#sarah on exchange semester

[delicatetaylorsversion]

Ride the pride in Helsinki 🏳️‍🌈

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @thereaperisabitch @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

[tkwrites]

Meet Me At The Mistletoe - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Video from @fallinallincurls

Title: Meet Me at the Mistletoe

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day. 

Warnings: Grief. Talk of dead parents and honoring traditions. Some sex is alluded to, but nothing described. A tiny bit of praise kink stroking. 

Word Count: 8,000

Comments: I'm back with my first ever Christmas fic! I’ve been waiting to write a song based on Meet Me at the Mistletoe by Dave Barnes since I first heard it three or four years ago. It has such a great story and evokes a specific feeling I felt like Quinn and Sarah were especially suited for. When Cici from @thedevilrisen reached out to me about joining a Christmas fic event called Ho Ho Hockey, I knew this had to be the story I wrote for it. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. Sending all the love your way!

Meet Me at the Mistletoe 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Will you help me plan a Christmas party?” Quinn blurted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Hu?” Sarah asked, struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of subject.

 Upon getting home from work, she’d practically jumped him in the kitchen. They’d made it as far as the lucky couch before desire consumed them both. He’d been on a roadie for the past few days, and though he got back the evening before, she’d been asleep when he arrived, so they weren’t able to welcome each other home properly. 

Now, she lay beside him, wedged between the back of the couch - cushions had been tossed aside in their frenzy - and his body, feeling sated and satisfied as her head rested on his chest.

“I have to plan a Christmas party for the team,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t put it off anymore. Even though they still had a few months, he knew she would appreciate the advanced warning and that it would only make it easier if they started now.

“Why do you have to do it? I’d think that would be something the coaching staff would do.”

“It’s for players only. We have another one with coaches and staff. It's kind of tradition for the captain to plan it.”

Her lips pressed together, “I don’t know how much time I can dedicate to party planning in December. That’ll be right around finals.” She didn’t have as many traditional classes this semester, but there was still plenty to do. 

“That’s why I’m bringing it up now, and it doesn’t have to be huge,” he rushed to explain. “Last year, JT and Natalie just had people over for drinks, and we did a gift exchange.”

“You want to have it here?” 

“I thought it would be nice.” Now that Sarah was here, the apartment felt more homey and like the kind of place he wanted to show off. 

“So cocktails and gifts?” 

“Yeah, or whatever we want it to be. I think they had some food last year.”

“Okay,” she said. 

“So you can help me?” Quinn asked. 

“Yeah. I don’t know that I’ll have time to go to tastings or anything like that.”

“Tastings?” 

“For food?” 

He laughed, “I figured we’d just order from De Beppe and set up a cocktail bar.” 

“Oh,” it seemed like he didn’t even need her help. “That sounds nice and easy.”

His hand snuck down to cradle the curve of her bottom, “you know I don’t like to make things overly complicated.” 

“It’s just for adults?” she confirmed.

“It was last year,” he said. “Why? Do you want kids to come?”

She shrugged, “not necessarily. Just if they do, we’ll need to host it somewhere else. Our house isn’t really kid proofed.” 

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a goofy smile on his face. 

“What?”

“You said our house.”

“Hu?” 

“You said our house,” he repeated. “Before you’ve always said your house,” he pointed to himself, “or the house.” 

“Oh.” 

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her a little tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curls as they crushed against his hip. “I’m just glad you’re feeling more at home.”

A pocket of calm silence enveloped them.

“We’ll need to decorate,” Sarah said after a few minutes. 

Quinn agreed. When he thought about hosting the party, the house was always decorated for Christmas, but he’d never thought about what it would take to get it into that state.

“We can figure that out later,” she murmured, laying her head back on his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to lull her into the state of calm that always came over her when he was home.

They spent another hour there, snuggled up together, only moving when Quinn went fishing for a blanket and had to lean halfway off the couch to get it. 

They didn’t get up until Sarah’s stomach grumbled loudly. 

“Did you eat today?” Quinn asked, his tone accusing. 

“I had a smoothie for breakfast.”

“Sarah,” he admonished. She never ate as well when he wasn’t home. Not just in quality, in quantity.

“I know,” she said, looking down sheepishly. “I even had a salad in the fridge at work, I just got so caught up in stuff. I did eat a protein bar on my way home,” she remembered. 

Deciding he’d tackle the issue of her nutrition later, Quinn traced his fingers up the curve of her spine. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asked as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable exit from their cozy cocoon.

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t care. Just feed me.”

He laughed. “You got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.” 

Are you free November 9th?

When Quinn sent this message, she didn’t think anything of it. They were both so busy that it was normal to schedule things three weeks in advance. 

Yep, what's up that day?

Just wanna take you on a date before the game.

The purposeful vagueness and his wanting to do something on a game day raised her eyebrows. Game days were usually reserved for napping and chill time at home before he had to go to the rink. 

Okay. It's in my calendar. 

He hearted the message, and Sarah went back to work. 

Pick you up at 11 out front, okay?

Though it was a Saturday, and she was off, Quinn knew Sarah would be working on her thesis and he needed to catch her before she got too absorbed by it, no longer concerned with looking at her phone.

For what?

We have a date, remember?

Oh, right. She’d mostly forgotten about the whole exchange, despite looking in her planner that morning and finding (heart) Date (heart) written in the sparkly blue ink she used to denote all things Quinn related.  

What should I wear?

Usually, when he called something a date, it meant dinner out, but this was the middle of the day, and she knew it wouldn’t last terribly long.

Whatever - jeans are fine.

Now, she was really intrigued. Okay. See you then. 

Wondering what on earth he had planned in the middle of the day on a Saturday, on a Saturday game day, no less, Sarah went back to her studies. It was hard to focus, though. Quinn was definitely up to something. They were even playing the Oilers that evening. Something fishy was definitely going on. 

All the same, at 10:30, she changed out of her pajamas, pulled half of her hair up, and put on some makeup before walking down to the lobby. 

Quinn was right on time, parked right in front of the front door. 

“Thanks, Reece,” she said as he held the door open for her. 

“Have a good day, Ms. Roberts,” he said with a nod. 

She slid into the seat of Quinn’s posh new car. She’d learned by now that most players leased a new car at the beginning of every season. Instead of the Jeep, Quinn now had a sleek and luxurious new Porsche SUV. Most of her hated that it was so expensive when there were perfectly good, reliable options that were half the price. Each time she got in it, though, she had to admit: it was extremely comfortable, and the features really were something else. She found a small measure of comfort that at least it wasn’t some ridiculous sports car. 

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled back into traffic. 

“You’ll see,” he said with a little smile as he reached across the console for her hand. 

Although he had a destination programmed into the car's GPS, she wasn’t entirely sure how the thing worked and didn’t want to accidentally get them off course by fiddling with it. 

They went out of the city, which surprised her. He was bothering to take her to Richmond when they had to get back in time for the game? Not that the 30 minute drive was outrageous, but it seemed a luxury to her when they didn’t have all that much time to begin with.

“We needed to come all the way out to Richmond to go to Costco?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month,” he said quietly, “and this one's bigger than the one by home. I’m sorry we couldn’t go tonight.” 

“Oh,” her breath hitched as his intention settled on her. She’d stopped mentally marking second Saturdays about a year after her dad died, so she hadn’t even known.

The hiss of his seatbelt retracting brought Sarah out of her daze, and she reached for him before he could get out of the car. 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling both a swell of gratitude as well as a tightening in her chest. 

He beamed, glad he’d pulled it off. “I’ve been trying to get here, but you were so busy with the start of the semester, and then I was out of town…” he trailed off. 

“This is really sweet, Quinn.” Holding his chin, she leaned over the center console to press her lips to his.

He’d wanted to set up this date since she’d told him about her family’s monthly Costco adventures. “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the store. 

She took a deep breath, letting it sigh out before nodding, “yeah.” 

When she rounded the car and he took her hand, she tried to blink the tears from her eyes. 

“I haven’t been back here,” she said quietly, wanting to explain, just in case she burst into tears. That hadn’t happened for a while, but she could never quite rule it out, especially now that the ache of doing this with him, but without her dad, was freshly torn open. That, mixed with the gratitude she felt at his want to do this for her, especially on a game day, brought up a swirl of so many emotions. Quinn was so incredibly thoughtful. 

He stopped in his tracks, “is this your first time back since your dad died?” he asked. 

“No, I went with mom whenever she or I was visiting, and we all go whenever I’m in town,” she said, “I just don’t think I’ve been without my siblings since she died.”

“Are you okay? We don’t have to go.” He was such an idiot. He should have asked her about it instead of just springing this on her. 

“No, I want to go,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze. “It just makes me a little nostalgic, that’s all.” 

Before they got to the doors. She tugged him back, “this is really thoughtful, Q.” Why hadn’t she said it before? “Thank you. I feel really cared for.”

The big, genuine smile that took over his face made her heart swell.  

“So what are we looking for?” she asked, grabbing a cart and following him inside. 

“I kind of thought…” he trailed off, lifting the cap off his head, trying to smooth his hair down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mother turn her pointing little girl away.

“Hm?”

“I thought we could get some Christmas decorations. Like, obviously, we need a tree, but I didn’t know if you wanted a real one, or…” he trailed off. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be decorating for Christmas? I figured you were a strictly after Thanksgiving kinda guy.”

He laughed, “I mean, I am, but this was the only second Saturday I’m in town before January, so I figured we could shop and then decorate later.” 

A smile beamed over her face, and a sigh unknotted some of the anxiety coiling in his chest. They’d talked, well argued, a little about Christmas. He wanted her to come to Michigan with his family, but it was her siblings' year to be together, so she wanted them to go to Nevada. He was just about ready to fly everyone to Vancouver. It was their first Christmas together. He didn’t want to spend it apart, but he didn’t want either of them to miss out on time with their families. 

“I’ve never had a real tree,” she mused. 

“Really?” 

“My mom always said she hated the mess.” She paused for a moment, remembering, “well, I guess that’s not quite true. Trav and Trev had a real tree the year I lived with them, but it wasn't really my thing. I went back to Nevada in mid-December, so I didn’t help decorate or anything.”

“Okay, so we’ll get a real tree,” he agreed, glad to have that sorted. “You should get to experience it at least once.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a light coming into her face he usually associated with her while she was talking about her research.

The smile Quinn gave her in response - large and happy and indulgent - made her stomach flutter. 

“What do you think  the theme should be?” she asked.

“Hu?” 

“The theme,” she repeated, “like red, or blue or, like, snow?” 

“I don’t…know?”

“Is there anything you really like?” 

“I hate the flocking,” he said. 

“Not what I asked, but still helpful,” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink. 

Quinn felt himself blush. “I don’t know…I feel like I’m bad at this kind of stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff,” she asked, guiding them to the decor aisles. 

“Decorating and stuff.” 

She pshawed, waving her hand, “my mom always said if you like what you come up with, design is never bad. It might not be someone else's taste or style, but it’s not their house.” 

Right, her mom was an interior designer. 

“What do you like?” he asked, stopping to look at a display of dancing elves. They were sort of horrifyingly kitschy, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like classic things. Like red and green, or blue and white. Or, one year, my mom did this really pretty floral design. That doesn’t really match our vibe, though.”

“Did she design a new tree every year?” 

“Sometimes. It all depended on what set her off. She’d sometimes find something like a tartan ribbon, and she’d spin a whole design off of that. We had another little tree in our basement that all of our homemade ornaments went on. We always put presents under that one.” 

“Do you want two?” 

“Trees?” 

“Yeah, one upstairs and one downstairs.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “We could put one by the lucky couch.” 

The lucky couch being the suede couch. She’d jokingly called it that after their escapades when the Canucks clinched into the playoffs, “I feel like all I do on this couch is get lucky,” and the name had stuck.  

“Do you want that?” she asked now, looking at him seriously. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what that would be like. Ultimately, he shrugged, “wouldn’t hurt.” 

She laughed a little. “How about we sort the theme first?” 

He nodded, glad that she had some kind of a plan. 

“Why don’t we split up for a minute? We’ll each find a few things we like, and hopefully, a theme will come out of that.” It was something her mom often did when working with clients. It brought out shared styles. 

“Okay.” 

Sarah wandered off with the cart, heart so full she felt like it might just push into her mouth. 

After five minutes, when Quinn didn't come back, she went looking for him. She found him on one of the fringe aisles, locked in a conversation with a star struck fan. 

He glanced up when she rounded the corner. 

When it became obvious that the person currently holding his attention wouldn't let up anytime soon, he waited for them to finish their thought about the upcoming game and then started to excuse himself. “It was nice talking with you, but I need to be going.” 

“Oh,” the guy seemed to remember they were standing in Costco, “of course. Thanks for chatting, man.” 

They shook hands, and Quinn stepped around him to join up with Sarah. 

“Did you find anything, or did you immediately get bombarded?” 

The smile he sent her way was indulgent. “I got a bit of a look.” Taking the other end of the cart, he pulled her down one of the decor aisles and pointed out some different shaped gold glass ornaments. 

“I liked those, too, but I liked the silver better.” 

“We could get both,” Quinn suggested, lifting a box of each color into the cart. 

“You want to go metallic?”

One side of his mouth twisted. 

“So, no,” Sarah laughed. “What do you think instead?” 

“I don’t know. I just think only metallic is kind of weird.” 

“Okay,” Sarah turned to another section of baubles and started putting them between the silver and gold. 

They discussed the combinations but couldn’t agree on what colors looked better together. 

“Why don’t we just do two trees,” Quinn suggested after having the same circular conversation twice. 

Sarah agreed, glad he brought it up again.  

“Do you want two live ones?” 

“I think we should get one fake one. I’m already a little worried I’m going to forget to water the one.” 

“Do we have to water it?” 

“I’d imagine so. It’s a living plant, isn’t it?” 

He’d never thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Didn’t you have real trees growing up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before sheepishly adding on, “but my mom did all of that.”   

Just as he expected, Sarah snorted. “I can’t believe your dad made your mom take care of something for a holiday she doesn’t even celebrate.” 

“She celebrated Christmas,” Quinn argued. “It’s not like she was against it or something.” 

“It’s the principle of the thing.” 

He smiled indulgently at her. 

They spent another hour wandering around Costco, deciding what to buy. Sarah tried not to wince at the price when it totaled on the checking screen. It was their first year, after all. These things would always be basics they could use over and over again. 

After loading it in the back of his car and starting for home, Sarah spoke again. “Quinn?”

He glanced at her, worry etched onto his face. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she assured, reaching for his hand. “This was so thoughtful and kind.”

A  smile spread over his face, “you don’t need to thank me, Sarah. “I like when I can do something special for you.” 

It wasn’t a strange thing to her anymore, to be with such a caring partner, who not only remembered things about her, but put them to use. Just the other day, he’d brought a set of playing cards home from Seattle after she mentioned wanting to use some different ones in her research with Walter. 

Quinn let her pull his hand into her lap, glad that he’d pulled this off and that she’d enjoyed it so much.   

When the day of the party arrived, Sarah was feeling remarkably calm. 

While they were planning, she felt the weight of hosting the team as the Captain’s girlfriend like a physical thing she had to uphold. Not only did she want everyone to have a good time, she felt it was partially her responsibility to represent Quinn well. Not that he couldn’t do that on his own. He could. It just felt like another mantle she had to uphold and worried she would somehow fail or let him down.

After sharing these fears with her therapist, she helped her to remember that while her fears were understandable, there wasn’t really any basis for them. She’d already spent time with the team with the title of the captain’s girlfriend. The only difference now, as Jenny pointed out, was that she and Quinn were living together. “Which,” Jenny told her, “really only solidifies your relationship. If the team had any issues with Quinn dating you, they would have brought them up a long time ago.” 

Now, as she got ready, hosting their first party together felt like a cementing step in their relationship. It felt a bit like something out of a fairy tale. 

Pulling at the skirt of her dress until it fell the way it was meant to, she smoothed her hands over her hips as she smiled. It’d been a ridiculously long process to find the right dress, but now that she was on the other side of it, the final result was well worth work.

After going shopping with Bella and Katelyn, she came home empty handed.  Everything they'd found was too…much. Too frilly, or too plain. Nothing fit correctly, or it didn’t cover what she wanted covered or didn’t flatter her body. She didn’t even have an image in her head of what she wanted to wear (she rarely did), but nothing they found felt right. 

She’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that dress hunting had, at least partially, been so hard because she felt more than a little frumpy and even a little bit fat standing next to both beautiful women. Not that either of them did anything to make her feel that way. They were kind and nice, and two of her best friends among the wives and girlfriends. Still, anytime she tried on a dress, on top of it not being right, when she stood next to them, her eyes were automatically drawn to her hips and stomach, which were so much rounder than either of theirs. 

Generally, body image didn’t bother her - she knew she was attractive and knew Quinn found her attractive. Even knowing that, she had a hard time turning off that comparison part of her brain when seeing herself reflected back next to the two thin women she was with. 

So, while both of them walked away with beautiful party dresses, Katelyn in a short, delicately sewn green frock, and Bella in a sparkly blue sweeping number, Sarah was forced to go hunting for the perfect dress online. Knowing she was running out of time, she bought fourteen, figuring she would return what she didn’t like.

Of course, it was the last one - which arrived only a week before the party - that finally sang to her. Even Quinn commented on it when he saw it hanging in the closet, telling her, “I like this one.”

“Yeah?” 

He’d nodded, offered her a cheeky smile as he said, “I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.”  

At the time, she’d laughed and shaken her head, but with the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t been lying. 

“Wow,” Quinn said, eyes scanning up and down her body when Sarah walked out of the walk-in closet.

The sparkly fabric cradled her curves as if it had been made for her. He especially liked the way it just barely cupped her ass before billowing down to the floor. He’d never seen her in something so fancy - they’d never had the occasion to dress up like this. 

Thoughts of past prom and formal dates skipped through his mind, and he decided she was the prettiest date he’d ever had. Especially with the way the dark red color turned her eyes a stormy blue.

She gave him a teasing, little smile, “you like it?” 

Scoffing, he gave up fighting the impulse to grasp her hips. The fabric was smooth and surprisingly soft under his palms. He’d expected the tinsel-y shine to be scratchy. Whoever made it knew what they were doing. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you all night,” he said as his eyes drank in her figure one more time. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him a seductive smile and a wink, “lucky for you, I think we could arrange for you to take me home tonight.” 

“Really?” he teased, one hand sliding around to cradle that curve of her butt he’d been admiring earlier. 

“Play your cards right, and I think you just might.” 

“I might have to corner you under the mistletoe before then.”

“I thought you hated mistletoe,” she said, rolling her eyes. He'd been mildly horrified when he found she'd hung two sprigs of it in the apartment – one in the front hall and one in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I don’t know that I’d hate it with you,” he said, voice soft as he caressed her hips again. “I hated when people would try to corral me under it with some girl they wanted me to date,” he explained. “If it means I get to kiss you, I’m going to take advantage every time I can.” 

Thinking of past Christmases and failed mistletoe attempts, Quinn was so struck by her. His life from a year ago had been turned totally upside down. All in good ways, but it was still startling to glance back at how lonely he was last Christmas in comparison to the joy, love, and contentment he felt this year. 

 “You’re going to be the prettiest girl here,” he said, unable to stop himself from looking her over again.

Though she smiled, she snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“You will be,” he insisted, pulling her against him. He couldn’t fight not touching her more. 

Deciding she was too tired to push back against his compliments, Sarah leaned in to press her lips to his. With her heels on, he was just an inch taller than she was. Kissing Quinn was never difficult, but she did enjoy the easier access their closer heights allowed for. 

He mumbled a noise, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to intensify the kiss. 

As she broke away, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “are you not wearing any underwear?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?” she asked, a laugh splitting her mouth into a natural, pretty smile. 

“I can’t feel anything,” he explained, running his palm over her bum again. 

“Strictly speaking? No.” 

His eyes grew round with shock. 

“But I have shape wear on, so it’s kind of worse. Harder to get off.”

An almost relieved smile crossed his face. 

“Why?” 

“I just…I was gonna have a real hard time tonight if you weren’t wearing anything under this dress,” he admitted as his palm slid up the curve of her body.

“I don’t think I could face a party with your teammates without any underwear on.”

“Too bad,” he tsked, “then I really wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.” 

“Be a good boy,” she admonished, moving his fingers from where they were sneaking under the straps.

Licking his lips, Quinn looked into her face, his expression eager. 

She held his gaze, letting the tension build between them. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against her leg. He didn’t look away.

“That’ll be the food,” she said, breaking the spell. “You better go grab it.”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head gently, Quinn reminded himself they were heading into a party and now was not the time for him to start fantasizing. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Those pants still look super hot on you!” she called, following him. 

A few weeks before, she’d first told him she liked them by sending him a Canucks Instagram story that showed him walking through the arena parking garage, along with the message, got me drooling over your thighs in this suit. The gray fabric was cut close, making his legs look deliciously thick and muscled.

His laughter echoed off the windows as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m wearing them just for you!” he called back before the front door shut. 

Making her way down to the kitchen, Sarah surveyed the apartment on the way. They had decided to put the second tree next to the lucky couch, which only served to make the spot more romantic. Since it’d gone up, they’d spent at least one night a week curled up together reading by it’s light. It was decorated in silver and green, while the larger, fresh tree was decorated in classic red and gold, including some geometric diamonds her mom used in their last family tree. Sarah had asked her sister, Rachel, if she could send them to her. It was nice, having that little part of her mom in the house at a time they both loved so much, nice to see pieces of Quinn mixed in with everything. 

Other than the trees, there were no other holiday decorations besides a Christmas Village that had belonged to her dad, which was set up on the sideboard in the living room. 

An hour later, almost everyone was there, dressed in their holiday finery. 

Quinn had an incredibly soft, dark green cashmere sweater on over top of a white dress shirt. He’d almost worn the bomb cufflinks Sarah had given him, but at the last minute, he decided it would be more practical if he rolled his sleeves up.

The way Sarah’s eyes lingered on his forearms when he had told him he made the right choice. 

Sarah had insisted the men needed to wear slacks, “if the women are putting on dresses, it’s the least you can do. No dude gets to show up in jeans when women have to wear shape wear.” 

He said he saw her point and dropped the bad news on the boys the following day. 

“Oh my God!” Bella gushed, walking into the house. “It looks gorgeous in here!” 

“Thank you. It was really fun to decorate together for the first time.”

“Huggy helped with this?” Brock asked dubiously, walking up and slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. Sarah swore they both could wear head to toe hunting orange and still be the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen. Seeing them dressed for the season was like looking into a catalog, two perfect people in exactly the perfect clothes, matched to perfection. If they stood by the tree, she was pretty sure she could submit the picture to any department store in the world, and they’d put them in an ad without question. It was quite stunning, really. 

“He did,” Sarah said, beaming. “We decided on the theme together and got decorations, and we put up the trees before you guys left over Thanksgiving.” 

“Brock never helps with stuff like that,” Bella teased. 

“I offered!” Brock corrected. “She said she doesn't trust my taste,” he told Sarah conspiratorially before dropping a kiss to Bella’s cheek and announcing, “I’m going to get us drinks.” 

“Oh my god,” Bella exclaimed once he was gone, “where did you find this dress? It’s, like, perfect!” 

“Its from this Australian company called Blackmilk. It was the last one to arrive,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes, “of course.” 

“Well, it was worth the wait. You look killer. Your ass looks insane.” 

Sarah laughed, “the spanx have a lot to do with that.”

Bella shook her head, “no. You have a great ass. I wish I had curves like yours.”

Glancing down at herself, then at Bella’s petite frame, Sarah wondered who it served for women to be pitted against each other this way. The beauty industry, probably. Whoever invented spanx. 

“That's sweet, thank you.” 

Bella hooked her arm through Sarah's and demanded a tour of the apartment with everything decorated. 

Watching from across the living room as Sarah opened the door, looking comfortable and every part the hostess, Quinn smiled, glad to see her feeling so at home. 

He was only a little surprised to see the Millers on the other side of the door. He’d invited them, but didn’t hear anything back.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Sarah gushed, accepting the box of chocolates Natalie offered, before wrapping her in a hug.  

There had been some debate whether or not the Millers would be able to attend - it was their first team function in quite a while - but Sarah was extremely glad they were here. It wouldn’t feel like a team party without them. 

“Come in, come in. We have cocktails and mocktails and lots of food,” she said, turning to embrace JT.

He smiled, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Natalie stayed by Sarah’s side as he wandered into the party, getting progressively louder as he bro-hugged and took some ribbing from his teammates, jibing them in turn as if no time had passed.“Thank you for not making a big deal of this,” she said. 

Sarah shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re here.” 

The other woman gave her a watery smile, and Sarah took her arm to pull her into the house, “what can I get you to drink?” 

The one thing Quinn hadn’t counted on when planning this party was how much he’d be separated from her. When they attended parties in the past, they were often together, or at least not apart for long. Now, with the role of hosts, they had people to talk to and drinks to refresh, and it felt like everything was pulling them away from each other, rather than closer together. 

As the night went on, even though they were still separated, Quinn found he always seemed to know where Sarah was. Not just from her laugh, which he did hear in abundance, or from  glimpsing light glinting off her sparkly dress, which occasionally flashed in the corners of his vision. No, it was that same magnetic force that pulled him to her the first time he saw her, still in full effect.

He was talking with Conor when he felt that longing hook in his navel, nudging him in her direction. 

When he looked up, however, he couldn’t see her. It only took a moment for her to reappear, walking from the kitchen, smiling at something Meghan was showing her on her phone. Probably photos of Quint, he guessed. She had a new bottle of Perrier in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other. 

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up. 

Once their eyes met, their connection followed suit, snapping into alignment as they held each other's gaze. He was on the other side of the apartment, in the living room, but for a brief moment, it seemed everyone else fell 6 they were alone in the house again. 

She winked, and a ridiculous, cheesy smile took over his whole face. 

They’d taken pictures in front of the Christmas tree at the beginning of the night as soon as Elias and Katelyn had arrived and could hold the camera. Sarah wanted to send them to her family. He’d smiled when the photo had popped up in the chat she had with his family. His mom had almost immediately hearted the photo and gushed over how beautiful Sarah looked in her dress. 

You look nice too, Quinn, Luke had quipped. 

That had been the last time he had his hands on her, and watching her chat with Meghan as she tipped fresh ice into the metal bucket, he was itching to touch her again. 

“So, what did you think of that video session today?” Conor asked. 

“Hu?” Quinn murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Sarah as she started to laugh. 

Conor followed his sightline. “Oh god, you’re hopeless,” he murmured. “Go get your fix, then come talk to me,” he said, tone only half joking as he pushed Quinn’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” Quinn asked, throwing a smile in Meghan's direction as he walked up to them. 

Not waiting for an answer, he took the bowl from Sarah's hand, setting it on the bar cart and leading her back in the direction of the kitchen by a loose grip on her upper arm. 

“Quinn, what's wrong?” she asked, glancing back to make sure Meghan didn't feel abandoned. Thankfully, Natalie had taken her place in the conversation.

“Nothing wrong,” he said, stopping to lean in the kitchen doorway. 

One of her eyebrows raised, “you just needed to come hang out in the kitchen?” 

A snort of laughter escaped his mouth before he pointed up. Sarah followed his finger to the little sprig of fake mistletoe she’d hung there. “I thought you were joking,” she said, her eyes coming back to his face. 

“About this dress?” he asked, slipping his hands over her hips and around to hold her bum. “Or about wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe?” 

She glanced back to the party, hoping no one caught Quinn groping her so openly. “I don't know. About the cornering bit, I guess.”

A smile crept over his face, “how else was I supposed to guarantee we'd end up here together?” 

Sarah tried to roll her eyes but ended up smiling instead. It was nice to feel so wanted. 

“I missed you,” he said, nudging her to step toward him by tightening his hands. 

“Quinn, people can see,” she admonished, even as she moved closer. 

“So?”  

“So you have your hands all over my ass in plain sight.” 

“I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting to touch you in this dress,” he said.

A thrill spiked in her chest. She’d never had this much pull over a man. “And what were you hoping for under this mistletoe?” she asked.

“Just need a minute to tide me over until the party ends,” he murmured, leaning in. 

His lips brushed over hers. 

Deciding she didn’t care if people saw, Sarah sighed into him. Everyone knew they were dating, after all. More than dating - they were living together. They were throwing a party together. No one would be shocked to see them under the mistletoe. 

Allowing herself to sink into the kiss, she opened her mouth and welcomed the sweet, tangy taste of his tongue. He must have just drunk some of the cranberry punch she made. 

 A contented noise escaped his mouth, and Quinn leaned a little closer, savoring the hint of chocolate liqueur in her mouth. 

The knowledge that his entire team and their partners were in the house caught up to him, and Quinn pulled back. He didn’t really want to, but he also didn’t want the ribbing that would surely come his way if it went any farther.  

He just needed to make it to that evening anyway. 

Pursing his lips together, he met her eyes.

Her smile told him she was looking just as forward to the end of the party as he was. 

The anticipation of it spiked in his stomach, making him feel giddy. 

The laughter and drinks kept flowing long after the gift exchange wound down.

 In an effort to do something different from the year before, they’d proposed a white elephant type exchange, but each gift had to be worth at least 100 dollars and something nice, not jokey. 

The most fought over gifts were a bottle of imported Irish Whiskey Dakota brought and a diamond necklace Sarah had found in a vintage shop along her regular route home.

Quinn ended up with a pair of tickets to a cooking class with a local chef, while Sarah ended up with a ridiculously soft cashmere scarf. 

Though Sarah expected that everyone, with their rigorous travel schedules, would want to get home as soon as possible, it seemed they all were savoring the time together without their kids and without the pressure of practice or a game. 

It was nice to see all the guys casual and carefree in a way that didn’t happen very often. She rarely saw the whole team so relaxed together. 

When it became evident that everyone would be staying much later than anticipated, Sarah started to readjust her expectations for the evening. The way things were going, they’d be too tired to do anything but do a quick clean of the apartment and flop into bed when the night wound down. 

Quinn was chatting with Lankinen in the kitchen, looking so effortlessly handsome in his sweater and slacks. Those slacks really should be a crime. his thighs looked good enough to bite. And then he’d gone and rolled up his sleeves. He had strong wrists and forearms, and when he wore shirts like this, she always felt a strange surge of attraction to them. 

As she continued to stare, just as she expected would happen, he looked up to meet her gaze. 

She gave a subtle head tilt toward the entry hall and raised her eyebrows. 

A smile crept over his face, and he nodded. 

Trying to be casual, she made her way to the front door. She’d hung mistletoe in the entryway, imagining kissing each other hello and goodbye at the door, even though that rarely happened in their everyday life. 

By the time Quinn was able to make his excuses and follow Sarah to the front door, she’d been there for several minutes, He found her leaning against the wall, with her head tilted back, seemingly savoring the time alone. 

He was just wondering if he should leave and come back when she glanced over. 

A smile immediately spread over her face, and she straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the distance between them. 

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, just for him. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. Even in the dim, entryway light, she could see how the color of his sweater brought out the green in his eyes, making them a mottled, foresty color.

“You should wear green more often.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should?” 

“Yeah.” Her fingers wove themselves into the curls at the base of his skull. “It brings out the color in your eyes.” 

He fluttered his lashes, and she giggled. “Can you just learn to take a compliment?” 

A blush flashed over his cheeks. 

“You’re just really handsome,” she said, almost as if it was a confession. 

Quinn resisted the urge to deflect the compliment and busied himself with running his hands over the smooth fabric of her dress. “You should wear this all the time.” 

“All the time?” she repeated. 

He nodded. 

“Even at the aquarium?” 

A laugh chuffed out of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” he continued before she could cut in, “you just look really beautiful in it.” 

She knew how Quinn felt about this dress, he’d made that abundantly clear throughout the night - checking her out each time she entered the room and with his little stunt in the kitchen - but hearing the sincerity in his voice now made it burrow home with a bit more force. 

It was her turn to blush. 

“You’re doing okay?” he asked. “I can start telling people they need to leave.” 

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’m having fun. Just wanted you to myself for a minute.” 

Quinn felt a ridiculously big smile spread over his face. “Always happy to do that,” he said, leaning closer. 

As their mouths melted together, Sarah thought she heard shushing but pushed the whispers out of her mind, relishing the stolen moment alone. 

She didn’t think about it for the rest of the night, which lasted well into the next morning. By the time everyone left, after Natalie and JT stayed late to help them clean up, it was past two. 

Glancing at her phone for the first time after loading the dishwasher, Sarah was surprised to see she had a message from Katelyn. When she opened it, she found a dimly lit photo of her and Quinn in the entryway, kissing under the mistletoe. His hands were on her waist, and hers were in his hair. Through her editing magic, Kate had blurred everything else in the background, making the photo look just like Sarah felt in that moment – as if she and Quinn were in their own little bubble. 

Caught you guys under the mistletoe. It was too cute not to take a pic. Hope you don’t mind. Thanks for a great party. E was telling me on the way home how happy Q’s been since he met you. Anyway, just glad this crazy world brought us together. Love you, girl. 

 Love you too. Thank you for the beautiful picture. 

Katelyn hearted the message, and when Sarah showed it to Quinn, he said, “that one should go in the launch deck, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded, her movement slow with sudden fatigue.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from the kitchen and the dishes. “We can finish this up in the morning. Let’s get to bed.” 

Too tired to argue that they really should just get it all done now, she let him lead her upstairs. 

They got ready for bed, and as he pulled her close, Quinn whispered, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I know.” It took a sleepy minute for her to continue, “I love you, too. I’m glad we did this.”

Tucking his nose into her hair, Quinn breathed in her familiar scent. His voice was dim when he thanked her. 

She turned, pressing her nose into the divot of his collar bone so he felt and heard her next words. 

“I’m glad this Christmas is with you.” 

 “I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter fourteen — a rom-com happy ending

WORD COUNT — 2,841

WARNINGS — pure fluff, weddings

NOTES — i can't believe it's already over :( well, not really bc this series will always live in my head, way into their college years, but for now this is the end <3

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Ever since your Uncle Mark started staying in the guest room and wedding prep picked up even more, your house was never quiet. Between final food tastings, organizing the tables and stationary, plus the horrendous amount of extra schoolwork you were dealing with due to a new semester starting up, life never slowed down. 

Things at school got better, so long as you ignored Newt in any way, and focused on your college applications and spending time with Brenda. Plus, your uncle Mark made sure to spend all his extra time with you, since you hadn’t seen him in two years. 

He and Maggie’s brothers got along well, and made the house extra vibrant as everyone got to know one another over game nights and dinners. The very first night you’d met them — Maggie’s brothers, George and Dean — they embraced you lovingly, claiming that Maggie had always wanted a daughter. 

Valentine’s Day started with a bright dawn and a calm air, and you could tell even with the cold that it was a beautiful day for a wedding. The day started early, at around 5am, with Maggie shaking you awake, offering you a toasted waffle and travel mug of coffee. The house was void of men and instead filled with the women of the bridal party, all running around and getting ready in different parts of the house in order to have things done on time. 

Everyone had their dresses in different places, and you and a woman named Sarah did each other’s makeup in your bedroom by the desk before taking turns getting dressed and finding your purses, accessories, and proper coats. 

Maggie was already on her way to the church in just her makeup by the time everyone was ready, leaving you to lock up the house and pile into one of the three cars occupying the driveway. You texted with Brenda, Harriet, and Sonya on the car ride, talking about the reception happening later on. 

You and Thomas were allowed to bring your friends to the reception (with Brenda and Jorge being the exception, as they were invited to the ceremony), something that your parents agreed upon not long after they told you about the proposal. Since the bonfire, though, the group was shattered, and you really only talked to the girls for now. Thomas was inviting everyone else who wanted to come, though, so you’d see everyone there, anyway. 

One thing you did notice, through the bustle and stress of the wedding and finals, was that your friends had been acting odd, to say the least. Thomas was the same, but every one of your friends were exchanging an unsettling amount of smiles and glances — not just the girls, but Gally and Minho, too. You’d even asked them about it one day, but they all refused to give you an answer. 

You shook the thoughts from your head and texted the girls to update them on where you were. They were all excited for the wedding, and you were, too. Everything about this day had felt spectacular so far, and you couldn’t wait to actually see Maggie and your dad get married. 

The church was empty for now, but you and the girls all filed into the bridal suite, where Maggie sat, pinning up her hair into the most elegant style you’d seen. Since her hair was neck length and wavy, it was difficult to get her hair into a style that looked nice. However, she managed to take some strands from the front to frame her face, while still having the majority of the upper half of her hair pinned back with pearl beaded pins, her waves still flowing free. 

You almost cried at how wonderful she looked, before realizing it was up to you and two other bridesmaids to help her into her dress. 

If you hadn’t been emotional before, you definitely were now. 

Maggie looked like she’d stepped right out of a fairytale. Her bodice and sleeves were mesh, patterned with intricate lace, her skirt made of silk with a slight volume to it and lots of movement. The lace pattern bled into the skirt, blending well with the silk and forming it into a cohesive piece. 

Everyone’s compliments overlapped as you took her hands in yours, the both of you smiling widely at one another. 

With a gentle squeeze of your hands, and a knock on the door from her brothers, ready to walk her down the aisle, Maggie sighed. “Well, ladies, I think it’s just about time I got married, don’t you think?”

The ceremony was, to say the least, perfect. 

Out of the entire bridal party, you were the last to walk down the aisle, with Chuck and Thomas on either arm, all three of you beaming like sunshine. 

Your dad, along with everyone in the church, welled with tears upon Maggie’s entrance, both  of her brothers on her arm. Everything went without a hitch, and you must have ran through a pack or two of pocket kleenex. You’d never be able to replicate the joy in your heart when your dad finally called Maggie his wife. 

To no one’s surprise, the reception started strong and continued to stay that way. The hall looked absolutely amazing, with round tables and white wicker chairs, beautiful flower centerpieces. In the few-hour long break between the ceremony and the reception, Sonya, Harriet, and Brenda’s attitudes have kicked up in suspicion, but all things considered, you simply brushed it off. You had a lot more to worry about today than their behavior, and one of those things was your speech. 

All of your friends sat at a table near the front, watching your uncle wrap up his speech. Thomas and Chuck were going to do one as the best men, but didn’t quite know what to say, so they passed that duty onto Mark. One of Maggie’s friends offered to do the same for you, but you had already started with an idea, and this was too important to pass off. 

With shaking hands and messily written index cards, you stepped up to the microphone next to your parents table, smiling at the people around you. You kept your eyes on Maggie and your dad, though, for the most part. 

Clearing your throat, you leaned into the mic and began your speech. “I know that there’s a lot of people here who might not exactly know who I am, but I’m very glad to be here to share this day with all of you. I’m the daughter of the groom, and my name is Y/n. I want to start by congratulating my dad and Maggie, who I can say, deep in my heart, I know were meant to be together. Sure, it took them a while, but I guess finding ‘The One’ takes time, right?” You took a deep breath, adjusting the cards in your hands, finding that you didn’t need them any more. “I’ve only known Maggie for about four years, but she’s one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. I’ll forever be grateful for all of the things she’s helped me and my dad through, and for always being there. Maggie, you and your boys have changed everything in our lives, and there won’t be a day that I won’t be thankful for that. You showed my dad how to love again, and you didn’t hesitate for a second to share that love with me, too.” 

You were only looking at Maggie, now, eyes wet with tears and a smile stretching your face. “And it’s because of that love and dedication that I am proud to be here today, with all our friends and family, and be able to call you my mom.” 

You watched the emotions change on your parents faces and laughed lightly. “I can only finish this off by saying that I hope that everything the both of you want out of life comes to you, and to tell you that I love you both to the moon and back.” 

Quietly, you stepped away from the microphone and walked over to an already standing Maggie, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I love you so much, honey,” she whispered, kissing the side of your head. 

You squeezed her tight, tucking your face into her neck. “I love you, too, mom.”

After you let go and sat down, you glanced over at your dad to find him trying his best to hide his tears. He hadn’t been doing so well, considering you could see the shine of tears building on his waterline. 

Dinner and cake came after the speeches finished, both of which were delicious — you made a mental note to personally tell Jorge how good the cake was — and made you heavily consider taking seconds, despite knowing you would pay for it later with a stomach ache. 

Soon enough, the dance floor filled with people, and you searched out your friends to spend more time with them. 

You found them easily, the seven of them clumped into one corner of the room, just by the hall’s main entrance. They greeted you warmly, talking over one another about the food and the speeches. You told them everything about your day so far, and how proud and elated you were that the wedding finally happened. It was only when you were getting into how hectic things had been at the house that Gally’s phone rang, and suddenly the whole group went quiet. 

He stepped away, answering the phone and nodding like the person on the other line could see him. Everyone was looking at him, cheeky smiles on their faces as Gally came back, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. 

“What was that all about?” You asked him. 

Gally smiled at you, something he didn’t do all that often, a playful gleam in his eye. “Wanna go for a drive?”

“Why?” Your brows cinched as you dragged out your question, glancing between everyone as a slight chill ran up your spine. 

“He’s got a surprise for you, that’s why.” Brenda nudged you. “Just go, I promise it’ll be worth it.” 

You looked between everyone wearily before following Gally out to his car, not bothering to grab your coat. Your heart was racing with every step, the anticipation and confusion building in your head. Brenda said it was worth the trip, but you just didn’t know what was going on. Not to mention everyone’s odd behavior…

After driving around for a few minutes, Gally pulled into the school parking lot. A light flurry of snow had begun to fall, dusting the grass and pavement, and slightly impairing your vision as you looked around from the passenger’s seat. “Gally, why are we at the school?”

The boy looked up from his phone with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

Not a moment after he finished his sentence, your phone pinged from your dress pocket. Your heart stopped when you pulled it out, reading the new message in your notifications. ‘Come to the willow tree’

It was from Newt.

You looked up at Gally, who’s smile widened as he nodded toward the field. 

“He’s waiting for you,” Gally said, and you had to remember how to breathe. 

With one final, reassuring nod, you exited the car, bracing against the cold as you raced to the willow tree. Through the flurries, you made out Newt’s figure by the tree, and stopped yourself from running any further. 

Once you were able to move your legs again, you took it slower, walking through the thin layer of accumulating snow, picking up your dress to make it less likely for you to trip. With every step, you could make out Newt’s figure a little clearly, and it made the ache in your chest grow larger. 

You came to a stop under the tree’s canopy of dead leaves, providing some protection from the snow. Newt was wearing a black suit, and you couldn’t deny how great he looked in it. He was still staring at his shoes and picking at his fingernail when you stopped walking, almost as though he hadn’t heard you approaching him. 

Gripping the sides of your dress, you found the courage to speak up. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again.” 

Newt looked up from his shoes with a smile. “I lied.” 

“But that’s what you said, isn’t it? On Christmas. When you slammed the door in my face.” 

“I know what I said, and I’m sorry,” Newt sighed, stepping a bit closer. “I was a prick for saying it, too. I never should’ve done what I did, you didn’t deserve it.” He took a breath, running a hand through his hair and tucking a hand into one of his pockets. “Ever since the party, Sonya’s been telling me every day how upset you were. Hell, everyone was, and it’s been driving me mad ever since, because I hurt you, and I’ve never wanted to do that.” 

Teary-eyed, you opened your mouth to speak, but Newt continued. 

“I don’t care what Tommy thinks about us being together anymore. But I want us to be together. Hell, the only thing that kept me quiet about how I felt for so long — that stopped me from asking you out when we hung out together on our own for the first time — was how I thought he would react, or if he would disapprove of it. But I don’t care anymore. I love you, Y/n. More than anything. Staying away from you for so long has been killing me, and I can’t stand it anymore.” He stepped closer again, leaving only a few inches of space between you. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to follow you outside when you came to Mickey’s with Brenda. To apologize for what I said, for leaving you that night. To—” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “—to kiss you bloody senseless.” 

You stared up at the boy before you, the one you never thought would talk to you again, in awe of his words. After the bonfire, you never believed that Newt would say something like that to you, let alone plan something as intimate as this was. You blinked away tears for the fourth time that day and realized there was only one thing you could say at the moment. 

“So do it. Kiss me.” 

Newt closed the distance between your bodies, pulling you into him by the waist and pressing his lips to yours. Elation filled every inch of your body as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him as close as you were able, pouring all your love into the kiss. You felt one of Newt’s hands snake up your neck, palm splayed over your jaw as he tried in vain to pull you closer into his body. 

You wished you didn’t need air to breathe when you were forced to pull back, lipstick smeared on Newt’s swollen lips, and likely on your own, as well. But you still had one question to ask. 

“Why now?” You asked, smoothing the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I mean, after everything, why now? You spent two months pretending to hate me, so what changed?”

“The jacket.” Newt told you. “Sonya practically forced it into my hands after you left, and then she yelled at me for half an hour about how big of an idiot I was being, and how wrong it was for me to keep treating you the way I had been. After that… I sat on my bed for a while, holding the jacket and thinking about how right she was. About how much I missed you. After that, I knew I had to do something, so…” 

“So you planned all this?” You said, a coy smile spreading on your lips. “Just for me?”

Newt smiled wide, laughter bubbling in his throat. “Just for you, darling.” The nickname made your heart skip a beat, and your smile widened. “You shouldn’t be so surprised. You  saw what I did for you in New York. Making elaborate plans to see you happy isn’t anything new.”

Without another word, you pulled his head down to kiss him again. You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips as you kissed Newt, reveling in how amazing it felt to finally be able to kiss him. Just as you were pulling away, a thought crossed your mind. “Wait. What about Thomas? And our friends?”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” Newt laughed. “I don’t give a damn what Tommy thinks. I only care about you. And our friends have been in on it for the past week, love.” 

You smiled bright at the boy holding you, pulling him back into another searing kiss. 

Under the canopy of the willow tree, on the greatest day of your life so far, you got your movie-screen happy ending; and everything that happened to get it was entirely worth it.

series taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

[devilworeprada]

‘can i get a bump?’

summary: drugs, sex and alcohol.. when your best friend throws an end of semester rager, you mix a bad habit of partying with sarah’s arrogant kook older brother and his best friend - what could possibly go wrong? 18+

pairing: rafe cameron x topper x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW, heavy drug use, heavy drugging, DUBCON, NONCON, threesome, coercion, dumbification, degradation, corruption, all around mature themes.

notes: hi! this is my first dark fan-fiction, after reading so many I decided to start writing some of my own works, apologises if this isn’t the best I do love writing and hopefully this gives me a chance to get better <3 this will be in 2 parts enjoy!

© to devilworeprada. no translations/reposts.

part 1.

Last night.

The sky was midnight blue, specks of white fluttered across the horizon. The crackling of your lighter distracted you from noticing Sarah’s shiny black volvo, quietly pulling up on the road next to the beach.

Watching the waves greeting each other comforted you, you heard your best friend scrambling around to find her belongings in her car.

“Oh my fucking gooooood…” the feminine voice whined from a distance.

You turn your head slightly behind you to see your friend Sarah dragging herself onto the beach.

A look of exhaustion seen across her face, “finals are killing me… please find a new best friend i’m going to die” she uttered before dramatically collapsing onto the warm sand.

You smiled at her scene, cigarette smoke leaving your mouth as you spoke “very funny Sarah, but i don’t have the funding for your funeral right now”.

Sarah lifted her head from the sand, giggling to herself while she sneakily tried to grab your idle pack of lucky strike cigarettes. You playfully smacked her hand as she successfully grabbed one.

“hey, Y/N it’s been a long fucking time since we’ve had a party.. like a rager type shit right..?” Sarah questioned while lighting her cigarette.

“I mean with finals and moving out, i guess i forgot how to get fucked up” you joked.

“you… Y/N… the bitch who did K with Mr. Johnson from history class? forgetting how to party? you’re so fucking unserious” sarah remarked, her laughter filling the air with how silly the concept sounded.

“Oh my god why did you remind me of that” you put your hands in your hair internally screaming, no. embarrassed, at the memories flooding your mind.

Your history teacher for last year, Mr. Johnson, a 6’5, 29 year old dirty blonde heartthrob had gotten fired for smoking in his classroom. Being the outgoing, bubbly and fun loving girl you were, you invited him to one of sarah’s infamous parties - long story short JJ and sarah walked in on Mr. Johnson, shirtless and dazed, snorting Ket off of your inner thigh.

Sarah too stunned to speak and JJ not being able to hold in his laughter, the night shortly ended for Mr. Johnson as he ran out the cameron’s front door - not wanting to spend the rest of that night in holding.

“But a rager… sounds interesting, i mean finals are over and it’s the end of our semester right?” you added, quickly trying to change the topic as your cheeks flushed with those blurry flashbacks of that night.

Sarah stretched her arms over her head and flicked away whatever was left of her tiny cigarette before she mentioned happily, “my parents aren’t in town either!”

“fuck.. Rafe is though..”

Her face darkened, knowing the history the both of you shared.

That name. Rafe fucking Cameron.

Just hearing it made your shoulders feel heavy, Rafe was Sarah’s older brother, and god did you wish she had no relation to the arrogant cunt.

You always had bad blood with rafe, completely one sided.. he just hated you for being a pogue. Years of constant frosty glares being exchanged, passive aggressive comments and the occasional threat from the taller blonde.

But the tipping point of your cold war with Rafe was when he found out you were an addict. Rumours of your bad habit spread throughout school, you didn’t care though knowing you had friends who lived the same almost worse lifestyles.

However, when Rafe heard of this, he chose to purposefully buy out your supplier just to fuck with you. As if he got off on knowing the withdrawals drove you crazy.

You were snapped out of thought when the small blonde put a light up to her lips, turning the end of the pale cigarette an amber hue, handing it to you with care.

“Y/N i know how you feel about Rafe so i’ll tell him to keep out of your way, kay?” she looked at you, able to tell you were bothered.

“I’ll tell him and his idiot friends to get us some drugs n’ let JJ and Pope take care of the drinks this time” hoping it would lighten you up.

“Thank you” you spoke, with a grin entering your face again while you took a drag of your cig.

“Rager it is then!” you exclaimed, getting up and dusting the sand off your shorts. Sarah shouted happily in response, both chuckling in unison and running off into her car.

Tonight.

A noisy somewhat crowded street could be seen from afar, bass filled music bumping and college kids drunk of out their mind to care about who was looking, a full moon gleaming ahead - brightening the landscape of teenage recklessness.

“Y/N! Sarah!” two male voices yelled in the distance, jogging up to the pair of you in the black car, it was JJ and Pope urging you both to hurry up. The two boys holding booze in each hand meticulously making sure they didn’t drop it.

“One minute my mascara is pissing me off” Sarah complained, grabbing at the silver tube on her lap, you both consulted about outfits with each other at your place, getting ready to 2000s era songs.

The two of you came to a conclusion, you were wearing a shiny ruby toned halter neck dress, the texture was velvety- rich and it hugged all of your curves. Which Sarah then shamelessly praised you on while walking to her car.

Sarah adorned a cream colour tube dress, the sleeveless dress showcasing her dainty frame focusing on her neck and chest.

“You look so fucking hot y/n” JJ ogled, earning a playful smack on the head from Pope.

“I’ll bite you JJ” you teased back.

“Let’s fucking do this thing” Sarah yelled in joy, stumbling to get out of the car just as Kesha started roaring from the ivory estate across the street

Upon stepping into the Cameron mansion, you were welcomed with the strangely sweet smell of weed and fruity puff bars. Immediately you headed into the kitchen bumping past a few senseless shoulders to get yourself a drink, if you were going to run into Rafe you at least wanted to be fucked up enough to forget the interaction.

The kitchen island was scattered with a myriad of booze, all different flavours and brands. Without hesitation you grabbed an idle red solo cup and poured in the nearest tequila.

“Isn’t that a bit too much for a girl your age” a familiar voice questioned, perking up from the overly loud rendition of Poker face booming amongst the large room.

“Topper..” you replied rolling your eyes, venom stained in your voice.

“I get it, not much of a talker anymore since the dealer shit right?” the taller male responded trailing on.. “you seen Rafe around?”.

“I’m 18. shit for brains, i can drink whatever the fuck i want, and no i haven’t seen Rafe. Do i look like a cop to you?” you spat back, looking at Topper as he lit his joint, the sides of his mouth smirking at your remark.

“My bad, just thought Rafe’s little pet would know where he was at all times..” he boasted, running a free hand through his hair.

You gritted your teeth at the edge of the solo cup, gnawing at it, wishing it was his skull.

“Don’t let him catch you looking like this.. I know i’d eat you alive” he mentioned while gawking at you, dark blue orbs creeping up and down your body. His eyes feeling like a violation, fixating on your hips.

“Eat a dick Topper” you snapped back, causing the older male to wheeze in response.

You walked off, heels clicking and bottle of tequila in hand to find JJ, hopefully talking to him while he was off it would cause your mood to brighten up.

The living room was packed with people pulsing to a techno beat, smoke filled the air while an array of various coloured lights swished back and forth. ‘I need some fucking coke’ you thought to yourself, getting bumped around like a rag doll trying to get out of the haze and up the stairs.

Slamming doors open and shut on a mission to find JJ was tiring, assuming Rafe was with a girl in one of the guest bedrooms soured your mood. It made your frantic search for JJ faster, just for the night maybe you could fuck JJ? Your thoughts trailed off as you took a swig of your tequila.

“‘Do i want to fuck Rafe?’.

end of part 1.

[rttnpnkpmpkn]

Headcanons Nobody Asked: Sarah (tentative)

Sarah currently replaces Y/N as Lucy’s roommate and attends the same college as her.

She has spent a semester studying in Japan prior to the start of Your Girlfriend, and just came back from the student exchange program.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1.5/5

Book Blurb: Heathers meets The Secret History in this thrilling coming-of-age novel set in a boarding school where the secrets are devastating—and deadly. When Sarah Taylor arrives at the exclusive St. Ambrose School, she’s carrying more baggage than just what fits in her suitcase. She knows she’s not like the other girls—if the shabby, all-black, non-designer clothes don’t give that away, the bottle of lithium hidden in her desk drawer sure does. St. Ambrose’s queen bee, Greta Stanhope, picks Sarah as a target from day one and the most popular, powerful, horrible girl at school is relentless in making sure Sarah knows what the pecking order is. Thankfully, Sarah makes an ally out of her roommate Ellen “Strots” Strotsberry, a cigarette-huffing, devil-may-care athlete who takes no bullshit. Also down the hall is Nick Hollis, the devastatingly handsome RA, and the object of more than one St. Ambrose student’s fantasies. Between Strots and Nick, Sarah hopes she can make it through the semester, dealing with not only her schoolwork and a recent bipolar diagnosis, but Greta’s increasingly malicious pranks. Sarah is determined not to give Greta the satisfaction of breaking her. But when scandal unfolds, and someone ends up dead, her world threatens to unravel in ways she could never have imagined. The St. Ambrose School for Girls is a dangerous, delicious, twisty coming-of-age tale that will stay with you long after you turn the last page.

Review:

A new student arrives at an exclusive boarding school and soon secrets, lies, and a dead body happen. Sarah Taylor has just arrived at the exclusive St. Ambrose School. She’s not like other girls, she’s quiet, invisible, and has a lot of baggage. She wears all black and has a hidden bottle of lithium hidden in her desk. She becomes the instant target for the queen bee Greta Stanhope but Sarah thankfully has an ally in her roommate Ellen “Strots” Strotsberry who takes no bullshit. Then there is the Hot Residential Advisor, Nick Hollis, who despite being older, married, and off limits... has a lot of secrets of his own. Sarah soon finds herself discovering the secrets of her fellow students and her R.A. but can she keep her recent bipolar diagnosis under wraps while also dealing with Greta’s increasingly cruel pranks. Sarah is determined to not let Greta break her...but as scandal is revealed and a dead body appears, secrets will come undone and the true nature of these girls will reveal themselves. This was giving me a bit of Heathers vibes but also not. The story felt like it definitely dragged a lot and the story felt kind of eh most of the time. The drama and secrets were eh and honestly I just felt lukewarm about the entire book. The final twist and reveal was okay but overall, I just didn’t really care that much about the characters and the story. Overall, it sort of gave a dark academia/mystery vibe but it honestly just didn’t live up to the expectations that I had.

*Thanks Netgalley and Gallery Books for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[vidstudiosworld]

Inspiring Others to Pursue Their Dreams

Caecilia is a judo-athlete aged 12 with a visual impairment. She discusses the importance of overcoming fear and insecurities. Rosa Riedl's tree of her family and historical records. Documents can contain photographs, original documentation including family history and related relatives. They could also include dates, locations, complete names, specific dates and places. The resulting multimedia volume lies at the intersections of memoir and manifesto. It combines an unjustifiable anger with funny humor. The powerful message is a hit with audiences all over the globe. Caecilia Ridl Caecilia is 13 years old and a Judo athlete with a vision impairment. She is a student at the International School of Luxembourg, and she is about to compete in the Paralympics in 2028. She is going to motivate others by sharing her story and encouraging those around her to conquer their fears to pursue their dreams. Marika Cecilia received her first lesson in harp at the age 6 at the age of six from Tabitha Nicolas. In 2011, she began her studies as an undergraduate student at the Hochschule fur Musik und Theater in Munich with Cristina Bianchi and in 2014 she transferred to Zurich University of the Arts in Zurich, where she studied with Sarah O'Brien. Alongside performing solo concert with or without orchestra she has taken numerous masterclasses including one that she took with Luisa Prandina as well as Emmanuel Ceysson. Alex Riedl Alex Riedl is a student who enjoys being active in all kinds of organizations and help other people. She is also very passionate about Art and Psychology and would like to demonstrate that you can achieve anything if you desire it enough. Tabitha Nicolas taught her the fundamentals of playing the harp at age six. She was a junior student at the Musikhochschule in Munich with Cristina Bianchi and in 2014 she started her studies at Zurich University of Arts with Sarah O'Brien, followed by an exchange program in Lausanne with Letizia Belmondo. She has received several fellowships and scholarships, including those from the Lyceum Club Zürich as well as the Marianne and Curt Dienemann Stiftung Luzern (Miriam and Curt Dienemann Foundation) as well as the Lyra Foundation, and the Zangger-Weber Foundation. Johannes Heuschkel Marika Cecilia began her training as a harpiste at the age of six. She is a substitute harpiste with the Tonhalle Orchester Zurich, Philharmonia Zurich(Opernhaus Zurich), and Berner Symphonieorchester. She earned a masters at the Zurich University of the Arts where she studied with Sarah O'Brien. She also received a diploma as a concertist and spent an exchange semester with Letizia Bellmondo in Lausanne. She has been awarded scholarships from the Lycee Club Zurich as well as the Marianne and Curt Dienemann Foundation Lucerne. The varied panel of speakers who talk about topics such as integration of AI into the classroom and programs designed to help children with disabilities in maths will inspire the audience. The speakers include the beatboxer to the muralist and 13-year old visually impaired Judo champs, will demonstrate that anyone is capable of achieving success with the right mindset.

Video embeds anchors:

[delicatetaylorsversion]

My exchange semester in Helsinki has come to an end. It has been an amzing time, i've made so many great experiences, memories and friends. I've cried a few times after i had to say goodbye to all the lovely people i met.

If you're studying: Go abroad if possible, it's amazing!

[kingvideosblog]

Inspiring Others to Pursue Their Dreams

Caecilia is a 12-year-old judo-athlete with a vision impairment. She speaks about the importance of getting over fears and anxieties. Rosa Riedl's family tree, as well as historical records. Records can include photos and original documentation, family history and relatives. They may also contain dates, places, full names, specific dates and places. The resultant volume of multimedia is a blend of manifesto and memoir that balances rage and justification with wry humour. It is an effective message that resonates with audiences across the globe. Caecilia Ridl Caecilia is a 13 year old Judo athlete who has a visual impairment. She is an HS student at the International School of Luxembourg and is close to competing at the Paralympics in 2028. She will encourage others to follow her story and motivating students to overcome their doubts to pursue their dreams. Marika Cecilia Reidl started her first harp lessons at age of six with Tabitha Nicolas. She took lessons in 2011 while an undergraduate at Hochschule fur Musik und Theater, Munich with Cristina Bianchi. In 2014, she relocated to Zurich University of the Arts and began her studies in the harp with Sarah O'Brien. She has performed solo concerts in both concert halls and with an orchestra. She also attended numerous masterclasses with Luisa Prandina as well as Emmanuel Ceysson.

Alex Riedl Alex Riedl is a student who loves to be active in all kinds of organisations and help other people. She is also passionate about Art and Psychology and hopes to prove that you can achieve everything if you wish to enough. She began playing harp at the age of six and began her first lessons from Tabitha Nicolas. She began her studies at the Musikhochschule Munich at the age of 12 alongside Cristina Bianchi. In 2014, she started her studies at Zurich University of Arts in the class of Sarah O'Brien. She has been awarded numerous fellowships and scholarships, including those from the Lyceum Club Zürich, the Marianne and Curt Dienemann Stiftung Luzern (Miriam and Curt Dienemann Foundation), the Lyra Foundation and the Zangger-Weber Foundation. Johannes Heuschkel Marika Cecilia began her training as a Harpiste at the age of six. She is a substitute harpiste with the Tonhalle Orchester Zurich, Philharmonia Zurich(Opernhaus Zurich) and the Berner Symphonieorchester. She has a masters degree at the Zurich University of the Arts in collaboration with Sarah O'Brien, as well as a diploma for concertists and an exchange semester in Lausanne with Letizia Belmondo. She has received grants from the Lycee Club Zurich as well as the Marianne and Curt Dienemann Foundation Lucerne. The diverse lineup of speakers, who will discuss topics like the integration of AI into schools and programs that aid children who are disadvantaged in maths will inspire the audience. From an artist who beatboxes and paints murals to visually impaired 13-year-old Judo champions, these speakers will show that it is possible to achieve anything when you believe in yourself. Video credits: YouTube

[ffssinternship]

Editing, Editing, Editing!

This week, I continued editing the biographies I have been working on all semester. As I wrap up this week, the James Maddox biography is just about ready for Dr. Lyons to give her final review. Early in the week, we received yet another email from Maddox’s niece, Sarah, containing another letter to the local church. In it, he provided more information of his exact whereabouts and unit connections. This answered some questions about what he was doing between his hospital discharge in February 1944 to returning to combat in September 1944. In the letter sent in May, he explains he is actually working with a special unit providing showers and laundry services to the men on the frontline. I did some further research into it, and the military explains these units were often stationary and troops would roll in for a weekly shower and change of clothes. Soldiers on the frontline usually opted for the laundry exchange, where they would trade the clothes on their back for used but clean and sterilized ones. Others would take clothing bundles, which was more common. This included about 20 items that were washed and returned to the soldier. According to the letter, it seems like Maddox helped more with the clothing exchange and operation of the showers. 

The letter also describes the combat conditions. Maddox explained he was stationed in Anzio. This long battle lasted into June. He describes seeing and hearing the gunfire while in church service on the beach. This small detail conveys a much larger message of the lifestyle the men overseas experienced. Not only were many of them devoted to the their faith for any number of reasons, but they had become almost numb to the danger they were in at all times. His focus in the letter is around the service, and the firings only provide additional detail to their location. It is one thing to assume what a soldier’s experience was like or hear them talk about years later, but reading and understanding the experience from their eyes at the time they were living it is entirely different. The story of Bobby Maddox has really opened my eyes to a whole other side of history. Not only is this biography making a huge difference to his remaining family, but the resources provide various important details that might otherwise be overlooked. Majority of the veterans we research do not have remaining letters to reference, and we rarely have their words to quote directly. Seeing Maddox’s relationship to his faith and discussing the importance of it while in such a dire situation gives a unique perspective that can only be told by the veterans themselves.

[anamoon63]

Dale: Terry didn't 'abandon me to my fate', he offered me his support in getting us another apartment, and he'll help with anything we need, he just can't do anything against Riley, that's all.

Kelly: Hmm, no, that's not all, you're hiding something from me, Dale Cho.

Of course Dale is hiding something. He can't tell her what Terence advised him because, one: Kelly will go straight to kill Terry, and two, because if he tells her what advice his brother gave him, he'll have to tell her as well what Riley wanted, then Kelly would put up one hell of a fight in the middle of exams eve. And two: because, in a few minutes, he has to go to his last business presentation at the library, on which part of his grade for the semester depends. So no, he can't tell Kelly what happened on that phone call with Terry. At least not now.

Dale: Seriously, I'm not hiding anything from you. Or rather... Okay, the truth is that... (Dale stops abruptly).

Kelly: The truth is that what? Talk to me already, Dale.

Dale knows he's in trouble, whether he hides the truth from her or whether he tells her everything.

They both smoke again; she, to control her impatience; he, to buy time and figure out what to answer. Just then, there is the sound of doors opening and closing, and the voices of Riley and Sarah arguing again.

Sarah: So you did it just so we could stay in the dorm, huh?

Riley: Yes, because I already knew he would never accept my proposal, so we wouldn't have to leave.

Sarah: And you think I'm going to believe that bullshit?

Riley: Well, it's the truth.

Sarah: No, it's not. You were hoping for the exact opposite result. Your intention was very clear! You asked Dale to sleep with you in exchange for leaving the dorm, because you knew that was the only way he would give in to your whim!

Kelly: (Stops smoking) What??

Dale: …

[ill-be-your-honey-bri]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Hello all!

It is an honor to say that I am participating in my very first Fic Challenge! @helladirections​ put together this AMAZING Summer Feeling Challenge with a list of a bunch of summer prompts for writers to chose from. For this fic, I chose the BBQ and Fireworks as my prompt.

So without further ado, I present a very fluffy college!Harry.

Warnings: Fluffy-fluff, mild drug and alcohol use.

Please keep an eye out for the other writers and fics involved in the Summer Feeling Challenge and spread some love and peace to those amazing writers as well.  

Harry had always looked forward to the summer; time off from school, getting back to work in the bakery and bugging Barbara. The thing he looks forward to the most is his time with his family at the lake house, and going to the lake house meant spending the summer with you.

Harry had a school boy crush on you since your family bought the lake house down the road. He was in awe of how fearless you were. You were always the first to grab at any creepy-crawly or amphibian, the first to dive into the lake, and the one to suggest scary stories in the middle of the night at the gazebo by the lake.

As time progressed, Harry’s crush turned into something more. He remembers the first summer of puberty when you filled in your bathing suit a little too well and how he is positive he was sporting a semi the whole summer. Damn hormones.

But now, on his drive to the lake house, he smiles thinking of how he will be reunited with his summertime buddies and the girl he can never get off his mind. He turns up the music, hearing “Summer of ‘69” to put him in the perfect mood for another great summer.

Harry drives past your house, seeing your car already parked there. He is half tempted to stop at your place first but realizes that you're probably down by the lake already. His mom is out front of their house talking to your mom when Harry pulls up, both women promptly giving him a hug when he steps out.

“God Harry, you got so big and handsome! And your hair!” Your mom praised Harry as he tried to detangle his hair from the wind of having the windows down, giving her a shy smile an a ‘thank you’.

“Y/N is down by the lake with Sarah and Mitch darling, she has been asking about you.” Anne gave him a wink and a tap on the bum, knowing his feelings for you, your mom giggled at Harry’s blush. As Harry was walking away, he could hear your mom mumble, “Always thought those two would be perfect together.” Harry’s shy smile turned beaming as he walked his bag to his room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry walked out the back of the lake house and began his walk to the dock. He could hear The Beach Boys playing, becoming clearer the closer he got to the lake. He could see Sarah laying out next to Mitch, who was sitting in a chair with his guitar in his lap, lazily strumming along to “Good Vibrations”. He couldn’t see you until you breached the water, hiking yourself up onto the dock.

“Harry!” You quickly stood up and ran before you tumbled into his arms, still dripping from your swim and not grabbing a towel. He embraced you, giving you a tight squeeze, soaking his shirt. You giggled as he picked you up so that your feet were a few inches off the ground.

Sarah and Mitch quickly got up to give Harry a warm and welcoming embrace before all walking to where your towels were all laid out so you can all sit and talk. Everyone was talking about their year since they last saw each other. Well, accept Mitch and Sarah since they have been dating since last summer.

It was getting warm, so Harry took off his now dry shirt. You gasped when he did, seeing his skin exposed littered with new black ink. He had a few accumulating over the summers but there were so many new ones for your eyes to explore.

You propped yourself on your knees looking at all the ink in their details, Harry shivered as your fingers grazed his skin. He could see Sarah and Mitch begin to smirk and giggle just past your head but he quickly returned his gaze to you; skin glowing in the sun, hair frizzing from its air drying. You were more beautiful every summer. You smiled up at him as you talked about the new markings before the smell of the grill indicated it was time to head back to help set up for the barbeque.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The barbeque was being held at Harry’s house, his step-dad, Robin, wearing the fitting apron that says “Grill Master”. Your dad was helping Robin with grabbing the meat from the kitchen that he had helped prep to bring it out to the porch where the grill and it’s master were perched.

Anne had put on an Eagles playlist that was coming through an outdoor speaker, Robin and your dad singing into their tongs and spatulas. Anne was putting together a summer sangria on the porch when all of you came running up the back steps from the lake.

Mitch’s and Sarah’s parents started bringing out different dishes with salads and fruits, your mom following with plates and silverware. Harry promptly took the cutlery and plates from your mom and began to set the table, you were quick to help Harry, bumping his hip with yours. Mitch and Sarah were helping with chairs.

“One of These Nights” began to play through the speaker and you grabbed Harry’s hand to begin dancing and singing along, Sarah did the same with Mitch, your dad with Robin.

Anne was emitting bubbly laughs as she and your mom passed out a glass of sangria to everyone. Once Robin sang that his masterpieces were complete, everyone sat at the table.

Harry sat across from you, smirking at you throughout your meal, giggling when you had barbeque sauce on your cheeks. You quickly wiped it off and nudged his shin with your foot.

Conversation was light throughout the meal, everyone’s parents asking all the kids how school is, what their future plans are, how much longer until they graduate. Harry kept his eyes on you as you were telling Mitch’s dad your favorite classes and how you are starting to look at graduate programs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The night had come to an end when the sun had set, all the families exchanging ‘good nights’ and hugs. You were the last one that Harry had embraced. You turned your head to his ear to whisper, “gazebo at midnight”, before pulling away and kissing his cheek. You ran off quickly to catch up with your parents as well as Sarah and her family, grabbing Sarah’s hand before turning to look back at Harry. You gave him a final smile and wave before turning back to talk with Sarah.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry should have known that it wouldn’t be just the two of you at the gazebo, it was tradition after all.

Sarah and Mitch were sitting on the banister as you were spreading out the blanket for you all to sit on. Mitch was packing a bowl while Sarah was sipping on the bottle of liquor she stole from her parents cabinet. You were all of age at this point but it was a sentimental gesture from all the years prior.

Harry gave a weak smile and a wave as he approached. You had brightened when he stepped foot in the gazebo, skipping to him to grab his hand to pull him to the blanket. Your eyes were glowing in the twinkling lights hung along the top of the shelter.

Sarah handed you the bottle as Mitch took his first hit, promptly handing it to Harry. As Harry was inhaling, you had grabbed the bag that you brought with snacks and your phone, putting on some music and opening up the bag of Doritos.

You popped a chip in your mouth as Harry passed the bowl to you. “So, do you have a boyfriend from school?” You smiled at him before taking a hit and holding your breath, shaking your head no as you exhaled.

“No, but I had a girlfriend last semester. Found out she was screwing our whole friend group so I ended that quickly.”

Harry choked on the liquor he just tipped back, coughing with a, “Sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged it off before asking Harry, “And you? Any boyfriend or girlfriend?” smirking as he blushed. This group of friends were the only people you all could truly be open to, both you and Harry had come out as bisexual last summer.

“No, no one for me.” He began to dig into the snacks as the booze and weed got passed around.

“That’s a shame, you're a catch.” Everyone looked straight at you with wide eyes. Sarah giggling out from either the liquor, the weed, or the fact that she knew you had a massive crush on Harry.

Harry was stunned by your comment, giving a shy ‘thank you’ as you passed the bowl back around to him. Sarah continued her giggles, falling into Mitch who was kissing the top of her head.

The night progressed with the passing of substances between the four of you and ended with all your heads in the middle of the blanket telling stories from college. You began to yawn, getting a shiver from the wind. Harry pulled off his green flannel and handed it to you for you to keep yourself warm.

After putting your arms in the sleeves, you rolled over to rest your head on Harry’s chest, falling asleep to the now talkative Mitch telling horror stories from his pizza delivery job. Harry wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you close to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, you all wake up to the sun rising, the lake reflecting the pink and orange sky. Harry woke up before you so he was able to take in your sleeping beauty. He moved the hair away from your face, flinching when Sarah talked.

“She really likes you, ya know? All she talks about is you whenever we are on the phone. Counted down the days until summer vacation.”

Harry began to smile looking back down at you, tickling your cheek with the tips of fingers causing you to rouse. You blink at him slowly and mumble a ‘morning’ before cuddling back into him.

After all fully waking up, you made your way to Sarah’s place where her parents were setting up a breakfast buffet on the porch. You promptly grab a plate and a mug of coffee before settling next to Harry and eating your breakfast, softly smiling as you both munched away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had spent all day on the boat with your parents, warming your skin in the sun and reading your book of the moment. You had watched Harry swimming and splashing around by the dock with Mitch.

“Are you excited for the fireworks sweetie?” Your mom had asked you as she added some more lotion to your shoulders so you don’t burn.

“There are fireworks tonight?”

“Mhm. The owners of the lake are putting on a show for the anniversary of when they opened it up.”

“I wonder if Harry knows. He hates fireworks.”

You dad looked over at you as he started the engine of the boat to head back to the dock, “What better way to spend your night than distracting Harry during fireworks.”

“Dad!” You were all laughing at what your dad was insinuating, approaching the dock to moor the boat. You hopped off to tie up the boat as Harry was swimming up to the dock boosting himself out of the water and grabbed his towel.

“Have a nice swim?” You stood up straight to see Harry was close behind.

“I did. Did you have a nice boat ride?” He was towel drying his hair before he started to wipe down his body.

“I did. Hey, do you want to hang out at the gazebo with me tonight? Just us?”

Harry stopped drying his legs and looked up at you with a slight shock. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be cool.”

You smiled with a nod, “Good, we can meet up after dinner.” You walked over to give Harry a kiss on his cheek before grabbing your stuff from the boat and running inside.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry was already at your meeting spot, sitting on the banister and looking out to the lake. He had his go to flannel on and a beanie covering his unruly curls.

You walked up behind him and gently tapped his shoulder that cause him to turn to you.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Have you been here long?”

“Uh, no. Only a few probably. Did you have a good day?”

“I did, thank you. Did you?”

Right when Harry was about to respond, you hear the tell tale sign of a whistle followed by a loud pop that was the start of the firework show. Harry jumped mumbling a ‘fuck me’ as you rested your hands to cover his ears.

Harry looked up at you, blues, reds, and greens painting your skin from the sky. You looked down at Harry mouthing a ‘sorry’ and he quickly rested his hands on yours that were still covering his ears. He moved his hands down your forearms before gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

You were now settled standing between his knees, his fingers wiggling nervously on your hips. You continued to look down at him, gently brushing at his hair that your fingers can reach.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore, loudly asking, “Can I kiss you?” since his perception of sound was off due to you covering his ears. You let out light laugh, nodding as you lean down to slot your lips against his.

Harry hummed into the kiss, pulling you closer by your hips, moving his lips to have more of you. He pulled away to tell you louder than he anticipated that, “I have been waiting so long to do that!”

You let out another laugh, kissing the side of his mouth, pulling away to tell him ‘me too’ before kissing him again.

That night, Harry was no longer afraid of fireworks because whenever he kissed you, all he could see and feel were the bright bursts of colors against your lips.

[megmachine]

Mistakes

A/N: this is the first section of my WIP star trek fic. See the tags before reading if your interested, and please let me know what you think! 

The last time Jim ever saw his aunt alive, she was crying. He was thirteen and being led onto a bus alongside his cousins and had glanced out the darkened window on a whim. She had been standing in the doorway to their farmhouse, clutching little Sarah’s favorite blanket, arguing with one of the large men dressed in black that had come to take them back. The man had laid his hand on his belt, saying something, and Aunt Josie had broken down crying. Through a cloud of red dust as they drove away, Jimmy saw her fall to her knees and sob. Tear tracks cut through the dirt on her face, leftovers from when they’d been playing in the garden earlier. They turned a corner and trees finally blocked his view, and he turned back to talk to his cousins.

He was only supposed to be on Tarsus IV for six months. Driving the car into the canyon had been the last straw, and even though they’d ‘worked things out’ with the cops, Jimmy knew he’d pushed too hard. Frank was fed up with him and he’d been suspended from school again and his mother was still out there, exploring space without him. Winona said she would be earthside ‘in just six months, Jimmy, it’s only six months,’ and that this was just a stopgap to get him away from his step-father.  What a load of bull that was, not that he’d say it to her face. Two months in, when he moved into boarding school full-time and wasn’t counting down the days till his shuttle home, Winona messaged him. She told him her ship, the U.S.S. Faragaut, would be delayed eight additional months and for the first time, he wasn’t heartbroken. Fourteen months in the colony, he could make it fourteen months. His aunt actually liked him, she never even hit him, and his cousins didn’t treat him like a burden the way Sam used to. Classes challenged him, for the most part, and he got to go back home every weekend to see his aunt and the farmhouse. Sure, meals weren’t that big, but Jimmy had never really gone hungry here, either. Tarsus was good. Life was good. 

This time, though, as the farmhouse faded from view, he could tell his Aunt knew something was different. Clouds of red dust obscured his view and it felt like he was losing something, somewhere he’d finally started to call home. It was silly to get so melancholy about a semester at boarding school, he’d thought. He’d thought a lot of things that ended up being wrong.

It was two Saturdays later when Jimmy and Will wondered if something was wrong. A full two weeks since they had seen the rest of their family. They were sitting on his cousin’s bed, each with a PADD in hand, working on their homework. Their teacher, Hoshi, had been grilling them on languages, and despite Jimmy’s efforts Will couldn’t grasp Vulcansu conjugations. 

“No, see, it’s a past tense irregular verb, and you forgot the hyphen-”

“Jimmy.” Will interrupted him, something he never did. His face, normally an open book, was drawn and stiff. Jimmy held his tongue and swallowed back his knee-jerk snarky response. His cousin took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and let it out in a huff.  

“I’m worried about my mom. She hasn’t been responding to my comms all week, and Mr. Davies told me we aren’t doing home visits next weekend, either. I just… I know you think it’s stupid to get all worked up over family, but this isn’t like her.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute, both brains running through the options. Finally, Jimmy sighed. He knew his cousin well enough to know where his mind had immediately gone, and had an idea of how to deal with it. 

“Look, Will, I do understand where you’re coming from. If you’re really that worried about Aunt Josie, how about we go see her? Will that make you feel better?” Jimmy tossed his PADD aside and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and groaning exaggeratedly. Honestly, he’d been wanting to stretch his legs too, but hadn’t had the right opportunity to sneak out until this moment. 

His cousin wasn’t convinced yet, though. “What do you mean? How are we supposed to get home if buses aren’t running to the farm?”

Jimmy smirked, tilting his head and glancing back. “Why, we’ll be breaking out, of course!”

That line sealed the deal. After all, Will was a bad boy at heart, too.

It was dark out by the time they could put their plan into motion. The double moons were rising in the west, casting everything outside the range of the street lamps in a faint, pale light. They took a walk in the botany gardens after dinner, a fairly inconspicuous thing to do. Subconsciously, Jimmy noted that a few of the plants seemed wilted, white flecks spotting a few lower leaves, but he wasn’t a botanist and so made no comment. Will kept an eye on the teachers that patrolled the area while Jimmy made his way to a shadowy corner, the one place he knew of that the cameras wouldn’t see him. From there, he accessed the security system from his PADD - he’d been teaching himself programming since he was five, sitting in the back of his kindergarten classroom, it was a breeze to hack these types of systems - and ran a loop of camera feed. From there the two made their way to the chain link fence that surrounded the school. 

The principal told them it was to keep wildlife out, since Tarsus had some rather nasty native predators. Of course, there was a hole in the fence that Jimmy had known about for a few weeks, and nothing had managed to get in, so he didn’t know the validity of that statement. The gap was barely big enough for him to squeeze through, scrawny as he was, but he’d kept it in the back of his mind in case he ever wanted to sneak out. There hadn’t been anything suspicious going on, at least as far as he was aware, so he’d had no reason to utilize it before this night. He was enjoying his classes, and had no reason to mess around. At, least, not until then.

Jimmy went through first. After making sure the coast was clear, Will forced his way out, too. The fencing groaned, and they both held their breath for a minute before determining no one else had heard. After that, it was smooth sailing for the rest of their ‘escape.’ The fence opened up into a thick forest, full of a mix of native and terran flora that formed a dense canopy and heavy shadows. They could still use the moonlight and their knowledge of direction to make their way towards the nearby town of New Franklin. The school they attended was fairly secluded, so their hike took nearly an hour. The principal and teachers, when asked, had said that the governor thought it important that students learn astronomy and botany and all types of things you couldn’t study well in the city, so their school was the only thing this far out. They were surrounded by forests on one side, and a massive plain on the other, and as far as one could see there was no other sign of civilization. When he first got there, Jimmy had thought all the greenery was wonderful. Now he was starting to hate it, as he was slapped in the face by yet another palm frond-looking thing.

Eventually, pushing through the thick greenery native to Tarsus, Jimmy thought he could hear the murmur of human life. It was about time - they still had to consider the hour-long drive to and from the farmhouse, and he wanted to get a little bit of sleep that night. Their plan was to either hitch a ride from a kind stranger, an idea Jimmy wasn’t a big fan of, or steal a vehicle, something Will didn’t like - even though Jimmy had argued that they wouldn’t really be stealing, they'd be borrowing with the intent to bring it back unscratched. That argument was part of why they’d gotten started so late, and now Tarsus’ first moon was more than halfway through the sky. Its blue face watched them as they foraged on through the woods, unwavering and unyielding in its faint light. 

They popped out on a paved road, the outlines of squat, wide-spread buildings against the tapestry of stars the only sign of civilization. There were next to no lights on, Jimmy noticed. No street lamps, or illuminated windows, or headlights. He’d have thought the town was dead, if not for the hum of generators he could still make out. A curfew, then? Why? Neither of them had any answers, but this did throw a wrench in both their transportation options. More so Will’s favored plan than his own, though his would be difficult to pull off too. 

Well, there was no way around it. The two boys exchanged glances - neither had said a word their whole adventure other than to warn the other of a hole or tree branch, too scared of being heard and caught - and advanced towards the dead town. Jimmy knew more than enough about hotwiring to be able to steal most civilian vehicles, and Will had been driving aunt Josie’s truck for the past year, so they were rather confident in their abilities. But that all depended on whether or not they would find something to steal. 

The first couple of buildings they approached were barren. Jimmy could make out the muffled sound of human voices and movement behind the walls, but there were no vehicles other than a couple of rusting bikes parked out front. The first hovercar they saw was all black and parked in the middle of town square. The engine was still running, but no one was sitting inside the car. Jimmy made a mental note of it and kept creeping along, hoping for a less suspicious get-away vehicle. The next one they saw was sitting in front of a small house. The car itself had four wheels and more than a little bit of rust, but it obviously hadn’t been used in the past few hours. The house it was parked near, similarly, didn’t show any signs of life. Neither Jimmy nor Will wanted to think very hard about that fact. Still, this was a better option, less likely to be noticed missing if they could get away quietly. Jimmy cracked his knuckles, gave his cousin a grin, and eased the driver’s door open.

Since he’d been old enough to start developing his fine motor skills, Jimmy had been playing with wires. Maybe not a sign of the safest childhood, but it certainly had its perks. For one, he could open a panel inside any car, four-wheeled or hovering, and get it running in under five minutes if it was a model from the past half-century. Thankfully, this one was. Another thing Jimmy was thankful for, he considered once the engine hummed to life, was that 23rd century cars were so much quieter than previous renditions. Not even the house a block over could hear it starting up. Will nudged his cousin over, crawling into the driver side and adjusting the seat to his liking. 

“I’m still sticking by my argument that I could drive this puppy just as well as you,” Jimmy grumbled from where he was buckling himself into the passenger seat. 

Will ignored him, throwing the car into gear and ever-so-slowly crawling out of the driveway and onto the road. “How the hell am I supposed to navigate all the way home if I can’t turn on the headlights?” he hissed, peering over the steering wheel in a way that didn’t really give Jimmy much confidence in his abilities. 

He sighed, hunching over the center console and pulling out more wires from Will didn’t even know where. In between stripping colorful rubber with his teeth, Jimmy explained himself. “Most modern cars actually have the ability to display an active infrared view through the windshield - night vision. It’s better than using the headlights, actually, but we humans are too attached to the way things have always been to use it. Manufacturers even got rid of the easy-access switch, but they never bothered to get rid of the tech itself. Lucky us.” He spared a second to glance up at his cousin, grinning wildly, before twisting two bare wires together and clipping them to a circuit board. Jimmy had no idea how like his mother he looked in that second, and the excited expression faded almost as suddenly as it had appeared. 

The windshield display flickered once, twice, before the pitch black landscape became visible in various shades of green and grey. The compass, temperature read out, and clock reappeared in their usual location (lining the top of the windshield, out of immediate eyeline), now a bright white against hunter green shadows. 

Jimmy almost whoop-ed, catching himself at the last second and instead silently punched the air. “What’re you waiting for, Willy?” He snickered, flopping back into his seat. Will grumbled something about ‘cocky little nerds’ and eased his way down the pavement, gradually making his way out the town as a pace that had both of them out of their minds with boredom before they’d even made it a mile. 

It took a little over ninety minutes to get to aunt Josie’s farmhouse. More often than either of them wanted to acknowledge, they’d pulled off the road and held their breaths, paranoid that they were being followed, only to laugh at themselves when no one showed up. Jimmy didn’t voice the alternative - that they were being stalked, toyed with. Will was on edge enough as it were. 

The lights were off when they pulled up. Neither were that worried - Aunt Josie had always been more of a morning person, after all. Her red pickup was still parked under the carport. As they walked up to the front door, Jimmy watched his cousin unwind, tension easing out of his muscles. Will pushed the door open - again, not worrying, they lived far enough in the country to not bother with locks - and stepped into the kitchen. The house was silent. Jimmy followed, hands in his pockets but eyes darting around the heavily shadowed room. 

Making their way deeper into the house, Will seemed to relax further and further while Jimmy felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was wrong. It was a somewhat similar feeling to what he would get when Frank was about to come home, full of cheap liquor and anger he’d take out on Jimmy and Sam. The air felt stale in his lungs. At the end of the hallway, the door to Aunt Josie’s bedroom was closed. 

Will was smiling as he nudged the door open. He took a deep breath, ready to call out to his mom, ready to be reassured of her health and safety. The next second he was hunched over, hands clasped over his mouth and stomach rolling. The smell of decay overwhelmed them, and Jimmy finally identified what, exactly, was wrong. 

Aunt Josie was laying on the ground near her bed, an archaic bullet hole through her chest. The light grey rug under her body was stained dark brown with old blood. While Will clung to the doorframe, trying desperately to keep his dinner down, Jimmy stumbled forward to her side. He’d always heard that people were peaceful in death, but Aunt Josie looked as distraught as she’d been when he last saw her, through a school bus window, two weeks ago. Her body was breaking down, past rigor mortis and well along in the bloating process. Deep tan skin was now motley green. The stink of rotting meat and excrement and who knew what else was thick in the air, having been trapped in the room with her. Dark liquid covered the wood floor, leaking out from her body, more fluid than one would expect from a corpse. If he looked closely, which he tried not to, he could see the small movement of maggots and cadaverous bugs within her small wound and under the skin. 

Saliva pooled in Jimmy’s mouth and he turned away, stumbling out of the room before collapsing to his knees and retching. Will staggered after him, pale and sweating. Neither of them said a word for the longest time. Will was barely breathing, not making a sound as tears pooled in his eyes and ran, silently, down his cheeks. 

“How long has she been dead?” he finally whispered, choking on the word.

Jimmy hated how his mind automatically went through the stages of decomposition, hated how for a split second he could objectively analyze how far along the body (his aunt, not the body, it was his aunt lying there) was. He was barely aware of his lips moving and the words coming out of his mouth. “It takes around eight days for discoloration to start. She’s probably been… for over a week.” 

“Fuck.”

It took another ten minutes for either of them to move. Jimmy pulled himself to his feet, dragged his cousin behind him, and made his way towards the front door. Will didn’t make a sound as he was led along, eyes unfocused and staring into the distance. It was past midnight at this point, and Jimmy knew they had to get going if they wanted to avoid being caught out. As he passed the kitchen table, a stack of mail caught his attention and he grabbed them, curious, glancing over the words. 

‘In response to your request… Cannot supply more rations… Distress signal…’

Jimmy swallowed and stuffed the papers in his coat pocket without a second thought. 

Will was still unresponsive when they reached the stolen car, and without a second thought Jimmy shoved him into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel. Driving this old thing couldn’t be more difficult than the corvette, and this time he wasn’t trying to run from Frank and the cops and Riverside. Jimmy didn’t spare a second to glance in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the farmhouse. If he did, he wouldn’t have been able to leave. 

It was only when they got close to town that Jimmy noticed they were being tailed. At first he thought it was a figment of his paranoid imagination. It was barely there, in the corner of his eye, and his cousin was of no help in differentiating real from fabricated. Will hadn’t spoken a word since the farmhouse. Jimmy stepped on the gas a hair and fixed his eyes on the road in front of him, ignoring the tingling in the back of his mind. 

Jimmy pulled off on the side of the road and stared out the back window. He’d seen it again, bigger and more obvious. He was 85% sure there really was something out there, in the black of Tarsus night. Either way, he wasn’t too keen on getting caught, so they would be legging it through the woods the rest of the way back. He hopped out of the car and led Will behind him into the dense forest. He'd finally started responding when Jimmy asked him questions, and could see his surroundings well enough to avoid low hanging branches.

“Come on, we’ve got to go, they’re behind us Will, we’ve got to hide,” Jimmy panted in his cousin’s ear. They were making far too much noise, stepping on twigs and getting slapped by branches. He just hoped they could get far enough ahead of the people stalking them, out of hearing range and back to school before sunrise.

 Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard boots stomping through the undergrowth after them. “Hey! Where’d you go? You know the punishment for breaking curfew, it’ll hurt less if you just stop running!” The overt threat of pain and punishment sent a chill down Jimmy’s spine and he couldn't let himself get lost in memories of Frank, he had to get his cousin back to safety. He grit his teeth and made a conscious effort to be quieter, shushed Will when he spat a curse at a vine that tangled around his leg but it was too late. Bright flashlight beams cut through the greenery and into Will’s face and shouts filled the air. 

Then they are running through the woods, abandoning all hope at subtlety and there are crashing footsteps behind them, the high pitched whine of phaser blasts and deep voices calling out promises of pain, and - 

Will trips over a branch, twists his ankle, and Jimmy hauls his cousin up and behind him. He’s limping and leaning heavily on the younger boy but Jimmy clings tight to him. He won’t lose more of his family, he won’t, not after Sam, he can help Will, it’s not too much further to the fence and if they can just lose these guards they’ll be fine.

Gunshots and phaser fire follow them, sinking into tree trunks in their wake, cutting through leaves and then they hit something definitively not wood and Will is screaming, crying, begging Jimmy to stop but he’s bleeding out all over Jimmy and it’s too much, too much, he can’t make it stop please make it stop! There’s a hole in his stomach, gaping in what little moonlight is filtering through the tree branches. Hot blood is burning his hands, his face, and he can’t put enough pressure on the wound while trying to run and he can’t stop running or they’re both dead. They’re both so, so dead.

Will is clawing at Jimmy’s hand and at first he grips it tight, trying to take some of the pain from his cousin, but he’s being slapped and Will is glaring at him with as much strength as he can muster, though it’s fading fast. Jimmy has never seen so much fire in those brown eyes until now. He’s wheezing, but he can force out a mouthful of words. “Leave me, Jimmy. You gotta get out of here.” The men are gaining on them and they don’t have much time left. Will lets himself go limp, still staring at Jimmy, shrugging out of his hold and collapsing onto the ground. He shoves him once, for good measure, when Jimmy stops moving. “Go!” Will shouts, the force of his words making blood spew from his paling lips.

 Jimmy runs. He runs, and doesn’t look back. 

[delicatetaylorsversion]

first time riding a horse 😊

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop's most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo's pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 3 OF 22

“You started a book club with her?”

Arthur is dumbstruck. But he’s also dumb for having admitted that he was, in fact, listening in on her and Theo’s conversation at the counter, so now he’s nursing a headache from where his head met the wall when Theo had pushed a stack of books on top of him after she had walked away. Of course he was fully aware of where his co-worker was hiding all this time.

Theo crosses his arms and sighs. “It’s not a book club.”

“What?” Arthur cackles. “Care to explain that, when you’re doing exactly what book clubs do? Read books and share them with each other?”

“‘Clubs’ imply more than two people,” Theo answers, trying to keep his voice even when he, too, knows the reasoning is faulty at best.

“With the number of heart eyes she’s got for you, it ought to count as another person.”

Theo sighs. “Arthur, I’m going to ask you a favor.”

“You know the cost of that.”

“Yes, so let me owe you one, and shut the fuck up.”

“Aww, buddy—”

Theo’s expression shifts into something menacing.

“Arthur.”

-

Theo wishes it were just a book club.

That way, all they will have to do is talk about books and maybe engage in some intellectual discussion about said books. Then they go home.

But it’s more than just a book club.

(This is the beginning of Theo learning that it’s always ‘more than’ when she’s involved.)

It’s Saturday now, and Theo has just gotten out of his 3-hour long lecture. It’s considered to be one of the more complicated, higher-level business classes in his course, but…Theo doesn’t really have any strong feelings about it. It’s okay. It’s the second to the last subject he’ll have to take before he can finally proceed to his thesis-writing class… and Theo is rather eager to get this finished already.

…Well, no, he’d rather focus on helping his brother out since he can, since Vincent comes above all things, but the one agreement for him to keep his scholarship despite not taking a full load of units is that he had to take at least three units—one subject—each semester. He wasn’t going to say no to the demands of a scholarship and free tuition, so he takes a subject once a week—on his day off from work—and takes the rest of the day recovering from the long week of working retail.

But that’s about to change.

He doesn’t know what he’d done to end up in this position—well, maybe he does, and what he did was agree to work with Arthur, of all people—but now he’s here. Instead of relaxing on a Saturday afternoon, he’s picked up under his “care”—or whatever one would like to call it—a rather eccentric literature department girl, and there’s no turning back from that. Once she texts Vincent (not him, because why would he be giving away his phone number like that?)—

[ 2:38 ] Hi Vinny! Can you tell Theo I’ll meet him at the Grove at 4?

he knows he’s got no choice but to follow through with his word.

Unfortunately for him.

(And fortunately for his curiosity.)

It’s the first official day of the book club; the only agenda is to swap books. For the very first book, they’d agreed to read a wildcard from the other, any book they’d want the other to read. He’d considered two possible options—either giving her a book that’s entirely for the joke of it, one that he’s either neutral to or did not particularly enjoy; or giving her a book that’s genuinely interesting to some degree or another. He’d flipped a coin—and gotten tails—so he’s got slung under his arm his copy of Neil Gaiman’s Good Omens.

“Theo! I’m over here!”

She waves from underneath the shade of a tree. Her dark brown hair falls in gentle curls, tied half-up with a ribbon as it always is. She’s wearing a cream top and a long brown skirt, matching with the rest of the place. And she’s even laid a picnic mat down. That… was not part of his expectations. He shakes his head and sighs a little as he heads toward her.

She cocks her head to the side. “What’s with that expression? Don’t want to spend time with me?”

“No,” he answers bluntly, though it doesn’t sound that true.

She laughs the same way Arthur does when he figures Theo out. Theo begins to have a growing dread of what kind of “friendship” he’s building with this girl—and how maybe Arthur had planned all of this to begin with: a partner to bring Theo into misery. “C’mon now, take a seat. It’s a great fall afternoon.”

And true, it is.  It’s still rather early in the season so it’s not too cold, but the campus is already beginning to fill in with the classic fall colors. There’s a wind that’s gently passing by, shuffling the strands of her hair that’s tied half-up rather neatly.

The Grove is, despite its name, not in fact a grove, but rather an open park in the middle of campus, surrounded and dotted by large trees that serve as great shade in the summer and also rather beautiful in the fall. There are benches and tables here and there, allowing it to be a great spot to study for the students, but it truly is a different experience to hang out there with a picnic mat, looking up at the blue sky—whether in the day or at the night. The Grove is also one of the quieter portions of the campus, which, Theo begrudgingly agrees, makes it a good place to hold discussions about books.

“Aren’t we just going to exchange books?” Theo asks, but he’s already heading down toward the very classic red and white checkered picnic mat.

Her voice is undeniably disappointed. “Wait, you were serious about not wanting to spend time with me?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Besides make friends? No. It’s a Saturday.”

She’ll be at the bookshop tomorrow again anyway, as she is every Sunday… he could have just given her the book then, and vice versa. Did she invite him all the way here just to… hang out with him?

Oh boy, what did Theo get into? 

“You really should find a better hobby,” Theo says, as he takes a seat a foot away from her on the mat. She’s leaning on her wrists, her arms behind her, looking up at the clear fall sky, watching the clouds. She grins when she hears it but doesn’t turn toward him.

“Did you know,” she begins, “that’s also exactly what Arthur told me when I said it’s probably nice to make friends with you?”

“Arthur says useless stuff a lot of times, but that was the one time you ought to have listened to him.”

She shrugs it off with a laugh before pulling out of her bag a thinly bound volume. “Book exchange?”

They both place the books they’d brought in between both of them. She has offered him a collection of poetry, titled No Matter the Wreckage, by an author named Sarah Kay. He hasn’t read this one. And by the look on her face, as she picks up the Gaiman volume, it seems like she hasn’t read the one he’s brought, either.

“You didn’t seem like the kind of guy who read fantasy,” she comments, as she’s reading the summary on the back page. “Somehow I’m not that surprised though…”

“Gaiman is a good author,” Theo only remarks, hand on the poetry book. “His worldbuilding is rather thorough.” Theo doesn’t read a lot of poetry anymore, but he used to—perhaps this is the time to come back to metaphor and symbol. …Not that business isn’t filled with that stuff as well, all double meanings and reading between the lines. “I’m not surprised you brought me a poetry book.”

“I mean, I’d love if you were to read Les Miserables with me for class, but I figured I wanted something not too aggressive on the brain for this, you know?” she comments. “Why’d you choose Good Omens?”

Okay, he didn’t expect that. But he couldn’t exactly say It was the seventy-fourth one on the shelf, which was the number I got when I ran a random number generator. He answers, instead, “The questions it asks about morality and fate are interesting.”

“I see,” she hums. “I’ve read some Gaiman, but not this one. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Theo thumbs through the poetry book idly, but not wanting his eyes to land on the poetry yet—he rather enjoys taking his time with books like these. “And why did you choose this one?”

“I like her poetry,” is the simple answer, but when he turns to give her a look, she continues. “The metaphors and symbols aren’t too expansive, too ‘deep’ to unearth, but they give the kind of dreaminess that I like about poetry.”

“That says a lot about you,” Theo snorts, and she pouts at him.

“And your book choice says a lot about you too,” she answers with a grin.

Theo thought he’d want to leave immediately. To hand the book, answer her questions, and then go. Maybe he can catch up and read that Alain de Botton book he didn’t have the heart to finish last week.

But interest had begun to grow in him. He hadn’t had someone so insistent in hanging out with him since he met Arthur. Not that Theo isn’t friendly—he’s part of a few business organizations on campus, although he’s not as active because of work—and he definitely has a handful of friends and acquaintances, but he can just tell it.

That she’s different.

So when she asks him, “Stay with me to read a bit?”, Theo doesn’t even think before he answers, “Okay.”

--

The weeks blur into one another like this. Sundays and Wednesdays, she comes to the bookstore to hang out. Her usual time, too. Arthur’s gotten into joking that maybe her wallet is thanking her now that she doesn’t have to pretend to want to buy something to come, but she does not deny nor confirm this. A lot of the time she does the same things anyway: come in, talk and chat with Arthur and Theo for a bit, and then hide away tucked in between the shelves scouring for books.

And it’s understandable, really, because the Dragon’s Hoard is the bookstore for this campus, after all. None of the other bookstores can compete with it.

If the campus’ most feared and adored physics professor (Isaac Newton) and the campus’ most voracious reader (Dazai Osamu) pledges to the bookstore’s greatness, she has no doubt about it.

(Them being her friends has nothing to do about that. For sure.)

The Dragon’s Hoard is popular on the campus for a few key reasons. One: the students have a discount if they can prove if the books are being bought for class, like in a syllabus or a professor’s official email. It’s not much and depends on what kind of book is being bought, but even a 5% discount on a book worth a month’s rent is already a lot for a struggling student.

Another reason it is popular is that it pretty much has a very actively rotating stock. That is, the books on the shelves constantly change every week, depending on the season or whatever is a hit as of late. (Of course, you can still ask for something in the back, if ever.) Most of the campus bookstores don’t take this much effort in keeping the shelves interesting—or have enough books at all to rotate them—so most of the bookstore connoisseurs (bookstore window-shoppers, really) enjoy coming into the Hoard to browse their books.

But perhaps the most important reason the Hoard is so popular is that the staff are known to be very well-read.

(This is exactly one of the reasons why she’s so interested in getting to drag Theo into a little book exchange.)

Interested in a specific genre but don’t know where to begin? Ask the staff—they’ll have a recommendation for you, tailored to your specific interest. Looking for a book whose plot you vaguely remember but not the title or the author? Ask the staff—they’ll either have it in stock or know it enough to be able to search for it and order it for you. Want to gift a friend a book but don’t quite know what will suit their tastes, and only have the vaguest of clues of what they might like? Don’t worry, ask the staff—they got this.

All of this happens thanks to the skillful eye of the bookstore’s main owner: a rich, middle-aged man who only lets himself be referred to as “Mr. Saint-Germain.” Said Saint-Germain guy is already an urban legend in the campus on his own because of his family’s supposed long history with the university and his silent influence on the school system but—that’s for another time. The thing with Saint-Germain is that he actually comes in to interview potential staff whenever they have a new hire, just to make sure they’re smart enough about books to actually qualify as a staff in the Hoard.

Sure, of course, she knows that Arthur qualified as well, and that’s why he’s in the store with that polo shirt with a dragon embroidered onto it, but—Arthur is different.

She knows Arthur from a class she was taking once; they’d both taken the same literary criticism class and were paired up for a project once. It’s how she got to know that he worked in the bookstore and—well, got to mooch out of his staff discount, sometimes. (“Please, you have to, it’s bigger than the student discount in this case?” “But just once!”) It’s not that Arthur doesn’t have a good literary taste, it’s just…

She feels like it’s a good, non-intrusive way to get to know Theo by reading the books he likes.

And asking him questions about it.

Is that so bad?