny explained.

“And we did. But then they brought out, Um what was it called?” Gaz clicked his fingers. 

“Abstanance,” Jonny proclaimed proudly. 

“Absinthe?” you asked in shock.

“Hell yeah, drunk those fuckers under the table.” Ghost nodded.

“Dunk yourselves under the table by the looks of it. Why are you wet? And what the fuck happened to ya shoes?” you asked.

“The ducks were drowning,” Gaz stated simply.

“And there was a bar that takes your shoe when you start a tab. It's to prevent running out without payed your tab,” Jonny added.

“So you all rescued ducks and ran out on a tab?” you asked. The boys pondered for a moment realized how bad it sounded. 

“Yes,” Ghost nodded.

“No,” the rest of them said. 

“And only Ghost rescued the ducks, I fell in, Gaz tried to rescue me but couldn't and Price saved us both,” Jonny explained as if it fixed it all.

“You shouldn't have been hanging around ponds this drunk. It's dangerous,” you murmured.

“For your information, it wasn't a pond,” Gaz stated defensively.

“Oh yeah, what was it?” you cooed back.

“It was the fountain,” he pointed across the way into the park where a fountain was lit up. A knee deep fountain. 

“Right, get in the car. Come on,” the boys groaned.

“We can't,” Gaz said.

“And why not?” you asked.

“Cause,” he trailed off. “Legs an’t working,” he finished. The boys all gave him approving nodds thinking his excuse was to tire brilliance.

“Well, I guess I'll just help you. Come on,” you helped Gaz up first, sliding him into the back of the car. 

“I don't wanna go,” Jonny whined.

“I know big guy,” you cooed. Sliding him in next to Gaz, you shook your head when they started giggling. 

“Your turn,” you gestured Ghost up. 

“Am I under arrest?” he asked.

“What? No,” you shook your head.

“Oh really. Seemed like it.” his hint of sass had you pointing to the car. With a grumble he got up and walked to the car, slipping into the middle seat. You frowned, ducking your head to see the other door open, Jonny now sitting at the far side and Gaz nowhere to be seen. Looking back to the makeshift picnic, you saw him back at the phone booth.

“For fuck’s sake, Stay,” you order the two in the car. Walking up to him, you frowned as he held the phone up to his ear.

“What you doing Gaz?” you asked.

“Ringling Doc. She needs to come pick us up,” he said whole heartedly forgetting that you were there already. With a huffed you took him by the arms, pulling him back. You sighed when you saw Ghost and Jonny sitting back on the curb happily munching away. You sat Gaz in the back of the car, deciding to lock the back door this time. You then filed in Jonny than Ghost. Closing the door behind them, you made your way back to Price.

“Come on sir,” you called softly. He looked up to you and with the biggest beaming brightest smile, and he giggled. God you had never seen anything more pure.

“Your sweet Doc,” he said. 

“Thank You sir. Now can you get in the car please,” you begged. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded, suddenly shooting to his feet. And with that, he toppled back like a domino landing in the bush.

“Christ,” You scrambled to get him out, practically carrying him to the car. Putting him in the driver's seat you buckled him in. When your head rose to make sure the boys were all in you were met by empty back seats. 

“Doc, we can't leave the boys,” Price stated pointing out the window. Where the three men were gathered around a tree relieving themselves. Only Gaz seemed to just be standing there and Jonny appeared to be pissing on Ghost's boot.

“Get in the car!” You called out the window. Begrudgingly, they all piled back in. 

“Hang on, I need a piss,” Price spoke up just as they all buckled in. With a tired sigh you patiently waited. Then when he returned you drove off. 

“Wait, a minute, this ain't the way home,” Gaz suddenly pointed out.

“Yes I know. I think I know the bar you're talking about. We're going to go back there and pay your tab and get your shoes back. The higher ups would have a field day if you guys got in trouble,” you explained. Pulling up to the bar, you parked the car.

“Wait this is a police station,” Jonny pointed out. Yes, on the other side of the street, there was a police station. 

“We should go fight that police officer,” Ghost suggested.

“What? What police officer?” you asked.

“The one we stole this from,” Gaz said, pulling a taser gun that had been tucked in the back of his pants.

“You stole from a police officer!” you exclaimed.

“First of all he was an absolute piss head. A real fucker,” Price spoke up in a logical tone.

“Yeah, he tried to arrest Gaz,” Ghost added.

“Prick,” Gaz grumbled.

“Let's do this Lads,” Price grinned at the rest of them. Like a toddler hyped up on sugar.

“Actually, I think that might be a bad idea,” Gaz spoke up.

“Gaz,” Price called and Gaz hummed in response.

“I got two of these and you got two of those. And we got whatever da fuck Ghost is, lets go,” he held up two fists before stepping out of the car.

“No NO nonononono,” you reached over trying to grab at Price, but he was already gone.

“I swear to god if any of you move I'll give you tetanus shots in the morning,” you threw the threat back at the remaining men in the car. The tetanus shot was one of the worst shots you could get, and they all had bad memories of it. So at the threat, they quickly did their seat belts back up. 

“Christ,” you hissed, quickly hopping out of the car when you saw Price walk up to an officer hanging around outside.

While you were trying to deescalate the situation and explain to the cop why there was a drunk man trying to pick a fight, the boys were watching from the car. 

“She's scary,” Gaz whispered.

“What a fucking woman,” Ghost grumbled.

“I think I'm gonna ask her out,” Jonny declared. Ghost head snapped around faster than light.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Jonny rumbled back.

“I bagsed her. You can't do shit,” Ghost said.

“Fucking when?” Jonny asked.

“Just then,” Ghost stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You can't bags a woman,” Gaz interjected.

“I know, women are strong beautiful beings to be respected and we are to respect their choices,” Ghost said, all the boys agreeing.

“But I still bags her,” he added at the end. 

“Fuck you Brit. If you like her, do something bout it!” Jonny snapped his blink slightly delayed. 

“Suck a cock scotsman,” Ghost snapped back.

“Do-Do you think you can beat me in a physical altercation of feisty cuffs?” Jonny fumbled with his words, raising his fists slightly. His aim was to star threateningly at his face but he missed the mark slightly staring at his knee. “I will beat you in a way you have NEver Beeenn beaten before,” Ghost stared at Jonny’s unfocused gaze. Before casually reaching over and giving him a gentle backhanded tap on his face. 

“OHHHHHH,” Gaz called from his middle seat.

“DAMMIT!” Jonny explained as if he had just received a full on punch but didn't move in the slightest.

“You just got hit in the face lad,” Gaz giggle.

“Hit me again!” Jonny dared. So Ghost did, repeating the same action. Only it didn't seem to compute in Jonny mind the second time. “I dare you, you put your hands on me one more time, Cause I swear, it will be an, I will-” Ghost reached over his wrist wrapping around the back of Jonny neck.

“Come closer so I can put you in a choke hold,” Ghost asked politely.

“No!” Jonny declared going to hit back only for his hand to completely miss and fall to the side harmlessly. The two fumbled in the back of the car not really accomplishing anything.

“Guys, look he's gettin the cop!” Gaz announced. They all looked out the car window to see the cop walk off.

You had tried and failed to calm them down. Price had demanded to see the cop that tried to arrest Gaz. The boys all piled out of the car, some more graceful than others, before rushing up to you.

“Oh god no, get back in the car please!” you begged.

“Gotta get loose,” Jonny stated, starting to do jumping jacks.

“Guys Doc is right. We should go,” Gaz stated.

“Pussy,” that one word from Ghost was all it took for Gaz to shrug his jacket off and start stretching.

“You guys are really gonna fight a cop!?” you asked, bewildered by it all. 

“Yes we are!” Jonny yelled confidently.

“No you're not!” You yelled. You couldn't believe it. It was like all common sense had been turned off in their heads.

“Ohhh Jonny’s in trouble,” Gaz grinned.

“Fuck you,” Jonny called reaching out to try and give Gaz a slight tap on the nuts.

“Dont touch my balls!” Gaz cried. 

“Yeah Jonny,” Ghost chuckled, amused by it all only for Jonny to try and hit his. Bewildered, you were utterly bewildered as you saw the group of highly trained soldiers all become involved in what you assumed was a game of hit the dick. They were all relatively bent over trying to protect their jewels while simultaneously trying to hit each other. Even price had been pulled into it.

“Guys come on,” you begged. 

“He touched my penis!” Jonny cried in a high-pitched voice.

“Don't touch my penis!” Gaz screamed right back. 

“Can I help you boys?” A cop walked out of the station.

“Officer. Hi. I am so sorry about them there just a little drunk, I'll get them home safely,” you quickly interjected yourself between them.

“It's the cop!” Jonny declared pointing at him. The cop was beyond confused. Because for one, he had never seen the boys before in his life. 

The truth of the story was that it was a comply different cop that had tried to arrest Gaz. They looked similar, and that was about it. And the only reason why he was trying to arrest Gaz was because he had stolen his taser gun.

But the boys could hardly see straight, so when they heard the cop was there, they trusted his words comply. 

“Come on, let's go!” Jonny declared as they all crowded around the poor man. Well, you tried to keep them back trying to speak over their taunts for a fight. The cop spoke into his radio, requesting backup.

“Please, this is all a big misunderstanding. They're actually really nice blokes,” your words fell on deaf ears.

“Pig!” Ghost said.

“Oh look, the little boy needs back up. We can take em,” Gaz said.

“If Laswell finds out about this, she’ll have your heads!” Your yell instantly had the boys silent.

“FUCKEN RUN!” Price ordered the fear filling them. Instantly they took off down the street.

“Serpentine!” Gaz yelled had them all running in a squiggly line. Which had Jonny and Gaz running into each other. Ghost even knocked his head on a low post not even flinching as he kept on running. That left you standing there out the front of the police station with a group of police officers. And you all watched as the boys disappeared down the street. 

“So um that,” you trailed off, pointing to them. “I uh,”

“I have no explanation for that,” you whispered in defeat. 

When you found Gaz he was still running down the street.

“GAZ GET IN THE CAR!” you yelled out the window.

“FUCK THE POLICE! FUCK POLICE WOMEN!” he yelled.

“WHAT!?” you yelled. He instantly stopped running up to the car window.

“I have nothing against women, officers. I understand how my words were terrible. I just heard you were a woman and everyone calls you all policemen so I wanted to be inclusive but I realize I was just singling you out,” he explained drunkenly.

“Gaz I'm not a police woman. Get in the fucken car,” you ordered.

“You can't fool me. FUCK POLICE WOMEN!” he yelled, taking off sprinting again. 

“Fuck this,” you grunted slamming on the breaks and jumping out he car. Gaz wasn't really sure what happened but one moment he was running down the street and the next he was in the back of the car the seat belt cut and tied around his hands and feet.

The others were a bit harder to find. Price was up a fucking willow tree. Getting him out of the tree was a fucking mission. You ended up just throwing random stuff at him until he eventually fell out. You used branches to tie him up and put him in the car as well. Finding Soap was a lucky find. You saw him stumbling down the street and when you called out to him he rushed into a club. As you walked in you realized quickly that you wouldn't have much luck finding him. It was packed to the brim and you couldn't see over anyone's heads. So you make your way up to the DJ booth.

“Hi, I'm trying to find a drunk scotsman. He's a vet. Do you mind?” you asked, gesturing to the microphone.

“Anything for our boys,” he said, handing it over.

“If you're a Scot and wearing a kilt, come up on stage for your prize!” Everyone cheered as you tucked yourself behind the DJ stand. Jonny walked up on stage basking in the cheers, raising his hands high in the air. 

And then you crash tackled him to the floor, tying him up with some power cords.

“Fucks sake Jonny,” you grunted after you had lugged his body out of the club and into the car. 

“Wow, they caught you before me, Captain. I'm surprised,” Jonny grinned smugly. You spent the next hour searching for Simon. You were about to give up when you decided to ring his phone. If Gaz’s still worked there was a chance his did too. Hearing the ringing you frowned. It wasn't just coming from your phone. Looking back to the boys, you could hear the muffled sound.

“Hello?” Ghost asked through the phone. His actual voice sounded once again from the back. Getting out of the car, you rounded it before pulling the boot open. There Ghost lay, his large body comedically tucked into the back, the Traffic cone still in his arms.

“How long have you been in there?” you asked.

“Since you caught Gaz,” he stated simply. With a deep sigh you gestured him out of the back. You knew you didn't need to tie him up and helped him to the front seat. Locking the doors, you started to drive everyone back to base.

“Boys, we've been kidnapped,” Price stated slowly. 

“Like hell we have,” Jonny whispered back.

“What are you boys whispering about back there?” You asked. With your eyes on the busy road, you failed to see them untie themselves and jimmy the lock.

“RONDEVU AT THE PUB BOYS!” Price ordered. Instantly, they all threw themselves out of the car and legged it in opposite directions. You had slammed on the brakes once they had done it. You watched them run, letting your tired head fall to the steering wheel.

“Give me strength,” you pleaded. This time you weren't so lucky in finding them. 

What happened was your phone rang again. From a new number.

“Hello?” you already knew who it was.

“Hey doc. Can you come pick us up? We lost the car,” Gaz's voice wafted through.

“Sure where are you? You asked.

“The police station,” he whispered bashfully.

So there you were back at the police station. You smiled bashfully at the officers the boys had tried to fight. Luckily for them you were a sweet talker. And the fact that they were military helped as well. They would have been charged with theft of a police officer and walking out on a tab. But you returned the taser gun, which hadn't been discharged. And you paid the tab with a generous tip getting their boots back in the process. The boys embarrassingly walked out of the station looking like puppies that had just been kicked. 

“Are you mad at us?” Jonny asked.

“Not mad, Just disappointed,” you shook your head. For the four drunk men the sentence was devastating, making them drop their head in guilt. A tiny smile pulled at your lips.

“Come on, let's get you home,” you ruffled Jonny's hair gently pulling them all out of the police station.

“Can we get McDonalds on the way home?” Gaz asked.

“I want an ice cream,” Price spoke up.

“Sure, why not?”

This time, the drive was much more peaceful. When you got back, you made sure they were all changed, well hydrated and tucked into bed. Which was incredibly hard because they had hit the pass out drunk stage. Ghost was the hardest. You managed to get him on the bed and his shirt and jacket off relatively easily. You paused momentarily as you saw his bare upper body. God damn the greek sculptures could take pointers from him. Your gaze softened as you saw all the scars and bullet holes that lined the ripples of his muscle. He's been through a lot. You felt slightly perverted as you undid his pants. Only they were wet and long, so you stood there yanking at them pulling them off inch by inch. Now you were using your whole body to get those bad boys off, so it didn't surprise you when you flew halfway across the room when you finally got them off. Breathing heavily, you gently lifted his legs back onto the bed. Grabbing the blanket, you tucked it up to his chin, your hand brushing against the wet mask. While the room was heated, it was still cold. Plus, you couldn't tell if it was water or blood from the hit that was on the top. 

“Alright Simon, I'm gonna take off your mask. But I'm gonna close my eyes so don't worry. I just don't want you waterboarding yourself in your sleep,” you whispered. He gave no response. With a deep breath, you reached up and closed your eyes. Your hands gathered the material at the bottom of the fabric and started rolling it up. In your focus you hadn't noticed Simon's eyes snap open at the movement. His hand had almost snapped around your wrist, only stopping when he saw your eyes closed. Slowly, he let his hand fall as you pulled the mask fully off. 

“Alright, now let's see if you did any damage to that head of yours?” you asked. Your hands brushed away his hair from his face, humming at the loose curls. His heart stirred as he stared at you, loving the blissful feeling your hands gave him as they moved across his face. When you were happy that it was only a lump he had sustained a small giggle left on your lips.

“That's gonna be a shiner mate,” you whispered.

He watched as your smile dropped slightly when her thumb brushed over a scar. You got a weird sense of DeJa'Vu as you thumb gently traced the scar. So many scars. Life certainly hadn't been kind to him.

"What am I gonna do with you huh?" you asked softly. Brushing his hair back once again, you stood.

“Night Simon,” you whispered before blindly making your way out the room. Simon watched the door close before looking up at the ceiling. His hand clasped over his rapidly beating heart as he came to the sudden realization. 

He was absolutely smitten for the Doc.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

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=COD Master List Here=

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[harrywavycurly]

Lonely request!! Bachelorette instagram posts that make Harry not only miss his bestie turned fiancé but also kinda concerned because what exactly are they doing in Miami 😂❤️

Hiiii babes!!! So I combined both of these into a little something and I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Find all things Lonely here✨

CW: Mentions of drinking

Tag List: @blckburd @fangirl509east @ell0ra-br3kk3r @youngpastafanmug @mattieshattuck1

A/N: Harry misses you and if he’s being honest he’s just curious what all you’ve gotten up to while in Miami, enjoy some fluff and if you squint you’ll see some jealous Harry✨

Harry lets out a sigh as he runs his free hand that’s not holding his phone through his hair, a small smile creeps its way onto his face as a photo of you quickly flashes across his screen in a pair of heart shaped bedazzled sunglasses that say “bride to be” on them as you lay out next to a pool. It’s only been two days since you left for your Miami bachelorette trip with Niall and the rest of the bridesmaids and he’s been glued to his phone checking instagram what feels like every five minutes to see what you’re doing, like right now he’s on Niall’s instagram story and can see you’re having a themed lunch of some sort while yesterday all you really did according to your social media was have a pool day and went to a nice little dinner. Niall made it quite clear to Harry that while you were off in Miami his communication with you was to be limited, it’s your bachelorette trip and to quote your bestfriend you “don’t need your future husband up your ass the whole time” so Harry is trying his hardest not bother you and he’s done well so far but it’s only day two and he’ll be honest, he already misses you terribly.

Normally Harry has things like studio time or if he’s lucky a tour to prep for to help distract him in situations like this, but he’s not currently working on anything at the moment so he has nothing but time to sit on the couch and scroll through everyone’s Instagram for even the smallest little crumb of a detail of what you’re up to. He doesn’t expect you to be doing anything too scandalous because that’s just not who you are, but still it’s your bachelorette trip and Harry’s been privy to a few of those types of parties so he knows how wild those can be. But really Harry simply wants to know what that Irishman planned for you because he kept most of it to himself not even telling you the majority of the plans besides what you needed to know in order to know what to pack. And Harry knows if there’s one thing Niall can do, it’s plan one hell of a party so to turn it into a full blown trip only makes him even more curious what he has up his sleeve for you. So when Harry is scrolling on your page and sees you’ve posted a few new photos he feels his eyes go a bit wide before he runs a hand over his face and lets out a laugh as he shakes his head.

He likes both photos and starts to scroll but before he gets far he feels his phone begin to vibrate and soon your name and photo is filling up his screen making a grin take over his face. Harry quickly hits answer and brings the phone up to his ear and is met with the sound of laughter making him wonder if you didn’t mean to call him.

“Harry?” You mumble as Harry hears what sounds like a door closing making the loud laughter turn into a muffled sound in the background. “S’that better? I can’t hear you.” Harry chuckles as he begins to realize what kind of call this is.

“Hi my love.” He can practically hear you smile into the phone as you let out a long dramatic sigh as he hears a ruffling sound making him think you probably just plopped down onto a bed.

“I can hear you now-oh did you know m’gon a be a wife? Like someone’s actual wife.” Harry just grins as the slightly mumbled words fall from your lips and he wishes he was there because he’s always loved being around you when you were a little drunk, you always tended to be more cuddly.

“Yeah? You getting married baby?” He asks sweetly as he gets comfortable on the couch, you let out a giggle that makes his heart feel like it’s going to actually melt due to how adorable you sound.

“Yes.” You answer with a smile on your face as you roll over into your back. “T’you silly.” Harry lets out a scoff as he playfully rolls his eyes as if you could see him making you laugh. “Did you forget about me? I’ve only been gone two days.” You ask with a huff and Harry knows there’s a good possibility you’re pouting and he can’t help but want to laugh because if you only knew how he’s been essentially cyberstalking you since the moment you left the house two days ago, you wouldn’t feel the need to ask him this question.

“You still want to marry me then?” He hears you let out a groan and he smiles to himself because he knows you’re rolling your eyes at him. You always act so annoyed when he asks you this question but he knows you kinda love to hear him need the reassurance that you still want to be his wife in a few months.

“Yes and I even-oh my god I forgot to tell you!” You sit up and Harry hears what he knows is the sound of your slippers padding across the floor as you walk towards the bathroom that’s attached to your bedroom. “We had a brunch thingy and guess what was on the napkins next to the cheese and crackers.” You reach over and grab your drink off the vanity just as Harry is about to answer. “Dicks. Like little tiny cute-”

“Tiny and cute? These are words you use to describe dicks often or just the ones on napkins?” The grin that takes over Harry’s face makes his cheeks hurt as your laugh comes through the phone and he knows it’s the kinda laugh that’s going to leave you with pink cheeks and watery eyes.

“Don’t worry I don’t use those words to describe yours I use-”

“Who the bloody fuck are you talking to?” Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s loud voice in the background and he knows he only has a few minutes left on the phone with you.

“Uh my lawyer?” Harry bites back a laugh at your sad attempt of a cover up. “He uhm needed my signature on a-a uh prenup thing-thingy.” If Harry was there he’d have the hardest time taking what you just said seriously because your words are slightly slurred and your tone makes it seem like you just asked a question instead of explaining yourself, so he knows Niall is more than likely staring at you with a raised brow and a glare.

“He called you did he?” Niall asks and Harry knows right then that you’re done for. “Babe your lawyer is a woman named Janet.”

“Oh fuck Harry he caught me.” Harry laughs and can only shake his head at your admission, he hears Niall let out a laugh and then hears him tell you something along the lines of hurry up. “I gotta go back to my party.”

“You called me in the middle of your party?”

“I did. I miss you.”

“I miss you too baby. I love you.”

“I love you too but I have to go now before Niall comes back and steals my phone.” Harry knows you’re not kidding, Niall would very much enjoy barging into your room and taking your phone for the remainder of the trip so he just lets out a soft sigh and clears his throat before telling you goodbye and that he loves you one more time before the two of you hang up.

The next two days seem to drag on as Harry does as much as he can to busy himself as an attempt to give himself a break from checking on you via social media every few minutes. Even going as far as inviting Mitch over for an impromptu writing session that lasted a few hours, and while it helped for a bit but as soon as he was waving bye to his friend as he backed out of the driveway Harry couldn’t help but slide his phone out of his back pocket as soon as he was back inside the house. He lets out a sigh as he paces the length of the couch in the living room, chewing on his bottom lip as his thumb hovers over the icon of the app he’s become very familiar with the past several days. Giving into his desires Harry lets his thumb hit the app bringing him to his home page of his Instagram, he pauses his pacing as he places a hand on his hip and looks off towards the kitchen with a raised brow.

“Have I always been clingy like this?” He mumbles to himself as he contemplates going straight to your profile or looking through one of your friend’s first. “No certainly not? It’s because she’s my fiancé now right?” Normally Harry would feel a bit odd talking to himself but at the moment he can’t be bothered because he needs to have some sort of dialogue going in order to help him not feel as clingy and obsessed with you as he begins tapping his way through Emily, one of your bridesmaids instagram story.

“It’s normal to want to see what your fiancé is doing while away and-what was that?” Harry is caught off guard by what he sees on his screen and it’s gone much too quickly for his liking so he simply taps a few times and brings his phone up closer to his face so he can get a better look at the slightly blurry boomerang on Emily’s story.

Now Harry knew that one of the major things planned for this trip was a boat day, it was the main detail that Niall actually let you help him plan because he didn’t want to pick something to do that you’d be miserable with and honestly who doesn’t enjoy a day relaxing in the sun on a giant boat with a few friends? But what Harry didn’t put together in his mind was that with a boat day comes boat attire, which means he wasn’t at all prepared to see a blurry boomerang of you in what appears to be a white and silver bikini with the word “bride” printed in black on the bottoms in a pretty cursive font while you dance around with a drink in your hand and a bedazzled headband that has a mini veil attached to it. He has no shame in admitting he watches the blurry boomerang about ten times before he finally moves on through the rest of Emily’s story, hoping to see more of your outfit but he’s disappointed when he reaches the end and the only other photo he sees of you is just of your hand holding a drink that showcases your engagement ring with the words “blinded by the bling” and while it makes Harry chuckle it’s not exactly what he’s wanting to see, but that’s when he notices someone familiar in the background and instantly goes to her profile.

“Don’t let me down Gem.” He whispers to himself as he goes to his sister’s Instagram and he smiles when he sees she has quite the long story and most of it is for her close friends meaning it’s probably of the trip she’s currently on with you.

His sister being invited to your bachelorette trip wasn’t shocking, the two of you get along great and she’s in the wedding but Harry won’t lie and say he’s not a little jealous that she gets to be around you right now while he’s stuck at home, hell even his mom is going to be there on the last two days so she can celebrate you agreeing to spend forever with her son. So the least Gemma could do in Harry’s opinion is post some shots of you enjoying your boat day in your lovely little bridal bikini.

“Holy shit.” He reaches down and grabs the back of the couch for support as he finally gets exactly what he’s been looking and hoping for. It’s a photo of you laying out on a lounge chair with a grin on your face and the same heart shaped sunglasses on that he saw you wearing a few days ago and the sun is hitting your swimsuit just right causing the silver bits to shine and you have a slice of watermelon in your hand that isn’t holding a drink and Gem has written “The Watermelon Sugar Bride” and included the song in the background of the story as well. Harry taps through his sister’s story and smiles when he gets to a video of the two of you singing along to one of his songs until you spot Niall and Tammy in the background making funny faces making you tell them to fuck off resulting in Gem saying “excuse me! This is a family show.” And without missing a beat you turn to face her camera and wiggle your eyebrows as you go “or is it?”

“That’s my future wife right there.” Is all Harry says with a grin as he goes through the rest of Gem’s story laughing at the random photos of Niall who constantly looks a little worried as he’s looking at you or one of the girls. He decides to go to Niall’s profile to see what he’s posted recently and he laughs at the captions before liking them.

It feels as if you’ve been gone for months when really you’ve been gone for five days but Harry can’t hardly contain the excitement he feels knowing you’ll be home tomorrow. He knows you’ve had a great time and really enjoyed yourself, his mom FaceTimed him last night while at dinner so he could see everyone and you looked almost like you were glowing with how adored Harry knew you felt in that moment. You had a smile on your face and a certain sparkle in your eyes that made Harry’s heart swell because you just looked so happy, and since you were coming home tomorrow Niall wasn’t as strict with his rules on communication so it didn’t shock Harry at all when he saw your name flash across his phone screen while he was making coffee.

“Good morning sweetheart.” He says with a smile as he reaches for the sugar next to the coffee maker. He hears you let out a little yawn letting him know you’re probably still tucked in bed, he puts you on speaker so he can spoon some sugar into his mug and stir it in without having to mess with holding the phone up to his ear.

“I can practically smell the coffee through the phone and it’s rude.” You whine making Harry chuckle as he brings the mug up to his lips to take a sip to see if it needs anything else.

“Where’s that bestie of yours hmm? Isn’t he on coffee duty while I’m not around?” He asks after taking another sip and he hears you let out a groan as you roll over to your back.

“He’s so bad at making coffee.”

“I beg your pardon? I make it how a normal human is s’posed to drink it you caffeine goblin.”

“No you make it all watered down and-”

“Watered down? I add two scoops for every four cups of water that’s the proper way to make it.” Harry just goes about his business and pops a bagel into the toaster as you and Niall argue over the right way to make coffee, it doesn’t shock Harry that Niall is with you in bed at such an hour because he’s always been an early riser so of course he’s going to go to your room for some morning cuddles before everyone else wakes up especially since Amelia sadly wasn’t able to stay the whole trip and had to leave a few days early he doesn’t like having an empty bed.

“I’m the bride Niall you’re supposed to just make it how I like it.” Harry raises a brow at your statement and not even a second passes before you’re in a fit of laughter and he can’t help but just shake his head because he knew you weren’t being serious.

“Harry you ready to have her back mate?” Niall asks as he takes the phone from you and Harry just smiles to himself as he takes the bagel from the toaster and puts it on his plate. “Because I’m ready to be rid of her.”

“Oh please you’re going to miss me the moment you drop me off at home and you know it.” Harry laughs at your accusation because if Niall is anything like him then it’s true, he’s going to miss you the moment you’re away from him especially after spending so much time with you on this trip.

“I’m very ready to have her back yes.” Harry answers as he picks up the phone after taking it off speaker. “I’m never letting her go on a trip without me again.” He teases making Niall laugh while he hears you mumble something about him being clingy.

“Well I gotta go make some shit coffee so here’s your missus but make it snappy yeah? We have plans for today.” With that Niall gives you back your phone and Harry hears the sound of a door open and close letting him know you’re alone in your room now.

“I get to see your face tomorrow and I think I might cry because I really have missed you so much and I don’t know why but this trip just-it just made it all feel so real? We get married in just a few months as in you’re going to be my husband and I’m going to really be your wife.” Harry does his best to hold back his emotions as your words hit him, he had a feeling that this trip was going to be a big deal for you because just a few weeks prior you had found your dress and had your first bridal moment so being surrounded by your friends and loved ones all celebrating the fact you’re a bride to be he knew was just going to be a lot. “You really love me enough to want to be with me forever.” He clears his throat and blinks a few times to help get himself in order before he can respond.

“I love you so much that I don’t think forever is actually long enough but it’s a start.” He knows you just rolled your eyes at how corny he sounds but he also knows your cheeks are pink and you have a smile on your face because you love it when he says things like that to you. “I can’t wait to be able to call you my wife. And honestly baby I’ve missed you so much I’ve been stalking you on Instagram all week and I’m probably going to cry the moment I see you get out of Niall’s car because I can’t help it.” He admits with a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair and he smiles when he hears you let out a small chuckle.

“You’re like obsessed with me aren’t you?” You ask with a slight tease to your voice but Harry just shrugs as he grabs his coffee mug and brings it up to his lips.

“Just a little bit.” He answers without hesitation making you smile because even though you don’t say it, both of you know you’re just as obsessed with him.