#must have been something where they had drinks

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 27

(Neige is a Mourning Dove Harpy, and often sings with other Mourning Doves in the early mornings, calling with them and cooing as he flies around Sage Island. Neige is a stress plucker, so he will occasionally have bald-spots on his neck where he had picked and plucked his own feathers. He usually tosses his feathers after molts, but has since been collecting and saving his feathers so he can use them to make something for the Human with them)

Warnings; ovulation, explanation of ovulation and menstrual cycles, less than behaved students, protective Platonic Yanderes, several yanderes, competing yanderes, more fluff, comfort chapter, selkie, hellcat, sphinx, harpies, minotaur, shadow-man, drider, plant Nymph, Nemean Lion, Gnoll, Werewolf, Shinigami, Unicorn, Kelpie, Water Nymph, Satyr, Fawn, merfolk, Cecaelia, Genie, Naga, Dragon, Vampire Bat,

~~~~

Things had settled down considerably when Malleus and the other students- those that came with Crowley and Diasomnia- left. The tension that had been in the air lulled and quickly faded away along with the icy cold. Thankfully, you had managed to keep Malleus calm and bring him back to reason without incident and you knew Crowley and the other professors were glad too.

You sighed, sitting back on one of the many couches with Grim as Divus was quite content to join you, looking as worn and stressed as you felt. Even Trein seemed to be counting himself lucky that Malleus was convinced to leave without incident. It vaguely interested you to see the professors in such a domestic setting as the all seemed much more approachable now that they were the ones guarding you. Part of you felt relieved to get a break from the intensity of the other students.

"Tea?"

You looked up somewhat startled to a cup of tea being held out to you. Out of politeness, you accepted the cup while Trein joined you on your other side, lounging on the long couch with a sigh.

"I had a few questions for you, if I may?"

"Of course Professor."

"Please, Trein or Mozus would suffice, (Y/n). No need for formalities in your own home."

"Force of habit, Sir."

"How often is your cycle? It would behoove us to plan in advance so your schedule can be addressed and so we are made aware ahead of time."

You sipped the tea to give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, figuring one of the professors would ask eventually. At least they seemed far less influenced by your scent and by your ovulation, so they seemed safe enough to let your guard down around them. The tea was a nice herbal blend that was gentle and soothing in your throat.

"Monthly. The bleeding period marks an end of the cycle to begin anew. Ovulation is at the height of the cycle, meaning more fertile, not more interested in finding a mate."

"Mating isn't required for ovulation?"

"No. But there is a set timer on my fertility as a result. Every month marks another sex cell- we call these cells eggs- lost and most Humans have a set number of eggs. I still have years left on my timer, but it does continue to march on. When I am out of eggs, the cycle stops and I am considered to no longer be fertile."

"How long does the actual ovulation period last?"

"The height of it is only 12-24 hours. But the hormonal imbalance leading up to and after take a few days."

Trein nodded, sipping his own tea as he hummed watching the drink pensively. You watched Crowley walk over to the angled couch next to the one you were on, curling his legs under him like a great big bird perching. His talons ended in wickedly sharp points, and you vaguely realized he must have removed his shoes before settling. Divus spoke up next, his voice a relaxed drawl.

"So for at least a day everyone on campus will be attempting to burst the doors down. Lucky for us today and tomorrow are free of classes. I trust you've been keeping up with your homework?"

"As best I can. It has been a hectic first month. Goodness knows I've been attacked so many times it feels like years have passed."

Divus frowned at his, watching you for a long moment before he spun his red riding crop between his gloved fingers. A sudden glow came from the gem on it and you found your clothes had changed to comfortable lounge-wear in reds, blacks, and whites. While you examined your new clothes a sudden weight fell on your shoulders and you realized he had placed his fur over you. This must have been an act of extreme trust or protectiveness as even Crowley looked surprised with Divus' behavior.

The lovely professor patted the top of your head gently as he settled back down, almost insisting you stay put where you had settled. Trein seemed to be of a mind with Divus as the couch changed shape to a much more comfortable and plush piece of furniture, the large screen on the far wall adjacent flicked to life. As you got comfortable in the large and warm fur coat, you heard footsteps and turned to see Coach Vargas and Sam approaching with their arms full of snacks.

Grim purred excitedly and snuggled into your lap as a movies began to play, the professors all settling down around you.

~•§•~

"Can you believe this, Rook? Telling us- her sworn guards- that we can't be present to protect her during such a delicate time!"

The Harpy was ranting angrily to the Drider that accompanied him, Epel keeping pace next to the large Drider as they followed the Peacock. Naturally, Vil was furious he wasn't allowed to even accompany the others in confronting Malleus. He deserved the right to be there after saving those Royal Sword Academy fools that had let themselves be stabbed in the back by that prince. Instead, Azul and his two goons were selected to go.

He was so angry he could scream!

"I don't believe we have actually sworn to anything, Roi du Poison, merely agreed to accept duties should they fall upon us. Non, it would not be fair to claim we are sworn knights, but perhaps Mademoiselle Trickster would look upon us favorably if we did swear ourselves to her protection."

"We will have to do that when the duty to guard her falls upon Pomefiore. Which means you at least have a few days to shape up, Epel!"

The plant Nymph jumped at suddenly being called out, nodding quickly to the temperamental Harpy ahead of him. Epel had been busy thinking about the Human in question, remembering how soft her hands were holding his and the way she stood up for him so passionately. He wanted to protect her from everyone else and prove he can take on the protector role for her, so her soft hands never have to harden with work.

"O-of course, Housewarden Vil!"

"Don't think I've forgotten how you kept slipping back into your accent during the photoshoot despite my warnings."

"Right... Sorry, Housewarden Vil, I will work harder."

"As you should. We all need to be at peak when we finally have the right to guard her."

Rook and Epel both nodded, quickly agreeing with the proud Harpy.

"Yes, Vil!"

~•§•~

"To think, no one was selected this week! I thought we already prooved we were trustworthy to guard that Mousey!"

Leona snarled and paced atop his sun-warmed rocks where he usually lounged in Savanaclaw, clearly in a bad mood. He was growling and his tail lashed behind him as he walked, not only angry at being cheated out of a day so that ridiculous Malleus could stop his bitch-fit, but furious he was not trusted at this crucial time. Nevermind the fact that the same dorm is not likely to be selected twice in a row, Leona was angry and felt cheated.

"I'm just sayin', Leona, maybe it's a good thing she's stuck with the teachers."

"And how," Leona roared, "is this possibly a good thing!?"

"Because no one else can get to her either, right?"

"..."

"If they're keeping us away, they're keeping everyone away."

"Ruggie, for once you actually seem to have a brain rattling around in that skull of yours."

The Gnoll huffed at the obvious insult, planning to steal all of the cash Leona had in his wallet as revenge. Jack was sitting nearby, unsure what was his rank now that Savanaclaw was no longer guarding the precious Human. It seemed like Leona wasn't keen to run him off, in any case.

"Isn't this a good thing for her too? I mean, yesterday was rough on her with the Overblot and the attack. I think she deserves some time away from it all."

"Oh? And you think the professors aren't just going to stress her out more?"

"No," Jack shook his head, his fur bouncing with his movements, "you saw how mad professor Divus got when you made her skip his class. And Trein is always praising her any time she answers a question in class. I think the professors all see her as their pup and are going to act like she is their pup. Even Headmage Crowley calls her his little chick."

"Annoying as you are, you have a point, Puppers. Nothing to do about it now."

Leona sighed and flopped down almost dramatically on the warm rocks, the tension in the dorm falling as the Lion returned to lounging. Of course, everyone was still keen to know who was declared winner after the interruption during the Spelldrive. Most of the Pride figured they would win, not even aware Malleus had been holding back during their game.

~•§•~

"Do you think we should tell Papa Hades?"

"Tell him what?"

"That she is in the middle of her cycle!"

"I mean, maybe, but Headmage Crowley said he has it under control."

"Come on, Idi-nii!"

Ortho whined loudly, making Idia look over at him from the game he had been playing with his online buddies, trying to set up a game with the more absent than usual MuscleRed. Idia figured everyone was just gonna let the professors handle it, no need for him to step in. Even if there was a problem- which there wasn't- he still had cameras all over that building and would be the first to know of any issues.

"What??"

"Aren't you the least bit worried about her?"

"She has the entire staff of NRC as her DPS, Tanks, and Healers, what would I be worried for?"

Ortho sighed, seeming to visibly deflate as his breath fogged up his mask. Idia was right, of course, but Ortho was still worried. He liked playing games with (Y/n) as well as talking with her about everything he could think of. It was only natural the young Shinigami was worried.

"Look, Ortho, we can video call her later if she feels up for it, okay?"

"Okay..."

~•§•~

"To think, those-! Those-! Those hooligans know (Y/n) is in the middle of her cycle and completely exposed to their vile thoughts!"

"Riddle," Trey tried to soothe the upset Unicorn who was prancing and pacing and tossing his head back and forth angrily, "I'm sure the professors have it well in hand."

"Do they, Trey? Do they? Absolute hogwash!"

"You saw Malleus return to Diasomnia, and there was no black sky or rolling storm so he left peacefully. Everyone else who could pose an issue couldn't possibly stand against all of the staff together."

Riddle stopped his trotting and pawed at the ground in frustration, ripping up a bit of the grass sod under his hooves. Even his tail was curling and flicking as he took back up his worried trotting pace. Riddle was working himself into a meltdown and even Trey wasn't doing much to help soothe the distressed Unicorn, though not for a lack of trying.

"-and if someone gets by them, what then? No matter what happens someone-"

Riddle was babbling at this point, occasionally kicking one leg back as he walked and stomped angrily. He was obviously no longer listening to any of the four who stood trying to calm him, muttering axiously and snorting every few steps. No matter what Trey said there was clearly no snapping Riddle out of his current mindset.

Cater had retired to lay along Trey's back, lazily looking at his phone as he checked the ever increasing follower count on (Y/n)'s magicam account. Cater was glad that the staff thought of adding himself, Vil, and Rook as page admins so the soft Human would be kept away from the thirsty messages sent by countless monster accounts. At least he could delete these messages and send the tame ones through for her to read.

"THE TREES!"

"The... Trees?"

"Yes, the trees outside of Ramshackle! How did I miss it? They're easily a way someone could get in and hurt dear (Y/n)! We must warn the Headmage at once!"

Riddle reared up, whinnying loudly as he took off towards the mirror, Trey tiredly following after with Cater tagging along on the ride. This left Ace and Deuce looking at one another before shrugging. They wanted to see (Y/n), sure, but they also knew better than to bother the teachers or her many guards. Maybe they would text and check in on her.

~•§•~

Azul sighed as he and the twins returned to the Monstro Lounge, feeling surprisingly worn even though they weren't the ones facing off with the Dragon. Even being around with that tantalizing scent in the air was all too tempting an offer to their senses despite the beast that stood guarding the soft Human. All three had a taste of those pheremones and felt their own bodies cry out in response, longing for a taste or just to submerge themselves in the alluring scent that taunted them.

"Ne, Azul, d'ya think we're gonna get to guard Shrimpy soon?"

"I certainly don't see why not. Erikír's betrayal and Overblot certainly put us in good standing with her given we were who she sought out in times of strife. Leona was allowed to guard her after he proved himself, I don't see why the same won't be true for us."

"She sure smelled good though. Just wanna take a big bite and squeeze till she pops!"

Azul frowned at the swaying Eel that giggled to himself, biting playfully at the empty air in front of him. He had been in a considerably good mood following the brief encounter with (Y/n) and had not stopped talking about her. Similarly, Jade seemed to be lost in his own world, standing off to the side with his mouth open and his eyes closed.

Azul could tell immediately that both twins were affected by (Y/n)'s alluring scent and longed to return to the soft Human for another dose of that scent. Not like Azul was any better. He could feel the way he longed to reach out and grab her, holding her close to his chest while he nuzzled her neck. The things he would do if he were only allowed.

~•§•~

"Hey, Jamil, what d'you think made the wish work when (Y/n) made it?"

"Hm?"

"The wish. What do you think made it work?"

"I don't know, but don't you dare make another one or you might just wind up killing her on accident."

"But what if it means something?"

Jamil sighed as he tidied up his nest of pillows, Kalim's beautiful golden lamp shining in the center. The Genie was lounging next to his lamp, toying with the gem-topped lid and smiling absently. It had been on his mind ever since it happened last week and he wondered if it had something to do with the Human.

"I doubt it means anything. You can't grant another wish for her, that's final."

"But why? I'm sure it will be fine-!"

"Kalim! You kill anyone who makes a wish. Anyone. No matter how well intentioned you are, you kill them. Consider yourself lucky it didn't kill her. Not even being a member of the Al-Asim family would be able to save you from Malleus if you killed her. You are so lucky it didn't turn out differently. Don't tempt fate."

~•§•~

"Malleus?"

Lilia asked gently, approaching the sullen prince who sat looking out over the Diasomnia domain. Though he had agreed to leave at the behest of (Y/n), he still wanted to fly straight back and make that soft Human he adored accept him as her mate. His instincts roared and rattled in its gilded jail to be set free so that he may take what is rightfully his.

Malleus didn't even hear the other Fae approaching as he glowered and stared outwards. He wanted his mate and he didn't want to have to keep his distance, but those words kept repeating in his head and tormenting his every moment. The Dragon didn't know his beloved (Y/n) could ever look so angry like she did in that moment.

'I don't think I want to be part of your Hoard.'

Ice slowly crept up under him as those words repeated in his head and he clutched his chest in pain. Lilia took notice as well and quickly stepped in to soothe the Dragon. Though he wished she had done it differently and without threat, Lilia had to admit that (Y/n) handled Malleus expertly and he had no doubt she would fare just as well as his bonded mate.

"Malleus, I'm going to guess you keep hearing her threatening to leave the Hoard? She told you she wanted to stay so long as you could respect her space during her cycle. She still wants to be in the Hoard, she's just under a lot of stress right now."

"... It hurts, Lilia. I didn't think it would hurt so much."

"Love can hurt. Especially when you already love someone so much you just want to hold them close, but they aren't to that point yet. (Y/n) Isn't to that point yet, but she will be."

"What if she denies me? If she turns me away when I finally bare my heart to her?"

"She won't."

Malleus slumped into his arms, hiding his face as he fell to his knees at the window, his heart seizing in pain at the thought of what could happen. He didn't want to face the loneliness of his existence for much longer. It was a painfully lonely existence, the life of a Dragon, but now there was a light in his darkness, stars in his inky sky, the moon shining upon his face in the endless night.

The stars never seemed quite as bright without his darling love close by. The air was never as sweet. The whining of the wind was not as musical. Even his own nest felt so very empty and lonesome.

Lilia rest a hand on the Dragon's shoulder, laying one wing across his back to soothe him. It wasn't the embrace Malleus was craving, but he still took comfort from his friend, Hoard member, and caretaker. All the Bat could really do was be there for the Dragon while they waited.

~•§•~

You were cozy and extremely comfortable in what was now a cocoon comprised of Divus' fur, blankets, snuggly stuffed animals Trein insisted you take, and one happy boy Grim.

Sam was busy making a delicious smelling gumbo in the kitchen while you hummed along happily to the jaunty tune of the movie you were watching. It was catchy and bouncy in all the right ways that had you practically wiggling in your cocoon like a happy silk moth larva. The five men had been quite happy to show you all of their favorite timeless classics and you had to admit the beasts certainly knew how to swing.

For what felt like the first time in a very long time, you were able to just exist and enjoy what you were doing. There was no worry of gently navigating around the beasts feelings or the constant arms race they all seemed to be in for your affections. You could just vibe and snack to your heart's content, feeling so very protected in the large cuddle fortress you had made out of the couch.

Trein had even brought over Lucius who cuddled up to Grim and wrestled with the energetic kit. Even as the two napped in the growing pile of cuddle, Divus was the one to remind you to drink and move around every once in a while. Crowley had been trying to get Trein or Divus to give up their spot to no avail and pouted next to Vargas on the other couch.

If you could get more time like this, maybe things wouldn't be too bad after all.

[lvlybin]

✶ is it new year's yet?

summary   ༝༚༝༚ … ZB1 as your New Year’s Eve kiss

reactions ! ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა    ۫  ੭̲    제비스 x 𝓯!reader ⊹ ( library )

爱    ࿁ ⠀ ˚⠀ warnings … kissing duh, alcohol & drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of social anxiety, they’re at a club in gyuvin’s part, not proofread

✉️ happy one week since new year’s! lol I wanted to post something cute that was new year’s related so I whipped this up really quick. sorry that it’s so late from the actual holiday >_<

ㅤ ⎯⎯��� 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

The winter air is sharp as you step out onto the balcony. To keep yourself warm, you wrap your arms around your bare arms, wondering why you hadn’t worn a warmer dress to this New Year’s event. In your defense, you hadn’t planned to stay this long. It was supposed to be one quick drink, saying hello to everyone, and then back to your apartment. But then you’d realized Jiwoong was there. 

     It’s not like you would admit it to anyone, but you’d stayed for him. The two of you had been growing closer throughout the year and after the short winter break from work, you were desperate to spend a little more time with him. As if the texting hadn’t been enough. “Getting some fresh air?” God, even the sound of his voice was enough to have your heart racing. You glance back to watch him exit onto the balcony as well. 

     He looked so good in a suit. “It’s stuffy in there,” you say, rubbing your hands over your bare skin as you smile at him. Jiwoong doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you can even protest and the scent of his cologne surrounds you. “Thank you,” you whisper and he nods once.

      “It looks like it’s about to snow,” he mentions, and, oh for fuck’s sake, he’s talking about the weather. You laugh and he looks over at you with a smile of his own. You suck in a small breath, the cold making your nose sting as he shifts closer to you. Both of you stand next to the glass railing, looking over the bright lights of Seoul as each person waits for midnight to strike. “YN,” Jiwoong says, snapping you out of your daze.

      You try to keep yourself from sounding too hopeful, “Yes?” Jiwoong opens his mouth to say something, only for a particularly loud firework to go off in the distance. You jump slightly, in surprise, and Jiwoong moves to settle you by placing his hands on your waist. The touch makes your body warm despite the cold. “Must be midnight.” Another firework, and for a moment, you watch as the glittering gold fizzles out in the dark sky against small snowflakes.

      Jiwoong’s eyes flick down to your lips for a fleeting moment before they return to your eyes. “Happy New Year, YN.” 

      You were tired of waiting. Raising on your toes slightly, you press a soft kiss to his lips, enjoying the look of surprise on his face as you pull away. You like the grin that follows after even more. “Happy New Year, Jiwoong–” You barely get his name out before his lips are back on yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚ㅤ

“I am never hosting again,” you grumble as you finish wiping down the kitchen counter of your apartment, “Didn’t know our friends were such animals.” Hao’s laugh is loud from his spot in the living room where he’s picking up a few cups. You mentally thank your past self for not letting them stay all night, a few hours was clearly enough for them to do plenty of damage.

     “We just got done with finals. They’re just blowing off some steam,” Hao says as he walks into the kitchen holding a garbage bag. You pout as you glance at the bag.

      “I can’t believe Matthew broke that lamp, it was one of my favorites.” Hao coos softly at your complaint, setting the bag down. With your arms crossed over your chest, Hao places his hands on your shoulders to press a kiss on your forehead.

      “I’ll buy you another one.”

      “No, you’ve gotten me enough Christmas presents already–”

      “Then consider this a New Year's present.” You give Hao a pointed look as he pulls away. His thumb comes up to brush over your bottom lip. “None of that. You can’t stop me from spoiling you.”

      You let out a dramatic sigh, “Well there goes my New Year’s resolution.” Hao laughs again and your heart flutters at the sound. His arms wrap around you and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Slowly, the embrace causes the rest of your annoyance from having to clean up your apartment to melt away. He just had that effect on you–making everything feel okay. 

      Your relationship with Hao was hard to classify. He’d been your best friend ever since you started university, but it didn’t take long before it grew into something more. Something deeper. Now, it was a weird space between dating and not dating. You hated the word situationship, so you refused to call it that. Honestly, you were just waiting for the day when one of you forgets that you haven’t made it official and just starts calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

      “It’s midnight,” Hao whispers into the quiet atmosphere of your kitchen. And he’s right, you can hear fireworks going off in the distance. Pulling away from him a little, you glance back over your shoulder at the clock on your stove. Sure enough, it reads midnight. But when you turn back to Hao, you’re met with his lips on yours. It’s just a soft kiss, his lips pressing to yours for a few moments before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “But you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

      But you do. Grinning, you use your grip on his shoulders to pull yourself back up to his lips. Your tongue slips into his mouth, swirling with his as Hao’s hands trace two paths down your sides to grip your waist. The two of you are out of breath by the time you separate again. “That was the New Year’s present I wanted.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

Your boyfriend was such a genius. And while you knew he was romantic, this was by far the best surprise he’d ever planned for you. A small sigh escapes you as you settle into the hot tub, pine trees and a thick blanket of snow surrounding the cabin he’d rented for the two of you over the holidays. 

     “C’mere, baby,” Hanbin’s soft voice meets your ears as you sink further into the hot water, half swimming and half walking over to where he’s sat. The sight of his whisker dimples makes your heart melt as he helps you onto his lap, jets bubbling around you both to soothe your muscles. “Good temperature?”

     “It’s perfect,” you reassure. “This is exactly what I needed after skiing all day. God, I love how your mind works.” Hanbin laughs and you absentmindedly trace your thumb over the tattoo that rests between his collarbones. 

     “Wanting to see my girlfriend in a bikini and having her to myself for a few days is hardly genius.” You shake your head in disagreement. Snow falls lazily around you both, landing in his hair and yours as his ears turn a little red from the cold. Or maybe it was from having you in his lap. Hanbin had never really gotten used to that over the two years you’d been dating. 

     “Still.” You shift a little in his lap to reach for your glass of wine, taking a small sip before setting it back down. “Best New Year’s Eve ever. Best Christmas ever.”

     Hanbin lets out a small Oh as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you closely to him. “I try. Especially hard for you. And you know…” You hum in acknowledgment. “2025 is gonna be a big year for us.”

     “Reallyyy,” you drag the word out a little as excitement rushes through you. You have a feeling you know what he’s referencing, but you won’t say anything about it, knowing he likes to plan things his way. Particularly when it comes to surprises and definitely when it comes to you. Like this little getaway. It had been bliss waking up every day to him and a stunning winter wonderland. Going into the small town for shopping and dinners. Going skiing and ice skating. And now, ringing in the New Year in probably the largest hot tub you’ve ever seen.

     The reflection of the blue water ripples across his face as he nods, steam rising off the surface from the temperature difference. “Really,” he breathes as he moves his hand to cup your cheek. 

     The kiss he pulls you into is soft and loving, like he’s trying to pour all of his affection into you through the one action. Playfully, his teeth nip at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Happy New Year, baby.”

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

The last thing you remember from New Year’s Eve was doing body shots with your roommate. It had been well before midnight when you blacked out. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you’d stayed up late enough for the clock to strike twelve. 

     Blinking harshly against the pounding behind your eyes, you peek your eyes open. Maybe it was the hangover but your bed felt softer than usual– this wasn’t your room. The walls were a shade darker, the bedding a deep gray, and all of the Pokémon characters and other figurines on the shelves were definitely not yours. You almost let out a small groan at the realization. Sure enough, when you glance down next to you, Matthew’s still passed out in his bed. He’s shirtless, and your heart drops along with your eyes and– Thank god. You’re not naked. 

     But this isn’t your shirt either. It’s Matthew’s. Which either meant that you’d stolen it last night while you were under the influence, you’d thrown up on the top you’d been wearing (which would be sad, you love that top), or certain activities had occurred the night before. Another rush of panic goes through you and your hangover is long forgotten as you reach to shake Matthew awake. “Matt!” He doesn’t stir for a moment, and you smack his bare shoulder softly. “Matt, wake up.”

     He grumbles at that, his eyes peeking open a little and you imagine that he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Hungover and confused. “What?” he mumbles after a moment, his voice rough with sleep. It’s like he doesn’t even register the fact that you’re in his bed. Or maybe he does with the way he rolls over, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your stomach. The action makes you freeze. You were used to him being touchy but this? This was new.

     “Why am I wearing your shirt?” Matthew hums at your words, but he doesn’t move. 

     “You wanted to sleep in it.”

     “Please tell me we didn’t–”

     “Have sex?” You hear him chuckle softly as he pulls away from your stomach to glance up at you. “Nah.” You let out a breath of relief and his brows furrow. “Do you remember anything from last night?” 

     You shrug, hands absentmindedly going to brush through his messy hair. “I remember doing body shots. That’s the last thing, though.” Matthew groans as he rolls onto his back. 

     “C’mere.”

     “Sorry?” you say, voice filled with confusion. Your roommate just gestures for you to cuddle into his side. Hesitantly, you scooch over before laying back down, resting your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

     “Gonna have to remind you of our New Year’s kiss then,” he says before his lips meet yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

Superstitions were never something you’d believed in before, but you figured this was at least worth a shot. After all, you were going to need some extra luck if you wanted to follow through with your plan to kiss Taerae in approximately two minutes. Glancing at the bowl of grapes in your hands, you slip under Taerae’s kitchen table and begin to eat. 

     Only four of the twelve grapes are gone when your best friend’s face appears over the edge of the table. “What’re you doing down there?” his gentle voice meets your ears as you swallow.

     “Nothing,” you mumble, eating another grape. Taerae gives you a look before he moves to sit under the table with you as well. When he reaches for a grape, you slap his hand away. He lets out a small cry, but you know he’s just being dramatic. You would laugh if you weren’t running out of time to finish these grapes before it was the new year. 

     “It’s almost midnight,” Taerae says, watching as you continue stuffing your face with the fruit. “Seriously, what’s with the grapes?”

     “It’s for luck,” you say between bites. “Eat twelve grapes under the table and you get luck for the twelve months of the new year.” Taerae laughs.

     “And what do you need luck for?” Your face warms as you look down at the two grapes left in the bowl.

     “You’ll find out soon enough.” One more grape left and as you reach to take it, Taerae beats you to it. “Hey!” you cry softly, setting the bowl down as he chews, fighting back laughter. “Now I have to go get another one–”

     His large hands find your cheeks pulling your lips to his. He tastes like the grape he’d just eaten, and you’re sure you do as well. His tongue presses against yours as he coaxes your lips apart, deepening the kiss as the clock strikes midnight. When he pulls away, you subconsciously chase his lips, craving the feeling of his mouth on yours again. Taerae grins a little, giving you another small peck. “Is that what you needed luck for?”

     Your face warms, and you’re sure Taerae can feel it from the way his hands hold your blushing cheeks still. “How’d you know?” you ask shyly.

     “You’re more obvious than you think.” You laugh as you let your forehead fall to rest on his shoulder, both of you still crammed under the table. Taerae’s back was probably hurting, but he didn’t say anything about it. “And did you really think that I haven’t seen what sitting under the table means?"

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

One of Ricky’s favorite things about his relationship with you was that you were comfortable with staying in just as much as going out. And while you both loved your date nights out, it was usually him dragging you out to the restaurants or museums or wherever else you were going. This time though, you’d done the dragging to a scene that was definitely going to overstimulate you both.

     With small apologies, you push past people in the crowd filling the streets of New York’s Times Square, hand firmly in Ricky’s as you pull him along with you. The bright lights hurt his eyes and there were so many people around that the cold air couldn’t even touch his nose. His grip on you tightens a little, too worried about losing you in the busy crowd. Ricky had to remind himself that he was doing this for you. That you’d wanted to see the ball drop since you were little and used to watch it on TV with your family.

     “Come on!” you shout softly to him as you find a spot in the crowd to stand and watch. Ricky’s quick to wrap his arms around you from behind, protecting you from the way other people were shoving to try and get a better view of the ball before the New Year’s countdown began. You glance up at him. “You okay?”

     “I’m okay as long as you are.” And it was the truth. While Ricky may not be the biggest fan of crowds like this, he would do it for you. The way the shining lights illuminated the excitement on your face was worth any kind of social anxiety he might feel. Besides, having you in his arms like this, smiling up at him made all of those worries go away.

     “It’s starting!” you gasp softly as the people around you both begin the countdown. You’re quick to follow along, shouting the words like everyone else, and with a small chuckle, Ricky begins counting down as well. It’s like time slows as he watches your eyes, the glimmer of awe in them as you watch such a simple thing happen. It was adorable. He knew he should be watching the ball like you were, but he couldn’t take his eyes off your face even as the shouts of Happy New Year rang out around the streets. Confetti explodes from the top of buildings, raining down on the crowd and you tilt your head back to watch with a small giggle. 

     Your eyes meet his and somehow, your smile softens even more. Then, like the other couples surrounding you in the square, Ricky presses his lips against yours.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

“D’you have a New Year’s kiss yet?” Were the first words you heard from the tall individual. You look up from your drink to the boy who approaches you as you sit at the table your friends had claimed at the club, expecting to tell off some ugly, egotistical douchebag. But the face that meets your eyes is anything but that. Fluffy brown hair falls over his chocolate-colored eyes as he smiles at you. Thank goodness you were sitting. If you were standing, you would’ve collapsed right into his arms at the sight.

     “Me?” The boy laughs as he nods.

     “Yes, you.” He offers you a hand. “I’m Gyuvin.” You give him your name as you take his hand. Being careful of your shoes, he helps you stand, and– Wow, he’s so tall. The top of your head barely meets his chin as his large hand grips yours. 

     “You’re offering your New Year’s kiss to a stranger?”

     Gyuvin shrugs, grin never leaving his pretty pink lips. “Isn’t there a saying of how you give a kiss to who you want to spend the new year with?” Your eyes flutter and your heart probably does too. 

     “Yeah–” He cuts you off as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you a little as he carries you towards the dance floor. There are several bodies in the space already, moving to the beat as the seconds to the new year slowly count down. A small laugh leaves you as Gyuvin sets you down.

     “Then consider this as me asking you out.” 

     “Well, you definitely get points for creativity…” you trail off as you wrap your arms around his neck. You have to stand on your toes a little to reach him, but you decide that it’s fine with the way his hands go to your hips. You could get used to this. 

     “Is that a yes?” You had a feeling you weren’t ever going to learn how to say no to him. So, you nod.

     His body presses closely against yours as midnight draws nearer, almost drawing out the anticipation as all of his firm lines meet your softer ones. Your eyes never leave Gyuvin’s as you both mutter words to each other, already feeling strangely comfortable and at home despite meeting only a few minutes ago. What seals the deal, though, is how deeply he kisses you once the clock hits midnight. Gyuvin’s tongue doesn’t fight your lips open, having enough common sense not to try to make out with you in public (especially since it was your first kiss with him), but that doesn’t stop him from holding you even closer to him somehow.

      And, yeah, this was the right decision, you conclude as he pulls away.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚

Giggling softly, you cling to your boyfriend as he carries you like you weigh nothing more than a feather. Gunwook stumbles slightly, and you know it’s from the drinks he’s had. The drinks you’ve both had courtesy to your friend group and the little New Year’s Eve party they were throwing. If you concentrated enough, you could still taste the sparkling bubbles and tangy grapes from the champagne. But you didn’t want to focus on that. You wanted to focus on the boy whose arms were wrapped tightly around your waist. 

      “Wookie,” you laugh as he tucks his face into your neck, your back meeting the wall behind you with a small Thump. He mutters a gentle sorry against your skin, but you don’t really mind. The alcohol is making you giddy and it’s making Gunwook clingy. When he pulls away to look at you in the darkness of the hallway he’d taken you to, your vision clears slightly. His skin almost looks like it’s glowing, rosebuds of blush blooming on his cheeks and you lift your hands to cup his cheeks. “You’re so soft,” you mumble, squishing his cheeks so his lips stick out a little. Gunwook’s pretty brown eyes crinkle into half-moons as he laughs at your words.

     He shifts your weight in his hands to lift you higher and you wrap your legs around his middle. As his large hands knead at the softness of your thighs peeking out from underneath your ridden-up dress, a small shiver goes through you. “I love you,” he whispers, lips finding your cheek. Then your forehead, then your nose, and finally, the corner of your mouth. “I love you sooo much–”

     “Love you too, Wookie,” you whisper, letting go of his face to hold onto his broad shoulders. Distantly, you can hear your friends begin the ten-second countdown to the New Year. They aren’t bothering looking for either of you, because they know you’re exactly where you want to be: in the arms of the person you love the most. Gunwook presses his forehead against yours as you wait for the cheers celebrating 2025 to sound. But as soon as the number One is shouted, Gunwook’s lips are on yours.     He’s quick to pry your lips apart, meeting your tongue with his as he kisses you deeply. You can feel him smile as the words “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” ring through the house. Yeah. This was the best way to ring in the New Year.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓨ujin ﹙𝓱.﹚ㅤ

“This is so embarrassing,” Yujin grumbles as the two of you continue down the driveway from your house. His parents wanted him back home by 12:15 and considering his house was a good fifteen-minute drive away from the friend's house you had been hanging out at, you were leaving a few minutes before the new year. The only problem? Yujin couldn’t drive. 

     Not that he couldn't, he just didn’t have his license yet, so you were stuck being his personal Uber. Not that you minded. He did though. 

     His hand grips yours, keeping them tucked in his coat pocket so you didn’t get too cold. “I swear, as soon as I can, I’m making an appointment so I can drive you around like you deserve.”

     You giggle, “What? You don’t like being my passenger princess?” Your boyfriend groans, the breath that leaves him showing in the air from how cold it is outside. “Seriously, Yujin, I don’t mind driving you around.”

     “But I do,” his small pout makes your heart melt. You weren’t sure how a person could be so adorable. “Makes me feel… I don’t know, less manly? Like I’m a child.”

     “We are children,” you remind him, squeezing his hand in his coat pocket as your head falls to rest on his shoulder. “One of us is just a child that can drive–”

     “Gosh, never mind,” he laughs and you smile a little, glad that he doesn’t take your teasing to heart. “It’ll be my New Year’s resolution. Being more of a stereotypical boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrows at that. The both of you are walking slower than you usually do despite it being cold, wanting to prolong your time together. 

     “And how are you gonna do that, hmm?” He looks at you, cheeks rosy from the chilly air and your eyes flick down to his lips for a moment. 

     “I’ll buy you more gifts.” You hum at the thought. “And… I’ll be more romantic,” he lists off his ideas as you begin to approach your car, stepping into the snow. It crunches under your feet as you walk toward the street. “But to start…” he trails off, your hands leaving his pocket as he stops in his tracks and you walk on. He pulls on your hands so you stumble back towards him, standing chest to chest. “I’ll do this.”

     And then in a move that’s much bolder than you were expecting from your boyfriend, his lips press against yours. It must be midnight, you think to yourself before melting into the kiss, enjoying the feel of the soft movement of his mouth against yours. Your forehead rests against his as you separate to breathe. 

     Breathlessly, you nod. “Kiss me like that again, and I’ll never bring up you not having a license again.”

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Abby notices when you’re depressed. Let’s talk about how she handles that as your partner.

These are modern Abby headcanons. The list was much longer, but I cut it down considerably to keep it from getting too long-winded. I do have a piece written for WLF Abby. If it's something you want to see, let me know.

Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're here.

• Maybe it’s a slow descent this time… little by little, losing interest in your favourite pastimes and finding it hard to discover meaning in daily life. In the midst of trying to survive, there is suddenly no room left for indulging in your hobbies.

Abby, with every random blanket and sheet she owns, constructs a blanket fort in the living room, offering a pressure-free zone where you can do nothing but feel completely safe and loved.

Super cozy, not too busy, and mega peaceful against the demands of a world that is asking far too much of you in this moment.

Does she deep-dive Youtube tutorials on how to build epic forts that probably belong in a magazine? I mean, yeah. Give her a break, alright? Complete dedication is the way this girl operates, and I’ll die on that hill. Also, Abby is a tall, sturdy girlie, and she needs to fit inside it with you. If you’re going to live in this fort together for the foreseeable future, she needs it to be good for you.

Now, if you want an enormous blanket hanging precariously off the side of the couch with a half-dead flashlight and crinkled comics shoved underneath some pillows, date Ellie. Still cute, still the thought that counts, but she’s no Abigail it’s my mission to save you Anderson.

• Abby stocks up on all your go-to snacks because she gets that it's hard to think about the basics when you're too bone-tired to move… nevermind prioritizing measly things like providing yourself sustenance. She’s got you covered.

• She refuses to let you marinate in the feeling of being a burden. She shuts that shit down fast.

“You’re my person, okay? I’m not going anywhere. End of story.”

• Abby grew up around doctors, so she'll for sure be the one to look up therapists and leave the info pinned to the fridge beneath a small magnet that is, of course, a laminated photo of the two of you on your first date. She describes it as the most important day of her life and brings it up regularly.

“You know, I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, but every time I look at it, it hits me all over again—how much that day meant to me.” Her voice dips low as she confesses something so immensely sacred to her. “The day I realized you weren’t just someone I wanted in my life. I’d been waiting for you without even knowing it. I thought I had it all figured out before you. Fuck, was I ever wrong.”

(Just know there's no rush to decide anything big when it comes to choosing a method of healing, but it's there when you're ready.)

• On your hardest days, she stays close, but she doesn’t push. She’ll busy herself with repairs around the home or folding the mountain of laundry shoved up against the wall in your bedroom.

• Abby loves to buy those cute nightlights with little animals on them or the ones that change colours, and she scatters them around the house. When you’re lost in the darkness, right?

• She serves you warm drinks in your favourite mug and nothing else. She’ll handwash it a million times a day if she must.

• Abby's phone chirps with little alarms throughout the day, reminding her to do something special for you. This is all the time, not just when you’re depressed, to be certain.

• Weighted blankets everywhere. Vehicles included.

• I don’t care what anyone says, Abby is soft as a motherfucker, okay? Is she rough around the edges? Maybe. Yes. 100%. Fine, she’s a hot mess, but will she read you poetry aloud, until her voice is hoarse, and her lips go dry? Without a doubt. There are sticks and jars of lip ointment all over the place wherever Abby resides.

Fun fact: Abby hates when her lips feel dry, even slightly. She is constantly reaching for ChapStick and all its cousins. Whenever someone tells her she should stop using her precious lip stuff because it will improve the sensory nightmare in the long run, she’ll immediately do that pouty, nose crinkle thing at them and ignore the advice without a breath.

• Abby lets you wear all her sweaters. That’s a given. But when you’re depressed, she tends to reach for yours as well. It helps her feel close to you when she’s dealing with her own inner turmoil.

• She doesn’t fuck around when she senses you’re starting to spiral. Her routines are extremely important to her, but she will put them on pause to be there for you.

Now, does she gently, lovingly, force your ass to go on walks with her to get some fresh air somewhere you feel comfortable? Yeah, she does. This might be annoying at times when you’re really struggling, and she knows it. She’ll still encourage movement in a way that is manageable for you if leaving the house is too daunting.

If that means you’re standing on her feet, arms wrapped around her neck while she sways side to side with you, so be it.

• She'll binge-watch your favorite shows and movies with you until she drains all the power in the entire city.

• Abby won't make you feel awkward if you cry. She'll just start crying, too, even if she tries so hard not to. She gets better at keeping it to a little glossy eyed moment, but sometimes your pain is her pain, and the dam just… breaks.

• Abby is an actions over words type of human. She’s a doer. Also, timing doesn’t matter much to her. She is desperate to give you a future to believe in because she is so certain that what the two of you share is everlasting.

Abby proposes to you when your hair is a mess, and you’ve been in the same pajamas for days. Fuzzy teeth? Fear not. She isn’t afraid of the hard times. Her love is an anchor. A constant.

She wants to remind you that you’ll never have to face your dark times alone.

Shadows dance on the tapestry walls of the blanket fort, illuminated by the warm, flickering lights hanging inside. Across from you, Abby lounges with her legs stretched out and her back propped against a pile of soft pillows. She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with something in her hands.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle and husky, like gravel smoothed by unrelenting water. “When I was little, I used to make forts like this with my dad. We’d sit in the middle of all the chaos and just… talk about random shit. Nothing outside could touch us.”

As she glances at you, there is a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.

“That’s what this feels like—being with you. Even when everything else seems like it’s falling apart, you’re my safe place.”

Abby leans forward, her knees brushing yours, and you realize she’s holding a small velvet box. Her confidence wavers, revealing a hint of vulnerability you rarely see.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. About us—what we mean to each other.” Her voice cracks a little, causing her to pause and clear her throat before she continues.

“I know you’ve been feeling lost. And I know I can’t fix it, even when it kills me—even when all I want to do is make the hurting go away. But I can promise you this...”

She opens the box, the ring glimmering in the soft light, her affectionate, earnest gaze meeting yours.

"I promise you'll always have someone by your side to help you through it. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll be right here with you. For the tough days, the good ones, everything the world throws at us. Because you’re it for me. You always have been."

With each word, her voice grows softer, filled with an unmistakable tremor of emotion.

“Let me be your person forever. Let me love you, fight for you. Let me build you giant blanket forts until we’re way too fucking old to do it by ourselves—and then let me find new ways to take care of you. Because it’s all I want in this lifetime. You’re all I see. Will you marry me?”

[demo-whale]

Neil’s Photos

I'm still on my reposting spree! I did love these hc lists I guess. I like to think that Neil absolutely covers the walls of his apartment in pictures because it reminds him that he has family now, especially after Andrew gifts him a camera. So I present to you, pictures that can be found around the Josten-Minyard apartment:

There are so many pictures of the cats

Just the cats sunbathing in the window, playing with their toys, eating

One picture that Andrew really loves of Sir and King in the bath. Sir looks absolutely content and relaxed, but King is NOT having it

Neil managed to catch one of King jumping off the counter and at Nicky when he was visiting

Nicky is in the process of running away and King looks vicious

There’s (obviously) a ton of exy-related pictures, even though it’s hard for Neil to have his camera during practice and after games

One of Matt smiling at Neil behind the camera and pointing to the scoreboard of a game they won

One of Allison carrying an exhausted Renee bridal style off the court. They’re both smiling ever so softly at each other

One of Nicky and Aaron clacking sticks in lieu of high-fiving

There are at least five pictures of Andrew staring menacingly at the camera (Neil) from the goal

There’s one where Kevin is perched atop Matt’s shoulders during practice looking absolutely goofy, something he doesn’t often look during exy practices

One of Allison and Nicky hip-bumping after SLAYING their homophobic opponents

(Neil got that one from the sidelines after getting benched for punching said homophobic opponents)

One of Kevin and Wymack tearfully embracing after Kevin won his last game at PSU

One of all of them (the original nine) at the girls' last game

Allison is holding Renee’s hand and holding Seth's jersey in the other, Kevin is sandwiched in between the twins, Nicky and Neil have their arms around each other, and Dan and Matt are laying on their sides in front of the group

There’s one of Kevin fist-bumping Neil at one of their late night practices, and they both look so happy (Andrew took it from the bleachers but if anyone asks he denies and says it must have been the phantom of the exy stadium)

There are also a bunch of miscellaneous photos from their time at PSU

Kevin passed out in the booth at Eden’s

Andrew eating the last of Neil’s ice cream at Sweetie’s and flipping off the camera

Kevin and Andrew studying together

Aaron and Katelyn holding hands on the sidewalk

Nicky and Allison gossiping while baking cookies

Matt giving Dan a kiss on the cheek on the dorm couch

There’s one picture of everyone laying on the ground sleeping after one of their impromptu movie nights and sleep overs

The girls painting each other’s nails

Renee and Andrew sparring-Neil likes this specific one because Renee looks particularly badass (he warms up to Renee and watches them pretty regularly to try and pick up some moves)

Kevin flipping Aaron the bird while simultaneously laughing at something he said

Everyone smiling at the camera from the dinner table at Abby’s house for Thanksgiving

One of Andrew on the roof, illuminated only by the moon and his cigarette lighter, with his hair rumpled and he’s looking less apathetic than usual

One of Betsy and Andrew drinking iced coffee together at the campus coffee shop

Even after they all graduate Neil is as vigilant as ever

Matt and Dan exchanging vows at their wedding

Nicky holding up his hand and showing off his engagement ring while he and Erik share a kiss in the background

Aaron smiling with Katelyn after he graduates med school

Aaron and Andrew each holding a twin with Katelyn dead asleep in the hospital bed right after the twins were born

Kevin, his wife, Wymack, and Abby on the day of Kevin’s wedding-he had called them Mom and Dad in his speech and everyone looks suspiciously misty-eyed

Dan and Matt surrounded by their kids in their kitchen while they cook dinner for Andrew and Neil who are visiting

Nicky, on the ground of the animal shelter, surrounded by dogs as he tries to choose which one to adopt-Erik is looking adoringly at him from off to the side

Abby and Wymack on their couch, yelling at the TV while watching one of Kevin’s games

Allison and Renee sitting on a blanket in the park with their kids during a picnic with Andrew and Neil. They’re all wearing matching sun hats and they all look ethereal

There are a couple of pictures of friends Neil meets after he and Andrew settle down in Denver, sitting together at restaurants and bars

A BUNCH of Andrew sleeping around the apartment

On the couch, on the floor, sitting up in a chair, sprawled out on the balcony, in bed

There are also many pictures of Andrew and Neil together during their travels,  but Neil’s favorite is them under the Eiffel Tower because Andrew turned his head at the last second to give Neil a kiss on the cheek

There’s only one picture of just Neil, and Andrew took it. Neil is holding a cigarette and leaving over the rail of their balcony, and he looks beautiful against the city skyline. Andrew unabashedly frames it and puts it on his bedside table because, “I like having pictures of people who mean the most to me, too, junkie.”

Well I know that was just me rambling and this list is littered with my own personal headcanons with absolutely no background or context given, but I love this concept and had to write it. I hope you enjoyed!

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

To Break Free

Chapter Two Summary:

Joel Miller has been called many things in his life, but a party planner has never been one of them. However, with how things had been left between the two of you after your disastrous date night, the pressure is on. Meanwhile, across the street, the forces of life seem to be working against you, as a letter in the mail and a broken AC nearly convince you to call the whole thing off. Nevertheless, the show must go on and with sweat running down your back, you venture over to the house across the street in hopes that some socialization might distract you from the past.

Warnings: NoOutbreak!Joel Miller/Reader, Sarah and Ellie as siblings, Neighbour!Joel, The Miller Girls as Wingmen for Both Reader and Joel, Tommy Is a Little Shit, Angst and Tooth Rotting Fluff, Both Reader and Joel Want Each Other So Bad, Pining, Soft!Joel, Mentions of Past Relationship/Abuse (read with caution), Mentions of Imbalance of Power in Past Relationships (read with caution x 2).

A/N:

Hey y'all, welcome back! This chapter is a bit long but like my username suggests, it's the first week back after the break and I'm running from my responsibilities rn lol.

This chapter starts off from Joel's perspective and shows where he's at after everything that went down in chapter one. We also learn more about reader's past, particularly the ex that she is trying super hard not to think about. It does give some perspective as to why she is hesitant to start anything with Joel but also, we can see her struggling with that because they are both down bad. A bit of a warning for some of the memories reader goes through pertaining to her ex. No physical violence, but he definitly took advantage of her as her professor and was emotionally abusive. If that is something you are uncomfortable with, please take care of yourself and do not read. You could always message me for a sparknotes version of the chapter if you don't want to miss out.

Either way, don't worry, there is loads of angsty fluff and pining as well. These two want to fuck each other so bad in this chapter that it hurts lol. Enjoy! <3

Chapter 2/10

Chapter 2: The Barbecue

The chips were set out, the drinks buried in tubs of ice, plates of meat and veggies waiting in the fridge for their turn on the grill, yet he couldn’t stop pacing. The moment that the sunrise had peeked through his blinds that morning, Joel Miller had been up and running. He knew he was being ridiculous. Despite his hectic schedule and two teens, the Miller home was usually kept rather tidy. However, the second his feet had touched down on the main floor, all his anxious eyes could see was filth. When was the last time Joel had scrubbed the walls or vacuumed in between the couch cushions? He couldn’t remember, which led to him starting off his day with a needless scrub down of every nook and cranny that any reasonable person would neglect. 

Joel was being a bit much, he felt it in the glares that his daughters had both sent him at different points that morning due to his deranged scouring, but the usual embarrassment that came from their teasing was dwarfed by his nerves. Even when every surface in the house was practically sparkling from his efforts, he still couldn’t stop. Instead, Joel buried himself in the food preparations, further annoying his girls as he quizzed them on any food intolerances that any of his guests may have. By the time his worries about the food were soothed, after being reminded multiple times that they had already helped him write the list that he had brought with him to the grocery store, he was close to collapsing. 

Something was brewing inside of Joel, something that made all of the air rush out of his lungs,  that brightened the tips of his ears when his daughters teased him about it, that made him want to throw up when he thought about the last time he saw you. He had been stupid, so incredibly stupid that he had nearly had a panic attack when you left him on the porch that night. A migraine had gathered at the base of his skull after you bid him goodbye, forcing him to stumble home and collapse into bed with a frustrated huff. It was as if his brain was rejecting itself for bringing you any pain, betraying him for not being more careful with his words. 

In his defense, Joel had been barely conscious at the restaurant that night, nodding along to a trust fund baby nearly half his age prattling on about the luxury homes he wanted the company to pump out for him. As much as Joel tried to stay present for the sake of the cash he was getting waved under his nose, he was out of his element. It was Tommy who usually handled all of the schmoozing, giving the clients that million dollar customer service smile that the eldest Miller lacked. However, after a mix up with the scheduling that had left the more sociable brother severely overbooked, Joel had been forced to step up. 

“The thing is John, it’s John right? Anyways, I don’t want this to be a place for nobodies. This neighbourhood is going to be nice, a place where young families can go to be away from the rest of this dumpy town,” the client explained. 

Joel had smiled politely, though he couldn’t help but imagine strangling the smug prick with his skinny necktie. He had seen tons of developers like him over the years, flashy assholes who wanted nothing more than to build a ridiculously expensive neighbourhood that made everyone else’s rents go up. He hated the homes that his wealthier client base always wanted. They were all the same, luxury homes that were devoid of any life or warmth. Just once, Joel wanted to go back to the basics, to work on a place with a little bit of character or at least be allowed to paint the outside of the building something other than grey. But with this guy, he knew there wasn’t any chance. 

“I want the neighbourhood to look clean, ya know? And it can’t be trashy if all of the places look alike. Plus, with a fair price on the mortgages given how nice you’ll make it, we can make sure that the riff raff stays out,” the developer continued, his pointed words grating on Joel to no end. 

“Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying,” Joel sighed, swirling the little bit of whiskey left in the bottom of his glass. 

Joel suddenly wished he had taken a cab, maybe then he could have slammed enough drinks to make the meeting interesting enough to withstand. The client kept chattering, the sound of his nasally voice slowly blending into the upbeat hits that were making his ears ring. He thought about calling the whole thing off, wondering if he could ask for forgiveness from his brother later if he made up a good enough excuse. However, just as he was about to excuse himself with a fake family emergency, his eyes landed upon you. Or rather, they landed upon you with him. 

Jealousy had seeped into Joel’s chest as he watched the way your date’s hand had pushed against your space between your shoulders, leading you to the table with a wolfish grin plastered across his face. All of Joel’s coronary arteries constricted at that, the sight of you being pushed into the table by another man making him burn bright with rage. And yet, he couldn’t look away. The heels that made your legs look a mile long, the makeup that accentuated all of the features that had haunted him since your first day in town, the messy updo that showed off the gentle slope of your neck, were all so infuriatingly perfect. Infuriating especially because Joel knew that it wasn’t for him. 

Joel was jealous. He was jealous and he knew that it was stupid to feel that way. Afterall, he had only met you once. Christ, but what a meeting it had been, he thought to himself as he tried not to remember your damp body on display for him. However, no matter how hard he tried to remind himself that you were basically a stranger, that his stupid crush didn’t mean anything to you and shouldn’t, the green monster had been released. It clawed at the inside of his ribcage, tearing his heart to shreds the longer he stared at you all dolled up for another man. He had no claim over you and yet, the envy he felt towards your date had dug its talons into his soul and refused to let go. 

Nevertheless, the more time went on, the more antsy Joel became. Something was off, he saw it in the way you squirmed uncomfortably in your chair, or how you began to shrink even further into your seat each time your date rushed off to the bathroom. It was only after the dickhead had shuffled back over for a third time that Joel truly understood what was going on and with you suddenly on the verge of tears, flashing the man across from you a forced grin, he was enraged. 

“Anyways John, I’m sure your company will do fine. I’ve talked to your brother a bit. He seems more uh…  my speed. I’ll get my secretary to send over the paperwork to him and then we can get started, okay?,” the younger man had asked him, stretching his hand out for him to take. 

“Yep, sounds good man,” Joel answered, quickly shaking the hand outstretched to him. 

The client had said his goodbyes after that, likely not wanting to sit and socialize with the gruff contractor that had begun to actively ignore him. Quite frankly, Joel didn’t care what the guy thought of him. His work spoke for itself. Plus, he would make his apologies later if need be but at that moment, he had bigger fish to fry. 

Although the jealousy that Joel had felt was still there, flaring up every time his eyes raked over your beautifully done up figure, the edges of it had softened as the minutes ticked by. That man, whoever he was, was a certified asshole. Aside from the frequent trips to the bathroom, with each return making your date’s vice of choice more obvious than before, Joel couldn’t help but notice how silent you had become. Distress practically rolled off of your tense shoulders, reaching out to him from across the room and thickening the lining of his throat until he felt like he might burst out into tears himself if something wasn’t done. 

Joel had willed himself to yell out, to beg you to speak up from his seat at the bar. He wanted to see you rip your date a new one and walk out with your pretty head held high, but none of that came to pass. Instead, his heart had gotten heavier and heavier as you got smaller and smaller, until he at last couldn’t take it anymore. 

Before your date had even fully left the table for his final bathroom trip of the night, Joel was already halfway out of his seat. He slammed down a wad of bills for his drink before he left, not even looking at the ridiculous amount he had left the bartender as he hurried towards the other end of the room. His sole focus was the beautiful woman whose eyes were glossed over as she bounced off of the service staff with the grace of a newborn deer, trying and failing to keep it together as the rich pricks around her failed to hide their amusement. 

“Oh honey,” Joel groaned under his breath as he spied your purse still slung over your chair, quickly switching paths so that you wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassment of returning for it after your frazzled escape. 

Everything that had come afterwards had happened so fast that it was practically a blur to him now. Although, your teary eyed face was burned into Joel’s memory, still beautiful yet so raw as you tried to keep from balling in front of him when he finally caught up to you outside. And then came the punch he had launched at your date, an act of violence that was so out of character for a man his age, a man that had given up bar fights the second his first child had slid into the world, that he didn’t even know what to think. That ride home had been tense, with him trying not to freak out over the snap decision while he drove you home, terrified that it might get back to his kids somehow as you sniffled and sighed beside him. 

It was at a red light that Joel had finally made up his mind about the incident. As he watched you try to wipe the smeared eyeliner off of your face, eyes red as a fresh wave of tears ruined your progress, he decided that he didn’t regret the punch one bit. How dare that asshole make you, or any woman for that matter, feel so horrible. The woman he had met a month prior had been tired, a bit sad even, but not diminished. There had been a flicker of light in your eyes, one that Joel hoped to stroke into a roaring flame someday if you gave him a chance, but in that moment it had all but vanished. And the longer he had sat in his truck that night, listening to you trying to breathe through your distress, the more he wanted to rain hellfire down on anyone who ever made the mistake of hurting you. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel hissed, coming back to the present as hot water suddenly scalded his hands. 

Dropping the glass he was scrubbing back into the soapy water, Joel placed both of his hands on the edges of the sink and sighed. He had tried not to let himself think about it since that night, about how hard he wanted to punch any man who made you frown like that. And that moment, with the way things had ended on Thursday, he was at the top of his own list. 

Joel needed to make things right with you, he needed it like the air he breathed. For a month he had run to the front windows every time he heard the tell tale signs of your clunky Honda making its way back home, hoping to catch a glimpse of the goddess next door. And now, with the events of your date night still fresh in his mind, along with his piss-poor excuse for an apology the previous morning, he was close to driving to the coast and walking straight into the ocean. Joel sighed, growing more disgruntled by the second. He needed to make things right with you, lest he be doomed to pining for you from afar and getting teased by his family members until you inevitably met a more handsome man that he would be unreasonably jealous of. 

“Look, I really appreciate what you did for me today. I know that this was not how you probably wanted to spend your Thursday, but you don’t have to stay. I’m fine, everything is great. You can go back to the people you’ve got and I’ll go back to… Uh, this,” you had laughed bitterly, gesturing towards the empty house, “I mean, this is all I’ve got, right?” 

Joel Miller was not the best at expressing himself, that much was glaringly obvious. But your words, the way you had thanked him for something he had done on his volition while simultaneously disparaging yourself, had taken him completely off guard. It was preposterous, the thought of someone like you having nothing in your life other than the fixer upper you went home to at the end of the day. 

If only you knew how much the girls adored you, practically gushing about the interesting woman that they cornered at every turn and forced into movie nights. Or, how Joel greedily sucked up any tidbit of information about you they sprinkled into their stories, cataloging everything he learned in case he may one day get the chance to use it. Whether you knew it or not, you had the Miller clan under lock and key, especially their patriarch. Though, given the fact that he had gone AWOL since your first day in Austin, he understood why you wouldn’t think to include him on your list of friends. 

The last month of work had been tough. With the school year coming to a close and summer biting at his ankles, the company was set for a busy season of jobs and Joel had been running around like a chicken with his head cut off to keep up with the preparations. Each morning, he was gone at an ungodly hour, barely managing to wait for the coffee to brew most days. Still, that didn’t mean that Joel wasn’t looking for you in all that time, that he didn’t long to be in your presence again. The few glimpses he caught of you after work made his day and he found himself dreaming about the sundresses you wore or the way the light made your hair shine. Even his girls, as quick as they were to tease him about everything under the sun, had shifted their tact from razzing him to outright begging him to do something about his obvious attraction. In their words, he was getting downright pathetic. 

“What’s got your head in the clouds?,” Tommy teased, his brother’s loud voice rudely snapping him from the thoughts that were unsurprisingly centered around you. 

“New lady just moved in across the street, he’s in loooove,” Ellie singsonged, words muffled around a mouth full of the cookie dough that she had snagged from the freezer. 

“Say it, don’t spray it kiddo,” Joel grunted, shaking his head at his daughter as she opened her mouth in defiance, showcasing all of her unchewed food before she flipped him off. 

“S’that right? Well I’ll be, you didn’t tell me you were seeing anybody,” his brother laughed. 

Joel sighed, suddenly wondering if it had been a good idea to invite you over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you in his home, filling it with laughter and warmth as you left traces of your delicious perfume on hopefully every surface. Having you over was probably his greatest desire, second only to the far off fantasy of his crappy attempts at being funny being the reason you were laughing so hard, but he couldn’t help his own nerves. What if you didn’t have fun? What if Tommy said something embarrassing? What if you thought his home was a dumpster fire? What if too many people came? What if his girls told you about the stupid crush that he so obviously harbored? And worst of all, what if you never showed? 

That last one was what Joel feared the most. He hadn’t meant to imply that you didn’t have anybody and yet, that was how it came out. The breakfast and the note he had left was a cheap apology, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. He was so sure that you would leave his gift on the porch to rot, perhaps even text him a long winded message that amounted to a succinct fuck you, but instead he had been surprised by a short thank you message, followed by a question about what time the event started. Joel had answered the text with shaky hands, buzzing with excitement and terror as he tried to answer as casually as he could. With all the information you could ever need, even with his many nerve induced spelling errors, there was no reason for you not to come. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to worry about it. 

“Leave him be guys, he looks like he’s going to barf,” Sarah chastised as she strolled into the kitchen, drawing a few laughs from the rest of his family. 

“Christ almighty, m’not gonna barf. Worry about yourselves,” Joel groaned, praying for any higher power to smite him before his nausea proved her wrong. 

Nobody answered him, preferring instead to give each other amused looks as Joel returned to scrubbing the dishwasher spots from all of his best glasses. With how many red solo cups he had on hand in case any of the adults preferred a mixed drink instead of the sodas, beers, and coolers he had on deck, the quick scrub down was pointless but his brain couldn’t stop playing the what if game. Like what if all of the plastic cups got used up by the time you arrived and you were forced to drink out of one of his? The last thing Joel wanted was for you to see all the little white specks. That was careless. It was less than you deserved. And he couldn’t allow that. 

“Dad, you need to chill out. The place looks great, we’ve got way too much food and drinks, and there will be plenty of people here to talk you up. Everything is going to be fine, I promise. She’s gonna have a great time,” Sarah said, nudging him away from the sink so she could finish up. 

“I’m not, that’s not -,” Joel cleared his throat, “That’s not what this is. I just want everyone to feel at home. Is that such a crime? Everyone deserves to have a good time. I-I need to make things right with uh - with everyone. Why is that so hard for you guys to understand?” 

Joel winced at his own transparency. He was usually better at hiding his love life from his family, if the flings he had over the years even counted as such. But you were different. He didn’t want you to be like the rest, he wanted you all to himself. Alas, he probably wasn’t even on your radar yet, which meant that claiming that you were a part of his love life was false. 

“Right, well if you’re trying to impress everyone, then you should probably put in a little bit more effort than that, old man. Can’t be letting everyone think that you dress like a friggin’ slob,” Ellie suggested, her eyes raking up and down his figure in disapproval. 

Joel balked, looking down at his outfit. He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to wear, too busy tearing through his house like a madman for any spec of dirt he could find. It wasn’t like dressing up was really his thing anyways. Most of his days were spent in beaten up work clothes or the sweatpants he threw on at the end of the day but he wanted to do better, even though he couldn’t remember the last time he had spruced himself up for a lady, much less one that had infiltrated his brain like you had. 

“Hmmm yeah, and everyone would also probably appreciate it if you showered first. You’re a bit too rank right now to be pulling any moves on everyone, unless of course your goal is to make them gag,” Sarah chuckled as she placed the last glass back into the cupboard. 

As much as Joel wanted to argue, they had a point. With sweat darkening nearly every inch of his shirt, his curls in disarray, and his body odor souring even the inside of his own nostrils, he was truly disgusting. His eyes snapped towards the clock, lips forming a grim line as he saw the time. One hour. He had one hour before people, perhaps even you, started pouring into his home. How in the hell was he supposed to shower, find something decent to wear, figure out what to do with his hair, and have one last meltdown, all before you arrived? 

“There’s an outfit laid out on your bed, compliments of your two loving daughters who got woken up by your loud-ass cleaning spree this morning. Don’t change a thing about it, just put it on when you’re out of the shower and then fix your hair. Go,” Sarah commanded him. 

“What? C’mon, I can dress myself!,” he halfheartedly protested, earning him a look from everyone in the room. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank us after you ask her out,” Ellie chuckled, slapping him on the back as she swerved past to pilfer through the freezer once more. 

Joel sighed, trying not to let his utter embarrassment overwhelm him as he started towards the stairs. 

“Fine, just don’t be getting into the appetizers while I’m gone,” Joel announced, turning back to give them all a look before he started to climb the steps. 

The half assed grunts of acknowledgement that Joel got in response were not encouraging, but he was too flustered to care. He took the stairs two at a time, needing to get as much distance between him and his family before he threw himself off the roof. By the time he got back to his room, he was so turned around that he could barely figure out how to get the shower going and almost ripped the faucet off the wall in his haste. Even still, the only thing that kept him sane in that moment, despite all of his panic induced spiraling, was you. 

Joel didn’t know you. He didn’t know your favourite ice cream, or if you had broken any bones as a kid, or even why you had decided to work in a library of all places, but he wanted to. God, he wanted to know you so badly that it was driving him crazy. The way your energy bounced off of his in the few moments he had with you so far, reviving the small pieces of him that had been chipped away from years of focusing on his work, on raising his daughters, on keeping the past at bay for his family’s sake, made him feel like he was finally coming back to himself. 

Every piece reborn made him want to try a little more, until Joel was foolishly ready to lose all of his senses and beg you to let him be your one and only. It was much too soon for anything like that, but being in your presence was like touching a livewire, like reading a book by a warm fire, like freefalling through the sky, like falling into bed at the end of a long day. It was as terrifying and exciting, as it was calming and gentle, and Joel wanted more. Scratch that, he needed more. 

So, as Joel hurried under the lukewarm spray, scrubbing any trace of his hectic morning off of his body, he tried hard to not to think about all of the things that could go wrong. You would come, you would have fun, and Joel would be as charming as someone like him possibly could. Then maybe, just maybe, you might forget about his previous blunders and give him a second chance. Who knows, he thought to himself, sighing as he tried to remember the last time he had been so obsessed, a man could hope. 

- You - 

The fan was a stupid idea, especially with how downright disgusting your house had become as the hours ticked by, but what else could you possibly do? Your air conditioner, the beautiful beast that had served you for almost eleven years, had finally petered out and died at some point the previous night. Already curled up in bed, you hadn’t noticed until early that morning, when you woke up cranky and covered in sweat, the Texas heat oozing through all of your big and beautiful windows. Despite all of the tutorials online, the damn thing refused to work, leaving you with no other choice than to cook inside all day. 

The morning had been tough, especially when a letter from someone you hoped to never hear from again came in the mail. Sighing as you felt how light it was, you abandoned it on the counter, not wanting to ruin the day before it had even begun. Nothing with him had ever been easy and you sighed, kicking yourself for believing that he would actually sign the divorce papers you had sent in the mail. Nevertheless, you decided to ignore how the unopened letter made you feel, choosing instead to focus on the day ahead. 

With thoughts of Joel and his utterly confusing yet exciting presence running through your mind, you refused to let him rain on your parade. Across the street there was a handsome man who had first rescued you from back breaking labor during your move, and then later one of the worst dates you had ever been on. A man who, much to your dismay as a newly single woman for the first time in ten years, intrigued you to no end. You spent the entire day basically vibrating from excitement, counting the seconds until you could start getting ready. 

A half hour before the barbecue was set to start, you jumped into the shower, hoping that a toe curling icy shower would help you race through your makeup routine without acquiring too much sweat. And yet, after five minutes of shaking from the cold, your limbs had slowly but surely thawed out. No matter how speedy your usual makeup routine was, there was no escaping the heat that caused it to melt off of your face. 

Spraying yet another heavy layer of setting spray, you sighed. You had done your best given the circumstances. Despite the sweat that clung to your hairline, along with the annoying last minute outfit change after your first dress had become drenched in sweat, you looked okay. Not as great as you had originally hoped, but not awful. That had to count for something you supposed. 

“Goddammit,” you sighed, already regretting your decision to accept Joel’s invitation. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, fixing the straps on the pink sundress that showcased an appropriate amount of cleavage and hugged your curves just right, you couldn’t help but feel a bit silly. It was a barbecue, a family friendly event that Joel had invited you to, just as any friendly neighbour would. And yet, there you were, dolled up and sweating. At least if he had invited you out of some sort of neighbourly obligation, he probably wouldn’t notice how disheveled you were. 

It was that thought that got you through the door and across the street. Joel Miller was trying to be a friend, and surely a friend wouldn’t care about another friend’s sweaty face on a day as hot as this one. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you knocked on the door, ignoring the way your heart pounded alongside the music you could hear coming from the backyard. It sounded packed inside, much busier than any typical barbecue, and you suddenly longed for the comfort of your own home again. When nobody came, you stood there in silence for a few more seconds, biting your lip as you debated retreating back to safety. However, all of your escape plans were foiled when a curly haired teen yanked the door open. 

“Hey - oh shit,” Sarah cussed, concern trickling into her tone. 

“What? What is it?,” you asked quickly, stomach twisting as her eyes examined every inch of your face. 

Heart pounding, you ripped open your purse, pulling out a compact so that you could have a look at the damage. It was only then that you saw the travesty that the heat had created. The once nearly acceptable look was literally melting off of your face from the heat, creating a mess that even the kindest of strangers would be hard pressed to ignore. You looked like a clown that had gotten jumped, and given the sounds of the lively party going on behind the teen, you suddenly felt like one too. 

“Shit, what the hell happened to you?,” Ellie exclaimed, popping up from behind her sister. 

“I-I um, my AC broke and I couldn’t -,” you sighed, suddenly wishing you had never come in the first place. 

“Oh my god, shut up Ellie! Do you think she needs to hear that right now?! Ugh, you’re as clueless as Tommy sometimes,” Sarah groaned, roughly shoving her sister’s head out of the doorframe,“Get out of here, would you? Go distract dad so I can sneak her upstairs. We’ve got some work to do.” 

“Oh, you really don’t have to…” 

Sarah’s gaze turned back towards you, playful yet pointed as she examined the state of you. Wordlessly she raked her eyes up and down your rumpled form, cocking her eyebrow as if to say really? Heat crept up your neck, a small laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation bubbling up from within as you watched Ellie soldier off in search of her father. It didn’t take long for her to find him apparently, as Sarah was soon rushing you up the stairs and into her room before anyone could see your disheveled state. 

Although most of the original makeup had to be wiped off, you had to admit that the girl had a talent for eyeliner, and even managed to corral your sweaty strands back into a cute braid that kept it from sticking to the sides of your face. When Sarah was done you looked different, like yourself but slightly elevated. The makeup was a lot simpler than what you would normally do but it looked good, cute even. 

“What do you think? I know it’s nothing fancy, but I think you look really pretty like this,” Sarah chirped, the hope evident in her voice. 

You smiled back at her in the mirror, chest tight with emotion as you did. Maybe your only friends at the moment were two teenage girls but damn, were they better company than the vultures you had been friends with before coming to Austin. The friends you used to have would have gladly let you stumble through the party downstairs with your face basically dripping down down to your neck, but not the Miller girls. They had helped and much to your dismay, the eldest had even done a better job at fixing up your face than you had. 

“It’s beautiful Sarah, I love it,” you said truthfully, giving her arm a squeeze as you turned around, “Thank you for this, I was getting ready to run home and bar the windows.” 

“Eeek! Okay good,” she squealed, shaking your shoulders in excitement, “Now you can go meet everyone. Ugh, but you should probably go see dad first. He’s been asking us every two seconds if you’ve shown up yet. It’s like dude, she’s coming just give her some time to walk across the street before you freak out.” 

“Y-Your dad asked about me?,” you asked lightly, trying and failing to keep it cool. 

Sarah raised her eyebrows at that, her knowing look making you want to bury your head in the pillows and scream. The last thing you needed was for the stupid crush you had on Joel Miller to become public knowledge, much less the knowledge of one of the most chattiest people you knew. 

“Oh big time. He’s been losing his mind about having you here since Friday morning,” she said with a sly grin, “Pretty much turned the house inside out this morning trying to get everything perfect. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad so excited about having people over. He usually hates it but he got so nervous that he let Uncle Tommy be in charge of the guest list.” 

You didn’t answer, too busy trying to control the visceral reaction your nervous system was having to her comment. Joel Miller had been freaking out… over you? That couldn’t be right, not when you had spent the last month convincing yourself that he was a figment of your imagination, or the past 24 hours trying to convince yourself that he was nothing but an overly friendly neighbor. 

“I - um… I don’t…,” you trailed off, not sure what to say. 

Sarah waved you off, holding out her hand to you instead with a comically wide grin. 

“Come on, let’s get down there.” 

-

The barbecue had turned into a bit of a house party in the time it had taken Sarah to fix you up. The house was filled with neighbours mingling with construction crews, kids playing games in the pool out back, and rowdy family members that seemed to be very interested in meeting you. Tommy was the first one you met after he caught Sarah trying to sneak you past. He was kind, seemingly familiar with everyone, and comfortable enough to give you a hug so forceful that it nearly knocked you off balance. It was a stark contrast to the more reserved way Joel carried himself, but it was refreshing nonetheless. His girlfriend, Maria, was less boisterous than him but no less kind, and you soon found yourself at long last conversing with adults your own age who didn’t seem like absolute assholes. 

As the pair asked you about your career, education, even the home improvements you planned to do on the bungalow across the street, you felt uncharacteristically at ease. The two of them listened dutifully while you talked, while both of the Miller girls filtered in and out of the conversation as some of their friends showed up. And in turn, you listened to their stories, smiling through every tale that included the southern stud that had eluded you thus far. 

Through their stories, you learned that the eldest Miller had once been a swimmer, that he needed glasses terribly but refused to wear them, and that he used to be in a shitty garage band when he was younger. Their stories helped humanize the confusing man. Instead of remaining the handsome stranger who had come to the rescue, he was suddenly the guy who used to shave all of his body hair in highschool so he could get the best time score at swim meets, the guy who gets his daughters to read the fine print on pretty much everything, the guy who once grew his hair out and sang at smoky bars throughout Texas. He was just a regular guy, albeit a handsome and thoughtful one, but a regular guy nonetheless. That comforted you to no end. 

“Aw look, here comes trouble,” Tommy called out, interrupting his own juicy story about the time his brother had been kicked out of his own show for swinging on a guy in the crowd that had grabbed one of the waitresses. 

“If I’m trouble, then you’re a goddamn villain Tomcat,” Joel drawled, flicking the brim of his brother’s hat as he did. 

“Fuck you,” Tommy laughed, dodging another flick as he retreated back to Maria’s side. 

“I see you found your way,” Joel said to you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the disastrous date night just two nights prior. 

You really wished Joel would stop looking at you like that. His eyes peered past your exterior, sinking deep into your soul as you took him in all of his glory in. The form-fitting jeans he had chosen, the white t-shirt that fit over his meaty biceps just right, the way his hair was pushed back from his face, the smell of his spicy cologne, was all enough to make someone as neglected as you faint. 

You bit your bottom lip, trying not to swoon as you felt Joel’s eyes slide over your body, zeroing in on the way the pink fabric clung to the curves he had seen bare a little over a month ago. He looked just handsome as he had that day, the slight adjustments to his attire only adding to his usual sexy self. And with the heat of his stare scalding every inch of your body, covered or not, you knew that you’d happily give him another peek the second he asked. 

“Yeah I mean, hard to get lost when it’s right across the street,” you awkwardly joked, earning a few chuckles from the group. 

But Joel didn’t laugh, he just smiled at you, all of the lines in his face smoothing over as he did and you couldn’t help but stare. His mustache was trimmed to perfection, beautifully framing the pouty set of lips that stretched around the grin he gave you. A funny feeling trickled into your lower belly as you stared at his plush mouth, tightening the muscles between your thighs until you were throbbing there. Heart pounding in your chest, you snapped your eyes back up to meet his, knowing that if you stared at his lips any longer, you would be doing something utterly moronic like launching forward to kiss him. Dizzied and drunk off of his heady scent and hypnotic stare, you were frozen, wanting nothing more than to place your hands on the broad expanse of his chest despite the fact that his family was quietly watching the exchange from mere inches away. 

“Good, m’glad you came darling,” he said quietly, almost like he was admitting something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Really?,” you squeaked. 

A guffaw came from behind you. 

“Christ, the girls are right. You two are really something else,” Tommy piped up, shattering the bubble of solace that the two of you had built. 

Joel’s face twisted in annoyance, the tips of his ears going bright red as he glowered at his brother. The youngest of the Miller men just laughed and rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Joel’s shoulders so he could playfully shake him. 

“Ya know what? I think that grill is getting pretty lonely out there. Why don’t you two go check on the grub? Joel can flip ‘em and you can make sure he don’t burn nothing,” Tommy suggested, giving his brother a slap on the back for good measure before he released him. 

“Oh um, yeah sure,” you stammered, unsure of what else to say. 

The thought of being alone with Joel was daunting but with the way he stared at you even when you looked away, the heat of his gaze hot against the side of your face, you decided that you were game for any activity involving him. 

“S’fine, you don’t have to help me sweetheart. I can handle it just fine if you wanted to mingle a bit,” Joel said quickly, the urgency in his tone making you frown. 

Did Joel not want to hang out with you? Was the thought of spending time with you that awful? Your stomach roiled, dread leaking in through the cracks in your chest and poisoning the hopefulness that had taken root there. Given your many years living in the city, you couldn’t exactly say that you were a pro at barbecuing, but you were willing to try if it meant you could bask in his attention for a bit longer. You sighed, letting all of hopes of getting a moment alone with him drain out of you, shoulders sagging in disappointment. It made sense that Joel didn’t want you out there. Afterall, why would he want to awkwardly stand outside and make nice with the crazy woman across the street that was in constant need of assistance? 

“I don’t have to if you don’t uh - if you don’t want me to. Doesn’t matter to me, I could just stay in here if that’s better for you,” you rushed out, trying to ignore just how much it really did matter for some reason. 

“Course I want you to.” 

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his again and finding nothing but truthfulness behind them. Something warm and thick bloomed deep inside your belly, blossoming up towards your chest until you were sure butterflies were about to start pouring from your mouth the next time you spoke. Joel stepped closer, holding out one of those big hands that you had been imagining between your thighs. Looking up, you saw the same hope you felt mirrored back in him and you didn’t hesitate to give him your hand, happily allowing him to whisk you away from his family. 

The warmth of Joel’s rough palm was soothing, along with the way he pulled you closer to him as he weaved throughout the crowd. It was as if he was shielding you from everyone else, keeping you safe from the construction guys who were drinking beers and talking sports, or the drunken neighbours in the kitchen that were doing jello shots that someone had brung. He even pulled you against him for a moment as a few of the neighbourhood kids scampered by, trapping you between his chest and the wall to keep you from getting soaked by the water guns that their parents were yelling at them to take back outside. His frame pressed against yours, his eyes vigilant as he timed his next move amidst the chaos. You tried not to react when he looked down at you for a moment, stealing all the breath from your lungs as his nose bumped against yours accidentally but just as you thought that your protector might finally devour you, he was on the move again. 

When Joel finally reached the patio door, you were three sheets to the wind, completely drunk off of him and praying that he would never let go of your hand again. But alas, with the heat of Austin in full swing and the pool filled with families, there was no reason for him to keep holding it any longer. With no other crowds to conquer, Joel dropped your hand, breaking the connection that was sending a thrill up your spine so he could check on the food. 

“Alright, so what’s the game plan?,” you asked shakily, trying to break the tension as you skipped up beside him. 

“Game plan?,” Joel repeated, sounding incredulous as he turned to look at you with a toothy grin,“What d'ya mean?”

“The game plan! Your brother designated me as number two on the grill and I’ll have you know that I take my duties extremely seriously,” you said with a mock salute. 

He snorted and shook his head at your antics, “S’that right? Well, how about you hand me that meat thermometer and we can see just how cooked these bad boys are.”

“Yes sir.” 

It was meant as a joke really, another cheeky remark for Joel to snort over. However, as you watched his spine go rim rod straight, his dark gaze piercing through you as he turned to take you in, you saw the error in your choice of phrase. Although his cheeks were dusted with a light shade of pink, a bit of embarrassment reddening the high points of his distinguished face, his eyes were downright ravenous. A memory trickled into your mind, one where those same eyes had nearly swallowed you whole as they took in every inch of your nude body, and although the pretty sundress you had chosen was secured to your frame, you suddenly felt just as naked under his gaze as you had that day. 

Was Joel thinking about your first meeting? God, you hoped so, and you tried to imagine what he would look like in a similar situation. Would Joel race to pick up his towel, apologizing as he tried to cover up his gloriously nude form? Or would he have the same problem as you did, would he be unable to move under your stare despite the aching cock below his navel? And the more you imagined the roles reversed, the more you realized that Joel should be commended for his restraint. If you had seen him in that state, his body still damp and his cock hard, your response would have been to climb him like a tree. 

Joel licked his lips, sighing quietly before he shook his head at the look you gave him. He felt it too, whatever was growing between you, flowering under the hot sun as your neighbours bobbed in the pool just meters away. The swimmers were the only thing keeping the two of you in check, both sets of hands twitching at their sides like they were resisting the urge to grab one another. Another few moments passed, moments where you stared at each other through thinly veiled lust, before Joel finally turned away. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, messing up the carefully gelled curls in a way that you found incredibly endearing before he sighed and nodded towards the thermometer within your reach. 

“Fuckin’ trouble,” you heard him mumble under his breath, which made you giggle a bit. 

“Hm maybe, but I think you like that about me Miller,” you shot back with a wink as you handed him the thermometer. 

Joel looked over at you again, making you freeze in place. His expression made you feel like his prey in the best way possible. Like any cheeky comment or seductive wink might cause him to break and throw you over his shoulder like some sort of caveman, stomping upstairs so that he could have his way with you despite the guests. Time slowed, the cacophony of noises coming from the party softened by the buzzing energy growing between you. He stepped into your space, his overwhelming presence growing ten times larger as his hulking frame towered over you again and you had to remind yourself to breathe. 

The two of you were practically nose to nose when Joel leaned down, getting so close that you could see the flecks of a lighter brown, almost hazel, mixed in with the rest of the melted chocolate. He was bold, brazen in his powers of seduction as he watched you quiver from the proximity. Those big puppy dog eyes searched yours, the corners of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly when he found whatever it was he was looking for. Perhaps he could sense just how drenched the gusset of your panties were from simply being in his presence. You didn’t care if he did, especially since his own interest was as clear as day. 

“I do like it,” Joel admitted, his voice so soft that you almost thought you dreamt it. 

A shaky breath was released from you as you shifted a tad bit closer, the blazing heat of Joel’s chest so enticing that you boldly placed both of your hands on his chest. He didn’t react at first, other than the tiniest hitch of his breath that you would have missed if you weren’t literally touching him, but then he moved. Two big burly arms wrapped around you, one hand resting at the small of your back and pushing you closer while the other gripped your hip, his gaze remaining steady as ever regardless of the embrace. 

“Joel,” you whispered, not trusting your voice as a surge of want burned through the both of you like wildfire. 

Surely Joel felt the way you shook under him, the nerves mixing with pure excitement as your eyes begged him to do something, anything. He studied your face, a deep flush creeping down his neck as the two of you stayed locked in an embrace that was somehow more intimate than any kiss you had experienced in your entire life. And Joel seemed to sense this, his arms holding you a bit tighter until you calmed from the overwhelming surge of emotions that his welcome touch tore from you. When the shakes were gone, laid to rest by the same man that had started them, all that remained was yearning for him, for Joel. 

“I know sweetheart, I know,” Joel whispered, the hand on your hip moving up to brush a few errant strands of hair from your face, “I can feel it too.” 

The admission struck you hard, making your eyes widen despite your best attempts to play it off. Joel felt it too. What did he mean by that? Did he daydream about you while he was at work too? Did he wonder what your voice sounded like in the mornings? Did he lay in bed at night, rubbing himself raw to the thought of you fucking the shit out of him? That last part sounded like a stretch but based on the heat gathering between you, along with the way his eyes periodically flicked downwards to take in the sight of your heaving breasts, maybe it wasn’t as far off as you had once thought. 

“Joel! How much longer for the - Oh shit, well howdy there to you too neighbour! Looks like the two grill masters are getting along just fine out here by themselves,” Tommy hollered, his jab getting a round of raucous laughter from inside. 

The Miller house was equipped with many things that made it beautiful, one thing being a sliding glass door to the backyard that the two of you were standing in front of. With the rest of the party turned towards you with shit eating grins, along with the intimate embrace on full display for what felt like the entirety of Austin, you suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink through the cracks in the boards below and cease to exist. The heat that you had felt when Joel touched you shifted into something much more menacing, something cruel and embarrassing, something that made you feel like you were miles away and being put on display for the millionth time by the man you had once thought loved you. 

“Don’t,” Joel barked at his brother, his authoritative tone leaving no room for discussion as he slowly retracted himself. 

Tommy’s face fell, a curious look in his eyes as they flickered between the two of you. After a moment, the younger man held his arms up in mock defense, earning an annoyed huff from the man beside you. Although everyone inside had already moved on from the announcement, you shifted closer to Joel, using his large frame as a cover from the heavy weight of shame that had been programmed into you for years. 

“My bad y’all, it was a stupid joke,” Tommy said apologetically, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, “Maria just sent me out to check on how long the food should be. She was gonna send the girls out to set up the salads and shit when you’re ready.” 

“Send ‘em out in five minutes or so,” Joel grunted, annoyance laced through every single syllable, “Shouldn’t be long.” 

With that, Tommy disappeared back inside, leaving the two of you alone again. You bit your lip as you watched him go, trying to see if anyone else was still leering at you from within the house but everyone seemed too busy chatting with each other to pay any attention to either of you. Sighing, you relaxed a bit. At least this neighbourhood moved on quicker than your last one.  

“M’sorry about that sweetheart. Tommy doesn’t mean any harm but he’s just…,” Joel sighed and shook his head, “He’s not the best at reading the room. Embarrassing ya probably wasn’t his goal, he just never knows where the damn line is.” 

“It’s… It’s okay, I just don’t really like being in the spotlight like that, ” you said softly, still feeling a bit antsy despite your best attempts at calming your racing heart, “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I know that Tommy didn’t mean anything by it, let’s just move on.” 

“Why do you do that?,” he asked suddenly. 

The question took you off guard, so much so that it broke through your nerves and diminished the shakes that were wracking your frame again. At first you thought that Joel was making a cruel joke, that he was poking fun at your inability to thrive in social settings, but when you looked in his eyes all you saw was an earnest curiosity. 

“I didn’t want to make anyone upset or for any of your friends to get the wrong idea about you by seeing us like that. Plus, I know that I can be too much sometimes, just tell me if I get too annoying or something,” you sighed. 

Too much, that had been your moniker for years. Whether it was the way you dressed, your apparently over the top contributions to conversations, or the love you had for your work when someone asked; the most common complaint had been that you were a presence that somehow overwhelmed and fell short at the same time. Slowly, you had learned to be quieter, to make yourself miniscule so that you didn’t distract from the real star of the show that you were meant to prop up, to be as perfect as you could when necessary before retreating back to your books and the lonely apartment you shared with a ghost. To be on display in any context where you didn’t look utterly flawless felt wrong. Worse than wrong, it felt like failure. 

“You’re not too much honey, you’re just enough f’me.”

Stunned by Joel’s words, you blinked up at him, unsure of what to say in response to that. All of the oxygen left your lungs, the excess air whooshing out of you all at once, and you tried to think of something to say. However, luckily for you, he wasn’t done. 

“Plus, how in the hell could I be embarrassed by someone like you? It’s me that you should be embarrassed about. Christ, I can’t even keep my damn hands to myself when I’m supposed to be watching the damn grill. S’all my fault really, I couldn’t help it,” Joel murmured apologetically. 

You shook your head, absolutely shocked by his words. Joel didn’t move to hold you again, likely fearful of the reaction he would get after his brother’s joke had embarrassed you so badly, but he did reach out. A shiver ran through you as one of his thick fingers pushed your hair behind your ear, lingering near your jaw for just a moment like he couldn’t help his need for even the slightest of touches before he dropped it back down to his side. 

“If anything,” Joel started, a playfulness to his tone as he turned back towards the food, “You’re the exact opposite of too much honey. I mean, it’s like I’m neighbours with a goddamn hermit or something. Only ever see ya coming back from work at the end of the day.” 

A small chuckle broke through your frayed nerves, releasing some of the tension that had been building between you since the second he dragged you outside.

“My apologies Mr. Miller, I wasn’t aware that I had loyal fans watching my every move,” you teased, grabbing one the plates beside him so that he could start taking the food off the grill. 

Joel laughed, “Well, all I’m saying is that I hope you don’t disappear on me again. Can’t be putting together an event like this every time I want to see that face of yours.” 

“Oh, so this was all just a ploy to see me then?,” you asked, giggling at the dark splotches of red that flooded his cheeks in response. 

“I-I uh, well not exactly. I do sometimes um, sometimes I have barbecues like this. I like to cook and the girls,” he cleared his throat, “The girls said that you like to er… eat food.” 

Joel winced and you cackled, throwing your head back as you laughed at his shaky excuse. The thought of him hosting such a big event in hopes that you might come by was adorable, as well as a tad bit frightening. Nobody had ever done something so big for you and for some reason, you felt like you should apologize for making him go to such lengths. But his previous words played over and over in your mind - you’re not too much honey, you’re just enough f’me - and you let it soothe you. 

Joel Miller was a grown man who made his own choices. Even if he threw you a million barbecues to get your attention, it didn’t mean that you were too demanding. You hadn’t even asked for the first one. He had thrown this party all on his own, simply because he wanted to get your attention. That wasn’t cause for fear, it was cause for celebration. Someone had done something for you, something that you had thoroughly enjoyed despite the momentary panic that came from his youngest brother’s taunting. Regardless of the little demons in your brain trying to ruin the moment, you decided to ignore them, to enjoy the warmth that came from having the attention be on you in a good way for once. 

“Well, you have my number now so you could always text me if you wanted to see me. Not that this isn’t great, but it must have been a lot of work just to hang out with little old me. I can’t be that scary, am I? I promise that I don’t bite… usually,” you joked. 

He chuckled, nudging you with his side as he continued to plate the food. It was a small gesture but it made you grin, the feeling of his body pressing into yours for even the most fleeting of moments so natural and calming that you longed for him to do it again. Physical touch was not something you had ever been averted to per se, but you had never yearned for someone’s touch like Joel’s. His touch lit a fire underneath your skin and you knew that the flames could only possibly be soothed by more. 

“Like I said darling, you’re trouble,” Joel mumbled. 

“Like I said, you like it,” you repeated, earning another nudge from him. 

Joel didn’t say anything, he just smiled and shook his head at you. Which was good, as you were sure that your poor heart couldn’t have taken any more of his sweet words or lingering glances without having some sort of embarrassing reaction in front of the family members that were filtering out of the house with condiments and salad bowls. 

As Ellie and Sarah slipped outside, you stepped away from their dad, trying to keep a reasonable distance in fear of overstepping. However, just as you moved away from him, Joel reclaimed the empty space, wordlessly gluing himself back to your side despite their presence. You looked over at the two girls, both of them busy with preparing the table full of food, before looking back at the man in question with a raised brow. 

Joel followed your gaze, his eyes alight as he watched them for a moment before he looked back at you. He shrugged and rolled his eyes, dispelling all of your worries without a single word. He didn’t care. A small smile graced your lips, heat creeping up the side of your neck as you felt him gravitate closer every time one of your movements put space between the two of you again. 

Joel really didn’t care how close he was, or that his family and the rest of the party were slowly making their way towards the food tables set up in the backyard. You couldn’t believe it. It was as if he was actually proud of it, silently claiming you in front of every single guest at his party regardless of what any of them thought, and it made you unreasonably excited. You weren’t even that dressed up and likely had sweat trickling down your back from the blazing heat, but Joel stayed in place, hovering at your side like he was meant to be there. 

Never once had your ex showing you off at his fundraisers or networking events made you feel how Joel did in that moment. The praise you were accustomed to had always felt cheap, like he was rating you based on how fuckable you looked in front of his fellow PhD pricks. And somehow, regardless of how creepily some of them stared at you in those skin tight cocktail dresses, you never seemed to quite make the cut for him. But Joel Miller marking his territory as he was, proudly staking his claim as he kept his eyes glued to you at all times? It made you feel nearly ten years younger, like you were the wide eyed nineteen year old who screamed into her pillow when she found out that a boy that she liked thought that she was pretty. 

So you leaned into it, into Joel’s warmth, allowing the handsome man to stay rooted at your side as everyone gathered around for dinner. He led you over to a chair next to his and you let him, uncaring of the way his arms brushed against yours during the meal, or that he laughed when you missed your mouth because you were too busy trying to sneakily glance over at him. It was hard to be embarrassed anyways when someone as handsome as him was leaning over, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb with a goofy grin glued to his face.  

Although you had come across the street sweating and unsure where you stood with him, Joel had made his own intentions loud and clear from the moment you arrived. And despite the fact that just a week ago you had made the decision to steer clear of anything that wasn’t casual, it was becoming harder to remember why you would ever want such a thing. How could you possibly be bothered by something that felt so comfortable, something that eased all of the stress from your mind and made you forget what was waiting for you back at home? 

So, you smiled and allowed Joel to lead you towards where the other adults were gathered in the backyard after supper, whispering a small thank you that made him beam when he brought you a new drink without ever being asked. Tommy was leading the group in one of his many stories but neither of you paid him any mind, too busy sneaking glances at each other and fidgeting in lieu of reaching out in the summer heat. 

- Joel - 

For nearly the entire night Joel had stood watch at your side, sucking up every bit of attention you would grant him as the party raged on into the early evening. Even as his house began to clear out when the families started to pack up their sun-drunk children, and oftentimes their even drunker significant others, he had been able to stay strapped to your hip. But when Tommy, fucking Tommy, had called him inside to find a broom he could use to clean up a broken bottle, Joel had been forced to leave you alone with Maria. 

The task itself hadn’t taken long, a little less than five minutes altogether, and yet Joel had come back outside to find you missing. He slipped in and out of the stragglers that were slowly headed towards the exit, praying that he might catch a glimpse of the one person he had thrown the damn event for, but came up entirely empty. A heavy sigh fell from his mouth, something inside of him aching at the realization that you were gone. Your sudden departure stung, his gut roiling as he tried to think of a reason that you would leave without saying goodbye to him, but he couldn’t think of any. 

In any other circumstance Joel would have let himself dwell on it a bit longer, perhaps even retreating to the sanctity of his room to wallow in his own sadness for the rest of the night but he couldn’t, not when he had two kids with his last name that were making their way over to him. His love life, as embarrassing and depressing as it was at times, was none of their concern so he shook it off and put on a brave face for them despite the sting of rejection that dulled his smile. 

“How was the party? Did she like it? Did you finally ask her out? What are you two going to do for the first date? You’re the one planning it right? Can we help?,” Ellie babbled excitedly, getting an elbow to the ribs from her sister in return. 

“Don’t overwhelm him, jeez,” Sarah admonished with an eye roll, before she smiled mischievously and turned back towards him, “But Ellie has a point, did you ask her out?” 

Joel shook his head at the both of them, wishing like hell they would drop their incessant quest to hook the two of you up. He wanted to be with you so badly that it hurt, but he was a fully grown man who could get his own dates and the last thing he needed when he finally did take you out was to have to give his daughters credit for the idea. He wanted the date and whatever it entailed to come from him, from his heart like you deserved. 

“First of all, the two of you need to stop being so damn nosy. I can handle myself just fine. And secondly, I will ask out whoever I want to, whenever I want to. I don’t need y’all giving me any notes on how to do it for Christ’s sake,” he said, wagging a finger at the both of them. 

“I told you that he’s too chickenshit to ask her,” Ellie sighed, as if she had already predicted his inevitable fumble.  

“Damn, I guess I owe you and Tommy twenty bucks then. I really thought he’d ask her tonight,” Sarah said, the shock evident in her voice. 

“There were bets on it?!,” Joel asked incredulously, “Jesus Christ, we don’t even know each other that well yet. I can’t just go around asking out women without getting to know them first, that ain’t proper.” 

“She’s not a stranger Dad, she’s the lady that you run to the door to stare at every time you hear her car come in,” Ellie chuckled.  

“Ellie has a point there, and you can’t get mad at us for placing bets on it when it was Uncle Tommy’s idea. We are innocent children, he’s an adult,” Sarah added with a shrug. 

As the smoke started practically pouring from Joel’s ears, he watched as both of his kids inched towards the door to the house. Ellie was already about halfway through by the time he had fully soaked it in, while Sarah was a bit slower to react than her sister. Joel wasn’t sure where Tommy was but given all the shit that the asshole had pulled that day, his days were fucking numbered. He was about ready to wring his brother’s neck the next time he came across him, so much so that he barely caught his eldest daughter’s rushed goodbyes. 

“Okay well, have fun hunting down Uncle Tommy. We’re going to go to the movies with Riley and Sam. See you later dad, please don’t kill any of our family members while we’re gone,” Sarah shouted as she retreated into the safety of the house. 

Utterly defeated by the day, Joel sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t be mad at any of them really, especially when he was such a lost cause these days. There had been attempts to establish a real relationship despite his hectic life, some successful for a time and some not, but none of them ever seemed to work out. 

There was Marlene, a woman who he could have seen himself pretending to be happy with if she hadn’t abandoned him and their only child a few weeks after she was born. Then there was Tess, a heart break of major proportions that he desperately tried not to think about if he could help it, but after her the rest seemed to just blur together. His roster was an endless list of first dates and third ones, that inevitably fun first time together followed soon by the hard talk they all eventually gave him when they fell out of lust. It was all so meaningless, so boring that he had put it to rest a few years back but then, you. 

What Joel felt for you, it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t sure how yet, or more importantly why, but he knew that you were different from the other women that he had tried to form a relationship with before. Perhaps it was the way your smile broke through all his defenses, shaking the dust off of a part of his heart that had been rotting for years, or perhaps it was just fate. Either way, all of his usual worries about trying again were nowhere to be seen, as if even his hyperactive nervous system understood that you were somehow the exception. And since you were the exception, Joel decided that he didn’t mind that you had left. He would throw one party after the next all summer long, going full on Jay Gatsby and letting the entire state trample through his home if it meant you might show up again someday. 

As the last few guests filtered out, including his brother who he made sure to slap upside the head for distracting him, Joel hatched a plan. Since you had clearly left in such a hurry, you likely hadn’t gotten the chance to take home any leftovers. With how much you had “helped” on the grill, it wouldn’t be right for him to hog the remaining feast. If Joel happened to stroll over with a few plates of food in his hands, well that was just being neighborly wasn’t it? 

Convincing himself that his ridiculous scheme would work, Joel hurried to the kitchen, his mind racing as he tried to remember what sides and desserts you had liked the most. It was only when he turned the corner, skidding to a full stop at the sound of someone humming along to the crackly radio in his kitchen, that he realized his plan was pointless. There you were, still clad in one the most gorgeous dresses he had seen you in so far, quietly tidying the space as if it were your own. 

“Hey,” Joel breathed, in awe of the scene in front of him that seemed too good to be true. 

You glanced back at him, “Hey stranger.”

“What are you doing sweetheart?,” he asked, slinking up behind you so he could lean against the other side of the sink. 

“Dishes needed to be done and I hate saying goodbye to people as they leave. It’s always so fucking awkward. Irish goodbye is more my style,” you said. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, the warmth radiating off of him as he added, “Mine too.” 

Smiling in response, you nodded towards the towel hanging off the stove, silently ordering him to work alongside you once more. And who was Joel to say no to a beautiful woman commanding him to help her? He happily bounded over to your side with the towel in hand, grinning ear to ear as the two of you worked in silence. 

It was quiet but comfortable, the soft sounds of a Marvin Gaye song that he had long since forgotten the name of and the slight movement of water providing a warmth to the air that only brought the two of you closer. Joel couldn’t stop looking over at you, finding it hard to stay focused each time your eyes met his. He tried to remain calm, to remind himself that you had returned his advances just hours before, but he couldn’t seem to get his words in order. How hard was it to ask someone out? Apparently for Joel, it was nearly impossible. 

“I wanted to ask you -” you started, the sound of your soft voice after such a long period of silence nearly causing him to jump out of his own skin. 

“You wanted to ask?,” Joel asked once he recovered, hoping like hell that you were thinking the same thing as him.  

You looked over at him for a second, the confidence you had faltering when your eyes met his. 

“Nevermind, it’s nothing.” 

Joel’s entire being drooped towards the floor, the hope he had squashed under your dismissal. Shy was not the word he would use to describe the woman who had flirted with him outside and yet, you seemed more flustered than you had been when he held you in his arms earlier that day. He cocked his head, trying and failing to pinpoint your change of mood. 

“M’kay well, if you think of it again I’m all ears,” he joked, getting nothing but a forced smile in response. 

Joel bristled, his jaw clenched as you turned and continued to make your way through the dirty dishes. He eyed the remaining pile, suddenly regretting the decision to use red solo cups and paper plates. If he had used his own, he’d be able to keep you trapped a little longer, perhaps even get you to ask him that question you had wanted to ask. But instead, the clock was running out of time so Joel did the only thing he could think of, he filled the space with his own frivolous questions. 

“How’s that new house of yours going? Are ya sick of this town yet or what?,” Joel asked lightly, hoping he could break you out of the funk that you had been mysteriously drawn into. 

But it didn’t. In fact, the question only made you sigh, shaking your head in defeat before you begrudgingly looked back at him. 

“Look, whatever the girls told you, it’s totally fine. I shouldn’t have even said anything, the situation is under control. The repairman said that they would probably be able to get around to it by the end of next week when I called, so it’ll be fixed up in no time,” you said. 

“Huh? The girls didn’t tell me shit. They’ve been too busy hanging out with their friends,” Joel said slowly, squaring his shoulder as he added, “But you do know that I own a contracting business right? Whatever it is, I guarantee I can fix it better than any of the other idiots in this goddamn town. Bet I’d be a hell of a lot cheaper too.” 

Joel went through a rudimentary list of the potential problems in your home that he had noticed as you took in his words, trying to rank the issues on a scale of need so he could figure it out himself in case you decided not to tell him. The roof would probably need to be reshingled soon, but luckily the fact that you lived in a warmer state meant you probably had another year or so. It could be the faulty wiring in the downstairs kitchen, in which case he prayed that you would let him fix it before you electrocuted yourself trying to make toast. Or perhaps it was the window in your upstairs office, the one that he knew undoubtedly leaked when it rained, but all that would need was a fresh layer of caulk and it would be good to go. 

“Oh um, it’s really nothing Joel. Forget I said anything. I wouldn’t want to take advantage,” you rushed out, trying to avoid eye contact as you pulled the plug on the empty sink. 

Joel cocked his eyebrow, bringing his wet hands to his hips so that he could get into what his girls had coined numerous times as his signature dad stance. He gave you a challenging look, pulling out the big guns to get you to fess up to whatever fix your tiny home needed. 

“Ugh fine, it’s just my stupid fucking AC. It broke last night while I was asleep and I can’t figure out how to fix it without literally shocking myself,” you confessed, rolling your eyes at the way his mouth popped open to form a perfect O. 

“Jesus honey, you ain’t working on it while the damn thing is still plugged in are ya?,” he questioned, already knowing the answer based on your face alone. 

“Maybe…”

Joel groaned, all of the worst case scenarios running wild through his mind as he thought about you attempting to fix it again by yourself. And the fact that you didn’t call him immediately to begin with? Absolutely unacceptable. What good was having a contractor that worshipped the ground you walked on if you didn’t let him tinker with any of your things? He groaned at his own stupidity, knowing that if he had worked up the courage to talk to you at any point in the last month, you probably wouldn’t have felt the need to call another person to come fix your AC. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow. Just please, for my sake darling, don’t be touching it again until I get there alright? You could’ve really hurt yourself doing that,” Joel begged. 

“Joel, it’s fine. I really don’t need you t-”

“I ain’t asking for your permission. I’m telling you that I’ll be at your house tomorrow morning to fix that old ass AC of yours and that’s that. And if you don’t answer the door, it’s a Sunday so I’ve got all day sweetheart. I’ll just keep on knocking until you answer it,” he cut in, grinning at the way your pupils dilated in response. 

A small noise came from you, followed by a shaky nod that made Joel grin. You were so responsive to him, so easily affected by his words that it made him want to push the boundaries that seemed to only blur more the longer he spent time with you. He wanted to break them all down at once, to pour himself into you until you were fused together as one, but he refrained. To be with you in that way was a privilege, one that he hadn’t earned yet. So until that time, he would remain at your side, allowing his feelings for you to cross into dangerous territory as he learned more about the woman he’d happily get on his knees and grovel for.  

“I guess I’ll have to figure out some way to thank you Miller. It seems that every time I get stuck, I’ve got you coming to my rescue,” you joked halfheartedly. 

Joel chuckled, pretending to mull it over for a moment. He had an idea of how you could make it up to him but he didn’t want to push, especially with how much time you had already spent with him that day. Nevertheless, he was too greedy to stop himself, already dreading the thought of you walking back across the street. 

“How about you stick around a bit longer and have a bowl of ice cream with me? That’d make us square,” Joel proposed, trying to sound as casual as he could. 

You grinned, “Not sick of me yet?” 

He shook his head and grinned back, “Not yet, no.” 

Joel drifted over to the freezer, groaning when he realized that all of his many flavors had been cut in half by his kids’ inherited sweet tooth. All he had left was either chocolate or coffee, two flavors that you excitedly asked him to combine rather than choosing one. He went along with it, piling the bowls high with the impromptu mixture before he led you to the swing in the backyard. 

It was a little bit off to the side, in a corner that held a garden and was blocked from the sun by the tree that it sat under, but it was the perfect place to sit at that time of night. With the sun setting on the horizon, turning the water in the pool a shade of pink that reminded Joel of bubblegum, he had to admit that his backyard had never looked better, even with the mess that the party had left behind. 

“I know that I’ve probably already told you this today but you have a really nice place Joel. It feels so… -,” you trailed off, looking for the right word to describe it for a second before you suddenly smiled up at him and said, “ - homey. I’ve never felt so comfortable at someone else’s place before.” 

Every inch of Joel’s face must have lit up like a Christmas tree at that admission, he could feel it in the way all of the unused muscles around his mouth worked overtime to give you what must have been his millionth smile of the day. You felt at home in his space. That alone made this friendly barbecue better than any first date he had ever had, and he hadn’t even asked you out yet. 

“Fuck, that’s a mighty big compliment coming from you sweet girl. Thank ya,” he gushed, trying not to sound like the awestruck idiot he was. 

You nodded, taking another bite of your frozen treat as your eyes took in the scenery once more. Joel suddenly wished he had the artistic abilities that his youngest possessed so that he could capture the way you looked in the golden light of the fading day. A picture couldn’t possibly do your beauty any justice, it couldn’t capture how the light danced in your eyes and polished every inch of your skin. Only someone with pure talent would be able to do that. But alas, the best Joel could do when it came to portraits was wonky stick figures, not the beautiful masterpieces you deserved to be depicted as. And he was about to tell you as much, spilling all of his lovestruck secrets as he watched you take another bite of the frozen treat, but then you spoke. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been spending so much time with your daughters. I know it’s a bit weird, but they have insanely good taste in movies, if I do say so myself,” you joked.

“So I’ve heard,” he chuckled. 

Your smile faltered and Joel leaned in, trying to ground you without crowding you too much. 

“Ellie and Sarah have been very kind to me. I um… I didn’t really have a lot of kind people in my life before coming here,” you sighed. 

Joel tried to control his face, a strange mixture of emotions running through him in response to the statement. Pride came first, the dad in him unable to not feel some sort of way upon hearing that his children had been the compassionate people he raised them to be while outside of their father’s watchful eye, but then came grief and above all else, outrage. He wasn’t surprised that you had been around people undeserving of your presence, the constant apologizing and the way you sometimes shrunk in on yourself was enough to tell him that. What he was surprised at was how you still seemed to feel guilty about receiving the kindness of others, as if you didn’t think that you were worthy of it. 

“Darling, you can spend time with the girls whenever ya like. They love it over there and I think…,” he sighed and shook his head, “I think it’s good for them to have someone like you around. Lord knows that I ain’t the best listener at times, but you? You’re easy to talk to and you understand them in a way that I can’t. Hell, they’d probably trade me in for you if they could.” 

You smiled again and Joel sighed in relief. He liked you better like that, happy and carefree, not weighed down by the past. He longed to ask you about it, to know exactly why someone as amazing as you would fold in on yourself instead of standing tall, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his place and given his own closet full of skeletons, he was in no position to push. 

“That means a lot Joel,” you sighed once you were done, looking down at your hands before you added, “I just worry that I’m in the way ya know? Sometimes it feels like people are just being nice and inviting me to places because they want to put me on display, or because they feel obligated to, and I just hate it so much.”

“What do ya mean?”

“I don’t know. When I was with my ex, it felt like he was trying to show everyone else up. It was like I was in some sort of beauty contest that I never signed up for. And with my friends, my invite always felt forced or like an afterthought. Either way, nobody ever wanted me to show up somewhere and just be me so now I just can’t fathom why…,” you trailed off. 

“I understand,” Joel said quietly.

And he did, truly. Although Joel was the oldest, that didn’t mean he was the most popular Miller brother, or even the smartest. He was quiet, sullen at times, and quick to anger before he had his girls. At most parties, he could be seen with a drink in hand, standing off to the side as he tried to dodge attempts to get him out onto the dance floor. And although Joel didn’t know what it was like to be dragged around like some sort of prize because of his looks, he did know what it was like to feel used. Such had been the case with the last few women he had tried to date, who had all snuck into his sheets and then ran for the hills the moment he brought up meeting his kids. 

Then there was the friend comment, which broke Joel’s heart almost more than the admission about your ex. His heart had been broken once by a woman who he thought he would raise his daughter with, Marlene, but he had gotten over that easily as he watched Sarah grow. He didn’t hold any animosity towards the woman anymore, wherever she was. How could he when she had given him one of the greatest gifts? But what he would never get over, what he still could not forgive, was what Tess had done to him. It had been nearly fifteen years and thinking about his best friend’s betrayal still made him feel as he had that day. Having a shitty ex was one thing, but shitty friends? That was a hard pill to swallow. 

“Yeah um, your girls told me a bit about you. I hope you don’t m-”

“Of course I don’t mind,” he cut in, stopping the needless apology before it was even fully out, “You can ask them or me anything ya like darling, I want you to know me.” 

You blinked, cocking your head at him for a second before you looked away. Deep in thought, your ice cream was all but abandoned, melting in your lap as you stared off into space. Joel sighed and scooched over, getting a bit closer so he could lift the bowl from your lap before it ruined the pretty pink dress you had on. He scooped the bowl up, reaching across you to put it on the small table attached to the side of the swing but when he leaned back, you were looking at him funny, like you either wanted to jump in his lap or attack him violently. Not sure which one it was, he chose the safest option and started to move out of your personal space but once again, your actions shocked him. 

Lifting your feet up off the ground, you quickly scooched closer to his side, placing your head directly on his shoulder in a way that made him feel warm all over. Joel paused, unsure what to do with himself for a moment before you let out a small disgruntled noise that kicked him into action. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, allowing your body to relax under the weight of it as he pulled you close. With you glued to his side and the sunset slowly fading into dusk, Joel was astounded by his own luck. He waited for the harsh sting of reality to come but it never did. All he got instead was a sleepy, “This okay? I can move if you want,” from you. 

“Don’t you dare sweetheart, you’re perfect right there,” Joel murmured, moving his head so he could press his cheek against the top of your head. 

Joel wasn’t sure what you used for shampoo but he needed the brand name ASAP. That and your perfume, or was it a body lotion that made you smell so good? Whatever it was, he was on a mission to find it so he could buy some for himself. He wanted to spray it everywhere, to have your signature scent saturate every surface of his home, his truck, his office, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same. There had to be something about you that made it so delicious, and he knew that he would forever chase that key ingredient in hopes to one day bottle it for himself. 

“Joel?”

“Yeah?,” Joel murmured. 

“Thank you for inviting me. I had a really good time today and I hope…”

He waited for a moment, giving you a chance to speak up before he asked, “You hope?” 

Joel felt you shift beneath his arm and moved his head back, giving you just enough space to look up at him from where you were slumped against his side. Your face was close to his, so close that he could feel your tiny breaths puff out against his lips but he didn’t pay it any mind. It was your eyes that he was looking at, so expressive yet so guarded, a small part of you still holding on to the wall you had built around yourself despite everything. 

“Nothing, it’s just…,” you tried, clearly struggling to articulate whatever it was you were feeling, “You’re kind too and I hope… Well, I need to be around kind people right now and I hope that I can see you a bit more if that’s uh - if you’re not too busy with work or family.”

Without even thinking about it, Joel leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead. It wasn’t even remotely sexual, nothing but a trick he had used multiple times to soothe the cuts and bruises of his kids over the years, but it was intimate. Nevertheless, you didn’t seem to care, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips before you snuggled back into his side. 

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easy,” Joel whispered, placing his cheek back atop of your head as the two of you watched the last bit of sun dip below the horizon. 

“Good.” 

-You-

The party had ended around 8pm that night, but you didn’t leave Joel’s house until well past midnight. After the impromptu heart to heart, you had fallen into a dreamless sleep, unknowingly squishing him into the corner of the swing as you napped. You were mortified when he finally woke you up, vehemently apologizing for trapping him in his own backyard as you tried to fix your rumpled dress, but he waved you off. 

“Darling, I was fine. If I wanted to get up, I would’ve told ya, but I was comfy like that and  you’re cute when you sleep. Hell, I would’ve let ya nap on me forever but I just didn’t want us to get rained on,” Joel had chuckled, gesturing vaguely towards the sky. 

Before you could even react to the flattery, Joel had reached out and smoothed some of your hair back in place, pulling the few strands that had fallen from your braid back behind your ear. It made you squirm under his gaze and he held his hand to you as the raindrops began to fall. What started as a drizzle soon turned into an all out downpour and Joel hurried you towards the backdoor, the both of you laughing like kids as the heavens suddenly opened up and drenched the two of you. 

“Joel! The bowls!,” you shouted over the sound of water slapping against the pavement around the pool. 

“Fuck ‘em, I’ll get them tomorrow” he yelled back, forcing another round of boisterous laughter from the two of you as the rain beat down against your backs. 

Joel practically ripped the door open trying to get the two of you back to safety, earning another round of giggles from you as he practically launched you inside with the hold he had on your hand. Stumbling in, you barely managed to catch yourself on the island in his kitchen and wheeled around to face him. He hurried in behind you, cussing as he pulled the sliding door closed. 

“Holy fuck, I thought we’d have more time than that,” Joel whistled, watching as lightening struck the tree the two of you had just been lounging under. 

“More time? How long did you wait to wake me up?,” you chuckled. 

Joel turned to look at you, the sight of how soaked he was reigniting that spark between your legs. The shirt he had on was tight against his chest, showing off the strong physique you already had a feeling he possessed. The thick corded muscles in his arms were glistening, along with the tantalizing spot on his neck where rain water dripped from his curls. And the way he was looking, catching how you squeezed your thighs together at how breathtaking he looked, it told you that he felt the exact same way. 

“I uh…,” Joel started, swallowing once before he started again, “I wasn’t ready for ya to leave yet honey. I just really didn’t want today to be over, ya know?” 

You gave him a small smile and dipped your chin, suddenly feeling bashful. It didn’t help that your whole body was basically on display, the pink dress glued to every curve, every hip dip, every imperfection as stood in front of him. And yet, when you looked back up, Joel didn’t seem to see the same thing you did. At first, you thought he might be in pain, the heavy crease between his brows making it seem like he was suffering from a migraine of some sort. But as you watched as he raked his eyes up and down your figure, taking in everything, you knew that it was desire for you that had twisted his face like that. 

“Jesus, what the fuck happened to you two?”

You gasped, turning towards the teenager that had just strolled into the kitchen. Ellie’s eyes bounced between the two of you, cocking an eyebrow at the obvious tension before she shook her head and headed towards the fridge. 

“What the hell are ya doing here? I thought y’all were headed to the movies,” Joel asked, seemingly just as flustered as you were. 

“In case you forgot old man, movies are like really long TV shows that you go to see and they are usually about 2 to 3 hours long. We left at seven forty five man,” she sassed as she dug through the freezer and pulled out a tub of cookie dough. 

Looking over at the clock, you balked. It was a little bit after a little bit after twelve, well past your usual bedtime as a certified homebody. How long had you been outside for? You didn’t even remember what time it had been when you snuck inside to do the dishes, much less when they had been finished. 

“I’m so sorry Joel, I should probably go. I didn’t realize it was that late, you probably want to get to bed soon,” you apologized, trying to pinpoint where your shoes and purse had gone in the hours since you arrived. . 

“You think I’m letting ya go out there in this?,” Joel asked incredulously. 

The wind howled outside at that moment, as if mother nature herself was trying to highlight his point. Even with how dark it was, you could see the way the trees shuddered, the branches thrashing under the gusts blowing rainwater every which way. But still, the last thing you wanted was to overstay your welcome. Which, given the fact that Joel’s youngest daughter was moseying back upstairs in her pajama pants with a tub of half eaten cookie dough in her hands, you were pretty sure that you already had. 

“Joel, I’m not made out of sugar. Plus, I wouldn’t want to put you out seeing as you’ve already been stuck with me all day and I -”

“Enough of that, c’mon sweetheart,” Joel sighed as he held his hand out to you again. 

“Wait, what?,” you questioned, pulse quickening as Joel grabbed your hand again. 

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he said, dragging you out of the kitchen without another word. 

What you expected was for Joel to bring you towards the couch in the living room, perhaps even cover you in one of the many throw blankets that had been left on various surfaces in the room, but instead he led you towards the staircase. You squeaked as he yanked you up the steps and through the hallway, bypassing the room you knew to be Sarah’s and what you guessed was Ellie’s based on the daunting keep out sign that was tacked to the door. It was only after you passed the upstairs bathroom that you realized where he was bringing you. 

“You’re taking me to your room?,” you burst out, unable to keep it in. 

Joel turned back, a sly grin on his face at the look of your flustered face. He laughed, shaking his head as he stopped at the very last door in the hall.

“Well, it’s where I keep my clothes sweetheart,” he chuckled, turning back to open the door as he added, “Unless of course you want to try squeezing into one of the girl’s clothes. I’m sure they’d be real comfy for ya darling.” 

The thought of trying to squeeze your frame into a fourteen year old’s clothes was downright embarrassing. You were a fully grown, thirty year old woman, with all of the curves and extra padding that came with that. And with how skinny the two teenage girls were, you shuddered to think of even attempting such an impossible task. 

“Okay fair enough. There’s no way these hips would fit in either of their jeans,” you chuckled, before you stuck a finger in his face,“But no funny business Mr. Miller. This is a clothing swap, nothing more.” 

He laughed and nodded along, “Of course honey, wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

With that, Joel left you hovering near his bed, disappearing into the walk in closet to fetch you some decent clothes. Although you longed to sit on the foot of his bed, to feel the creamy texture of what looked to be the softest sheets you had ever seen against your skin, you refrained in fear of getting them soaked. Instead, you floated around, taking in small pieces of the man while he was busy digging through his clothes.  

There was a guitar in the corner of the room, along with a record player with a milk crate of records that unsurprisingly held the greatest hits of a few country legends. An ensuite bathroom was attached to his room, where he had left out the tub of hair gel he had used that morning and the cologne you loved so much. A painting of a deer hung above his bed, while a picture of two chunky toddlers that had to be Ellie and Sarah was placed on his nightstand. A TV hung on the opposite end of the wall over his dresser, which of course held more pictures of his girls and even one of him as a kid.  

You picked up the old picture, smiling when you recognized the Miller brothers. They were boys whenever it was taken, no more than six and ten, but you could see exactly who was who based on their expressions alone. While Tommy was captured mid-laugh, missing several of his baby teeth as he grinned maniacally at the camera while clutching his mother’s leg, Joel was more reserved. His smile was small, surprisingly awkward even, though you could tell it had been a happy day based on the large fish he held in his hands and the proud looks that both of his parents were giving him. It made you slightly jealous but you pushed the feeling away, reminding yourself that it wasn’t right to long for something so trivial as an adult. 

“Whatcha got there?,” Joel piped up from behind you, his deep voice causing you to jump and fumble with the frame. 

“Shit, sorry. You scared me,” you laughed nervously, placing the picture down before you shattered it. 

He shook his head and stepped forward, placing a set of soft looking clothes on the bed so he could examine your choice. 

“Ah, that’s a good one. That was the first fish I ever caught and it was a twenty one pound channel catfish. Pops was so proud that he damn near cried. Tommy was excited too but I don’t think he really understood what was going on, he was only in first grade. He just liked that everyone was cheering,” Joel laughed. 

“I don’t know anything about fishing but I’m gonna assume that twenty one pounds is really impressive?,” you tried. 

He snorted, “Ah yes, my apologies sweetheart, I forgot you were a city girl. Yeah, it’s a pretty good catch for that kind of catfish. Anything higher than twenty pounds is considered a score.” 

“I was only a city girl after high school Joel, I didn’t grow up in Miami,” you sassed, rolling your eyes at him, “For your information, I grew up in a small town before that. Everyone knew each other and had their noses in everyone else’s business, same as here probably.”

“S’that right? Well pardon me darling, I must’ve misjudged ya. Didn’t realize I had a certified backwoods beauty gracing me with her presence,” he joked. 

“Yeah well, I haven’t been back there since I left for university so the city has probably rubbed off on me a bit,” you sighed, trying to remember what it felt like to be back in that town. 

It had been twelve years since you left home, filled with dreams and ready to leave behind the place that had held you back for far too long. With nothing but twenty bucks to your name and a flashy scholarship with your name on it, you had taken the first bus out of town. You remember that day, when your eighteen year old self had left for the airport practically vibrating with excitement. Nobody had even known you were going and you didn’t care to tell them, knowing even at that age that your big dreams would have been laughed out of the house. You sighed when you thought of that day and all of the aspirations you had once held, knowing that with how your life had turned out after meeting your ex during that first year of university, they would have been right. 

“No family then?,” he asked carefully, as if he already knew it was a touchy subject based on the way all of the muscles in your body tensed up. 

Schooling your face, you turned to him and said as casually as possible, “Nope, just me.” 

It wasn't really a lie, you hadn’t seen any of them in years. No family members had been invited to your graduation, your wedding, or your thesis defense during master’s, despite the fact that they were all probably still alive and well. Your parents were likely still in the same run down town, smoking on the porch as they watched the cars go by and bickered over who had drunk the last can of coke. And the one brother you had was likely either in jail or somewhere commiting the felonies that would inevitably bring him straight back. They had never liked you and the feeling was mutual even as a child, so to call them family would be a great exaggeration. And as far as your former in-laws went, you knew they were likely relieved that you had vanished out of thin air. They were probably thrilled that their precious boy had finally gotten rid of the trailer trash he had chosen, most likely already planning which debutante they wanted him to marry with you out of the way. 

“Well,” Joel started as he awkwardly cupped the back of his neck, “I suppose it’s a good thing you chose this place then.” 

“Why’s that?,” you questioned as you drifted over to the pile of clothes he had left out. 

He shrugged, “I ain’t gonna let ya get lonely over there.” 

A small grin spread across your face, growing by the second as you took in the truth of Joel’s promise. Whether you realized it or not at the time, the Millers had been at your side since your very first day in town. It had been mostly the girls of course, one or both of them constantly knocking at your door after they got out of school, but Joel had been there for your two most vulnerable moments. All in all, given the fact that you were now a runaway of two separate towns and families, they were probably the only people you had. 

“Thank you Joel,” you said softly. 

“Don’t thank me honey, I don’t need it. Just go get dressed before you catch a damn cold,” he grunted, gesturing towards the bathroom so that you could change in privacy. 

The clothes that Joel had given you felt just as soft as they looked, although they did sort of swallow you whole once you put them on. The grey sweatpants were so long that you had to fold them at the waist, while the sweater went halfway down your thighs. Joel was just so big and broad, so undeniably beefy that you could barely fill out his loungewear even with your curves providing some extra padding. Not that you minded really, as wearing his clothes allowed his scent to drift into your nostrils each time you moved. After hanging your drenched clothes in the shower, you shook your hair out of the braid Sarah had put in, allowing it to flow freely as you moved back into his room. 

Joel was just coming out of the closet when you came back in, a fresh pair of sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt hugging his frame as he swaggered towards you. Given the hefty bulge that he was sporting, you knew that he didn’t have any boxers underneath and you tried hard to ignore it.  It was the middle of the night and he was in the sanctity of his own home, he could do whatever the hell he wanted. However, the closer he got, the more obvious the outline of his cock became and you quickly focused all of your attention on making direct eye contact with him instead of staring at the beast that hung from his lower half.

“How do they fit? M’sorry baby, I know that my clothes are a bit big but I couldn’t find anything smaller than that,” Joel apologized. 

The word baby bounced around in your mind, hitting all of the pleasure points as you tried to remain calm. Had Joel called you that before? You weren’t sure, but it stuck out compared to the other terms of endearment he had used so far. Sweetheart, honey, darling, those were all terms that you had convinced yourself were just a part of his Southern charm, regardless of the fact that you had never heard him refer to anyone else in that way. But baby? That felt different, almost special, and you wanted more than anything to hear him call you that again. 

“Y-Yeah, they fit alright. I’m very cozy,” you said meekly, going weak in the knees from the dazzling smile he sent your way. 

“Good now, let’s see if we can scrounge up some leftovers. I don’t know about you but I’m fucking starving,” he said.  

Again, Joel didn’t ask for your hand as he had before, he just took it and dragged you down the hallway behind him. He brought you to the living room first, gesturing for you to sit down on the couch before he threw a thick blanket and the remote control at you with the command to put something interesting on. 

“I can help you in there though!,” you protested as you tried to get up and follow him, not wanting to leave him with all of the work as you lazed about on his couch. 

“You are helping me, now pick something for us to watch while I go get us a snack,” Joel called over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for discussion. 

The rest of the night followed a similar trajectory. Joel came back with plates filled with way too much food and sat at your side, uncaring that you had decided on a trashy reality TV show that you secretly loved. He even asked a few questions about one of the love triangles, laughing along as the contestants started screaming at each other over god knows what during one of the reunion episodes. Sitting on Joel’s couch, stuffing your face as you indulged in one of your guilty pleasure shows felt good, natural even. However, after you had passed off the rest of your meal for him to devour, you made the mistake of looking over to the clock and realized that it was way past time that you said your goodbyes. It was one thirty in the morning and with no more rain falling outside, along with the sleepy yawn that Joel gave once he was finished eating, you knew that it was time to leave. 

Ever the gentleman, Joel demanded that he walk you home, ignoring your assurances that you would be fine. He had even offered his own bed first, claiming that he would sleep better on the couch anyways if he knew that you wouldn’t slip on the slick pavement outside, but you shut his ridiculous worries down. At an impasse, the two of you had agreed that you would not stay the night but that he would walk you home, even if it was slightly ridiculous to think that you would run into danger in the thirty seconds it took for you to get to your front porch. It had been a quiet walk, one where neither of you said anything, almost as if you were both too scared to ruin it. 

“Are you sure that you’re alright over here honey? It’s gonna be mighty hot tomorrow morning with that AC of your broken and like I said, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch tonight if it means you’ll get a good sleep. It’d make me feel a whole lot better,” Joel tried one more time as he stood with you on the porch. 

“I’ll be fine Joel, it’s just one night and plus,” you added, a bit of mischief in your eye as you reached up and fixed his collar, “I’ve actually got a handsome handyman coming by tomorrow, so it should be fixed in no time.” 

A deep crimson crept up the side of his neck, flooding his face with colour as he tried hard not to let your words affect him too much. 

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” he murmured, his breath hitching as you took a bold step into his space. 

“Hm, we’ll see,” you teased. 

Leaning forward, you placed a tiny peck on his cheek, lingering there for a moment to take in a heavy whiff of his scent. The kiss was light, barely a brush of the lips against his scratchy beard, but it seemed to hit him just as hard as any passionate makeout session would. 

“Night Joel,” you whispered, giving him a small smile as you slowly moved away. 

“Night sweetheart, I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he breathed, hands bunched up at his sides like he wanted to reach out but knew that he shouldn’t. 

You smiled, “Hope so, handsome.” 

With that, you left Joel on the porch, his cheeks still flushed as you pulled the door closed. Pressing your back against the wood, you couldn’t help the girlish squeal you let out as the day flashed before your eyes. Had all of that really just happened? 

Joel Miller was good, so good that you couldn’t believe the day that you had just had. He had thrown a party for you, nobody had ever done that, and he had spent nearly the entire day at your side simply because he wanted to. And afterwards, he had cuddled with you on the swing, letting you rest against him until the rain dragged you both back inside. Not to mention the fact that he had clothed and fed you, unwilling to let you walk back home in a storm despite your vehement reassurances that you were fine. It was as if someone had made the perfect man in a lab for you and you suddenly couldn’t remember why you had ever wanted to keep him at a distance in the first place. 

That is, until your phone started to ring. You drifted over to the kitchen, still running on a high as you unplugged your phone and accepted the blocked number. Although it was strange to get any calls in the middle of the night, as you were usually asleep well before midnight, you figured it would be best to answer. Afterall, maybe it was work. With how much it had rained that night, you couldn’t help but worry that the one hundred year old basement of the library had finally flooded, meaning that you would have to go deal with it before the water destroyed the precious microfilms down there.  

“Hello?,” you answered, still chipper as ever despite the late hour. 

“Oh, so no answer during the day but you fucking pick up in the middle of the night? I’ve been calling you since three o’clock this afternoon, where the hell have you been? Were you out with someone else? Better fucking not have been, you’re still my goddamn wife.”

Fear, pure unadulterated fear rushed through you and turned the blood in your veins into ice. It was him. After more than a month of radio silence, a silence so potent that you had assumed that he had finally let you go, there he was, spitting venom through the phone. 

“H-How um - how did you get this number?”

A snort came from the other line, followed by what sounded to be a heavy glass being slammed down on what had to be his mahogany desk. You had heard that sound too many times to not recognize it, even miles and miles away. Each time he had brought you into that dreaded room, the same one you had once been impressed by as a doe eyed nineteen year old that saw it for the first time as his research assistant, it was always to give you some sort of talking to. The talks were always about your behaviour, your outfit, or something stupid you had said. An invite to that room always came with a reprimand from him, drinking vodka on the rocks as he critiqued every inch of your being, before he inevitably expected you to spread your legs for him whenever he felt like it. It made you nauseous to think about it now, about how cruel you had let him be, stupidly believing that even when he toyed with your mind that it was out of love, but that was then. 

The nineteen year old he had hired, the same one that he had shaped into his perfect girlfriend at twenty, then his perfect little wife by twenty two, then his trophy piece for events after he got tired of pretending to care, all still lived inside of you. Real life isn’t like the movies, where the woman leaves her ex and suddenly becomes a different person altogether. That girl who just wanted someone to pay attention to her, who desperately needed love, was still there, along with the wife who had held onto something gnarled and twisted in hopes that it would one day make sense again. However, none of those women were under his spell anymore, his ongoing affair had made sure of that. And as broken as every single version of you still was, they were equally just as pissed off. 

You cleared your throat, trying to sound more confident as you asked, “Why did you call me?”

“That’s all you have to say to me right now? After weeks of me trying to track your ass down? I am your husband you stupid bitch, watch how you fucking talk to me,” he spat. 

You straightened up, rage coiling in your gut and tensing all of the muscles in your back like you were readying for an attack. Husband? He thought that he was still your husband? After all that he had done? You tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

The memory of his face when you caught him with that poor young woman flashed through your mind. He hadn’t looked guilty that he was caught, just disappointed that his little game had ended before he had the chance to truly sink his talons into his next victim, which soon morphed into disgust when you had the audacity to cry in front of him over his betrayal. And later, when you had asked him outright for a divorce? He had been smug, reminding you that you’d never find another man like him, that you were nothing without him, that it was childish to ruin an eight year marriage over something that every husband did from time to time. It was enough to make you want to reach through the phone and strangle him. 

“You stopped being my husband the second you started fucking your research assistants behind my back Peter, now what the hell do you want from me?,” you hissed, feeling as though you could breathe fire as you spoke his name aloud for the first time in over a month. 

“Oh really? Well, we will fucking see about that you goddamn whore. I bet I wasn’t the only one who stepped out, you just like holding shit over my head,” Peter shot back, but you were too angry to let his insults or ridiculous accusations phase you. 

“Listen to me you asshole,” you started, ten years worth of rage seeping into your tone as you spoke through gritted teeth, “You are nothing to me anymore, do you hear me? Nothing.”

“Don’t be a fucking dramatic,” he sighed, almost sounding bored. 

“No, you don’t get to say shit like that to me anymore,” you seethed, letting all of the resentment peek out for the first time in ten years, “I don’t give a shit what you have to say, or what your friends think, or especially what your stupid parents want, I am fucking DONE!”

“But -”

“Sign the divorce papers Peter. Or don’t, I really don’t give a fuck anymore. Just know, I’ll be filing for a petition to divorce your ass next week if I don’t get them in my mailbox by Wednesday. You can take the apartment, the money, the cars, everything, I’m out.” 

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Try me bitch,” you snapped, ending the call before he had the chance to respond. 

You whipped the cell phone across the room, too angry to care if it broke as you watched it bounce against the back of the couch and hit the hardwood. 

“Asshole,” you hissed to no one in particular, the sound of your voice echoing off of the empty walls. 

Peter had taken everything from you, everything. He had taken your twenties, draining you of life, of who you were as a person, before forcing you into being the woman he wanted. And you, so desperate to have someone love you, had let him. You had grit your teeth through the entirety of the marriage, hoping that one day the two of you might return to how it had been during those early days. But being a thirty year old woman with a lifetime of experience gave you some perspective on the matter. Those early days, with all of the gifts and the compliments, had been an elaborate ruse. He had drowned you in affection, knowing that if he got you to love him, you would be easier to bend. 

Peter had taken pieces of you, slowly and carefully, so that you didn’t notice until it was too late. He was a political science professor, so you couldn’t major in that, it had to be literature and history. He wanted to stay in Miami so that he could get tenure, meaning that moving out of state after undergraduate for a masters in New York like you had hoped was out of the question. He didn’t like short hair, so yours had to be long. Heels soon replaced all of your more comfortable shoes, as he thought you looked frumpy in flat ones. At formal events, you had to always wear a dress, which meant that every pair of dress pants you owned had to be thrown away. He didn’t want you to be smarter than him so a PhD degree became a pipedream, even though a seat at Notre Dame had once been offered to you. Pieces upon pieces were taken, until you had no idea who you were anymore without him. 

As you marched up the stairs in your home, reeling from the call as you walked into the bathroom and started quietly taking your makeup off, you couldn’t stop looking at the person who stared back at you in the mirror. She had more lines on her face since the last time you had seen her, as well as a bit more junk in the trunk, but she was there. For the first time in years, the girl who had her own wants, her own dreams, her own fucking life, was there. She looked exhausted, albeit a bit rough around the edges from her time locked away, but her re-emergence was something remarkable. 

Peter had cheated on you. Hell, he had probably been doing it for years, but you didn’t care anymore. That had been the least of the injustices he had perpetrated against you anyways. It was the manipulation that had been the worst thing, the tactics he had used to force you into a life that was meant to nurture only him being so devious that you had happily skipped towards your cell and helped him throw away the key. But his last offense had shown you the light. It had ended up being the exact thing you needed to tear you from your prison cell and shove you back into the real world again, a world that didn’t revolve around him. It didn’t matter if Peter didn’t sign the divorce papers, or if he took every single thing you owned in court, you would be fine because at the very least it would mean that you would never have to see him again. 

So, as you finished up your nightly routine, letting all thoughts of your previous life go down the drain with your face wash and toothpaste, you put Peter to rest. There would be a time to think about him, perhaps even dissect the damage he had done to you in greater detail when you met with the attorney, but it was not the time for such thoughts. Absolutely drained from the day, you crawled into bed, pulling the hem of Joel’s sweater up to your nose so that you could take a hit of his delicious scent. Your ex, wherever he was and whoever he was with, could go fuck himself. You had a home, a job you loved, and a handsome man that had a crush on you, a man that you knew would never say any of the shit that your ex had to you even if he was upset. Peter didn’t own you anymore and he never really had, you were free.

[glitterguts13]

NATLAN SPOILERS PLS DON'T READ UNTIL YOU FINISH THE 5TH ACT

Here me out on Ororon finding out he's pregnant after Capitano passes and having to give birth with out telling anyone who the father is

pretty please mpreg angst feeds my soul

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this...I'm never going to forgive them for taking Capitano from us.

TW: general angst of dealing with grief

The distant sound of celebration causes Ororon's head to pound. The music had been ringing out for days at this point, warriors and their families shouting thanks and praises, misty-eyed with relief, the war was finally over.

Ororon knows he should be with them, joining in on the cheer and celebrating the end of their long, weary battle. Part of him wants to stand beside the others, partake in a drink or two, and lose himself to the overstimulation of a hard-won victory celebration.

Instead, all he can bring himself to do is huddle further under his blankets, tears soaking his pillow as grief chewed through every fiber of his being.

A knock at his bedroom door,

"Young ones like you shouldn't be wasting their time in bed." Citlali chastises, "Everyone is asking where you are."

He swallows hard, emotion thick in his throat,

"Maybe....tomorrow."

~~~

He ignores it.

As his hands dig into the warm soil, the roiling nausea in his gut grows stronger. It had been weeks since it started, but Ororon stubbornly refused to acknowledge it as anything other than a lingering side effect of his grief.

Chasca hadn't faired much better once the adrenaline of battle had worn off, and the weight of her loss finally began to drag her under. Granny had spoken about how she'd vanished from everyone's sight for weeks before finally turning back up, red-eyed and much thinner than when she'd disappeared.

Its no different for him, except, his battle was private, and no one knew just how deep the cut had run.

Tossing his soiled clothing aside, and letting the water run down his aching body, Ororon closes his eyes.

Perhaps he was going mad.

The phantom feeling of Capitano's large hands trailing down his chest, over his thighs and belly, the weight of his body pressed against his back...

Ororon stumbles forward, barely able to grab hold of the sink before his stomach turns and the measly breakfast he'd managed splatters against the porcelain.

He shutters, feeling too cold for the Nataln heat, and stands up, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

His eyes lock onto his reflection, and that chill grows stronger as one hand slides up slowly from his side before his fingertips graze over the gentle swell starting to form under his navel.

Granny wouldn't be by that day, and Ororon is grateful for that, or else the scream he lets out would have shattered her peaceful view of her odd, but quiet grandson.

~~~

Everyone knows, but no one says a word aside from Citlali.

The months ticked by, and his belly continued to grow until it sat round and heavy against his slender frame. People stare, and he knows there's rumors being whispered when he's out of earshot, everyone quietly assuming the father must have died in the war, but how had no one known there was someone?

The midwife doesn't seem to care, offhandily remarking that the father must have been a large warrior, as Ororon's middle was already pushing full term at only seven months in.

Granny was furious, raging about how irresponsible he'd been, how foolish it was to risk a pregnancy during a war, how could he not have said something? Why hadn't he told her? Why wasn't he telling her more? Was the father so shameful, Ororon didn't want to claim their heritage?

A crib and a barrage of other newborn items had shown up on his doorstep days later, though she insists they weren't from her.

~~~

The stars are glittering in the sky, a peaceful calm settled over the land, while Ororon sobbed inside the side of his bed. A mess of blankets are thrown haphazardly over the floor, his nude frame glistening with sweat as his belly tightens like a drum.

Labor had started nearly a full day before, and Ororon is left cursing Capitano for putting such a stubborn child into his womb and having the gall to leave him.

It wasn't fair.

Why him?

Why was he left alone, carrying a child that would never be able to know just how wonderful a man their father was?

Ororon sobs, gripping the sheets as he deepens his squat, his waters bursting as the baby gives a particularly harsh kick.

Would Capitano even have wanted this?

Would he have hated him?

Would he have been happy?

Would they have been a family?

His belly quivers, another contraction finally forcing his stubborn child into crowning. The burn is instant, unlike anything he'd ever felt before, and he screams.

One hand reaches down, gasping for air as their head begins to bulge. He can't see them over the crest of his heaving middle, but his fingers gently trace the shape of their eyes, nose and finally, he feels their head pop free.

Blood and fluid trickle onto the blankets, one last desperate push sending his child tumbling into his waiting hands.

The midwife was right, the child is large, all chubby cheeks and hearty squawls as Ororon brings them to his chest. They flail for a moment before settling, snuffling and whimpering as Ororon all but falls to the ground, careful to keep them safe.

"My baby...my son." Ororon can hardly see them in the dark and through his tears, but his little boy has a mess of dark hair, and a delicate pair of ears matching his own.

"My baby boy..." he cuddles them tight, breaking down.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 82

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

Leaving the Fire Nation in his uncle's hands was easy. Preparing to leave the Fire Nation so soon after becoming Fire Lord was hell.

He had a hundred things to finalize, his bags still needed to be packed, and Uncle was handing out more and more tea.

"Remember your blood pressure, Nephew," Uncle said, as he passed Zuko what must have been his sixth cup of oolong. "Everything will be fine."

His eye twitched as he quickly chugged the drink. If he sat with it to long, he would start thinking about... And he couldn't get distracted.

While sorting through various Fire Nation tomes, Zuko had stumbled upon various hidden chambers. One had been in his fathers room, where he found a collection of war prizes from the other nations. Air Nomad robes, old Earth Kingdom armor, even a few Water Tribe pelts. He had wrapped up each one, and had put in a pile where his own bags were supposed to go.

The scribes were still replicating almost three dozen texts from the private library. A bit of everything. Some Fire Sage scrolls, a children's story, Love Amongst the Dragons, and some scrolls on Fire Nation history. The last one had to be corrected in some places, of course.

When it was finally time to leave, Zuko had realized he still hadn't gotten his things together. He'd thrown everything he could think of into a bag, and had to hope he had everything he needed.

"And you'll check on Azula?" Zuko was saying, as Suki was physically pulling him to the airship. "And for the love of Agni, Uncle, please no tea holidays. There's too much already going on, I can't come back to extra paperwork, please."

"Nephew," Uncle said, far too easily for Zuko's taste. He pat Zuko's shoulder, helping Suki steer him away. "I will take good care of our country. Please, go. Have fun. Say hello to Chief Hakoda for me."

Finally, he was pushed into the new airship. It had the main structure as the war ships, but was simplified and meant more for transport than offense. It had been one of the side projects he had organized, to give soldiers coming back from the war front jobs until they were able to find work elsewhere. The 'Soldier Career Relocation Project', as his ministers were calling it, was going outstandingly well. Farms were doing great, schools were reporting a massive decrease in firebending injuries, and with the number of jobs offered to reverse damages done by his father, their unemployment was at an all time low.

The airship was definitely still slower than Appa, though, and they were already behind schedule when Zuko called for them to change course to fly over the Si Wong Desert.

"Are you sure?" Suki asked, as the captain quickly directed the airship over the scorching desert. "We're already going to be late."

"There's something I have to do," Zuko explained. He was using a telescope to search for a lone tower rising from the sand. "And it's better to get this done sooner rather than later."

Suki, seeming to sense his displeasure at his coming task, decided not to ask further. She stood to one side, using her fan to keep herself cool.

When Zuko spotted the tower, he urgently ordered the airship over. He asked everyone to stay put, a platform with all the Fire Nation scrolls and texts lowered with him. Zuko and Suki went down, the Kyoshi Warrior staying on the platform, where she barely had room to stand.

Zuko repelled down into the library on his own. He didn't bother to wait for the spirit to show itself before attaching the rope to one of the pillars. There was a rustling of feathers already coming closer.

"You have returned," Wan Shi Tong said, sounding almost annoyed. "Was what you found not to your satisfaction?" A pause. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping my word," Zuko said. Once he was sure the rope was taut, he cupped his hands around his mouth, and called up to the window. "Suki! Start sending them down!"

There was a moment of silence, before a package was sailing down the line on a double ended hook. Zuko caught it before it could hit the pillar. He didn't bother opening it, instead lifting it off the improvised zip line, and setting it aside so he could catch the next. And then the next, and the next, and even more after that.

All the while, Wan Shi Tong watched on.

"What is this?" the spirit asked, once there were twenty or so packages set on the floor.

"I told you the last time I was here," Zuko said, bowing to the bird, "that I would bring back Fire Nation texts if we survived. Well, the comet is tomorrow, and the world is working towards peace."

"And what do ask for in return?" Even as the spirit sounded annoyed, he was using one claw to gently prod a package open to reveal a mix of scrolls and books.

"I ask for nothing," Zuko said, untying the rope. "It was only thanks to your library that we were able to make it as far as we have. It's a gift."

"If there are as many in each, this collection must be around two hundred texts. A pitiful collection, to be sure, but greater than we had. You would give this without asking anything in return?"

Doing his best to keep his voice calm, Zuko nodded. "Yes. Now, I'm leaving."

With a bow, Zuko started to scale the wall, leaving Wan Shi Tong with his new collection. When he reached the top, Suki helped him steady himself on the platform. It was already dark.

"This is where we learned about the eclipse," Zuko explained, as he and Suki were pulled up into the airship again. "I promised a favor as we were leaving."

She didn't press for more, instead settling back into her spot as his right hand. Ty Lee had stayed behind to help Uncle keep an eye on Azula.

When they finally reached Ba Sing Se, it was just after dawn on the day of the opening ceremony, nearly a full day after Zuko said he would arrive. There was a bit of a hold up, where Zuko had to go down and talk to General How at the first wall, before they were directed to take the airship to the edge of the farm ring. From there, Zuko, his luggage, and his staff would all take a trolley to the palace ring.

Everyone was still tired from the early morning arrival, and Zuko was yawning as he stepped off the trolley almost an hour later. He was hoping he could sneak a nap in at some point.

That is, until there was a shout.

"Zuko!"

He snapped up, wide awake, as he turned to find a girl in red and blue jogging down the palace steps towards him.

Katara.

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

[fuckzachariah]

It had been a long, long time since Zach had felt like this. Like there was a reason for him to go from one room to the next. In fact, perhaps he’d never. Not clear-headed, not like he was now. Excitement, anticipation, real, true fucking adrenaline. He had been forced to reassess his relationship to bad behavior over the years. Where it had once been his lifeline, now it was only a rare indulgence. The feeling of leaning into mischief watered the dry bed behind his ribs. He hadn’t realized exactly how parched he’d been. How desperate. Once, he would’ve made Luke suffer for showing his face in an obvious, bloody way. Now, he’d do it slowly. He’d make it subtle. Fun. As the crowd began to filter into the dim, throbbing lounge area, Zach followed, one step behind Kylie, the environment unfurling him like a flower in bloom. His chest inflated. He belonged here. Something felt like it was beginning.

The flow of people came between him and Alex; as she ebbed one way, he ebbed another. Though he felt compelled to be close to her, to scratch at her surface until something gave, he suspected she may not be feeling the same. He wasn’t dissuaded, however. Only exercising patience. Whatever she felt tangled up over, he could untangle, with one easy pull. Because he hadn’t addressed this pre-existing qualm in a long time — the fact of she and Luke, together. But now he stared it in the face, it didn’t bother him. The fact of it was this: Zach was sure he could, and determined to, splinter Alex’s engagement down the middle. Luke could not. Luke was but a flint flying off he and Alex’s wildfire. He felt that niggle between them, years later; their insatiability. Knowing she had had Luke only made him more certain of his crowning in her life. Nobody could touch him. Nobody could even come close.

He had let go of a lot of things. But how could he be Zach Winthrop without a little arrogance? It both incensed and attracted her, he knew this. He would wear his jilted crown with pride. But she needed time to cool off, and they needed to not be seen to be attached at the hip so as to avoid raised eyebrows. So he didn’t look for her, not right away. He followed Kylie’s heavy heels into a plush booth, not unlike the thousands he’d decorated in a past life, but this crowd was different. Her crowd were frothy, excitable. Over-indulgent in their alcohol to a virginal effect. The champagne bubbles made them giggle and a sideward glance from him made them blush, hide behind their hands. It was nothing like the throng of debauched prodigals he used to be surrounded with. He let them fawn over him, and so did Kylie. He suspected she rather liked it, even. While her head was turned, one of her friends handed him a drink, which he took without particularly reasoning it through.

He blinked at it. It would be his second of the night, but enough time had passed that he already felt sober from the first. His lip quirked. “Thank you,” he eased, and she shrank away like a violet. It was acidic on his tongue, burning on the way down. He made a noise like a release, shuddering with pleasure, then eyed the umbrella cocktail glass. Vodka martini, dirty as hell. Perhaps it was only a placebo effect, but it went to his head immediately. His neck craned from his lazy gait upon the sofa, finally scouting out the familiar, devastating brunette and her rosebud mouth. Then he realized that she, flanked by several bird-boned women at the bar, was notably fiancéless.

Zach excused himself, stalking across the room and avoiding the vying eyes, the wanting outstretched hands, until a thump on his shoulder demanded to be seen to. But, somewhere in his riddled mind, he must have been anticipating the interruption, as he didn’t flinch. Without breaking stride, Luke fell into step with him; these two megalomaniacal giants, simply playing house. “Thought you might’ve leaned across that table to carve a chunk out of me, man. But we must be good. Right?” It was delivered unpleasantly. It was not a peace offering, it was low-hanging fruit. Luke laughed, sarcastic and dry. “We’re good?” Zach’s lip curled, vaguely amused by it all, gaze seeking out Alex distractedly. He watched her, fixed with the hook of her shoulder, throat. Her jaw, her smile. For a moment, he forgot to answer.

“Zach,” Luke demanded his attention. Zach stopped dead, rounding on him, an untrustworthy smile stretching out his healthy face. In Zach’s mind, Luke’s intentions were clear and decipherable; use the leverage he had to throw Zach off-kilter, blackmail him into working together again, Luke climbs up the ladder Zach falls off. Well, no. Absolutely not. Zach’s hands smacked either of Luke’s shoulders as though pushing on an accordion to make it screech. They regarded each other squarely. To his credit, Luke didn’t falter. “We’re good, Luke,” Zach lied easily. His right hand came away, only to come back down a little harder than totally friendly. “We’re fucking fantastic.” Luke’s eye twitched. A memory flickered in the back of Zach’s mind – Sarah. If nothing else mattered, to Luke, she did. And Zach had taken her away. Perhaps all of this was really just a revenge plot. How far away she seemed now, and how huge of a mistake it had been to destroy one of the last real friendships he’d had. But he had no room for regret. He only had space in his brain for one thing — or rather, one woman.

“Enjoy the party,” Zach encouraged dismissively, twisting away. He was unaware how closely Luke trailed behind him as he approached Alex at the bar. So as not to rouse suspicion, he disguised his intent by leaning upon the bartop as though summoning a bartender. His eyes, cut with devilry, found hers. Under the light, he was perfect. An unimpeachable diamond. The corner of his mouth upturned. “So,” he muttered privately, allowing the now-flustered group around her to go on their faux-prattling, as though his presence wasn’t very reason to stop everything dead. Their carrying-on fizzed overtop his voice, their insistence his being around them was normal to appear cool overriding their need to fuss him. “You wanna talk about how nervous you just got back at the dinner table?” he taunted in a low voice, eyes on the approaching bartender, as though nothing were amiss in the whole world.

If there was one thing Zach had never been discomfited doing, it was making others uncomfortable. He sat assuredly in his roiling silence, the tingeing cheeks and squirming bodies of those around him waiting impatiently for his response ineffective in swaying his strange composure. He and Luke locked eyes for more than a few bloated, lumbering moments of wordlessness. What is it he wanted? Likely what he’d always wanted; a shot at being even half of Zach. And leeching from Zach was the only way he’d ever tasted an ounce of that success. Zach’s jaw feathered; a lifetime’s worth of history curled from the disturbed seabed of the muddy water between them. Last they had seen one another, it had been brutal; perhaps the most visceral display of Zach’s own torment he’d ever elicited unto himself. Because that’s what it had been – they’d both known it. It could have been about Alex, his guilt, (and a lot of it was), or it could have been about Sarah. It could have been about their near decade-long toxicity, their constant competition, their hatred for themselves projected onto one another. Their mirror-image, their dichotomy. How it had all eventually imploded exactly as prophecy would have it written. 

But Zach had changed a lot since then. Violence no longer twitched urgently at his fingertips, ever-present and awaiting trigger. His anger had not lessened in weight but had grown patient and cool, buried under a layer of apathy. Something wriggled beneath it all, seeing Luke again. Seeing him only a body away from Alex, who he yearned for so pathetically. Zach wasn’t sure what it was. Yet. Luke endeavoured to break the silence, his facade brilliant. Charming, even. But as he spoke, his painted fingertips ran slowly, intentionally, along his mangled knuckles. It was fucking bold, Zach would give him that. Unfamiliar ink curdled above the scarring, giving his fingers the eerie look of a rotten tree. Unwittingly, Zach’s tongue snaked out, nudging carefully at the scar on his top lip. A perfect ghost of flesh split open between fist and tooth. Then he smiled; broad, brilliant, a superstar. He could almost feel the terse nature of their onlookers unravelling. “You too, man,” he greeted easily, getting to his feet with his hands upon the tablecloth. He leaned slightly, extending his hand. Luke eyed it, likely having anticipated a response worthy of the old Zach, but the hesitation was only brief enough for those in the know to clock it; they shook, firmly.

Up close, the damage was crystal clear; his nose now displayed a sharp crook, and a thick, tangled rope of a scar drove right down from his forehead through his eyebrow. Blonde, gelled hair hung around them like a show curtain. Zach’s eyes sparkled, a foreign, forgotten feeling soaring through him of gross pride. He used his free hand to thump Luke jovially on the shoulder and watched as his body ricocheted with the movement. “Third time’s the charm,” he muttered happily, referring to Luke’s repeated attempts at sky-rocketing his career. Luke grunted, his smile waning as they dropped one another’s hands. “Hi,” Kylie chirped from her seat. Zach almost laughed. How little she knew of his life, really. She'd never asked who delivered the assault unto Zach that day – had never possessed the gall, couldn't face the inevitable rejection. Luke’s eyes slid beyond Zach to the bubbling froth of a pop star. His eyebrows raised. Zach showed no sign of rising to it. Instead, he took the opportunity to gaze down at Alex, her rigid spine and lithe fingers white-knuckling into a small fist. She was beautiful, in her silent, almost invisible mess. He felt electric-charged, a little crazy, recognizing the signs of anxiety. Of fear. For some reason, it all only made him want her more. His lip twitched in a tiny, frenzied smile, just for her. “Right, then,” Andrew interrupted, capturing the attention of the room at large. His wide palm gestured to the adjoining room; lights danced from the corridor, music thudding. “Shall we move onto the fun part of the evening?”

[dollopole]

I can’t stop thinking about a poisoned Arthur, who’s not sick with just any poison. Maybe he’s hit by someone with magic and he has no collateral effects, except that of his body slowly dying.

It doesn’t matter if takes years or months or weeks or days, Arthur knows that one day, he will die. He does not get weaker or unable to do things, he just dissipates, and he knows the moment when he’ll be forever gone.

Everybody knows.

Although, there is a cure to his poisoned body, the only one, but Arthur refuses to take it.

Because if he cures himself of the deadly poison, the price to pay is too high:

he will forever forget the person he loves the most, and will never be able to love them again. His memory will be wiped out each time it comes back.

And Arthur doesn’t want to forget Merlin.

Arthur would rather die in the knowledge that he loves him and has known him, than live a life without Merlin by his side, and without his love and care.

[slimeandsadness]

All the discussion about the bad sex eye contact while toasting thing is very funny because they definitely referenced it in another video recently. Wish I could remember off the top of my head, but they went off on a whole thing about not looking people in the eyes because of bad sex - which was where I learned about the concept - so I'd just assumed everyone else would remember.

[icewindandboringhorror]

[violetren]

You ever just hear a song from ages ago and go "oh, this is inscribed much deeper into my psyche than I thought."

[bi-writes]

a hand for a hand | knight!ghost x f!reader

in the year of our lord 1657, your king wields a weapon that cannot be reproduced. as your queen's lady-in-waiting, you steer clear of it, lest it cut you when it passes by. but duty and desire are rarely met in a man's world.

type: one-shot (6.5k), AO3

cw: dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, mentions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, ghost is obsessed with your tits (18+)

It is not a secret that you are afraid of the king's men. There is a reason that they have a reputation of cruelty. Ravagers, conquerors, unruly and untamed–they train like dogs, and they live like them, too. By accident, you have wandered to where their barracks are, and if it wasn't for the happenstance of your king hearing your screams, they would've taken your virtue that night.

That one belongs to my wife, he had said, gripping you by the scruff of your neck. Spoil it, and I'll have your fuckin' heads. His queen had been much kinder when he returned you back inside, cradling your head in her lap and promising to have something fashioned for you to wear so none of his men would ever touch you again.

And they haven't. They do not bow to you, but they open the doors for you, move out of your way, try to keep their eyes off of the softness of your cleavage and the curve of your skirt. But there is one that does not, there is one that refuses, and this one you avoid the most.

You don't know him by any other name other than Ghost. The right hand of the king, his most trusted advisor and his most brutal of men. There are times when he barges into the throne room, his sword dragging along the stone floor and trailing blood in its path, and he tosses the head of the king's enemy onto the floor. You clutch onto the skirt of your queen's dress, tears welling up in your eyes, and when you look up, he is staring at you, heaving in the metal of his armor, and you look away as his men yell out proudly as they crowd the room.

His eyes are always on you when you are in his presence. They track you as you move behind your queen, follow you as you eat and drink and tend to her majesty's needs. He wanders the halls, and he observes you as if you are his next meal. And maybe you are–if he suddenly decided you would be his next conquest, you don't think a refusal is in order. Maybe that's the mercy he gives you; just the aggressiveness of his stare and his stare only, and not the strength of his hand or the cruelness of his demeanor.

There is always a party. Always a celebration for this brute. He is praised by politicians and priests alike, because he must be the hand of god, delivering whatever the king asks for when it is asked of him. He does not lose, all he comes back with is chests full of gold and new slashes to add to the growing collection on his skin. Sometimes you wonder if he puts them on himself. You wonder if he drags his dagger in a crooked line down the length of his arm, as if he is tallying his win, counting up to a number that already puts the men that came before him to shame.

He seems like the kind of man to do so–like the kind of man to do it even with the blood of his adversary still warm on the sharp edge of the blade, the kind to lick it clean when he's finished just to solidify the unease and the terror of the next man to have the unfortunate fate of ending up at the wrong end of his adrenaline.

He has no face. He has no name. And if he is coming for you, it's already too late; your fate has been sealed, and you should say your last rites. The only mercy he ever gives is that death is always quick. His sword is too sharp, and his hand is too heavy.

It is late in the evening when you hear it. There's screaming in the courtyard, yells and howls and cheers. You put down your hairbrush, getting up and padding to the window to look outside. The king's men are there, hundreds of them milling about and walking around. They share mead and wine, crusty bread in their muddy hands. They are bloody and bruised, but they are happy. They sing and chant, hold each other and crowd around fires. They left weeks ago, and they are back now, and you suspect it must be victory on account of their demeanor.

You are not surprised by this. They aren't kind, but it makes them good soldiers. They aren't afraid to die; it's a common idea in your culture that for a man to die in battle is the only way to true salvation, to actual ascension. You have always hated this idea. Boys become cruel, and men become unforgiving, and it is why you are so grateful to be her majesty's lady-in-waiting because it means she is your only duty and nothing more.

You are surprised by the knock on your door. You think about ignoring it, but then there is another knock, and then a familiar, low voice mutters, "Are you awake, my lady?"

You tie your robe and scurry. When you open up the door, you curtsy low and graceful, your eyes drawn to the floor as you tremble a little in the king's presence. You've never really spoken to him before, not without his queen at your side.

"Y-Yes, your majesty? I'm sorry for my appearance, I–"

"It's quite late," he says gently. "You don't have to apologize. Is it alright if I come in?"

You stand from your curtsy, blinking up at him. You think for a few moments before you nod, widening the door. He settles himself at the seat by the window, looking down into the courtyard. He has a hint of a smirk on his face as he looks down at his men, still singing.

"I have a request of you," he says finally. You take a seat at the edge of your bed, wringing your hands nervously in your lap. Whatever his request is, you don't know why he's putting it this way. You're not exactly allowed to refuse. "It is time for my most decorated men to receive their titles. They deserve it, after what they have done for me these past few years."

You swallow, "Yes, of course. You have such a fine army, your majesty. You must be...V-very proud."

He turns to face you, and he nods.

"These titles come with land. Money. Responsibility. And it comes with other things they might request," he explains. "One of these things can be a bride."

"They are most fortunate," you say softly, trying to smile. He stands, turning back to look down into the courtyard.

"You are to be wed tomorrow," he tells you. "I know you gave up much to accept your role at my wife's side, and for that, I have arranged for a sizable dowry on your behalf. Congratulations, my lady." he turns to smile at you. "By sunset, you are to be a duchess."

You're shaking when he goes. You clutch the sheets, sinking to your knees, and you cry. You cry because you know who asked for your hand. You know who wants you, you know who it is, because every time he comes back from war, he cannot take his eyes off of you. He eats you with his gaze, he violates you and has never even touched you, he takes from you, and you've never spoken to him, but you know it's him, you know it, you know it–

Your queen is ecstatic. She lends you diamonds to wear, and she fusses over the embroidered silk and cotton dress they've sewn for you overnight. She tells you she's so proud, that you will make such a beautiful bride and a beautiful duchess, and it takes all of your strength not to cry, to choke back your sobs. Your innocence will be gone by the next morning, you know this, and yet here she beams about colored fabric and your new, unwanted title and all of the duties you have never, ever wanted for yourself.

Marriage will be your prison, and you will never be free. You'll be hidden behind closed doors and forced to carry loud, chubby babies.

You are not the only bride that afternoon, but you feel like the most important. Your veil is the longest, your dress is the most intricate, and you are wearing the queen's diamonds. Not to mention, you are to become a duchess, and the rest will be lords and ladies, nothing more. You have always hated the hierarchy that society fits themselves into, but you've never despised it more than this moment.

He is waiting for you when you make it to the throne room. He wears his armor, polished and without blood, his face covered and his hood up to shadow his dark eyes. He wears his telltale insignia with pride, the skull motif of his belt gleaming and the paint of his mask fresh. He stands tall and menacing, a reaper in human skin, and you are so close to tears as you make your way to him. Your eyes find his, and he holds out his hand for you to take. You slip a delicate hand into his gloved one, letting the rough fabric warm you as he brings you to stand in front of him. He purrs, you think, a low rumble as his eyes look you up and down.

You are a prize. A trophy. Nothing more. A gift given for cutting the heads off of your king's foes, and that is all.

The ring on your finger is gold, and the ring you slip over his is silver. And then he gives you his first gift as your husband–a tiara, made of emerald and gold, and he slips your veil off to tuck it between the strands of your hair. The intricate pattern on the tiara matches the patterns along the iron of his armor, and you want to think of this as a gesture of good will, but you know it is given with possessive intent, a brand of ownership.

Because that is what this is. Not a ceremony of love, but an exchange, a transaction. You've been bought with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it.

But one day he will grow bored of me, and maybe then, I'll feel myself again.

He narrows his eyes, glares, and your lips part, trembling, you are terrified. His response is to growl with delight, his eyes falling to stare at the laces that hold in your cleavage. You observe this fact–the fact that you have things that other ladies do not. You are not tiny like them, not thin nor delicate. You are warm, soft, and the squeeze of your breasts in your dress draw him in.

You are a prisoner, now. But perhaps, if you play this game correctly, you can be in your ward's good graces. This is the hand you've been dealt; perhaps there is still a way to win if you steel your bluff.

The party is lively. There is music, gold coins tossed haphazardly on tables, so much dancing and enough food to stuff yourself for days. There is endless wine, and there are brides seated in laps, hungry new couples kissing and whispering soft nothings into each other's ears. The king blessed you all, told you to enjoy your new lives, your new titles, to make your country proud and raise pretty, fat babies.

You sit aways from him. You don't speak, just stare at your dinner plate, sipping wine absentmindedly as you think about the rest of your life and how miserable you will be. You think about the control you have never had, the choices you have never been given, and you wish so badly that you were a man.

Men simply ask for, and then they receive. Women simply hope that their eyes don't meet a flame too hot to handle.

His eyes bore into your head. When you catch his gaze every once in a while, all he does is tilt his head to the side and observe you. The beauty that you are, the woman that no one can have, the supple tits that belong to him, and the perfect cunt he knows that you have under the multitude of skirts you hide it under. Your skin glows, your hair is healthy, you will give him everything that he needs, that he craves.

You'll look so beautiful carrying his heir. You'll look so perfect when you begin to wear the dresses he will buy you, when you sleep in the bed in the house that he gives you, when you stand in the kitchen that he builds for you. Although, a woman like you deserves to do nothing but relax, be pampered, to lay down on a bed of furs as he eats your sweetness and fucks you stupid.

When the morning is early, you sneak out. You scurry to your bedroom, closing the door behind you for a moment of peace. You take a seat on your bed, the bed you aren't sure you will have for much longer, and you sit there and stare at your feet until the door opens.

You know who it is right away. Coming in unannounced, because now he is allowed to, because everything in this room now belongs to him, from the thread holding your dress together to the very breaths you take.

You sit up straight, turning your head. Ghost slips through, taking up the space by the door as it shuts behind him. You watch him as he stands poised just like the soldier he is, looking at you illuminated by nothing but candlelight. His gloved hands rest at his sides, but he squeezes them in and out of fists, clicking his tongue. You hear the leather of them move.

You have never spoken to him before. You've never heard him speak. You wonder if he really knows how to; you wonder if he has a voice or if he's been whittled down to nothing but the sounds that a loyal mutt makes. You know why he's here, you know why he's come. You can't tell him no, you don't think, but he doesn't move from his place, so you aren't completely sure of what he wants.

But you have an idea.

"Y'abhor me," he says finally. He speaks. You swallow. At least he isn't stupid. It's rare that you see a brute with brains. Although, with all the battles he has won, you know he doesn't lack intelligence. He is seasoned, worldly, knows how to convince the politicians and to rile up the uneducated men that kill for him. He must have a quick tongue and a strong vocabulary. A leader bred for killing, a man taught to know his audience and how to deliver a persuasive message.

But has he been taught to tame a cat? How to please a woman? How to love her, how to have her?

Love. What a silly dream.

"Not as much as I fear you," you admit. He hums, his eyes crinkling a little, as if he's smiling. You watch him carefully as he finally moves, rounding the bed before he stands in front of you.

"Wot is it y'r afraid of?" he asks. His voice comes low, from the bottom of his chest. You tilt your head up to look at him.

"That you'll hurt me," you whisper. He shrugs, shaking his head.

"A beaten wife is no good t'me," he tells you, very matter-of-fact. "Need strong heirs. Which means I need y'fed and happy."

"I'll never be happy."

He grips your chin, shutting you up. A part of you wishes he would be meaner. That he would be the angry, possessive Ghost that he truly is and show the kingdom that there is no part of him redeemable or salvageable. You want to sport his bruises and tell the queen he is an animal, but his touch is firm and nothing more. If anything, he's gentler than you expected him to be.

"We'll see about tha'."

Your eyes water, and you stiffen at his touch.

"I know who you are," your voice cracks. "I know what you do. You're a pillager. You take women, and you kill men."

He tilts his head to the side, smoothing his thumb along your bottom lip. You aren't wrong. Since he was small, most of what he has known has been the smell of blood in the air and the sound of screams when he shows up at their doors. He's never been particularly gentle when he ravages. He takes, takes, takes–it tastes good and strengthens his bones. It puts medals on his chest and pretty, thick women in his bed.

But you are no village in an unfortunate land. You are the gift that his king has given him. The forbidden treasure that he had his eye on since he saw you standing there beside his queen. Poised, elegant, graceful, timid, untouched, perfectly soft. Ghost has never known this kind of thing, and if you had been any other lady, he would have married you long ago, but he had to wait. He had to be patient, win and kill enough that his king could not refuse his request–no, his demand–to have you.

He did not do the king's bidding for the glory or for the honor. He did it so he could bite into you, so that even if you screamed, you belonged, and no one would care.

"Just a matter of war, dear wife. They matter little," Ghost mutters. "Let me look at ya..." he tilts your head side to side, observing you. He guides his hand down your throat, arching you back so he could trace his fingers along the swell of your breasts. He hums with approval, reaching lower and squeezing the fat of one breast with one big hand. His eyes flash, and he fondles the other.

You are surprised by the sensation. No one has ever touched you this way before. It feels...good. His hands are warm, even under all of that leather, and you find yourself feeling rather sensitive. You lean back a little on the palms of your hands, looking down. You watch as he traces a finger around your nipple, and you bite your lip when it pebbles under his touch. He uses both hands now, cupping both of them, growling. Ohhh–it feels so nice.

"Gonna be so nice when they're full," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "All for our babe."

You don't know what comes over you. You don't know why you do it, but you do. You lift your hand, gripping the edge of the laces that tie the front of your dress closed, and you pull. The weight of your breasts unravel the ribbons, and Ghost groans audibly when they spill out of your corset. There is a tickle that you feel, some sort of sick satisfaction, knowing that you've pleased him in some way.

"Tha'sit...My beautiful bride..." he smacks his lips together under his mask, as if he's hungry, "Tits of a fuckin' angel."

You squeeze your legs together. You know what it is to feel aroused, but this is different. You feel wet, so wet, as if it's wetting the skirt of your dress. You've never felt it this strong. You whimper a little, and he chuckles, so mean.

"Y'like tha', my bride?" he asks. He reaches up and cups your cheek, bringing your soft eyes to his. The praise, it itches you nicely. "Y'r m'prize, swee'eart. I killed over a thousand men, and y'are what m'reward is, did y'know tha'?" he hisses. "Cut the heart out of a man's chest, like a fuckin' pig, just to 'ave this cunt."

Why does it feel so good? Why are you getting wetter and wetter, why are you whining, why are you giving into it? Why do you want it so bad, why do you ache?

It hurts, it hurts–

"'s olright," he coos, so condescending. "Shhhh..." he puts a palm on your chest and pushes, making you lay back. You swallow, letting him put a finger between the laces of your corset and tug. It barely budges, fastened so carefully, and you gasp sharply when he uses two big hands and grunts, ripping your corset apart. You hear the crack of the whale bone give away under the strength of him, and it's a reminder of just how dangerous he is, how strong, and you know when he looks between your thighs, he'll find you wet and needy and captivated.

The corset comes loose, and he tugs, taking your skirts with it until you're naked underneath him. You want to feel shame, but you can't. You're so desperate, for whatever he will give you, and instead of covering yourself, you let your knees fall open. The groan he lets out makes you leak even more, and he watches with awe as your puffy hole pulses. He moves to shove his trousers down, but you stop him, putting a hand on the chest of his leather armor.

"Wait–" you meet his eyes. Your eyes flutter. "B-but...But I want..."

He eyes you curiously, narrowing them.

"Want wot?"

You swallow.

"I-I..." you reach down and slip your fingers gently through your folds. The squelch makes his eyes widen, and he's mesmerized by what he sees. "I want...Your mouth..."

He snickers, "Y'think a man will eat it so easy?" he raises a brow. "Doesn't work tha' way. Besides..." he shrugs. "I don't reveal m'face."

You sit up, blinking, smoothing your hands down his chest and tracing them along the hem of his trousers. His dark eyes follow you, and you realize he doesn't really say no. You need to remind him that you are not one of his men. You need to be kept happy, and he needs to give in, even if it hurts his fucking ego.

"Please?" you whisper, taking his hand and putting it back on your face, kissing the palm of his glove. Killed a thousand men to have me, so show me–show me, show me, show me. You nuzzle into it, giving him those eyes, and he stares for a long few moments. "Please..."

He sinks to his knees almost immediately. His armor stretches a little, the leather and metal moving rigidly with him. Your eyes widen a little at the position–the thing that he is knelt down in front of his wife, an act of submission.

"Turn around," he snaps. "On y'r knees."

You do as he says. You turn on the bed, your face squished against the cushions, and he yanks you back by your hips. You fist the sheets, sucking in a shaky breath, and your eyes squeeze shut when he puts two hands on your ass and spreads you wide. He plants a kiss on your folds from over the mask, and then you hear the shuffle of fabric before his warm tongue prods at your entrance.

He eats slow at first. Just drags his tongue through the slick there. He's exploring you, learning you. But then he is all-consuming. He hisses, gripping you by the thighs and suckling at your clit before tracing his name into the folds of your cunt. You can't help how wet you are–drooling, wetting his mask, crying so soft as he bobs his head and eats you, starving. He did not expect you to be so sweet, so soft. Every part of you is soft, and he associates the taste of you with the sound of your pleasure, and it's like a trigger. His brain ticks just the right way when he hears you moan for the first time. Not even battle quiets the tinnitus, but the ringing is nearly gone now.

He wonders if you're sent from heaven, even though he doesn't believe in it. But something had to have sent you, something had to have given you to him, because it's too much, it's too good, it's too real.

What he wants is in his hands, cumming on his tongue, crying because of his touch. Too real, too real, too real.

He pulls away. He smacks his lips gently, smirking, and then he pulls his mask back down. He stands up straight, watching you, still on your knees, squirming. He tuts, turning you onto your back easily. You're languid and a little breathless, and you giggle a little when you realize how easy it is for him to manhandle you, for him to move you. You've never felt very small, but he doesn't even strain, not even a little.

He's so scary, it makes you sick, but you can make this your own–you could make him love you, couldn't you? Someone this twisted, someone this insane, you could make him obsessed, you could drive him crazy, you could have the loyal dog you have always been yourself.

Killed a thousand men to have me, so I'll put you on your fucking knees.

It's what you're owed. For all the years of serving, for all the years of submission and pain and kneeling and curtsying, you're allowed to have something, you can have something, even if it's this monster of a man. He may have paid for you, but you won't let a thousand men die for nothing.

You will make him love you. You will make him love you. You will make him love you.

You sit up, a bit dazed. You're swimming in your own head, a little insane from the orgasm. You know what a man like him wants. You have doted on men like him all your life. You know what it is that arrogant people crave, what it is they desire, the things that keep them up at night, you know because you've soothed those fears all your life.

You just need to know how to make him purr. You need to know what clears the thoughts in his head.

"My husband," you whisper, meeting his eyes, and there's a little twitch in his eyes. He likes that title. "I–"

"Did y'like that, my bride?" he murmurs. "Your husband's mouth on y'r cunt, 'n now y'r singin' for me, eh?"

You bat your lashes, sliding your hands up his forearms. You drag your fingers over the sleeves of his armor, whimpering. The smell of leather is overwhelming, but you suppose you must get used to it. You have a feeling you'll be polishing it for the rest of your life.

"I've always been...Terrified of you," you whisper. "The way you come into court...The way you fight...Seeing you in all those places, you have always scared me..." he hums, his eyes intrigued. He smooths his hands up your thighs, gripping onto your waist as he tugs you closer to him. "But, I..." you reach for his shoulders, pulling on him until he bends, leans over you, crowds your space and shadows you like the eclipse he truly is. "I-I want more..."

He chuckles, "I know y'do," he echos. "Could see it in y'r eyes, darling girl," he sighs. "A pretty face like this one...Wasted on her majesty."

"I don't think we're allowed to say that."

"I deliver entire countries at john's feet, I'll say wot I bloody please," he snaps. You just blink up at him, before smiling a little.

This disgusting, murderous, possessive, immoral, treacherous piece of shit that is your husband is really the most beautiful man you've ever set your eyes on. Strong, resilient, unable to be killed, adored by his king and his men alike. He is everything a man is supposed to be, but nothing like how a gentleman should behave. He is built for war, built to take, so how can you get this nasty thing to love you?

Ghost does not seem the kind of man to bend to the desires of ordinary men. He may want to fuck you, but he has self-control. He may enjoy the praise of his men, but he doesn't require it. He may ache for the soft press of a woman, but he is self-sufficient and easily deterred.

So you do what servant women do best. You appease, because at the end of the day, Ghost is still a man, and men are all the same.

"A baby..." you whisper, holding onto the backs of his hands firmly. You dig your nails into the skin there, arching your back to get closer to him. He growls under the mask, metal biting into your soft skin as he grips you even tighter. "Want a baby..."

He cackles, so mean, and he leans down to kiss along your ear, down your throat, biting at the supple skin through the mask. He's still got all of his armor on, he hasn't shed one lick of his gear, but you cling to it like a parasite. He is one with it, and you realize this now, his second skin made of durable steel and patent animal skin, singed at the edges. He's such a fine soldier, too strong for his own good, too rough around all his edges to be anything but a masochist, but he's yours. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and it isn't until he slides the warmth of his length through your folds that you realize this, too.

You reach up with trembling hands, high enough to cup his masked face. He flinches, nearly throwing you off, but you shush him gently, cooing softly as you nuzzle your nose against his.

"I'm sorry," you whisper there. It's so intimate, this position, and you know that he has never let anyone touch him this way by the feeling of his body under your hands, stiff and unable to move. You roll your hips gently, up against his, and you let out a soft keen at the squelch of your slick against his cock. "It's...It's everything I didn't know I wanted..."

He grunts, metal creaking as his nostrils flare.

"I don't understand," he murmurs. Affection, it's so unfamiliar that it startles him. That someone can be kind to him, something other than a hard hand and an impossible order, it's not something he knows, and he's not sure how he feels about it. His instinct tells him to distance himself, but his cock guides him closer.

"You," you whine. "So big–" you reach down between your bodies, pumping his cock gently. Your fingers barely meet around his girth, a true testament to his size, he lacks this largeness nowhere. "–there's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

Ghost snarls a little, gripping your thighs tight and securing them around his waist. You lock your ankles around his hips, pulling, and he hums as the head of his cock sinks into you easily.

"Naughty lil' girl," he laughs, standing straight as his thighs meet your ass. You whine, your back bowing like a taut string, and he slides his tongue over his teeth with a menacing click. "Not a virgin, are ya?"

"I-I am," you gasp, clawing at his forearms, and he hisses when you clench.

"Mm. Not a stranger t'this feelin' then, aye?"

You shake your head, and he nods, hoisting your legs up and over his shoulders as he gives you a firm thrust.

"Good," he mutters. "Don't much feel like pettin' ya."

And he doesn't. He's a menace. He snarls like a beast under his armor, his gloves squeezing your plush thighs as he pounds into you with no words to soften the blow. He isn't gentle by any means–he gives, and he expects you to take, and your legs shake as you try and crawl away from him. He doesn't let you–his fingers spread around your waist and he tugs, spearing you back onto his cock before he leans over you and starts putting his back into it.

Despite the roughness, he looks down at you, eyes focused on yours, and he doesn't look away. Your arms flail a little until you reach up and wrap them around his neck for stability, but it only draws his face close to yours. Your hand falls to grip his jaw, and he leans into it just enough that you know you have him.

"You'll make such a good little babe," he grunts, groaning when you tighten just that much. He's securing his place, making room inside of you so you can take even more. "Cunt was made to bear m'children, m'lady..."

"That so?" you squeak, and he smiles under the mask–you're falling apart on his cock, a good girl, just for him, just like you always are. "Have to finish what you started for that to happen, don't you?"

"Fuckin' brat–" Ghost snaps, but he presses his face to yours, needing to be closer, needing to have you, needing to make you his from the inside-out. A ring is not enough, no, he has to bind you to him forever by making you bear his kin. He will give you many, he's going to keep you fat and beautiful and pregnant, and his children will know that their father hungered for their mother so much that he destroyed a generation of men to covet one of his own.

Ghost has known since the first moment he laid his eyes on you that you would be it. You had to be his wife, no one else would suffice, because no one else could bear the weight of his name the way you would be able to. No one else would be able to carry his babies without dying, no one else could make the sun fall and the moon rise and the fire wane just long enough for him to feel human again, no one.

You start to think the same. You've never felt this way, so out of your body and so aware of it all at once. You're floating–you're somewhere else, you think. There's a pleasure so searing, that you can barely breathe. His cock is deep, touching places inside of you your fingers could never dream to reach, and there's a place that he touches sometimes that makes your eyes blur and your mouth make the most pathetic whining sound. You're crying, begging, asking him for more, please–! Nnghh–please!

He's never had a woman so wet. He has always had them for his own pleasure. He has never paid attention to what they feel or tried to make it nice for anyone but himself, but he knows he will never want it the same ever again. There's something so satisfying about the heavy plat, plat, plat that his cock makes every time his hips meet yours. He can feel his trousers sticking to his thick thighs, knows that there must be some thick, creamy slick coating his length and sticking to your skin that he suddenly wants to scoop up with his tongue and savor the tang of his bride, his wife, his pretty, pretty girl–tha's it, just right, like tha'–

"I...I-I–!" it's more intense than you've ever felt it. A crescendo of pleasure that is starting to grow in your belly, an unwavering warmth that he keeps flooding you with, so good that you can't stop crying for it. You're sputtering, drooling, clawing at the hood around his back because it's so fucking close, it's right there, it's mine, you're mine, mine, mine–

"Fuckin' hell–" Ghost groans, cradling your head against his chest as he stills his hips against yours and fills you nice and warm. You go cross-eyed, you think, shaking as you latch your mouth onto his masked jaw and suck. You need to put your mouth around something, need to fill it with the taste of him. He doesn't move, body heavy and suffocating over you, but you don't tell him to move and make no effort to push him off.

You think you want this. You think you want him to keep you here, just like this, underneath him, full of him, drooling from more than just your mouth from a fucking too good and the promise of something more.

He moves to take a seat on the bed, and you chase after him. You keep your arms around his neck, shuffle into his lap, and he chuckles under his breath as he wraps one big arm around you and tugs you close to him.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be bound to someone like this. Maybe it isn't so bad to belong, maybe it isn't so bad to be wanted this way, maybe it isn't the most unfortunate thing to not have the autonomy of yourself anymore in favor of being this thing's wife.

You slide your hand down his chest before smoothing it over one masked cheek. His eyes close for a moment, and he leans into it for just long enough that you recognize the gesture as one of need. Ghost aches, too–maybe not for the same thing you ache for, but he aches, and maybe it's for this.

Something gentle. Something soft. Something to bury himself into because the flames have burnt too hot for too long, and the voices in his head give him no reprieve. His hands are too dirty, too unclean, and you think maybe that's why he doesn't take his gloves off anymore–there is no cleaning agent enough for the blood caked under his fingernails.

He's more human this way. Less beast, more man, but you see that flicker of humanity disappear entirely when he sees the trickle of his cum slipping onto the fine sheets of your bed.

What a waste. What a loss. He has to fuck you again.

He will never be bored of me, I don't think. Ghost will want me forever–even when we are dead, because he cannot die, because he's already rotting inside.

You don't seem to mind your new position. No kneeling, no curtsying–your duty is on your back and on your side and on your stomach, presented for your husband, just for his pleasure, just for your own.

In all your life, you have never wanted this. You endured the burden of serving because you were at least needed this way. Marriage to you looked akin to death; when the veils fell over girl's faces, you never saw them again. They would be confined to their houses, made to spread their legs, forced to carry children they didn't want and die the slow death of giving their husbands everything they wanted while their dreams were buried alongside them.

Your dream is freedom. It always has been. Your dream is to do as you please, to go where you want to go, to say the things you want to say. There is an understanding here that you have, an opportunity that you could not see before. Before you had Ghost, you saw him as the thing in your way. He was the quicksand that would pull you under, the tide that sunk the earth, the dog that guarded his bone. But you know now, you understand, that Ghost doesn't have to be the wall in your way.

He is more animal than man, and in that fact alone, you feel power in your toes and something hungry knocking at the bone of your ribs, just waiting to come out.

Ghost will hold the sword. And you will hold the leash.

NEXT

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again

logan x reader

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The apartment was packed jammed with friends and some foes of Wade Wilson. There might have been music playing in the background, but Logan couldn’t tell when his eyes locked with the figure walking through the front door. His heart dropped, he felt sick to his stomach as his eyes fluttered. It had to be a dream but then he quickly came to his senses.

This wasn’t his universe, his world. He was somewhere entirely new. He caught his breath as Wade shouted out an exclamation of joy. Logan watched as he drew up from his seat to greet you with an overzealous hug, pulling you toward the group at the table.  Wade held you rough by the shoulders and grinned. “Look who decided to come out of retirement, conveniently after we,” he pointed to Logan then himself. “Saved the fucking world. Avengers, who? Bunch of assholes, if you ask me.”

“You sound like a man scorn, Wade,” you teased, offering a wave of a hand to your friends. The idiot next to you was right, the whole superhero thing had been a thing of the past. You have been a regular civilian for a few years now and have been loving a more relaxed existence – not being threatened daily was like, nice. “Don’t worry, you’ll see all the details in the movie. Have you meant my little angry beaver, the Wolverine?”

Your head jerked to where the older gentlemen was sitting, and you grinned. “I haven’t had the pleasure. I never met this world’s Logan – we ran in different circles. It’s nice to meet you.”

His heart relaxed and he confidently held out a hand, ignoring the interested glance from Laura. “Nice to meet you.”

“Take a seat next to Logan,” Wade urged, winking over to his new hesitant partner. “I’m sure he can fill you in on all the fun we’ve had together. Tell her about the sex ramp we had in the car that one time.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Logan cursed, telling you to ignore him.

“I usually do,” you laughed, thanking Vanessa for the beer she slid over from her side of the table. Popping it open, you relaxed and asked Logan how this place was treating him. “Must be weird, coming here. It’s like your world, right? Just slightly different?”

“Something like that.”

“Did we know each other back there?”

Your question seemed so invasive and frank – it almost made Logan smile because some people never changed, no matter what universe. Back where he came from, you were such a firecracker little shit. He had his hands full dealing with your bullshit. You were always running towards danger with little regard for your own safety because you had him. He had always been at your side, or at least, trying to catch up but he had always been there for you.

Logan had loved you and you had loved him.

Two reckless mutants.

Then you died and that sent him straight down a barrel of alcohol and indifference, to everyone and everything in his world. Which led to his greatest shame of all, allowing his family to be murdered because he was too busy drinking his sorrows away. He had long forgotten what it felt like to see you smile or hear you laugh, to feel your fingertips on his skin. The weight of your head on his chest as you slept, he never could replicate that feeling and yet, here you were.

A different version of you but God, the same.

“We were friends, really good friends.”

The hint of sadness in his voice was enough for you to understand and maybe not truly, but something had happened. That much was evident and while it might have been silly, you wanted nothing more than to comfort this man next to you. The room seemed to fall quiet, but no one was paying attention, except the girl next to Logan. Your eyes met hers, but she just smiled and looked away. Logan’s eyes were focused on the beer in his hands, but his eyes jerked up when a gentle hand touched the top of his. Your skin ablaze his and it felt wrong to feel like he had once when he didn’t even know you. Not this version of you, a woman he knew nothing about. It didn’t feel right but he wanted nothing more to allow this to go on. To see who you were in this world.

Did he deserve that? After everything that happened.

“Were? I won’t pry but it seems like life has given you a second chance, Logan.” You smiled softly and removed your hand from his, lifting your beer can to him. “You guys saved this world; a second chance is the least the universe can give you. Why not take it?”

Logan chuckled lowly. “The version of you I knew also had a deficiency in reasoning.”

A hard smack landed on his chest, and he laughed, which made you laugh. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t look like that idiot.”

Looking over to where you pointed to Wade, who had decided to show off his hair piece, Logan smirked. “Yeah, that’s fucking terrible.”

The two of you smiled at each other and something clicked in that moment, leaving the both of you quiet until you broke the tension. “To not looking like Wade Wilson.”

Logan clicked his beer against yours and felt a settling in his heart. Maybe he did deserve a second chance, at least, he could start toward earning that second chance. “Amen to that.”

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[taegimood]

— my girl (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 6.1k warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms, light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit

a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵‍💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮‍💨 cockblocked by my own brain

──────────────────────

yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.

his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.

the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.

well… sort of.

everything happened only a few hours before.

your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.

it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.

(or should you say, all came together).

everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).

to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.

your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.

the only one who had yet to say anything was…

you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.

your own widened marginally.

he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..

your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,

“well? what should we do about it then?”

and everything changed from there.

~

it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.

a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.

your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.

“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.

his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.

his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.

“…hi,” you whispered back.

he breathed out a small laugh.

“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”

“r-right..”

why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-

your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.

“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”

with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”

you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.

your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,

“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”

and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”

and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.

~

you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.

you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight in the opposite direction before heading back up towards the apartment.

you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.

yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.

and now here you are on his bed.

when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:

he’s experienced.

now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).

and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.

“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.

this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.

he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.

“i like you.” he says simply.

in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”

his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).

“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,

“i know.”

the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.

his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.

“words, baby.” his voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —

“y-yes.”

and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.

whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —

none of it compared to this.

you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.

you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.

fuck, you want him bad.

you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:

you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.

his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.

it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.

you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.

the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.

“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.

“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,

and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”

you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.

“tell oppa what you want.”

the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.

he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.

“i.. i-i want…”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,

“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”

in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”

a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”

your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.

his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,

“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”

your head spins.

you’ve never felt so desired.

the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.

eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.

“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.

“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,

“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”

you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.

teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.

“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.

slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,

“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”

and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.

how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?

no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.

“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.

his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.

“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.

you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

something unholy snaps inside of you at that.

“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;

you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.

it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.

“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;

you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“

“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“r-really?”

he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.

“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“

you meet his eyes again quickly,

“please, i need to be inside you.”

apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.

“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”

his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.

his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.

if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.

but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.

“no.”

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —

“want you to fuck me raw.”

his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,

“are you sure?”

you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.

his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.

“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”

his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”

and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.

“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.

he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;

how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.

and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.

you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.

“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”

he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.

“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;

“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.

“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.

“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“

yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.

“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.

“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”

a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.

“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”

your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.

“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”

your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.

“ass up for me, pretty girl.”

you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.

his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”

your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.

you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.

“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”

you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.

from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.

“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”

he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.

“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,

“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.

“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”

your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,

“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-��

and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.

the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.

he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.

you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.

his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.

“hi,” he whispers.

you giggle again.

“hi,” you whisper back.

“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.

yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.

“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”

an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.

you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.

“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.

“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”

instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”

“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;

“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.

“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”

you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”

but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.

you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.

that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”

you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.

the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…

but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.

“OH MY GOD,” he screams.

“THEY FUCKED!”