#she's my best firmed 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[sga-owns-my-soul]

🥺🥺🥺🥺 i just

i love this fandom

i love you guys

you're all so good and great and soft and funny and sweet and caring and i love you all

you're so talent d and amaizng s

thank you for being my friend ily

i am drinking tonight with friends get ready for sappy live blogging later tonight

[jobean12-blog]

It Had to Be You

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 4.8K

Summary: Your best friend is Tommy's girlfriend so naturally meeting Tommy's brother comes with the territory. He's gorgeous and you definitely want to get to know him better but it doesn't seem like that's in the cards. In fact, it seems like he'd rather be anywhere but near you so when Maria suggests a weekend away touring breweries and relaxing at a Bed and Breakfast with her Tommy and Joel, you're first thought is, "hell no!" But after some begging and pleading, Maria gets you to agree and Tommy wears down Joel, but what will the weekend bring? More grumpiness and exasperation or will you and Joel finally learn to get along.

Author's Note: This is for the lovely Kate's @burntheedges "Roll a Trope Challenge" I got #4- Enemies to Lovers. And I may have snuck another trope in there too haha! I sort of got carried away with it but it was fun to write and while I didn't focus as much on their first few meetings, I hope it comes across that they didn't get off to the best start but this little weekend away changes everything. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: grumpy Joel, teasing, tension (all the kinds), flirting, softness and fluff, a few curses, lots of meddling (in the best way), confessions, dry humping, smut (If I missed anything let me know)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“No fuckin’ way Tommy.”

Joel shakes his head as he leans against the kitchen counter, coffee mug in hand.

Tommy stands across from him, exasperation etched across every feature.

“Come on big brother, you could really use the time away.”

“Not with her,” Joel retorts. “Why would you even bother asking? It’s not like we have the best track record. Shit…”

Tommy hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, and in that moment looking every part the mirror image of Joel.

“You won’t even think about it?” Tommy pleads.

“It’s too early for this bullshit. We have to get to work,” Joel grumbles in response.

“That wasn’t a no,” Tommy chimes back with a winning smile. “I’m gonna wear you down.”

Joel slams the door to his pickup and comes round the hood, pinning Tommy with a murderous glare.

“You’re never gonna shut the hell up are you?” Joel asks.

“Not until you say yes! What problem could you possibly have with brewery tours and beautiful scenery?”

Joel’s eyes narrow. “You know exactly what my problem is.”

“Well, you need to get over it. Give it time, get to know her better.”

“Get over it my ass,” Joel mutters, hands on his hips and jaw set in a firm line, as if that explains everything.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something unintelligible before he scoffs, “fine. But if things go to hell in a handbasket it’ll be all your doin’.”

Tommy let’s out a triumphant whoop and then pats Joel on the back, hard.

“See you tomorrow morning brother, bright and early!”

You stand outside the truck at the curb, watching as Tommy arranges the bags in the most efficient way possible. Your best friend enjoys the view of her boyfriends ass as he stays in a continuously bent over position.

“You know if you stare any harder his pants might disappear,” you joke as you poke Maria.

She giggles and smacks your arm but still doesn’t remove her eyes from Tommy’s backside.

“Actually,” you start, sliding your eyes over to Joel who’s inspecting the front end of the vehicle. “If Joel actually helped maybe we could get out of here faster.”

Dark brown eyes lift and meet yours with a look of disdain. “What was that sweetheart?”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you grunt. “Get your ass over here and help!”

“Is that what you’re doin’?” Joel asks as he saunters over, looking you up and down. “Or maybe you just wanna stare at my ass?”

He laughs when your face contorts into a look of disgust but still he walks over and starts to help Tommy.

“His ass is almost as nice as Tommy’s,” Maria whispers to you with lifted brows.

You intend to look away but now your focus has been drawn to exactly that-his ass- and it’s a fine one.

“Whatever,” you scoff and turn toward the door of the truck.

Tommy takes the wheel first with Maria in the front seat, leaving you and Joel squeezed into the back.

“Think you could save some room for the rest of us,” you mumble when you feel the press of Joel’s knee to your thigh.

His legs are spread wide, one lazy arm draped between while the other rests along the window’s edge.

He looks over at you, then down at his crotch.

“No,” he deadpans and spreads his legs wider, bumping you again.

“How soon until we reach the first brewery?” You ask Maria. “I’m going to need to be drunk this entire trip.”

That earns a laugh from everyone and when you look over at Joel you can see the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile.

After a rousing game of twenty questions, in which you and Joel argue through most of it, the banter quiets and Tommy puts on the radio. You can feel yourself nodding off, your body slowly sinking closer to Joel, but you fight it, consistently trying to peel your eyes open and lean toward the window.

The first thing you feel is the cool air on your face and then the slowing of the van. You inhale sharply and stiffen as you come back to consciousness.

“Shit,” you murmur and rub a hand over your face.

With a stretch you extend your arms, bumping Joel’s chest.

“Shit,” you say again, but louder, realizing you were nestled up against him.

He blinks at you several times then looks down at where you’re still resting along the side of him, warm and firm.

“Did I fall asleep on you?” you ask him.

He shrugs indifferently. “I guess I was asleep too.”

You continue to stare but don’t move away from him.

“Need another nap?” he asks with a smirk.

You blow a raspberry and sit up. “You wish.”

He shakes his head and opens the door, giving Tommy a “told you so” look before saying loud enough for your to hear, “I need a beer the size of my head. Now.”

After touring the first brewery and trying several different beers you’re feeling much more relaxed but hungry.

“When are we stopping to eat?” you ask.

Tommy smiles over his beer and looks at Maria.

“Well,” Maria starts. “There’s this local place just a mile or two away that the owner of the brewery said is great.”

“Perfect,” you say, “let’s go!”

Joel makes a grumbling sound from behind you, and you turn with a spin, pinning him with a look.

“Problem?” you ask.

“Maybe I’m not done tryin’ beers.”

You cross your arms over your chest and for a second you think you see his eyes drop to your cleavage but just as quickly as it happens his dark eyes are back on yours, narrowing.

“The tour is over,” you state. “I think everyone is hungry.”

“Or just you?” he asks.

“Actually, I’m starving,” Tommy says with a bright smile.

Joel just grunts out a curse in Tommy’s direction and brushes past you.

“You know,” you whisper, falling in line next to Tommy and Maria, “you’d think he’d loosen up with some drinks.”

Tommy puts a warm arm around your shoulder and just laughs.

Sitting on the crooked bar stools, you and Maria watch Tommy and Joel play darts.

“You practically have heart eyes,” you tell her. “I love it.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her drink. “He’s just…”

“I know,” you finish for her. “He’s a great guy.”

“You know Joel is too right?” she adds. “He’s just a little rougher around the edges.”

“Something like that,” you mutter. “I wish I knew why he hated me.”

“He does NOT hate you,” Maria says adamantly. “In fact, I bet it’s the exact opposite, but he has no idea how to handle it. He hasn’t dated in like forever.”

“I can’t imagine why…” you say wryly.

Maria laughs and smacks your arm. “You deserve a good guy, you know.”

“Like Tommy,” you smile.

“Like Joel.”

As if sensing the weight of your attention, both Joel and Tommy turn toward you and catch you smiling. Tommy saunters over and takes Maria in his arms. Joel follows, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Darts?” he asks when Maria and Tommy start whispering.

“Ok,” you say and slide off the stool.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doin’ sweetheart?” Joel asks as he watches you line up a shot.

“First of all, stop calling me that,” you grit out. “And second of all, yes…maybe.”

Joel laughs and steps closer, gently taking your wrist and giving you a second to pull away. When you don’t he repositions your arm and fixes your fingers.

“There, try that,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “And I only call you that because you’re so sweet.”

At that, you throw your head back and laugh. “In your dreams maybe and to everyone else but you.”

“Of course,” he says with a shake of his head.

You throw your shot, hitting close to the bullseye and let out a cheer.

“You’re welcome,” he says before grabbing a dart and throwing it right in the middle of the bullseye.

“You suck,” you say.

“Obviously,” he answers with a grin.

Tommy comes over to let you know the food is ready and you go sit down to eat. The food revives everyone and when your bellies are full you sit back and enjoy the stories Tommy and Joel share of their childhood and teenage shenanigans.

Joel’s eyes are warm, and his smile is bright and every so often you catch him staring.

“I need to use the bathroom,” you blurt out.

“So do I,” Maria says, following you out of the booth.

Once you’re in the safety of the bathroom, she corners you and asks, “so?”

“So…what?” you shoot back.

“Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” you say. “The beer is great and I’m happy I get to hang with you guys.”

“Even Joel?”

You pause.

“He’s not sooo bad I guess.”

“Try to let go of those past experiences, he’s not always so grumpy and…” Maria trails off pointedly.

“Unapproachable?” you finish for her. “He barely said hello to me,” you continue, practically shouting. “And every time I tried to talk to him he looked like he wanted to puke!”

“Maybe he was nervous?” Maria muses.

“Why the hell would he be?” you say with a face. “Then I call him out on being a grumpy ass and he get’s all mad.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re giving him another shot,” she says with a laugh. “A new start.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you reply.

“Hey, at least enjoy his fine ass for the weekend.”

You let out a giggle and practically push her out the door of the bathroom. As you approach your table you realize that Tommy has moved his seat and now you either have to sit next to him, which you can’t because Maria quickly slips into the spot, or next to Joel.

Joel looks at you then down at his beer, twirling the glass mindlessly between his fingers. He then grabs the pitcher and pours you a glass, sliding it down next to his.

You sit and grab it, taking a long sip.

“Are you just trying to get me drunk, hoping I’ll be sweeter?”

“Will it work?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.

“Guess we’ll find out,” you laugh.

He lifts his glass to yours with a clink.

You glance over at Tommy and Maria, cuddled close and whispering. When your eyes swing back to Joel his gaze drops to your mouth, but he seems to remember himself and sits up straighter.

“Talk to me,” you say and try to keep your tone light. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk for months.”

He gives you a sheepish look.

“Give me a topic,” he counters.

You lean back against the booth and think.

“Not work,” you say, “I hear enough about that from Tommy.”

“Yeah no work talk,” he agrees.

“Making fun of Tommy won’t get us far into getting to now each other.”

Joel laughs, the action making his eyes crinkle attractively at the corners.

“As much as I love doing that you’re right.”

“Ok,” you say, turning toward him and leaning a little closer. “Girlfriend?”

He startles and his eyes go wide.

“Are you asking if I have one?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say.

His smile is a tiny tilt of his mouth.

“No,” he says quietly and looks down, picking at something on his jeans. “No girlfriend.”

“And why not?” you ask, taking a sip of your beer and watching him over the rim.

He studies you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your features, then shrugs.

“I guess I’m just picky…”

“And grumpy?” you add but not without a smile and playful tone.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Sometimes I can be I guess and…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence and instead finishes off his beer.

“And?” you say, waiting patiently.

“And. Well, it’s been a while since I’d had a beautiful woman pay any attention to me. I’m out of practice.”

His admission is endearing, and you warm at his compliment.

“I’m sure there are plenty of beautiful women who want to talk to you. You just don’t give off the ‘come talk to me’ vibes.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says with a dry laugh.

“You’re doing just fine now though,” you add.

He smiles gratefully and you continue talking about everything and nothing for the next hour. The conversation flows easily and you’re not sure if it’s the beer or just the fact that you’ve both let down your defenses but you’re enjoying his company.

You’re focused on his lips as he parts them to answer your ‘what’s your favorite book’ question but suddenly a shrill sound goes off, echoing through the restaurant and making you cover your ears.

Joel immediately takes your hand and nudges you out of the booth, calmly exiting the restaurant via the indicated fire escape route.

Once you’re outside his hand stays firm around yours as he leads you away from the building and the blaring noise. The waiters came out to assure everyone that it’s only a small kitchen fire, and everything is fine.

You finally find Tommy and Maria, their eyes immediately landing on your hand in Joel’s. The two of you separate like children caught doing something naughty and put some space between your bodies.

“It’s a good thing I was done eatin’,” Tommy jokes.

Turns out, the escape route took you to the back of the restaurant, at the top of a hill overlooking the mountains. The sun has already set but the lights from the restaurant illuminate enough of the grounds for you to see it’s beautiful and lush.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to a structure at the far edge of the fences.

“Maybe outdoor seating?” Joel says. “Would be a nice view.”

“I bet it’s just storage,” Maria says.

“Boring!” you huff. “I want to go see.”

“I don’t know if…” Joel starts, but you sprint off before he can finish the thought.

Before you get to the structure you hear steady footfalls behind you and then Joel is there, slowing to a walk next to you and giving you a bewildered look.

You smile and step closer, realizing that Maria was in fact right, it’s just a building used for storage or something like that.

“Totally boring,” you say. “I knew it.”

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you ask.

“Darlin’,” he tsks. “You can’t just…”

He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “You can’t just run off into the dark.”

“Did you just call…,” you trail off, deciding not to finish the thought, and start over with, “then why did you follow me.”

He looks at you like you just asked him the dumbest question. “I couldn’t just let you run off alone.”

“How chivalrous of you Joel.”

With a lopsided smile he reaches out his hand, entwining his warm fingers with yours to lead you back toward the group.

“Well?” Tommy asks with a knowing smirk.

“Just storage,” you answer, “Maria wins.”

Maria lets out a small victory cheer before snuggling against Tommy with sleep eyes.

“Everyone ready to head to the inn?” Tommy asks, stifling a yawn.

With nods of agreement, you start to head back to the restaurant to pay your bill, your hand still tucked warmly in Joel’s.

“It looks like you and Joel are actually getting along?” Tommy says, or rather, asks with raised brows.

Your eyes shift to Joel who’s standing outside the car pumping gas, a pit stop you had to make before getting to the inn. He’s staring up at the sky as you study his profile, and you keep your eyes on him even as you answer Tommy.

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah? Or yeah,” Tommy says.

“Well, we’re definitely doing better than the last few times,” you say with a laugh. “At least now he talks more and smiles.”

Tommy sighs and looks at his brother through the window.

“He hasn’t done this in…well it seems like forever, so…”

“He mentioned that” you say quietly. “I get it. It’s not like my last relationship was any good.”

Tommy’s eyes turn to you. “I hated that guy. I still wanna punch him in his stupid face.”

“Me too,” you agree with huff.

Joel secures the nozzle back onto the latch and opens the door, looking between both you and Tommy as you stare at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Did you get any snacks from the store?” you shoot back quickly.

“Did you want something?” Joel asks.

“Yeah actually. I think I do. I’m gonna go in to get something and find Maria.”

Joel holds the door open for you and watches until you get inside the store before sliding into the front seat next to Tommy.

“So,” Tommy says, and Joel pins him with an unamused stare.

“Am I about to hear the same thing she did?” Joel ask as he points his finger toward the store, gesturing to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tommy says with a smile. “But if you want to talk I’m all ears.”

Joel purses his lips and looks forward out the front windshield. After a few moments of silence he says, “I like her. I have since the first time we met.”  

“I know,” Tommy answers.

Joel’s head whips around.

“You know?”

“Yeah, of course big brother. I knew why you could never get your shit together in front of her. It was obvious.”

“Obvious?” Joel repeats, his jaw tight.

“Look…she’s a beautiful woman and she showed interested in you. You couldn’t handle it.”

Joel remains silent, his breathing even until he sighs heavily and mutters, “yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s still interested now that she sees you’re not a total ass,” Tommy adds with a lopsided smirk.

Joel lets out a puff of air and shakes his head. “Thanks for the boost of confidence.”  

You’re standing behind Maria and Tommy as they check into the Bed and Breakfast, every so often stealing glances at Joel and catching him doing the same.

“So, you only have two rooms available now?” you hear Maria ask.

You perk up at that and start to move closer to the desk. Maria turns to you and Joel to explain.

“There was a leak in one of the rooms we had on hold, and it won’t be fixed until Monday so now they only have two available…but I’ll just stay with you and Tommy and Joel can share the other room,” she says.

It takes you a minute to fully process the situation but when the realization hits that Tommy and Maria won’t have their own room and won’t get to enjoy their getaway to the full extent you offer up a different plan.

“Listen, I know how much you’ve been looking forward to this little vacation and I don’t want any of it to get spoiled so Joel and I can share a room, if that’s ok with him, and I’ll just sleep on a cot or pull out.”

“You mean I will darlin.’ You take the bed.”

Tommy and Maria stare at the two of you with matching shocked expressions.

“Are you sure?” Maria asks, pulling you aside. “I mean when I told you Joel was coming you almost cancelled on me.”

“That was before. He’s been a lot nicer and more talkative now and I think we understand each other better. Besides…I don’t want you to miss out on your time with Tommy.”

You waggle your eyebrows suggestively and she giggles. “But are you sure you’re comfortable.”

You peek over at Joel, who’s talking to Tommy in the same hushed voice you’re speaking to Maria. “Yeah. I’m sure. I feel completely safe with him. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get grumpy.”

Once the rooms are settled you split up and head to your respective spaces. Joel opens the door to the spacious but quaint room, and you instantly notice the one bed in the center.

You plop down your bag and start to search for your toiletries. With necessities in hand, you walk into the bathroom and let out a squeal of excitement. Joel rushes in, practically bumping into you.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Look at the tub!” you say, doing a little happy dance. “It has feet!”

“Feet?” he responds, his voice trailing off.

“I can’t wait to use it!”

When he doesn’t respond you turn to face him and find him with his hand halfway through his mussed hair and his cheeks pink.

“You ok?” you ask with a furrowed brow. “Is it too warm in here?”

“Huh? Uh no, no. I’m fine. Are you um…are you going to use the tub now?”

“I think I’m too tired tonight, but definitely tomorrow!”

He just nods and excuses himself from the bathroom while you finish washing up. When you come out you see Joel by the door, checking the lock before he shuts it with a heavy click.

The moment feels loaded and when he turns and looks at you then the bed, you blurt out, “I really don’t mind sleeping on the pull out or the love seat. I’ve slept on worse.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Nah darlin.’ I don’t want you to do that, I can manage just fine, even on the floor.”

“Don’t be silly,” you answer, grabbing your bag and pulling out your pajamas. “It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine.”

You smile at him, hoping it looks reassuring and then say, “I’m just going to change.”

“Bathroom’s all yours,” you tell him when you come out.

He stares at you, letting his eyes run slowly down your body before they stop back at your face.

“Yeah. Thanks…”

He walks in with a clean shirt and nothing else and you wonder what the hell he usually sleeps in. He finally emerges from the bathroom, wearing the new tee shirt and his jeans.

“You’re going to sleep in your jeans?” you ask.

He looks up at you in surprise. “I mean, I usually don’t, but…”

“Just be comfortable ok?” you tell him.

“You look comfortable,” he murmurs, almost breathlessly. “Actually, what I mean is…you look, beautiful.”

“In my pajamas?” you giggle.

“Yeah and all the time.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly. “And I’m sure you look beautiful in whatever you wear to bed, so you know…just go for it.”

Hoping to go for nonchalance you smile warmly and then hop on the bed, grabbing your book and trying to give him some space to think.

After what feels like forever you notice movement out of the corner of your eye and realize he’s pulling off his jeans. Your skin heats and you try to keep your eyes on the page, but you can’t stop yourself from sliding a glance sideways to check out his ass in his boxer briefs.

He sits on the bed, and you quickly avert your eyes.

“Hope this is ok?” he says, with more of a questioning tone.

“Totally fine,” you answer, pretending to focus on the book.

As he shifts on the bed it bounces and squeaks and you try and hold in your laughter, but he hears you and starts to make his movements wilder. You fall over and into him, swatting at him with your hand.

He catches your wrist and runs his thumb across your hammering pulse, then presses it just over where his heart beats rapidly beneath his chest.

His expression shifts away from the playful smile, and he suddenly seems so unguarded. He continues to stare, the meaning in his eyes growing clearer the more your eyes hold.

“You ok?” he asks.

“More than ok,” you answer.

He pulls back the covers and grabs the remote to the TV. You both scoot under, arranging yourselves comfortably but without touching. But then, slowly, your bodies shift closer and his leg presses to yours, the soft slide of his leg hair against your thigh.

With a smile he reaches around you and pulls you to his side until your head rests on his shoulder.

“I must be comfortable with the way you fell asleep on me in the truck,” he teases.

“You are. I just didn’t want to admit it then.”

You feel his laughter and snuggle closer, resting a soft hand on his chest. At first, his fingers rest lightly on your bare shoulder but slowly they start to move, drawing small circles over your skin.

The feel of his calloused fingertips draws all your attention away from everything else and all you can think about his touch, his warmth, and the smell of him, clean but with the faint scent of his skin beneath.

Carefully, you slide one leg over his and press your face into his neck. You sense his breath hitch, but his fingers never stop exploring your skin, and finally he lets out a long and controlled exhale.

Your body is thrumming with tension and anticipation, so you focus on your breathing. In. Out. Slow and steady. Your eyes drift closed, and you give in to the drowsy relief.

When you wake, you’re flushed with the memory of his fingers on your skin and his warm mouth working it’s way down your neck.

But it’s not a memory.

Joel’s there, curled on his side and pressed against you from behind, his mouth moving from your ear and down your neck.

You make a quiet noise of surprise, pressing back into him and feeling him hard and ready against your ass. At the contact he groans and grinds his hips in a slow, pressing rhythm.

“Hey,” you whisper.

His teeth nip at your pulse point, and you whimper.

“Hey,” he answers.

You reach your hand back and slide your fingers through his hair to hold his face at your neck. He tugs the strap of your tank top down and follows the soft curve of your shoulder with his lips.

“I woke you,” he says, brushing his lips over your skin. “I’m sorry.”

He pauses, lips still hovering at your neck. “No. I’m not sorry.”

Turning in his arms, you lean in and let your nose brush his, lightly, until you feel the warmth of his breath on your lips.

His kiss is hungry, his mouth demanding as he slides his hands up your top and rolls over onto you. His moans vibrate against your kiss and your arms circle his shoulders, fingers delving back into his hair, and he rocks between your spread legs.

His sharp inhales and exhales fill the tiny space between you and every time he touches another inch of your skin he lets out a sharp grunt or moan, sending you reeling.

Bending, he slides your tank up over your breasts and dips his head to lick them, fill his hands with them, before returning his lips to your mouth with renewed need. Your body responds to the rhythm he sets, the hard press of him just where you want it, and when you arch into him, rocking your hips and working your body in tandem with his, he hisses out, “fuck darlin.’ Please.”

Each point of contact between you carries an electric current and he speeds up, breathlessly close and whispering your name with parted lips.

Your movements become erratic, gripping his ass, pulling him harder against you, the thin, silky material of your panties wet and slippery.

“Joel,” you whine and bring his lips to yours again.

He swallows your moans and grinds into you, the heat of his body scorching every inch of your skin until you come with a cry of his name, his own relieved sounds following just after and his release spilling onto your stomach.

His mouth presses to your neck, soft and slow, until he sits up on his elbows.

The darkness subsides as your eyes adjust, and with the slight bleed of light from under the doorway and through the curtains of the window, you can tell he’s staring down at you, gauging.

His hand cradles your cheek, his thumb sweeping just under your eye before he leans in for a tender kiss.

“I meant to take this slower sweetheart but…”

The sweetness in his voice laces around your heart and you kiss him to stop his words and show him it’s more than ok. That you’ll take whatever he’s willing to give.

“You’re covered in me,” he whispers.

“I don’t mind,” you say as you curl a strand of his hair between your fingers.

“We could take that bath now…if you want.”

“We?” you ask, smiling against his lips. “You’re dangerous Joel Miller.”

“Me?” he asks innocently. “You’re the one who had me thinking of you naked in that tub all night.”

“And I can’t wait to try it out…”

You shove on his chest until he rolls off you and discard your clothing as you walk into the bathroom.

“Fuck me,” you hear him murmur from behind you.

“That’s the plan,” you say over your shoulder before you turn on the faucet.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @tripletstephaniescp

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 5: Let Me Take You There✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has been a work in progress for 2 months, but it is finally here! Moodboard made by @mrsmando 🩵 I have been working on so many things lately, but I’m so happy with how this chapter turned out. I hope you enjoy 🥰 No beta for this one, but thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for letting me share snippets with you and scream about these two 🩷

Chapter Summary: After your parents cancel your weekend trip to Galveston at the last minute, Joel offers to take you instead.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 10.5k

Chapter Tags: Joel takes reader to Galveston, road trip, oral receiving (both male and female), unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, reader and Joel being in love, bondage, vibrator use, lots of fluff and smut, switching POVs, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  It’s Tuesday evening, a few days after your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating takeout Mexican food. You’re not alone with your parents; your dad invited Joel over to watch some college game with him. He sits next to you, leg digging into yours as you let yours mold into his. His leg is strong, firm, holding you together as you let it rest against yours. You want to be in his arms, let him hold you tight while you drown in his lips, in his taste, but you can’t. Not here, not right now. 

   You take another bite out of your chicken enchilada and pop another chip drowned in queso in your mouth, letting the juicy flavors run down your throat as it hits just the right spot. 

   “Hey, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. You know the Galveston trip this upcoming weekend?” your dad asks, finishing off a bite of his cheesy quesadilla as he sips from his tall water glass. 

   “Yeah, what about it?” you ask through another bite of enchilada. 

   “We’re gonna have to cancel the trip,” he says sadly, taking another bite out of his dripping quesadilla like he has no care in the world for the words that just came out of his mouth. 

   “What?” you ask, shocked. You drop your fork and it goes tumbling to the ground, landing with a loud clunk against the hardwood. Joel doesn’t hesitate and reaches his long arm down, picking up the ruined fork and setting it on the table next to him. 

   “I’m sorry, hun. Your aunt May and Charlie are making a surprise visit down, and they’re gonna come stay with us for the weekend. We wanted to tell you Thursday, but we didn’t want to ruin your weekend,” she says with apologies all over her uneasy tone. 

   “Why couldn’t you just tell them we already had plans? You’ve never canceled this trip before!” The words come out stronger than you want them to, hurt written all over your angry voice. They knew this weekend was important to you. They knew. 

   Joel places a hand discreetly on your thigh to help soothe you, but you barely register his gentle touch with how mad you are. 

   “We tried, hun, but the plans just fell through. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to go. Maybe next year…”

   You interrupt your mom. “Maybe next year?” you ask quietly with your lip quivering around your words. This trip was important to you. It was always something you looked forward to, but now it was ruined. You feel the backs of your eyes burn with hot tears, but you won’t let them see. They don’t deserve to see you crumble. You’ll just go sulk in your room.

   Joel sees how upset you’re getting, sees the way you’re trying to keep it together at the table. He digs his thick fingers into the flesh of your knee and knits his brows together as he looks over at you from the corner of his eye. You feel his concern through the connected skin. As much as you want to place your hand over his, you just need a few minutes alone. 

   “If you’ll excuse me, I just lost my appetite,” you say as you push back your chair and feel Joel’s warm fingers drop from your skin. 

   As you leave the room and make your way up the towering steps, you hear your dad say something under his breath. “She just needs to cool off. She’ll be fine.”

   For some reason those words just make you more frustrated as you tread up the stairs, letting a hot tear collapse down your cheek as your vision begins to blur. Stupid trip, stupid aunt, stupid everything. You can kiss goodbye to any chance of your ocean weekend getaway because it isn’t happening. 

   You slam the door closed and flop onto your bed, curling your knees into your chest as you let the tears fall. You try to keep yourself together, but you’re too angry, too sad, too hurt. It might not be a big deal to them, but it is to you. So you burn with the heat inside your body and let it swallow you whole. 

   Joel takes a stiff drink of his iced tea and looks over at George. “You didn’t tell me you were canceling the trip,” he says slowly, trying not to show the concern in his voice as he worries about you wallowing alone in your room. 

   “It just came up. May isn’t usually the type to just drop in, so we thought we’d better stay home and let them come on down. I feel bad, but sometimes things come up, ya know?” George says through a bite of a crunchy tortilla chip, not seeming all that concerned about his daughter. 

   “That’s too bad. She seemed really excited. I think you crushed her,” Joel says as calmly as he can without getting all worked up himself. The thing was, he hated seeing you upset, would never dream of ever making you feel that way. And now he felt obligated to make you feel better. He had to because you’re his girl, and he always takes care of his girl. 

   “We are really sorry. We just hope she’ll forgive us,” Claire says with a sigh huffed in between bites of her dinner. 

   “Yeah. Joel, the game’s back on, you ready to go finish it?” George asks as he gets up and starts heading toward the living room. 

   “Oh, yeah. Just go ahead and turn it on. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Gonna head up to the bathroom first,” Joel says as he pushes back his chair and heads toward the stairs. 

   “Alright, don’t take too long,” George calls as he disappears into the dark living room. Joel prowls up the stairs quietly and heads toward your room. 

   

You wipe the last tear away from your cheek and look at yourself in the mirror across the room. You definitely look like you’ve been crying with your tinted red eyes and wet sleeves that leave traces of tears on the back of the aquamarine color. You feel like a complete mess. 

   Just then, you hear the click of the door handle and the squeak of hinges as Joel opens the door and slowly shuts in behind him. You silently gasp as you hope he doesn’t notice you were crying, but he probably will. He always notices. 

   “Hey, you okay there, darlin’?” Joel asks as he comes over and sits on the bed beside you, his eyebrows knit together with worry as his brown eyes stare intently at you. 

   “Mhm,” you hum out faintly as you keep your eyes locked on the cream carpet. 

   “That doesn’t sound very convincing to me,” he says as his hand brushes up against the side of your thigh, almost calming you down as your insides still rage like a hurricane. 

   “I’m fine, just a little upset is all,” you mumble out, holding back anymore tears that may spill over the edge. 

   “Hey, look at me,” he says gently as he cups your chin carefully and turns your face to him. His brown eyes are full of concern, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours at all. 

   “Where’s that smile that I love so much, huh? C’mon, baby. Let me see it,” he coaxes as he lifts the corners of his mouth into a warm smile, the sight instantly calming you down. 

   He slowly unfolds you, and you can’t help but break when you see his crooked smile splayed across his face. It’s your favorite thing in the world. You drop the frown and replace it with a gentle smile as he trails his calloused thumb against your jawline, making you relax into his touch.

   “Ahh there’s my girl. The one with the beautiful smile,” he presses as the words send a quick giggle out of you. “Attagirl,” he praises as you get lost in his soft brown eyes. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, making your insides coat with tingles at the warmth of him.

   “Thanks for making me feel a little better,” you sigh as you fall into his chest and lean your head into the crook of his neck as he gently runs a hand through your hair, soothing you into a calm state. 

   “I’m sorry about this weekend,” he apologizes as he gently combs his fingers through your hair. 

   “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault my parents canceled at the last minute. It’s whatever. I didn’t even want to go that bad anyways,” you pout as you jut your bottom lip out. 

   “Oh, yes you did, sweetheart. I saw how upset you got down there. This trip meant a lot to you, didn’t it?” he asks as he trails his large hand up and down your back repeatedly. 

   “Yeah, it did,” you sigh, letting the thoughts wash out of your head so you don’t get upset again. 

   “What if you could still go?” he asks as your body goes still underneath his touch. 

   “Huh?” you ask as you pull your head up and sit up straight. “Still go? What do you mean?” you ask, confused because the trip had already been canceled. 

   “What if you could still go, would you?” he asks as he pushes a fallen stray curl away from his forehead. 

   You ponder his question, wondering why he’s asking such a silly thing. “Of course I would, but why are you asking?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him curiously, trying to decipher his meaning. 

   “Because,” he starts, straightening out his button-up blue flannel, “what if I take you?”

   Your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide. “What?” you ask with a locked jaw expression, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. 

   “What if I take you? Just you and me. We could stay the weekend, get a little sun, maybe swim some, explore Galveston.” 

   “You’d do that for me?” you ask with teary eyes as he connects his hand with yours, entwining his fingers with yours as you feel them burn the back of your skin. 

   “I’d do anything to see that pretty smile, sweetheart,” he says with the curl of his lips and the dimple that presses deep into his cheek. 

   He’s so fucking beautiful and sweet and so loving. How did you ever get so lucky?

   “Joel…”

   “Let me take you to Galveston, please. I’d love nothing more, truly,” he says with genuine brown eyes. 

   You start to tear up, vision blurring as the tears lick at the edges of your eyes and start to fall against your cheeks. Joel cups your face with his big hands and wipes away the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs. 

   “Hey, hey. What’s the matter? Why are you cryin’, darlin’?” he asks worriedly as he looks into your eyes intensely, concern lathered in those doe eyes of his. 

   “You’re just… you’re just so good to me, Joel. Why are you so perfect?” you cry out as another hot tear falls from your eyes. Joel catches it with the tip of his thumb and brushes it away effortlessly. 

   “I’m nowhere near perfect,” he chuckles as he keeps his brown eyes on you, “I just know how much the trip meant to you, and there’s no way I’m letting that get taken from you. You wanna go? Then we’re going. I’m not gonna see you disappointed, baby. I’ll take you there myself, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every second of it,” he confirms as he drops his hands from your face. 

   You suck in a breath and slam into his broad chest as you wrap your arms tightly around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” you breathe into his ear, feeling one of his hands come to cup the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.

   “You’re so welcome. And I love you, too, sweetheart. Never gonna stop,” he says slowly into your ear, making every part of you completely lose it for him. 

   You lift your chin up and slowly plant your lips on his, letting the moment move slow, delicately, passionately. You sink into his weight and let him devour your lips, your tongue, your everything. 

   Joel Miller was the definition of everything, and you’d never ever let him go. 

   The cool breeze of November blows in a rush through your long locks of hair as you lean your head out the window, the air crisp and smelling of pine trees as you rest your elbows on the edge of the door and enjoy the taste of freedom. The radio hums low through the speakers as you feel Joel’s eyes on your back, feeling his warm smile on your skin as you close your eyes and take in this beautiful moment. 

   The drive to Galveston is relaxing, the sun kissing your skin as you bathe in warm sunlight. Joel taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel along to an AC/DC song that plays quietly throughout the truck. You take a moment to turn toward him, leaning your head on the back of the seat as you admire the beautiful man that sits before you. Tousled curls with grey threaded through his thick locks, a blue flannel that tugs at his muscular biceps, a glowing smile that reflects off the backs of your eyes as you soak him up, painting a pretty picture in your mind that you’ll surely take to your grave. 

   Joel catches you staring and reaches an arm out as he snatches your fingers and pulls your hand up to his plush lips. He grazes his lips against the back of your knuckles and laces his fingers through yours as he pulls your hand into his lap, holding tight as he drives along the vacant highway. 

   You blink twice and smile as you watch him drive, your hand on top of his thigh as he looks over and sees you in a lovesick daze. “What are you smilin’ ‘bout, hmm?” he asks as he smirks your way, arching an eyebrow as he drives along.

   “Oh, no reason. Just can’t believe you’re taking me all the way to Galveston.”

   He squeezes your hand gently and looks over at you as the crow’s feet crinkle around his warm eyes. “Well, believe it, baby. Gotta keep my girl happy. And trust me, I wouldn’t wanna spend the weekend doin’ anythin’ else.”

   You scoot over to his side, unfastening your seatbelt as you nuzzle up into the side of his neck, catching the edge of his greying scruff. He tsks at you as he eyes you with your seatbelt off. “Seatbelt on, baby. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

   You huff out a response, batting your long eyelashes up at him. “I just wanted to be next to you. Being in the passenger seat was too far away,” you pout.

   He rolls his eyes and sighs, putting a strong arm around you as he hugs you into his side. “You’re a handful, you know that?” You giggle out and he just shakes his head. “Guess you can stay right here, can’t say no to my girl.”

   You beam up at him, reaching up to leave a sweet kiss against his tanned cheek while you wrap your arm around his hip and nuzzle back into the warm, woodsy scent of his flannel. You still can’t believe you’re going to the beach with your boyfriend, your dad’s best friend, and you can’t even fathom how he fell in love with you in the first place, but you’re so glad he did because you think he’s the love of your life. 

   Joel stops on the way to Galveston at Buc-ee’s, and the both of you jump out and grab all your favorite snacks for the long ride. The two of you share a bbq sandwich, grab fountain drinks, a bag of Doritos, beef jerky, and numerous bags of candy. When you’re back in the truck and driving down the long highway, you’re back against Joel’s side and leaning your head on his shoulder while you slowly chew on a piece of salted beef jerky. 

   He leans down and bites off a piece of it which makes your head fall back and laughter flow out the cracked window. Who knew that a simple road trip with your dad’s best friend would be the most exciting thing to happen this year? You never saw it coming, but neither did he. He just made you that happy. You’d be content just sitting by his side, reading a book while he watched a baseball game on tv. It was simple really, you were just that in love with Joel. 

   He takes another bite and hugs you tight against his side while his fingers slowly trail up and down your outer arm, making tingles flow down your spine. “So, what’d you tell your parents? Reckon your mother gave you a mouthful for leavin’ on the weekend you have family comin’ into town,” Joel says as he keeps one hand on the leather steering wheel, his eyes vigilant on the straight road ahead. 

   You sigh, leaning your head on his broad shoulder. “Told them I was having a girl’s trip this weekend in Dallas. My mom was pissed, but she’ll get over it.”

   He nods his head, tongue sliding over his bottom teeth as he eyes you from the corner of his vision. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quick. Besides, how can she stay mad at a pretty face like yours, hmm?” He cups your chin as his calloused fingers slide against your smooth skin, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on your cheek. 

   You smile up at him, your cheeks warming from the golden sun and his soft touch. He really is the sweetest guy you know. “Thanks, Joel. You always know how to cheer me up.”

   “Always here for ya, baby.” He laces his fingers with yours and brings your hand up to his lips while he lays gentle kisses across your dainty knuckles. 

   When he releases your hand to focus on driving again, you pick out a sucker wrapped in pink paper and slowly unfold the sweet treat. You pop it into your mouth slowly and savor the cherry flavor on your tongue. Joel watches you lick at the sucker, your tongue sliding along the see through candy, eyes growing dark when he watches you pop it out of your mouth with drool sticking to the top. 

   He shifts in his seat, eyebrows furrowing together as he smirks your way, a devilish grin spreading across his crooked smile. “That good, huh?” he asks with hooded eyes.

   You smile his way, taking your tongue along the smooth edge as you slowly lick at the cherry flavored sucker. “Sooo good,” you hum as you take it further into your mouth, as far as you can without choking yourself. 

   His jaw clenches, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he drives along, fighting himself from running off the road. “Better stop that now,” he warns, his eyes flickering with dark flecks of temptation as he gazes at you again with little control.

   “Stop what?” you ask innocently, giving the sucker another lick as you stare directly into his smoldering eyes. 

   “Stop fuckin’ teasin’ me. You tryin’ to kill me?” he murmurs as you eye the hardening cock against his jeans. Oh yeah, you were going to have fun with this. 

   “Not trying to kill you, handsome. Just having some fun,” you tease. 

   He sighs, raking a hand slowly down his grey threaded scruff. “You’re trouble, sweetheart. A little tease is what you are.”

   “Oh, I know,” you giggle. 

   You lean over and lick your tongue up the side of his neck, tasting the salt of sweat and a hint of mahogany cologne. You taste him. 

   “Christ,” Joel groans as he grips the steering wheel even harder. “You’re gonna make me pull this truck over if you’re not careful, I mean it,” he warns, his voice thick and gravelly against the pinch of temptation. 

   “You’re not gonna pull over. You’re gonna keep driving with your eyes on the road while I do this.” You palm him through his jeans, feeling just how hard he is as he groans through his gnashed teeth. 

   “Now, sweetheart. Jus’ hold on there.” He tries to pry your hand off, but you don’t move an inch. 

   “Joel, I’ve wanted to do this for years. Please, let me make you feel good. Rather suck on your cock than this lollipop.” You give another innocent lick to the pink sucker and bat your long eyelashes at him, giving him the prettiest smile you can muster up. 

   He ticks his jaw, eyebrows molding together while he drags a huff out. “Alright, alright. Jus’ don’t go wild. I need to concentrate on the road.”

   “Noted,” you wink, watching him grit his teeth together as he watches you slowly unzip his denim jeans, pulling his boxers down while his hard cock springs up and hits his soft tummy. 

   You revel at how thick and long he is, wrapping a hand around him to slowly slide up and down his shaft, spreading the leaking precum over his entirety. He groans at your slow motions, eyes blowing out as he watches you sink down to his lap while your mouth closes over him.

   “Fuckkk,” he groans as you bob your head up and down his shaft, hovering down to where his tip is kissing the back of your throat, making you choke and drool all over his weeping cock. He shifts beneath you, hands cemented to the steering wheel as he fights to keep his eyes on the road instead of at your pretty mouth around his thick length. 

   You gather your spit and fist him in your hand, moaning while you hear the wet, sticky noises of your fingers working him nice and good up and down repeatedly. You feel your own slick gathering in your panties, an ache you’re desperate to alleviate. You slide your left hand under the lace, circling your throbbing clit while you moan his name, still working him up and down with your hand. 

   “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he growls, watching you get yourself off with your own fingers. “If I wasn’t in the middle of the highway, I’d pull this truck over and have you spread across my lap while I finished the job.”

   “Yeah?” you whine, fingers curling up inside yourself while your thumb presses down on your pulsing bundle of nerves. 

   “Oh yeah, sweetheart. Better believe I’m takin’ care of you later. You brought what I asked, right?”

   “Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself about to spill inside your denim shorts. 

   “Attagirl. Gonna get you all nice and wet with my fingers, my tongue. Gonna tie you to the bedpost and give you what you deserve. Gonna make my girl come so hard that we’ll need new sheets before the night is through,” he growls with gritted teeth. 

   “Joel,” you moan, feeling a white hot sensation flow through your body before your panties are ruined with your release, continuing to stroke him while you come down from the blissful high of an orgasm. 

   “That’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he praises. You’re absolutely drenched from his dirty words.

   You take a minute to come back to the present while your eyes glaze over, feeling his pulsing cock beneath your fingers while you work him up and down slowly. You lean over and glide the tip of your tongue up the underside of his cock where a large vein guides you forward. He groans, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel while you work your magic. 

   Suddenly, Joel stills beneath you, hearing his phone buzz deep in his pocket. He curses under his breath and reaches one hand in, grabbing up his vibrating phone as his eyes blow wide. 

   “It’s your father,” he mutters, knitting his eyebrows together as he answers the phone. “Hey, George. What’s up?” he says casually, motioning for you to stop while he talks on the phone. 

   You still your hand, keeping it wrapped firmly around the base, brushing the end of your nose through his coarse, wiry hairs, breathing him deep as you get intoxicated off his manly musk.

   “Beers at your house tonight? Sorry, bud. I’m actually out of town this weekend.” 

   You hear your dad on the other end sighing, can almost see him rolling his eyes. You know he misses his best friend, but right now he’s a bit tied up with you. 

   “M’sorry. It was a bit last minute, but I’m goin’ to the lake with Sarah.”

   You listen to Joel and your dad carry on the conversation, one hand on the steering wheel tight while he balances the phone on his shoulder. You know he’s trying not to break while he’s on the phone, but you just can’t help yourself. 

   You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, flicking your tongue in slow circles around his swollen red tip as he hisses through his teeth. He glares at you, but you just smile sweetly up at him as you dive back in. 

   You take him deep in your mouth, feeling the salty precum slide down your throat as you choke on him again and again. He grabs the back of your hair, letting you work him over, swallowing your own moans with his thick length. 

   You take him deeper, choking on him while you make the most obscene gagging noises around his cock. “Ahh fuck,” he growls through his teeth as he looks down with blown out black eyes. “Oh, sorry. Jus’ lifted somethin’ a little too heavy for me. Guess I couldn’t quite handle it,” he mutters while his fingers grab your hair harder. 

   He pushes you down further, rutting his hips up while you choke again and again on his cock, letting him deepthroat you as your drool and spit coat him in wetness. 

   “Yeah, that’s right. Mhm, feels fuckin’ great at the lake. Not too cold, not too hot, jus’ right,” he grits through his teeth, fisting your locks in his hand as he drags your mouth up and down him, mouth fucking him intensely. You’re nearly drowning in him.

   “Mhm. Tuesday. I’m gonna come. On Tuesday, right,” he pants out, teeth gritted together as he pushes your head down hard and blows his load inside your hollowed out cheeks. 

   You swallow him down, barely able to take all the hot ropes of cum as some leaks out of your mouth. He curses under his breath and hits the back of his head on the headrest, broad chest heaving while you clean him up and lap up all the excess cum and drool on his messy cock. When you’re done cleaning him and his cock is softening, you fold it back into his boxers and pull his jeans back up, zipping them up for Joel.

   He takes deep breaths, listening to the last few words your dad tells him on the phone. He seems uninterested in whatever your dad has to say, his eyes only watching you now. They’re glazed over, dark flecks shining in the sunlight as he looks at you with love in his eyes. It makes your heartbeat pick up and kick against your chest. 

   “Alright, George. Sounds good. Have a good weekend. See ya Tuesday.” He clicks the phone off and shoves it in his pocket while his hand trails back over to you. His eyes find yours, and they look so beautiful in the rays of sunshine that glow through the window. 

   “You messy, messy girl. Goin’ down on me when I’m tryin’ to drive, when I’m on the phone with your father. You’re such a mess, baby,” he chuckles as he settles a large palm on the top of your head, gently running his fingers softly through your long locks. 

   “Mhm. I’ve always wanted to do that for you. And now I can say I have,” you giggle. 

   “Christ. How’d I get so lucky with you, hmm?” he smiles, watching you turn on your side and laying your head in his lap while one of your arms wraps around his thigh. 

   “The question is how’d I get so lucky with you? I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I finally have you all to myself. Almost doesn’t seem real, you know?”

   You hear him hum while his thick fingers curl against your shoulder. “I know what ya mean, sweetheart. It’s real, though. You’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you go. You’re stuck with me, pretty girl.”

   “Fine with me, cowboy,” you smile.

   He chuckles out, the weight of his laughter echoing through your heart. “I love you, sweetheart.”

   “And I love you, Joel Miller.”

   He smiles down at you as you situate yourself in his lap, closing your eyes to take a nap. Maybe when you wake up you’ll see the surf and sand of Galveston before your eyes. 

   After you check into the lavish hotel and place your bags in your suite, you and Joel both throw on your swimsuits and grab some beach towels. You settle into a dark teal bikini, and Joel almost matches you with light blue swim trunks. He looks so good, so broad with his tanned chest almost glistening in the sun, his large muscles flexing every time he moves. He looks like a masterpiece. 

   Just when you almost get lost in your fantasies in your mind, Joel pulls you right back out. “I’ll race ya to the beach,” he smirks as he pulls open the back sliding door that leads to a winding staircase down to the beach.

   “Bet I can beat you,” you giggle as you push him in the shoulder and race past him, barreling down the sturdy steps as you hear him laughing uncontrollably behind you. 

   “Cheater,” he laughs with a gravelly tone, “pushed right past me.”

   You turn your face his way and stick your tongue out playfully. “Come catch me, slow poke,” you giggle. That just makes him sprint faster toward you.

   You take off in the warm sand, your heart beating wildly inside your chest as you run toward the blue crashing waves of the ocean. You turn your head back around quickly and scream when you see him right on your heels.

   “C’mere, pretty girl,” he chuckles. One more step and he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder while you squeak and try to escape. 

   “Joel, put me down!” you laugh, using every bit of strength in you to break free of his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got you in a tight embrace. 

   “Ain’t puttin’ you down jus’ yet, baby. Nah, gonna jus’ take ya for a little dip in the water.”

   “Joel Miller, put me down this instant!” you squeak as he squeezes the backs of your thighs, taking off into the thick sand. 

   “Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna do that.” 

   You hear the crash of waves before you see them, and then he’s throwing you into the salty water while your head gets completely covered in the cold water. You make your way quickly up to the surface and rub the salt out of your eyes, yelling at Joel playfully while he laughs in the near distance. 

   Once you see him you start splashing him in the face with the cold water, watching his hair get completely soaked with his tousled curls slicked back with big droplets of salt water framing his face. “Now who’s winning!” you shout gleefully. 

   “Oh, so you wanna be like that? Okay, baby. Two can play at that game.” He starts splashing you right back while you turn your head and avoid the salt water getting in your eyes. 

   It’s a water fight in the best possible way, you and Joel going back and forth seeing who can make the biggest splash and who can get the most soaked. A fit of giggles leave your mouths while the sunshine warms your dripping shoulders. It goes on for minutes, the playful water fight until Joel comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. 

   “C’mere,” he chuckles. He spins you around and pins you to his chest while his lips find yours hungrily. You melt into the kiss, fingers twisting through his dripping curls, him slotting his tongue into your mouth as you taste the salty flavor of the ocean and him. 

   You squeak when he picks you up, legs wrapping around his hips as one of his hands locks you to him. You rest your forehead on his, your lips curved into a warm smile as you take in the salt water that covers his tanned skin. “Thanks for taking me here, Joel,” you whisper against his mouth. 

   “Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.” 

   You wrap your arms around his neck and let him hold you up in the water, keeping your body flush to his chest. You both turn your attention to the horizon, watching the gentle blue waves lap against the water, focusing on the afternoon glow of the sun, the graceful seagulls flying overhead, your own beating heart mixing with Joel’s. 

   It’s moments like this that you can never take for granted. Being at the beach with your lover, not having to sneak around under the nose of your reluctant father, being at one of your favorite places in Texas. It’s all surreal, almost fictional. You’re one hell of a lucky girl, and you know that. God, you know that. 

   You rest your head on Joel’s shoulder and feel him kiss the top of your head slowly, his lips grazing against your drenched hair. “This is so peaceful, Joel,” you breathe, sighing into the scruff of his jaw. 

   “Mhm, it sure is. Haven’t been down here in a while. You know Sarah was jealous, right?”

   You giggle and look up at him, catching the sunlight strike his dazzling honey colored eyes. “You told her you were coming here?”

   “Yeah. Guess it was a mistake ‘cause she threw a fit, but she got over it. Told her I wanted a little alone time with my girl.”

   You smile and nod in understanding. “Glad she took it well.”

   “Me too. She kept askin’ when we were gonna tell your folks about us,” he sighs, one hand raking down the curve of his jaw, thick fingers catching water droplets from his greying beard. 

   You huff and sink back into his chest. “I don’t even want to think about that. I mean eventually we’ll have to, but not today. Not this month, or year. Maybe next year,” you sigh while your nails scratch against the back of his tousled curls. 

   “Whenever you want, baby. M’not in a rush either. Whenever you feel like the right time is, we’ll tell ‘em together. I’ll be right there by your side, no matter what happens. M’not goin’ anywhere, even if your father hates me after. I’m yours. Always.” He brushes his lips over your cheekbone, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower regions. The man always knew how to get you. 

   You stay in the cool, salty water just a little longer, going back and forth from floating on your back to being in Joel’s arms. No one else is in the water or on the beach, it’s just you and Joel. Your own island paradise for the weekend. 

   You bathe in the beauty of it all. The salty air breezing across your hair, sun kissed skin soaking in every bit of ray of sunshine the sky graces you, Joel standing behind you with his lips brushing against your collarbone, his deep hums sending sparks of lightning through your core. You never want to leave this place, never want to leave him. You’ll just stay in the moment for as long as you can.  

   “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” He hums as he kisses your neck sweetly, his other hand dancing along the bikini line as his thick fingers play with the teal material by your hip bone. 

   “Promise me this isn’t just a dream and that I’m not gonna wake up tomorrow with you gone.”

   He chuckles behind you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers in his deep, gruff voice you so love. “S’not a dream, baby. It’s real, I’m real. And I can promise you I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

   You sink your weight into his broad chest, his finger cupping your chin with his calloused fingers. He tips your head backwards and meets your lips with his, letting him soak you in all his sunshine and salty presence while you float off on a cloud into paradise. This is heaven, Joel is heaven. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. 

   After half an hour of basking in the beautiful ocean, you decide to get out and lay in the sand for a while. You drag your feet through the damp sand, body relaxed and tired from the ocean water. You spot your towels laid out together, yours pink and Joel’s dark blue. But before you can reach them you feel Joel catch your hips while he envelops you in his warm hold, dragging you down to the sand as his weight topples over you. He pins your wrists to the warm sand while he holds himself over you. 

   “Got you,” he chuckles, hovering over you with his tousled curls dripping salt water all over your chest. 

   “Joel!” you laugh as you erupt into a fit of giggles. “Didn’t realize we were still playing.” 

   “Mmm, found the perfect opportunity to take you down again. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles. 

   “Silly old man,” you tease.

   “Old man, huh? Ain’t old enough to do this,” he laughs, sinking his body against yours while his lips crash into you. 

   You melt into his lips, your fingers running through his tousled curls that smell of salty water and mahogany, the two mixing together to form a scent you breathe into your lungs and get lost in. His tongue dances with yours, his rough hands gliding against the curve of your hips as he slithers his way between your legs. 

   You stay like that for minutes just breathing each other in, getting lost in the hungry kisses, the panting breaths that sound in tune with the lapping waves against the shoreline. It all feels like a dream, but this is real, and it’s the most perfect day with your ridiculously hot boyfriend. 

   He nips at your bottom lip, slowly releasing his mouth as he hovers back over you. When you open your eyes, you gasp. The way the warm sun beams down over him makes him look angelic, a bright light surrounding him as you look into those beautiful honey eyes, the dark flecks reflecting off your own. God, he looks so beautiful, so exquisite. You could stare at him every second of every day if you got the chance to. 

   Your fingers brush over his grey threaded beard, lips parting in awe as you smile up at him. His lips curve into a warm smile that makes your toes curl, and his eyes crinkle down at you while one of his hands grazes against your jawline. 

   “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. You know that?” he asks, affection spilling off his Southern drawl while he traces your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. 

   “You tell me all the time, handsome,” you smile, eliciting a groan from his mouth as you drag your fingers against the scruff of the back of his neck. 

   “You deserve to be told every single second of every day, sweetheart. And I’ll do that, over and over again. Even if you get tired of it, I’ll keep at it. ‘Cause you deserve the world, so let me give it to you.”

   Your mouth drops open, your heart in your throat. You’re so stunned that you can barely say anything but run your fingers through his hair, a wide smile splayed over your face as you gaze into the eyes of the love of your life. 

   “Joel Miller, never knew you were such a romantic at heart,” you smile, lazing into those crystal clear dark eyes. 

   “Always been a romantic, baby. Guess I jus’ didn’t have anyone to show it to. But now, there’s you. So let me shower you in it. Got many years to make up for it,” he chuckles. 

   You drag his face down to yours, pressing your lips flush against his until you sink back into him, reveling in his touch, his kiss, his everything while the sun slowly slips against your ocean kissed skin. You swallow his essence, inviting him in while his tongue swirls feverishly around yours. It’s like you’re in the middle of a cute little romance movie, but this is your reality. This is real.

   He drags one of your bikini straps down, slipping his fingers underneath the silky teal top, grazing against the underside of your breast. “Joel, stop,” you groan. “This isn’t a nude beach,” you laugh. 

   “There ain’t nobody around, darlin’. Jus’ let me do one thing, yeah?” he asks while you silently nod your head in approval. 

   He drags one of your cups free, burying his face in your chest as he takes the flat of his tongue and gently swirls around your pebbled breast. You groan into the shell of his ear while his other hand lightly feathers against the folds of your already soaked center. 

   “Joel,” you warn, wrapping your arms around his salt covered neck as he nips up your collarbone. He slips a hand beneath your bikini bottoms and starts to slowly circle your puffy clit, eliciting a moan that falls like a melody against the curve of his ear. 

   “Yeah? That feel good, darlin’?” he asks, feeling just how drenched you are beneath your bikini. He presses harder against your aching bud, pulling you dangerously close to spilling over him as you feel a cold wave hit the backs of your feet.  

   “Joel, fuck - you’re gonna make me…”

   “Make you come? Go on, gorgeous. Spill for me. Know you want to,” he purrs, his calloused fingers swirling swiftly around your bundle of nerves until you dig your fingers into the scruff of his neck and moan his name intensely while he elicits a long, amazing orgasm from you. Your body jolts at the aftershocks, coming down from your high as cum spills all over your teal bikini. 

   “Attagirl,” he praises, working you through your orgasm, then slipping his fingers inside his mouth to clean them off properly. He groans at the taste of you, savoring the flavor against his tongue. 

   He leans back and looks at you, glistening tanned skin and chocolate coated eyes you want to melt in. He’s absolutely stunning. “Joel Miller getting me off on the beach?” you smirk as you raise an eyebrow at him.

   “Mhm, couldn’t wait to get back to the room. Had to get a taste and repay you for the favor you did for me in the truck.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but laugh and roll him over into the sand. You climb on top of his chest and drape your arms over his broad shoulders while he brings his large hands up to rub your back softly. 

   “You’re the best, Miller. Best I ever had,” you smile as you rest your chin on his tanned chest. 

   “Mmm, think you’re the best, sweetheart. Never met a girl that got me quite like you do. You’re somethin’ else.”

   He takes one of his fingertips and traces a heart in the sand, writing out your initials and drawing an arrow through the heart with a lovesick look in those pools of honey. You gawk at him, almost tearing up when you see how mesmerized he looks hovering over your initial, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him.

   “There. Now it’s our beach. Jus’ yours and mine, baby. It’s written in the sand,” he lulls warmly.

   You smile down at him, placing your hand against the soft scruff of his jaw and turn his face toward yours. You part your lips, almost speechless as words start to fail you. Joel really was a romantic after all. Your perfect, romantic, endearing boyfriend.

   “Joel Miller. You amaze me every single day. And God, I’m just so in love with you,” you muse.

   “Sweetheart, it’s me that’s so in love with you. Never gonna stop. It’s written in the sand, in the ocean, in the stars even. You’re mine, baby. All mine,” he whispers, staring up at you with the most endearing brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Everything about this moment is magical.

     You gaze into the warmth of his honey eyes and play with his tousled curls, running your fingers through the soft locks as you get lost in his gaze. You stay like that another hour, listening to the lapping waves of the ocean, soaking up the warm sun, getting hopelessly lost in his mahogany and salt water scent. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, just like he is with you. 

   After a while, Joel helps you up off the sand and leads you across the shoreline. He takes your hand in his and guides you through the lapping water, taking in the salty breeze of the sea and the picturesque vision of you and him walking along the coast. It’s so romantic, so very special, and it feels so right. His strong hand in yours, him smiling down at you with those beautiful brown eyes, and his smile that sends you over the edge every single time. It’s all just so breathtaking. 

   Maybe this was fate after all, maybe you were meant to be on this beach with Joel the whole time. It sure seems like it now. You realize why it never worked with anyone else. It’s because Joel Miller was always the one. You just didn’t know it then, but you do now. He’s the one for you. Your forever. 

   After you and Joel have showered and thrown on white silky robes, you sit on the balcony and watch the sunset paint the sky purple and amber colors. You lean into Joel on the reclining chair, letting his fingertips trace up and down your arms slowly while his lips brush against the shell of your ear. 

   “Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ask, watching the waves slowly lap against the sand while he murmurs in your ear.

   “Mhm, gorgeous.” He grazes his lips against your cheek and whispers sweet words into your ear. “You wanna go back inside? Let me make love to my girl,” he whispers as he trails another kiss over your cheek. 

   You spin around and smile down at him. “Okay, handsome. What’d you have in mind?” you giggle. 

   He smirks up at you and chuckles. “You remember when we were watchin’ Scream on Halloween night, and I asked about the whole handcuff thing?”

   You raise your eyebrows in question and nod. “Yeah, what about it?”

   “Well, don’t exactly have the handcuffs, but that black silk ribbon I asked you to bring? Gonna use that to tie you to the headboard. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. That what you want?” he asks with a long Southern drawl, eyes darkening as he speaks to you in a deep voice. 

   You gulp and nod your head. “Okay, daredevil. Take me to bed then,” you whisper into the shell of his ear. 

   He wastes no time and hauls you up, cradling you in his strong arms as he makes his way through the sliding glass door, closing it with the heel of his foot. “On the bed for me, naked,” he instructs as you fully oblige. 

   The room is massive, marble countertops and fancy light fixtures filling the room. The room is dim, only a couple of lamps on as the luminescent dark blue walls cover the space. The king sized bed is pristine, white sheets with fluffy pillows covering the top of the bed. The headboard is made of light wood, and a small fireplace crackles underneath the 70 inch flat screen tv in the center of the room. 

   You slip off your robe, crawling onto the plush bed while Joel watches with wide eyes, grabbing a couple things from your pink suitcase that sits in the corner of the room. His eyes stay locked on yours, especially when you spread your legs wide and show him the sticky mess already building up over your warm core. 

   He licks his lips, dragging a hand slowly over his mouth while he feasts on your naked body. “Look at you, baby girl. Already so wet and ready for me. Christ, you’re a fuckin’ vision,” he purrs, leaning against the edge of the bed just mesmerized at the perfection that splays in front of him. 

   You smile, bedroom eyes slipping over his tanned form, and he knows exactly what that means. He crawls over you, pushing your legs further apart with his knees and catching your wrists above your head. “Stay still for me, sweetheart. Gonna tie you up now.”

   You stay still, letting him collect your wrists above your head, gently tying the black silk ribbon against the headboard. You almost moan, feeling his thigh brush against your clit as he sits back to assess his work. “You okay? Not too tight?” he asks with concerned brown eyes. 

   “Feels perfect, Joel,” you smile, giving him a mischievous smirk while your foot hikes his robe up his tanned thigh. “Gonna take that off, Miller?”

   He chuckles, untying the belt slowly and then ripping it off his body as it goes crashing to the floor. You gawk at him, watching his cock twitch before you, already hardening as he assesses your bare body before him. 

   “Look at my man. So handsome, tan, big, all mine,” you giggle. 

   “Mmm, all yours, gorgeous. Now breathe for me. Wanna try somethin’,” he murmurs with darkening eyes. 

   You see him spread your thighs more, trailing kisses up your inner thighs and brushing his nose through your folds, dragging it over your sensitive clit and ending in the soft curls above your mound. 

   He gives you a devilish grin and then licks a long, thick stripe up your core, sending a moan falling from your lips as he drinks in the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl,” he groans, licking the slick from his lips slowly. “Now, for the fun part. Think you’re gonna love this,” he smiles. 

   He reaches behind his back and grabs the vibrator that was sitting underneath your clothes in your suitcase. He turns the power on, starting it slow as the buzzing noise fills the width of the room. Before he brings it to your center, he hovers it just over your clit as he speaks. “Take a deep breath. Gonna start it slow.”

   Your breath falters when he places the end of the vibrator on your clit, pressing down and massaging slow circles across your bundle of nerves. “Fuck, Joel,” you whine, letting him revel in your long, drawn out moans.

   “Attagirl, feels good don’t it?” he chuckles, watching the way your lips part and eyes blow wide. 

   “Yeah, it feels - ohhhhh,” you moan, feeling him slip two digits into your dripping hole, working them nice and slow, curling up into the spongy wall that makes you lose control. 

   “That’s it, sweetheart. Let’s take it up a notch, shall we?” he smirks. 

   He switches the settings, powering the vibrator to a more intense level that has your legs shaking uncontrollably. He shifts his knee, pinning your thigh down so he can see the spasming movements of your ruined pussy. 

   His eyes expand into black pits, tongue licking against his bottom lip while he assesses the damage he does to your soaked core. He watches the way the slick runs down his knuckles, fingers fucking deep into your drenched pussy, obscene squelching noises and melodic moans filling the room. He’s never heard anything more beautiful in his entire life.

   He presses down harder on your throbbing clit, the buzzing motion of the vibrator making you squirm beneath his calloused fingers. “Joel, I’m so close. I’m so - oh,” you writhe, hearing the wet noises of him fucking your pussy with his thick fingers faster and faster, feeling him coaxing you on each time his fingertips kiss that perfect spongy spot that makes you black out. 

   “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises, pressing downward on the vibrator and opening a whole new sensation that makes you form your lips into a wide O, white hot heat sliding down the edge of your spine.

   “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, fusing your eyebrows together and choking on a moan. 

   “Come for me, beautiful. Make a mess on these fingers,” he coaxes. 

   One more brush of the vibrator and curl of his thick fingers and you’re gone. You moan his name, twisting your fingers into the silky ribbon as you feel the rush of bliss blow over you. You release for him, spilling all over his fingers, along with another wave of pleasure that overcomes you. You feel yourself squirt, watch yourself coat his broad chest, the scruff of his jaw with the slick that just keeps flowing. 

   “Oh, Jesus Christ you’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby. There she goes. Jus’ keeps on comin’. Fuckin’ drenchin’ me,” he purrs all mesmerized and hypnotic while he talks you through it. 

   “Yeah, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” he praises, turning the vibrator off while he collects slick against your glistening mound. He slides his fingers from your insides, popping his soaked digits into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you. 

   “Joel, that was incredible,” you pant, coming back to your body after the intense orgasm washes through you.

   “Yeah? Well, I ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart,” he teases, a crooked smile forming over his beautiful face. 

   “Not yet?” you ask, laughing.

   “Not yet,” he confirms with a glint in his blown out eyes. 

   Your eyes look down, staring at the large erection between his legs. His cock is thick, the head red and swollen while precum leaks down his shaft. You go wide-eyed, licking your lips as you gaze hungrily at him. 

   “Joel,” you whine.

   “What do ya need, baby girl? Use your words.”

   You strain against your bindings, panting desperately, trying to show him how badly you need him between your thighs. “Your cock. Need you inside, please,” you beg.

   “Don’t gotta beg for me, darlin’. It’s all yours, I’m all yours,” he smiles. 

   He brings your legs over his shoulders, crawling between your thighs as he stretches you wide, cock gliding against your folds, collecting slick on his angry tip. You groan at the feeling of him, the tingling sensation his cock gives as it slides against your wetness. 

   “You ready for me?” he asks, brushing over your clit once more as you stifle a moan.

   “Mhm,” you hum.

   “Okay, baby girl. Deep breath for me,” he instructs. 

   He pushes into you, stretching you wide as his thick cock fills you to the brim. You pant, writhing beneath him while he starts a slow rhythm of going back and forth, his grunts becoming savage like when he talks you through it. 

   “There ya go, sweetheart. Takin’ me so good, jus’ like you always do,” he grunts out, his large hands caging you against him. 

   You want so badly to be able to run your hands through his hair, want to scratch your nails down the tanned skin of his back, feel the sweat building on his sculpted skin. Being tied up is hot, and something about not being in control right at this moment is really turning you on, but you also want to just be able to really feel him. 

   He sees you struggling with your wrists, pulling against the black silk while you pant out his name through every brush of his cock against your tight walls. He stills his thrusts, giving you a concerned look as he takes you in. “You okay, sweetheart? Is it too tight? Too much?” he asks with a soft voice.

   “I just… This is really hot, Joel. But I kind of just want my hands free so I can touch you,” you say with glossy eyes. 

   He chuckles, nodding his head in understanding. “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart. Here, let me jus’ fix this real quick.” His arms go over your head, carefully untying your hands from the polished headboard. He throws the black silk ribbon on the nightstand and situates himself over you again, all while still being inside you. “Better?” he asks, a crooked smile draping over the curve of his mouth. 

   You throw your arms around his neck and let out a sigh of relief as your fingers scratch up the tousled curls on the back of his neck. “Better,” you smile. 

   “Now, let me get back to makin’ love to my girl,” he says with eyes that smother over with darkening irises. 

   He ruts back into you, speeding up his thrusts as his lips come down to meet yours. You part your lips and let him slot in, drowning out your moans with the slide of his tongue as he licks feverishly inside your mouth. You twist your fingers through his sandy colored curls, eliciting a grunt from his lips as your nail beds dig across his scalp. 

   He moves his lips down to your neck, teeth scraping along your collarbone, sucking against the sensitive areas all while his large palms cup your breasts, pebbling your nipples with every stroke of his calloused thumbs. 

   “Oh, right there,” you whine, feeling his cock reach that certain spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

   “Yeah, feel good?” he purrs along the shell of your ear, licking his tongue along the edge of it. “How ‘bout this?” he says with a devilish grin, eyes blowing wide with dark black pits. 

   “Fuck,” you moan, feeling his thumb draw meticulous circles across your swollen clit while his cock kisses the back of your cervix, spreading wet, obscene noises around the glow of the room as his balls slap frantically against your sweaty skin. 

   You dig your nails into the back of his shoulder blades as Joel folds you like a pancake and ruts deep inside you, his cock drenched in your sticky slick. Your walls squeeze him as you feel the hot heat slide down your spine. You’re so close to spilling.

   “Come on, baby. Know you’re close. Want you to come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock. Attagirl,” he praises as he sees your eyebrows thread together, your body quivering beneath him. 

   He slides his thumb in slow circles over your buzzing clit, cock hitting your spongy wall again and again and again until you can’t hold back any longer. You squeeze his thick cock, moaning his name as white hot heat takes control of your body. You feel yourself start to spill, covering Joel in your blissful orgasm that coats him in your slick.

   “Attagirl, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, talking you through your high as your body starts to come down from sweet release. 

   He pushes your legs further apart, cock working swiftly in and out of your core as he chases his own release. “Oh yeah, fuck me,” he growls, thrusting in and out faster and faster until he’s furrowing his eyebrows together and clenching his jaw, spilling hot ropes of cum inside you till he collapses at your side and pulls you flush to his chest. 

   You both pant out in exhaustion, sheets soaked from the sweat of skin on skin, bodies tangled together as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and smiles warmly over at you. “Did so good for me, baby. Always do so good,” he praises, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek as you take in the starry flecks of amber brown of his dreamy eyes.

   ��Thanks for showing me something new. Never knew I could be so into bondage,” you tease, smirking his way with flirtatious eyes he can’t seems to look away from.

   “Mmm, we’ll jus’ have to explore those kinks together then, yeah?”

   You giggle while you run a hand through his messy curls, taking in this beautiful moment of you and Joel on a weekend getaway together. It feels so natural, so right being here with him. You guess it’s just always felt like this ever since starting this whole thing with him.

   After a few minutes of just staring at one another mesmerized, Joel traces his thumb across your bottom lip and smiles gently at you. “You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you when I met you?” he asks quietly.

   “What?” you laugh gently, placing your palm over the top of his hand.

   “Your eyes. Never saw such beautiful eyes before. And your smile. God, that gorgeous smile. Thought I was seein’ an angel the first time you looked at me.”

   Your breath gets caught in your throat, the outside waves being muted from the man that lies in front of you. “Joel… that’s so… wow,” you whisper breathlessly.

   “Think I was in love before we even started dating, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest with myself, I should’ve known all along. You’re exactly the woman I’ve been lookin’ for. You’re so beautiful and smart and kind. I’m jus’ so… fuck, I jus’ love you a lot.”

   Your mouth drops open, a gasp leaving your throat as you stare at him like a lovesick puppy. You’re almost too overwhelmed right now with tears licking the backs of your eyes. “Joel Miller, you sweet, sweet man. I never thought… I only dreamed that this could all be real. I never knew it’d turn into this. But I’m so crazy about you, and I love you so so much.”

   His eyes tear up, brown syrupy flecks glistening back at you in the starry moonlight. He looks so happy and so in love that your heart swells like a balloon in your chest. “Thank you again for taking me to Galveston. You’re the best, Miller,” you smile, fingers entwining with his. 

   “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’d take you here anytime. Jus’ say the words, I’ll take you anywhere. As long as I get to be with my girl, that’s enough for me,” he smiles.

   You pull him in for a long kiss, getting lost in the scent of the ocean breeze and the woodsy scent of his cologne. This may last forever, it may not, but you’re going to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts. 

Tags: @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @bbyanarchist @vividispunk @mrslawrencealbarn @pedrossl4t @pedroswife69 @sarap-77 @casa-boiardi @princesatracionera @msjarvis

[141goblin]

Soft: Chapter two.

CW: Mention of body image, reader feels inferior to her best friend. Slightly suggestive.

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part one, i’m so glad people like my writing. It’s heavily self indulgent so it makes me very happy to know it resonates with people other than me🥰

—>Part one

After a little encouragement from Johnny and the rest of my martini, I find myself stood in front of the group of men and Amelia as her and Johnny both introduce me to his friends. I got a wink and a “Nice to meet you, lovely” from Gaz, a firm handshake and a “Pleasure” from Simon…

“And this is Price, our Captain.”

The wide man smiles warmly and gives me a nod.

“Pleasure to meet you, dove.”

I give him a sweet smile and something between and a nod and an awkward bow/curtsy. Why the fuck am I curtsying? Jesus christ, I need another drink already. I feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment but luckily, no one mentions it. They either didn’t notice or decide not to mention it. Either way, I don’t care.

Everyone begins to engage in small talk, leaving me stood there in the awkward predicament of being part of the group, but not being part of the conversation. I feel so ridiculous and out of place, like a child that’s stood with a group of adults, unable to join in on their conversation. I pretend like I don’t care and politely excuse myself and walk towards the exit.

I walk outside and sit down on the stone bench, my feet already aching because of my stupid heels, the cold night air nipping at my skin that simultaneously feels too hot because of the amount of alcohol i’ve consumed.

I rummage around in my handbag and pull out my half-empty packet of cigs that I save for when I drink. I always insist that i’m not a smoker, yet the minute I get a few drinks in my system, i’m puffing away like a chimney, making my breath stink. I light up and inhale it deep, feeling the all too familiar burn in my lungs. The smoke curls up into the night air as I exhale, leaving a ribbon of grey in front of me.

I think back to Amelia and how effortlessly pretty she looks, how she’s able to command everyone’s attention just by walking into a room. She doesn’t have to worry about what she looks like 24/7, she doesn’t have to worry about meeting someone in person for the first time after talking on a dating app and feeling terrified of being rejected and being labelled a ‘catfish’ because they didn’t know I was fat from my pictures. I know it’s not her fault, I know that. But deep down, there’s a bitterness, right in the pit of my stomach. She’s gorgeous, she doesn’t have to even try. The bitterness festers and claws at my insides on nights like this, where i’m left alone to entertain myself while she’s off with Johnny or her other friends. I sound like a child, i’m fully aware of that, but still, I feel it. Deep down in my stomach, a dull ache for more, a longing, a yearning to be that girl. Just as i’m stewing in my own grumpiness and general bitterness, I hear the rumble of a deep voice behind me.

“You alright, dove?”

Normally, i’d make an effort to impress a man like him. He’s handsome, too fucking handsome for his own good. Normally, i’d stub out my cigarette and sit up straight to hide the rolls of my stomach that protrude when I sit comfortably. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine, thanks.”

Clipped, short, blunt. A subtle hint for him to leave me alone. He either ignores it or is too stupid to pick up on it, because he sits down beside me. Thighs spread, one hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around a cigar.

“Not a fan of parties like this, I take it?”

I scoff and flick some ash off the end of my cigarette before taking another deep puff, letting it fill my lungs, the stench of tobacco creating a cloud around me.

“You could say that.”

He laughs, his broad shoulders shaking up and down, the sound rumbly and deep, settling into my bones. He raises his cigar to his lips and takes a drag, the brown cylinder hissing and glowing red at the tip as he sucks. His voice is thick with smoke when he speaks.

“Mm, I get it. Not for everyone.”

I’ve either had too much to drink, am at the end of my tether, or just feel way too comfortable with this man, because what comes next is an outburst, an angry rant.

“I mean, is it for anyone other than rich arseholes or people who have been dragged into it by those rich arseholes? Groups of people pretending to be something they’re not, just to impress each other. I don’t get it. Fucking ridiculous if you ask me. I’d much rather be curled up on my couch with a shit bottle of wine and a takeaway than be here but I couldn’t say no to Amelia. Pain in the arse…”

I expected him to defend the party, or make some excuse that it’s a chance for like-minded people to ‘network’ or some ridiculous bullshit. But, to my surprise, he just laughs again. A warm, rumbling sound that makes me want to press my ear to his chest. I huff and cross my arms over my chest, glaring out into the night, the grassy courtyard scattered with multiple bush-sculptures, or whatever they’re called.

“Feel better, dove?”

I huff and laugh and hum in response. He gives me a tap on the thigh and stands up.

“I’ll be inside, if you decide to stay. I hope your night gets better, dove.”

I give him my best attempt at a warm smile and then he disappears inside again. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the festering bitterness and grumpiness. I should be inside, with my best friend. I stand up, feeling the ache of my heels and walk back inside to the ballroom, putting on a happy face. I spot Amelia, Johnny, Gaz and Simon at a table towards the front so I make my way over. Amelia gives me a concerned look, a silent ask of ‘You okay?’ and I just nod, dismissing it. I’m not getting into it, not here, not now.

A waiter appears and places a blueberry martini in front of me, without me even having to ask and i’ve never been so grateful. I take a large, burning swig and turn to the group with feigned confidence.

“So, what’d I miss?”

Johnny turns to me without taking his eyes off the stage, where a few people are setting up a microphone and some speakers.

“The birthday boy is about to make his big speech. Should be a good one, better than last year.”

The lads share a few knowing laughs, like they’re all giggling over an inside joke, and i’m about to ask what’s funny when a familiar, gravelly voice talks through the microphone and out of the speakers.

“If I could just have your attention for a minute or two-“

Fuck. Sake.

“Just want to say a quick thank you to all of you for coming to celebrate my birthday with me tonight. It’s lovely to see see you all. I hope you all enjoy your night and make complete use of the bar. Behave yourselves”

If there was ever a time I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole, it’d be now. I went on a big, angry rant to the poor man minutes previously, completely ignorant to the fact that the entire reason this party is taking place is because it’s his fucking birthday. I’ve never felt more like a dickhead in all my life, and i’m certain my face is bright red. Price raises a glass and speaks again.

“To us rich arseholes, at least pretend to be on your best behaviour, eh? Here’s to a good night.”

He ends the speech echoing my previous words with a wink in my direction and I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I must’ve sounded like some entitled, bitchy woman who thinks she’s above rich, fancy parties. I knew i’d never have a chance with a man like him anyway, but now any flicker of hope there was has been completely stubbed out by my own angry words, fuelled by alcohol and bitterness towards being the ‘single, fat friend’.

I down the rest of my martini in an attempt to hide my beetroot-red face and embarrassment, despite the fact that my head is already a little fuzzy and clouded by the way i’ve been chugging blueberry martinis like my life depends on it. Luckily, no one notices my embarrassment and Price goes off to mingle with other people rather than coming back to our table, so I don’t have to confront him. I make a silent ‘thank-you’ to whoever is up there in the sky, whether it be god or some other deity.

The next few hours go by without any more embarrassments, thank god. I do my best to engage in small talk with the lads while simultaneously avoiding Price. I should apologise, I know that, but I doubt he wants to see me. Or hear my whining voice ever again. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he cut me off and tell me it was his fucking birthday to save me the embarrassment of going off on some pathetic rant about ‘rich arseholes’? Why am I such a fucking idiot?

I excuse myself from the group and go back to the bar to order another drink. Except this time, I order a glass of water along with my martini. Arguably the only good decision i’ve made all night. No, the only good decision i’ve made in a long time. I plop myself down on the same tiny barstool as a few hours previous and take a few swigs of water to try and sober up a little and cool myself down. My hair has gone from being up in a bun and cute-messy, to being free and wild, cascading down my back. I don’t even remember undoing it, but i’m past the point of caring. My face is flushed, my eyes are glassy and my lipstick is faded and the tiniest bit smudged. A whole mess.

I force my thoughts away from considering the mess i’ve become over the course of the night and I look over to Amelia and the group of lads. Before I even have time to register that Price has joined the group, my stomach drops. He’s looking right at me with a fucking smirk on his face. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I’d probably think it was the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen. My face immediately blushes scarlet and I discard the glass of water for my martini. If i’m gonna get through this night with any semblance of dignity, I won’t be doing it sober. I debate getting up and sucking up my pride to apologise for being such a bitch. But then, what if he just laughs in my face and everyone else sees how much of a whiny child I was? Yeah, better not do that.

Amelia seems to notice him staring right at me because in a matter of seconds, she’s following his gaze and then walking over to me, that determined look on her face. She knows somethings going on, and she will demand to know.

“Okay, what the fuck. Did you and birthday boy get it on in the toilets or something without me knowing?”

I scoff and roll my eyes, not meeting her gaze and pouring some more blueberry flavoured courage down my throat.

“Obviously not, Amelia.”

She shakes her head and sits on the stool next to me, determined to get to the bottom of my awkward behaviour.

“Okay, listen. Me and you are gonna get out of here and go back to your apartment with a bottle of your favourite shit wine and we can talk all about it. I can tell you’re not enjoying yourself and I wanna know what’s going on. Gimme five minutes, i’ll be back and then we’re leaving.”

Before I can argue and tell her it’s okay, she’s going back to the group of lads and giving Johnny a kiss goodbye. It’s times like these where i’m reminded why she’s my best friend. She can read my feelings without me having to say a word, and she does truly care about me, even if my stupid little brain tries to convince me otherwise.

I leave the rest of my martini and make my way outside to have a cigarette while I wait for her. It’s well into the night now and considerably colder, and i’m mentally cursing myself for not wearing a jacket. I pull out another cigarette from my handbag and take a deep, long drag. The same burn, the same stench, the same short-lived relief. Just as i’m about to exhale-

“Leaving so soon, dove?”

For fuck sake. Why does this man have to show up at the worst times?

“Afraid so.. Past my bedtime.”

Again, the man laughs. Now, I know i’ve had too much to drink because I feel the warm, rumbly sound deep in my core, between my thighs. I don’t turn around to look at him, I can’t face him. I think i’ll die of embarrassment if I do.

I feel the warmth of something get draped around my shoulders, and the scent of spices and smoke mixed with expensive cologne. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to this man and here he is being chivalrous and giving me his jacket. I say nothing, but i’m grateful for the warmth.

“Hm. Shame. I quite enjoyed that little rant of yours.”

He’s doing in on purpose, i’m sure of it. He’s giving subtle digs to make me feel like even more of an idiot. It’s now when I spin on my heels to face him. I need to apologise. Now or never.

“Listen, about that.-“

“No need to apologise, dove. I liked the honesty. Not often I find a soft, beautiful thing like you with such fire in her.”

Just like that, i’m rendered speechless. I was expecting him to brush me off or belittle me or even scold me. But no. He’s giving me compliments like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I’m stuttering and fumbling over my words when Amelia walks about and grabs my hand, seemingly oblivious to the situation and pulling me into an uber. I get in, still speechless and head spinning. Is my head spinning because of the countless martinis I guzzled or because of him? I don’t know, and I can’t figure it out.

Amelia and I make it back to my apartment as we immediately kick off our shoes and crack open a bottle of shit wine and immediately I feel comfortable, i’m in my own space, drinking my favourite cheap wine with my best friend. Not surrounded by people I don’t know In some huge fucking mansion.

Amelia sits on the other end of the couch, legs intertwined with mine as she sips on the wine and gives me an expectant look, waiting for me to fill her in on tonight’s details.

“So… I went outside for a smoke and Captain Guy followed and sat down next to me. He asked if I was enjoying myself and I said no and went on a big rant, talking about how the only people that enjoy parties like that are rich arseholes and blah blah blah…”

I conveniently leave out the part at the end where he gave me his jacket and called me ‘soft and beautiful’. Which reminds me, I still have his jacket. I make a mental note to give it Johnny so he can give it back to him at some point.

Amelia’s eyes widen and she laughs.

“No way! Is that why he started talking about ‘rich arseholes’ in his speech?”

I nod, my face contorted into shame and embarrassment. Of course, Amelia thinks this is hilarious and nearly chokes on her wine.

“I felt like such a prat. It was the poor man’s birthday and here I am, basically calling him a rich arsehole…”

Amelia’s laughter dies down and she gives me a sympathetic look and a pat on the thigh.

“Girl, don’t even worry. He thought it was funny. Seemed interested in you. Even asked what your name was.”

My eyes instantly widen at the prospect of a man like Price being interested in a woman like me. I’m not exactly everyones cup of tea, i’m a big girl, rough around the edges, basically a hot mess on a good day.

“He what?!”

Amelia sports a shit-eating grin and nods, like she’s satisfied with herself.

“I swear. He came back inside and started asking about you.”

My face blushes like a fucking idiot and I have to bury my face in my hands. Since when did I become the type to get flustered and giddy over a man? Especially a man i’ve met once, and once only. But damn, what a man he is. That voice, broad shoulders, strong arms, thick thighs, strong hips…

The topic of conversation changes away from Price to Johnny and part of me feels grateful, though his words are still bouncing around my head like the DVD symbol on a TV.

“Not often I find a soft, beautiful thing like you with such fire in her.”

They bounce around in my head for the rest of the night, from when Amelia and I tuck into a greasy kebab, to when we settle into bed a good two hours later… The words are echoing around in my skull when my phone buzzes on my nightstand. I’m instantly ripped from my fantasies about the nice man with the wide shoulders when my brain reminds me the notification is probably from my shit-bag of an ex-boyfriend. I roll my eyes and breathe deeply before grabbing my phone, mentally preparing to read more false apologies when i’m completely stopped in my tracks.

Unknown: Nice seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

JP. The P is for Price, that much is obvious. But J? I begin to wonder about what his first name is… Jack? Jacob? James?

My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I rack my brain to come up with some sort of coherent response. I don’t even question how he got my number, i’m too busy focusing on the fact that he even texted me to begin with, and is calling me ‘Dove’. My stomach swirls. What do I say?

I put my phone down and decide i’ll reply in the morning when the alcohol is out of my system and i’ve had enough time to formulate a response that doesn’t make me sound like an absolute idiot. Until then, his words and text bounce against the corners of my skull, well into the hours of the morning.

[readychilledwine]

Are you still doing the angst prompts? If so 19 with Rhys🥰

I am! Sometimes tugging at the heart is fun 😅

Rhys x reader from the Romance Angst prompt list by @urfriendlywriter

Prompt 19 - "that is not what I meant and you know it! You know I didn't mean that!"

You blinked at your mate and husband slowly. Giving him another chance to rethink what he just said, but he doubled down. "I just think since this meeting will involve attacks on Feyre and I, it would be best to have her next to me-"

"Instead of your wife and mate?" You crossed your arms. "Why don't we just let her take my place in our bed, too. You seem rather keen on that lately as well."

Rhysand's expression fell completely. "Y/n, darling-"

You shook your head. "You spend all your time with her. You forgot our anniversary because you were with her. You know what, fuck it. You want her at your side so fucking badly? Why don't I just leave?"

"Are you being serious right now? You seriously think I want her just because I feel it's best to have her sitting next to me at the High Lord's meeting?"

"You want her in my place! You want her in your High Lady's place. She stands next to you in Hewn City, she eats at my spot at the table. She trains with you."

Rhysand slammed his hands on the table, losing his composure completely. "Maybe it's because she does not treat me like I'm supposed to be some animal on a leash!"

Your tongue clicked as you nodded. "Is that how you really feel? Tell me how I have mistreated you. Give me examples."

"I did not mean that, darling." His normally purr filled voice fell into insecurity. "I swear I didn't mean it."

"No," you stood. "I am done with this conversation. Enjoy your meeting with the female who treats you better than I evidently do." You began to walk out of the room, opening the heavy door.

Your footsteps were quick and precise as you moved past a confused Cassian and silent Azriel. "Y/n, we are not done discussing this! Get back here!"

Rhysand's footsteps were rapid slaps against the wooden floor as he chased after you. "Not now," he held his hand up to Azriel. "Y/n Darling! Stop!" You continued to move, entering your shared bedroom chambers and beginning to pack a bag. "What are you doing? Where do you think you are going?"

"Home," you said plainly. Your voice was being to border an edge of tears, shattering with each syllable you said. "I'm going home."

Rhysand halted at the realization of what you meant. "I never meant I wanted her. I never meant she treats me better than you do. That was not what I meant, and you know it. You know I didn't mean that. Please, darling, sit down so we can talk. Going back to Spring this late into the night is not safe."

You wiped tears from your eyes, standing up straight. "Do you love her?"

"No," the answer was firm. "Y/n, no. You are my wife. My mate. My moon and stars." Gentle hands gripped your upper arms. "I have loved you and only you for centuries now, and I will love you and only you until we are nothing more than the stardust we came from." He turned you gently. "No female could ever take your place. I am so sorry I made you feel as if someone could."

You nodded as he pulled you into him. "I'm sorry too. I havent-"

"Stop, darling. You have not done anything wrong." He held you close. "You will sit by my side tomorrow and from here on out. I am sorry I did not consider your feelings, my darling." He tilted your face up to his, "I will never make that mistake again."

"Promise?"

He nodded, "I promise," and sealed it with a kiss.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lifeline

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.

warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment

a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️

I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.

w/c: ~4k

Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face. 

At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same. 

Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition. 

The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills. 

It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile. 

More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further. 

This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late. 

“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff. 

Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things. 

“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone. 

“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment. 

With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear. 

Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago. 

The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started. 

As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it. 

Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water. 

Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you. 

“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control. 

You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?” 

Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.” 

“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration. 

“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years. 

Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.” 

Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.” 

Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.” 

“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 

“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words. 

Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“

Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.” 

“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“

“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury. 

Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh. 

“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order. 

“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you. 

“Go.”

You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft. 

Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle. 

Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for. 

It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience. 

You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now. 

After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place. 

If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry. 

In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises. 

In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory. 

This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days. 

See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend. 

Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life. 

While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth. 

Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose. 

He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave. 

This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice. 

This time was no different. 

Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone. 

Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours. 

“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food. 

After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”

“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”

Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door. 

Here goes nothing. 

You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door. 

“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer. 

Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least. 

As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking. 

Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed. 

As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up. 

Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”

“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer. 

“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission. 

“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened. 

“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?” 

Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.” 

Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now. 

“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod. 

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin. 

“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?” 

Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.” 

Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?” 

Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?” 

Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form. 

“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted. 

“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.” 

“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“ 

“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.” 

“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.” 

Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone. 

Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.” 

“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered. 

“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“

“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him. 

“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“

“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”

A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried. 

“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.” 

Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”

“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?” 

“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears. 

“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills. 

He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself. 

Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck. 

“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?” 

“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.” 

“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out. 

He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.

[noodyl-blasstal]

18 and 50 🥰💕💕💕🍰🎂🧁🚨

Six months seems like a perfectly reasonable response time... right? RIGHT?

The prompts were: 18 & 50 We both showed up alone to the couples cake decorating class, so obviously-... and Fighting? No, no, we're having a great time arguing about this.

Enjoy below or on Ao3

---

Kravitz hates his colleagues, Kravitz hates them so hard and double and backwards. The power of his hatred is turned up to eleven. He’s going to switch the office coffee to decaf, he’s going to move everything round in the fridge, he’s going to take all the good name brand parcel tape and replace it with the shit stuff that sticks to you more than whatever you’re trying to wrap up. But he’s not. Not really. He’s going to walk into the couples cake decorating class which they didn’t mention he needed a plus one for, and he’s going to have a ‘marvellous’ time. Just like Lydia said he should when she waved him away earlier. But this time, this time he’s not going to believe them when they say they ‘forgot’ or ‘misread the ticket’, because Kravitz is not gullible. Maybe that really did happen the first four times, but five is suspicious. Five stinks of deception. Five are on Craggy Island and they know someone’s been fucking things up for them on purpose.

“Hello!” Says the wall of a man at the door in a worryingly joyful tone. It looks like he’s working hard not to grab Kravitz in a hug. Kravitz appreciates the effort. He does not like to be touched. Lydia says it’s because he needs to work on his social skills. Kravitz thinks that it’s probably because she and Edward need to learn about boundaries. “What’s your name? I’m Magnus!”

Kravitz hands over his ticket with a tight smile.

“Ah, yes, I have you on the list, a last minute addition! Welcome Cravat.”

“It’s Kravitz.” Says Kravitz, trying not to be terse, and failing hideously. They know exactly how much he hates it when people call him that. Namely them, because no one else does. But this isn’t Magnus’ fault, he seems very nice and very excited about event administration, and not responsible for the terrible people Kravitz needs to not work with anymore.

Magnus’s face falls. “Oh… they spelled it twice on the phone…” He gives Kravitz a searching look. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure what my own name  is?”

“I’m not judging you, sometimes people forget things. I don’t mind.” Magnus shoots him a disarmingly encouraging smile and the fighting winds leave his sails.

“I’m sure that my name is Kravitz.” Says Kravitz in the most measured tone he can muster. Maybe if he explains… he can just practise telling someone how awful they are. He’ll never ever have to see Magnus again. “My colleagues are complete… they’re not very… they like to… it’s a joke.” He finishes lamely. It’s fine. He can practise the conversation in the shower and then write a little script before he tells anyone else.

“Okay then…” Magnus pauses, shape of the “C” in his mouth. Kravitz’s lips draw into a thin line. “...Kravitz. Welcome to cake club! Tonight we’re decorating with the very best boys. Is your partner here yet?”

Kravitz’s mouth gets even tighter. “It’ll just be me.”

“At the couples decorating class?” Magnus asks like Kravitz is being ridiculous.

“Yes at the couples decorating class.” Kravitz smiles his very best customer service smile and hopes for the best.

“Okay.” Magnus says slowly. “Yeah, we can work with that.” Magnus gives him a once over. “The suit will definitely help.”

Kravitz has a distinct feeling that he’s being appraised against a firm set of criteria.

“Yeah. You’ll be fine. Come on. Julia will be starting soon and you’re the last one here.” Magnus shoos him through the door.

Kravitz is 30 minutes early. There’s no way he can be the last one here! He’s never late! He…’s going to switch out Edward’s sticky tack for the one that feels all weird and over stretchy. Surely it’s bad enough for him to show up without a person and incorrectly named, he doesn’t need lateness to complete the trifecta. They’re twins, they should only be allowed to do two bad things in one go, that’s only fair.

“Here you go.” Magnus points to a station with a large, intimidating array of tools which put him in mind of a surgery table, a stack of colourful bags thankfully pre-loaded with icing, and two aprons covered in hearts set next to each other.

“I’ll just…” Magnus leans past him to grab one of them and laboriously inch it away as if Kravitz won’t see as long as the movements are slow.

“You too, huh?” Asks the man on the adjoining station. He’s alone too. Although he appears to be wearing both aprons, one on the front and one on the back.

“Yep.” Kravitz tries not to make eye contact. He doesn’t need pity.

“On purpose?” The man asks.

“No.” Maybe if he keeps his answers short the man will realise this conversation isn’t going to happen.

“I did.” Kravitz sees the man shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Societal expectations can suck it, couples decorating class? Taako’s a baller chef, just wait, you’re going to be amazed by how many arms I have.”

“Is it more than two?” Kravitz turns to look, immediately forgetting his previous strategy.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” The man winks dramatically.

He’s handsome, very handsome. Dirty blonde hair in a plait down his back, a light scrub of stubble across his jaw, and so many jangly earrings and necklaces that Kravitz can’t help but stare.

“Ah fantastic idea!” The woman at the front of the class, Julia, Kravitz assumes, beams as Magnus points at the two of them. “As you two are already getting to know each other, why don’t you work together?” She smiles like she’s doing them a favour.

Everyone turns to look.

Kravitz doesn’t want to be perceived right now, not for this reason. He doesn’t need everyone to look at him and know he’s here alone and needs to be paired up with someone while all these couples came together on purpose. His face grows hot and his mouth clamps closed and his fingers definitely aren’t working and he doesn’t want to check in with his legs about it.

There’s a horrible screeching noise.

“Taako!” Julia winces. “Could you…”

The rest of her sentence is drowned out by another horrible screech as he laboriously moves his stool.

“Just following instructions.” The man who must be called Taako? (Surely not?) calls cheerfully as he settles down next to Kravitz

“Right. Well, now that you’re done…” 

The stool screeches again. 

“Taako!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look even a little bit sorry.

Kravitz stifles a laugh. As much as he appreciates the interruption he doesn’t want to get tarred with the same brush. He refuses to get detention. Can you get cooking class detention? That would probably be a good thing, he needs all the help he can get… so maybe they’d ask him to leave early instead? Either way, he doesn’t want to do anything wrong enough to find out.

“If you’re done?” Julia levels a frankly terrifying stare their way and the stool screecher sits up straight and attentive.

“Hello everyone! I’m Julia Burnsides, and this is my lovely assistant Magnus Burnsides.”

Magnus waves happily at them all then delivers a positively goopy smile to Julia. She returns it. They’re disgusting. Kravitz hates them. (Kravitz envies them deeply.)

“Tonight we’re going to turn this…” Julia holds up a scandalously nude cupcake. 

“Into this!” Magnus shouts, enthusiastic and  loud enough to make Kravitz jump slightly in his seat. 

Taako doesn’t disguise his laugh.

Kravitz would glare at him, but he’s been reliably informed it’s not polite, so he settles for shushing Taako and making sure he’s exuding ‘Paying Attention In Class Like It’s His Job’ energy. In fact, it is his job, it’s both of their jobs, because they entered into the education contract by signing up for the class even if it was under false pretences and someone else signed up on his behalf as a joke.

A sharp elbow digs him in the ribs. “What do you think the cake’s supposed to be?” The man is, at least, keeping his voice down slightly, no one turns round to tell them off.

Kravitz doesn’t turn round. He’s being a good student. Also, he has absolutely no idea what the thing Magnus is proudly brandishing at them is. Maybe a tractor?

“This is a dog that Magnus made.” Julia adds helpfully. Kravitz has to assume the bemusement which is likely apparent on his face is also mirrored across the other attendees.

“Here’s another version.” She holds up a much more dog-like dog. “We’re going to take you through step by step.” Julia smiles so reassuringly that Kravitz is almost convinced he’s going to be able to make his very own dog tractor.

“First off, you’ll need to come to the front in turn and get your cupcakes. If we could have this table first?” Julia points at the front left bench, as far from them as they can possibly get. Are they being punished? Are there going to be worse cakes for them because they broke the rules and came alone?

“Don’t worry.” The man says conspiratorially and slides a tupperware onto the table. “I brought my own.”

“What?” Kravitz isn’t sure that’s legal. Can he go down for this? Existing in the presence of contraband cake might summon the bakery police.

“They’ll just have vanilla. These are salted caramel, mocha, strawberry - with the proper stuff, you know, Taako doesn’t fuck with extract only nonsense - and vanilla but it has beans so you can’t say that it’s the same as the ones here.” He cracks the lid as he talks and glorious cakey smells waft out.

“Are we allowed?” Kravitz asks quiet and serious. Maybe there’s a rule he doesn’t know about. Maybe Lydia and Edward forgot to mention it was BYOC… that seems about right honestly.

“Doesn’t matter, does it, kemosabe, because we’ve done it already.” The man shrugs as if he’s not worried about getting a bad mark in cake.

“Ah.” Kravitz says, not entirely ready to make himself an accomplice.

“Here, try one. What’s your poison? You seem like a guy who caffeinates.” The man holds a chocolatey, coffee-y treat his way. “Go on, it’ll blow your mind, Taako guarantees it.”

Kravitz really wants the cake. It smells amazing and his lunch disappeared from the fridge yet again so all he’s had to eat was the sad, crumbly granola bar he found at the back of his desk drawer…

The man, who does in fact seem to be called Taako starts to withdraw his hand. “Well, if you don’t want it then I guess.”

“Wait!” Kravitz grabs it quickly. It’s not polite, but he’s not risking missing out. “You’re sure you have enough?”

“Cha’boy brought plenty. Taako can’t believe you’d doubt him like this. We’ve been together for 16 years, happily married for 15 years and fifty one weeks of that time, and still you don’t trust me.”

“We had a bad week?” Kravitz breaks off a piece of the cake.

Taako looks offended. “No!” 

“But you said…”

“We got married a week after we met.” Taako says firmly. “Now eat your cake, snugglepuss.”

Kravitz winces. “Snugglepuss?” 

“That’s what you’ve got the issue with? Not our timeline?” 

“Well we were just so in love.” Kravitz refuses to be beaten in imagination table tennis. “How could I do anything but ask you to marry me after that glorious week of cross country skiing? I bought the ring on our lunch break on day two.”

“Cross country skiing?” Taako cocks an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling. Not in the mean way either, the way when sometimes you think you’re playing the same game, but you’re very much not and they’re just gathering data to inform exactly how much they’re going to ostracise you (it’s lots, it’s always lots.)

“I loved the way your thigh muscles strained when you tried to get out of the hole.” Kravitz tries very hard not to think about Taako in a skin tight ski suit. He’s never been skiing, but his brain is doing a great job of thinking up some things he definitely shouldn’t be paying attention to.

He shoves the cake in his mouth to distract himself.

It’s incredible.

He doesn’t know the technical terms, but it’s got all the cake things, the taste and the texture and the… crumb. That’s definitely a cake thing.

“These are magic.” Kravitz tries to force himself to chew his next bite slower and actually savour it. 

He fails. 

Taako’s looks at him again, he really looks at him, drags his eyes slowly down to Kravitz’s toes and back up again, then grins.

“I’m Kravitz.” Kravitz says, because he can’t think of anything better and it seems polite. 

“You sure are, kemosabe.” Taako winks an exaggerated overblown wink. “Cha’boy’s Taako, but you figured that out for yourself.”

Kravitz shouldn’t feel proud, but he does.

“Now that everyone has their cake we need you all to find the nozzle which will make the kind of hair you want your dog to have.” Julia holds up one of the nozzles which is full of holes. “For example, this one could be a pomeranian running.” 

Kravitz writes a question mark in his pocket notebook after ‘pomeranian running’. It’s a tiny rebellion but Taako snorts gently next to him and it feels good. Well, mostly. Kravitz hopes Taako’s laughing at the concept and not him.

Taako picks up a nozzle.

“I’d like you to all pick up your nozzle and try piping with the practice bag, use the greaseproof paper to get the motion. You’ll be looking for something like this.” She pipes a perfectly windswept dab of buttercream fur onto her parchment.

Taako’s not piping onto the parchment. 

Taako’s piping directly onto the cake.

“Taako!” Kravitz whispershouts like his life depends on it, because it does. Julia looks strong.

Taako doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Taako, that’s not the parchment.” Kravitz, helpfully, nudges it towards him. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. Maybe they won’t go down for willful buttercrime, they’ll get a reduced sentence because it was an accident.

“Rules guy, are we?” Taako’s still piping.

Kravitz is, in fact, a rules guy. Why would they exist if they weren’t important?

Taako stops piping.

“Taako!” Kravitz doesn’t shout, but he wants to.

“That’s cha’boy’s handle.”

“That’s a fish.”

Taako looks offended. “It’s a horse.”

Kravitz does the weird snorty laugh he usually saves for home.

“Honse.” Taako points at the cake. “Look at his beautiful flowing mane.”

“That’s a fin.”

“Horse fin.”

“Horses don’t have fins.”

“Fish don’t have manes.” Taako says like he’s winning at something.

He’s not.

“If he’s a horse then where are his teeth?”

“Oh, Taako sees your game, you think horses have to be happy all the time, do you? Got to pander to your human whims and do a nice big horsey smile so you can appreciate what a nice horse life they have? What if his wife just left him? What then, my guy? Does he still have to smile for you?”

“He clearly left his horse wife.” Kravitz shrugs nonchalantly.

“Why?” Taako leans in, desperate for the gossip.

“Because he was a fish, and she was a horse, can I make it any more obvious?”

“She had a trunk, and he didn’t neigh.”

“What more can I say?” Kravitz mutters quickly before tackling the bigger question, because he’s a gentleman. “Horses don’t have trunks. I’m deeply concerned about your equine knowledge.”

“Maybe you’re the one that isn’t as much of a horse specialist as you thought, hmmm? Ever think about that? Maybe, just maybe, you’re not Dr Horse; King of Horses.”

Kravitz tries very hard not to be offended, but it’s not nice to be doubted. “I’ve got three PhDs in horse, actually, it’s Dr Dr Dr Horse, King of Horses to you.”  

Taako picks up the piping bag again. “Well what if…” He pipes a glorious un-horselike appendage.”

“That’s a…?”

Taako squidges the bag again.

“Horn.” Taako says with confidence.

“Two horns.”

“Yep.” Taako looks pleased with himself. “Horse!” 

“And you think that they have…”

“Garyl does.” Taako says firmly. “Are you going to tell him to his beautiful horse face that he isn’t one?”

“No.” Kravitz says, because he’s not. Mostly because there’s no chance he’s telling Taako to his very handsome face that he’s very bad at cake art. Or that the Longhorn Cowfish exists.

“What’s that?” Taako’s wielding the bag again.

“Tentacle.” Taako’s tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates and it makes Kravitz’s chest ache with longing for… something. The last of the evening sun is streaming through the window, Taako’s glowy and glorious and Kravitz longs to take a photo just so he can keep the moment in his pocket. It feels good, it feels like they’re on the same side, it’s them against the cake establishment. It’s been a long time since he felt like he had an ally.

“It’s a horse tentacle?” Kravitz asks, just in case there’s a chance Taako is pivoting to something more sea themed.

“Horse tentacle.” He confirms.

“Taako, horses don’t have…” Kravitz thinks he should probably be exasperated, worried that whether it’s a horse or a fish, or an octopus, it’s definitely not right. Not that he’s an expert in animal maths, but horse + fish probably doesn’t equal dog, even if you squint.

“Then why does this one?” Taako’s raw confidence is terrible and wonderful to behold. Maybe Kravitz can learn from him. Is this how he defeats Lydia and Edward? Can he ask Taako if they can meet up again so he can learn? ‘If I buy you a drink or three can you teach me your raw charisma to help me deal with my shit colleagues please?’ surely can’t fail…

“Is everything okay here?” Julia stands in front of their counter, brow furrowed like she’s worried. To be fair, they definitely haven’t got anything that looks like fur happening.

“Yep.” Taako smiles up at her like he isn’t busy creating an abomination of both buttercream and nature.

“And you’re okay…” She takes a moment to remember his name. “Kravitz?”

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine.” Kravitz lies, because Garyl needs a vet, or three, a whole team of specialists.

“It didn’t seem fine when you were fighting.” Julia looks pointedly at Taako.

“We’re not fighting!” Taako’s indignant, offended at the accusation. “We were just discussing taxonomy.”

Julia turns to Kravitz. “If you need us to find you a different station?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Oh, oh no, Kravitz straightens in shock. He isn’t this person. He’s good at classes, he’s good at teacher interaction, he has never ever ever had a bad grade and he doesn’t plan to start now.

“What? No.” Kravitz is very used to the perplexed expression that Julia is wearing. People direct it at him a lot. He wishes he wasn’t so familiar.

“She thinks I’m bothering you, handsome.”

“You’re not bothering me!” Kravitz replies before he processes the second part of the sentence. Taako thinks he’s handsome! He said it so he must mean it.

“Well you’re not bothering me. In fact I think you should not bother me after class and take Taako out for a drink. Cha’boy has some theories about how giraffes look that’re going to blow your mind.”

Kravitz resolutely doesn’t think about how there is another thing he would let Taako blow. “Yes… Yes absolutely,  I’d like that a lot Taako.”

“Gross.” Julia says happily. “Glad we could necessitate…” She pauses and waves her hand between them “... whatever this is with your fucked up fish cake.”

“It’s a horse!” They say indignant, unjustified, and perfectly synchronised.

[chinesefirethorn]

THE KAGES AND THEIR GREEN BEASTS

But a modern day AU take with the whole family and the ninken! Ningame is chilling at home, thank you very much. :) This thing took much longer to sketch and color than I anticipated. Hahhhh hahahaha.

Headcanons and easter eggs after the cut

RasaDai: Is it crack? Yes. Is it impossible? Yes, yes, they’re both dead. Do I still ship them? HELL YES. My old old man yaoi (crack) rarepair. Rasa inherits the nearly bankrupt firm from his deceased bastard of a father, and had to devote his whole life to work. He loses Karura after she gives birth to Gaara, and now he’s a single dad whose grown up kids hate his guts. Can this old man still find love with an older DILF? Except he’s definitely not going to wear that green tracksuit. (also that’s Suna designer wear on Rasa and Pakkun’s carrier)

KakaGai: These boys. These men. Husbands, rivals, friends, eternal loves. Kakashi with his jorts and baby pink crocs 😂 (thanks @urieskooki for the color pick) with ANBU gibbets. Gai with Daytime Tiger-inspired shoes! I love having Bisuke perching on Gai and adopting his sparkles ✨. Kakashi giving Gai the ‘I’m pinning you down later’ look. Also, if you really want to know what Kakashi’s reading, check the tags. ;)

GaaLee: My loves, my babies 🥰 Okay I gave Gaara his Shippuden pants bands and his shoes are gourd inspired. He’s excited to finally get to hold a puppy and promptly carries the meanest-looking one (Urushi, surprised, gives a tentative tail wag). In the meantime, Lee has their snacks and drinks ready ❤️ The man is smitten with Gaara. He is composing love songs for him as we speak. He’s also rocking dragon-print kicks (I used my own dragon design from the CNY card).

The Ninken: Ok some headcanons. All the dogs were adopted by Kakashi, except for Pakkun who was his dad’s pet before he died. Pakkun prefers to ride in his carrier than to walk in his older years. Akino, being partially blind, sticks close to his emotional support dog (Pakkun). Shiba is giving puppy eyes to Rasa in case he can get pets. Guruko being a naughty baby running between people’s legs. Bull is just chilling with his new collar—Kakashi replaced the spikes with pompoms for comfort. Uhei likes Lee best and stays close to him.

This image wouldn’t have been completed without encouragement and feedback from @egregiousderp @bayheart @urieskooki Glugchat and the good people who enable me at the KakaGai discord. Mwah love you all.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

✨️ smutty/soft rachel but with the continuation of the lipstick stain drabble you wrote with more marking kink :)

I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it so much that you wanted a part two 🥰 the original fic can be found here in case anyone wants to check it out

Marked Up (Rachel Green x gn reader)

Warnings: not overt smut but there's definitely suggestive elements/implied smut, marking kink (the reader is marked by Rachel with both lipstick and hickeys), I made Rachel to be a little bit possessive here hehe

"You know, you leaving unnecessary lipstick stains on my clothing is what caused us to be caught in the first place," you pointed out with a look of amusement as Rachel peppered your neck with kisses, causing both your skin and the collar of your shirt to be covered with marks from her lipstick.

"Well, it's not my fault that you happen to be so irresistible," she quipped back playfully, her arms wrapped around your neck as she sat in your lap on the couch of your apartment. "Besides, your outfit could do with a bit of color anyway."

Her obviously teasing words caused a smirk to tug at the corners of your lips. "Oh, is that so?"

"Honey, no offense, but your outfits are a little drab," she continued while her eyes flickered up and down at your outfit for the day.

A snort of laughter escaped from you in response. Most people might be offended if their girlfriend said that to them, but you knew she only meant it in good fun. Besides, she was well known to be an expert on all things fashion, so you trusted her judgement on the matter.

"Well, maybe one of these days I'll have to let you dress me," you suggested while moving your hands to rest on top of her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"While I do appreciate the offer, I think I prefer undressing you instead," she replied in a suggestive tone, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she unwrapped her arms from around your neck, her hands moving down to start unbuttoning your top just enough to expose your neck a bit more.

"Hm, why does that not surprise me?" you muttered, giving her a playful eye roll before leaning in to capture her lips in an affectionate embrace. Her hands stopped their movements on your shirt, moving up to cup your face as she leaned in further, deepening the kiss.

Your lips moved against each other in a way that was both tender and loving, the kiss lasting until you realized you were starting to run out of air and needed to take a break. While you were trying to catch your breath, she dipped her head down to the crook of your neck, starting to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there in an effort of showing others who you belonged to: her.

"I think Ross might throw a fit if he sees that you left hickeys behind," you commented, tilting your head to the side regardless so she'd have better access to the area. "You know he nearly passed out just from the lipstick stain alone, this would probably kill him."

She let out a scoff in annoyance, and although you couldn't see her face properly you were quite certain she was rolling her eyes. "Well, you know what? He's just going to have to throw a fit, then, because I don't rightly care. Ross isn't my problem anymore."

You practically beamed with pride upon hearing that. Rachel wasn't always the best at being assertive or setting firm boundaries, so it warmed your heart to hear that coming from her. "Baby, you saying that just made my entire day," you said before letting out a low groan when she began to move her mouth from your neck down to your collarbone, fully planning on marking up as much bare skin as possible.

"I bet I can make your day even better," she purred while maneuvering you so that you were laying back on the couch with her on top of you, your hands having moved from her waist down to her hips by this point as she went right on back to marking you up.

Safe to say your neck was covered with both hickeys and lipstick marks by the time she was done, though you didn't let her get away without leaving behind a few marks of your own. There was no way of hiding them, and that was entirely the point.

When Ross complained about the visible hickeys left behind on your neck the next day, she retaliated by purposely wearing a low-cut top that showed off your handiwork so he could see you weren't the only one who got all marked up by the other. That certainly did the trick at getting him to shut up, and even earned you a low whistle of approval from Phoebe at "marking your territory", or whatever it was that she said.

From then on, if there was ever any question of who you belonged to, all Rachel had to do was pull out that signature tube of lipstick and apply some before kissing you somewhere that wasn't very discreet, a not-so-subtle way of her telling others you were happily taken and they needed to back off.

End notes: I'm not sure if this is any good or not but I hope it was okay <3

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Friends masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics

[lyranova]

Omg so proud of you, you deserve the milestone🎉🎊

If it's alright, could I please request for a nozel x reader with a fairy tale au? Maybe Cinderella?

Hiya anon! Thank you so much, and ofc it’s alright to request a Nozel x Reader. I hope you enjoy 🥰!

Word Count: 1,223

Warnings: None

————

“ Would you care to dance?”

How did this happen, you wondered as you stared at prince Nozel Silva. You had just wanted to come to the ball to see if it was truly amazing as everyone claimed, but your evil step-sisters decided to ruin your plan by destroying your outfit. You had been so upset and hurt that you had all but given up on your dream.

But then, a fairy godmother appeared. She told you she would help you achieve your dream of going to the ball as long as you returned home by midnight.

You had never agreed to something so fast!

After you had arrived at the castle, you did your best to stay in the shadows; just so that your step-sisters wouldn’t see you. But as you walked around you silently admired peoples gowns and suits, thinking about how lovely they were and how expensive they must’ve been, when suddenly you bumped right into someone.

“ Oh, I’m sorry!” You apologized quickly as you took a step back; but as your eyes traveled up you almost had a heart attack.

You had accidentally run into Prince Nozel Silva!

“ I asked if you would like to dance?” He repeated, his tone clearly annoyed. You blinked for a moment as you stared up at him.

“ Me?”

“ Yes, you. Do you see anyone else standing here?” He asked with a raised brow, his tone growing more annoyed by the moment.

“ No,” You replied softly, a nervous laugh escaping you. “ But, why’re you asking me?”

“ Simple; you’re the only person in this entire ballroom who hasn’t asked me to dance.” He explained simply, and you tilted your head.

Really? That was the reason?

As you gazed at his hand you could feel your heart pound in your chest, was this really a good idea? Dancing with the prince in front of everyone, including your step-sisters?

As you contemplated your choices, the prince sighed, grabbed your hand, and led you out to the ballroom.

“ H-Hey!” You exclaimed in surprise. His grip was firm, yet also gentle; you could easily pull your hand out of it and walk away, but you didn’t. It was as though you didn’t want to let go…

You frowned, why did you feel that way with a complete stranger?

As you both stood in the center of the dance floor you could feel everyone’s gazes upon you. Some stared at you in curiosity, some in confusion, and some in anger and jealousy.

“ Ignore them,” Nozel instructed as he pulled you close, holding your left hand in his right, and resting his left hand against your waist. “ They’re just jealous.”

“ Clearly.” You muttered with a narrow gaze, making him chuckle softly.

Oh how that chuckle made your heart skip a beat.

As the music started, as did you two. You and Nozel danced and spun around silently for a few moments, before he suddenly asked you a very odd question.

“ Are you a foreign noble or royal?” He asked, his tone low but curious. “ I’ve never seen you before.”

You hummed in thought.

“ Maybe, or maybe I’m just a quiet noble that lives in Clover’s countryside.” You replied, and he shook his head.

“ I know all of the nobles in Clover, including the ones that live in the countryside,” Nozel told her as his eyes narrowed. “ So if you were one of them I would clearly recognize you.”

“ Why? Because of my dazzling good looks and charms?” You asked jokingly, but that only made his eyes narrow more.

“ Because you’re odd.” He replied bluntly, making you feel like someone had just shot an arrow through your heart.

You…were odd? You frowned, was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?

“ At first I thought you were an assassin sent here to kill me; with the way you were sneaking around in the shadows and all,” He began as he twirled you around. “ But after watching you for a while I could easily tell that you weren’t.”

“ You’ve been watching me?” You asked. “ So you’re a stalker?”

Nozel’s cheeks turned a light pink as he stared at you in disbelief.

“ Absolutely not!” He began, his voice low but full of shock. “ I was merely watching you because you were acting suspicious!”

You chuckled.

“ I was kidding, geez, do you always take things so seriously?” You questioned curiously, and his face grew even more red.

Nozel quickly cleared his throat.

“ Anyway, since you aren’t here to kill me then tell me; why were you hiding in the shadows and acting suspicious?”

You averted your gaze, your mind going back and forth on whether you should tell him the real reason you were hiding.

“ Personal reasons…” You explained softly, and you watched as his eyes turned curious.

“ ‘Personal reasons’…” He repeated softly. “ Let me guess; siblings?”

You blinked at him in surprise.

“ How did you-?”

“ Just a guess.” Nozel responded softly.

“ I take it you have problem siblings too?” You couldn’t help but ask curiously, and you saw a ghost of a smile appear on his lips before it disappeared.

“ You could say that,” He told you before tilting his head. “ Although my youngest sister is far from a problem, even though our relationship is a bit strained.”

You nodded slowly, completely understanding how it felt to have a strained relationship with siblings.

“ So, the reason you were trying to hide was so you could avoid your siblings?” He asked, and you nodded.

“ Why?”

“ Because…if they found out I was here they would get angry.” You admitted softly, your brows furrowing as you tried to understand why you were telling the prince these things.

He was a stranger, this wasn’t any of his business or concern, so why on earth were you telling him about your step-sisters?

“ Why would they be angry?” He asked in confusion, his brows furrowing. You laughed humorlessly and shook your head.

“ I don’t really know,” You admitted as your gaze drifted down to the floor. “ I guess…because they fear that I might take attention away from them.”

Nozel hummed in response as he slowly nodded his head.

“ Well, I can see why they would be afraid of that,” He began, his eyes staring at you. “ Because so far tonight, you have stolen everyone's attention, including mine.”

A soft gasp escaped you as you suddenly looked up at the prince. You…had stolen his attention?

“ If you have nowhere to be tonight, may I ask that we talk somewhere a bit more privately? Perhaps on the balcony? I would like to get to know you a bit more.” He asked, his face turning a bit pink and his gaze shifting away in shyness.

You felt your cheeks burn as well; he wanted to get to know more? For some odd reason…your heart fluttered.

“ I-.” You began before a loud bell began to chime, and as you turned to look at it your eyes widened.

It was midnight!

“ I’m sorry, but I have to go!” You apologized quickly as you let go of his hand and moved away from him.

“ Wait-!” Nozel called after you, but you had already disappeared into the crowd.

When he went to follow you he accidently kicked something with his foot; frowning, he slowly looked down to see what the item was.

It was a glass shoe…

————

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[tikosblogg]

Come Undone

Summary: Best Friend Noah🥰

Warning: Fist fight, cussing, unprotected piv (plz don’t do that), mention of drug use.

A/N: Yall I have had writers block so bad…I’m so sorry if this is garbage. I really tired 😭💜

I stood by the bonfire, my heart pounding in time with the crackling flames. The glow illuminated the faces of my friends—Noah, Nicholas, Folio, and Jolly—each one lost in the bliss of the moment. I couldn’t help but steal glances at Noah.

He was tall, lean, adorned with tattoos that coiled like vines up his neck and across his arms. In the dim light, he seemed to radiate strength. Noah. My best friend, my secret crush, oblivious to the feelings that swirled within me. I ignored them, pushed them down for so long…but it’s useless.

Folio and Jolly were perched on the tailgate of Folio's truck, while Noah and Nicholas loomed nearby, their laughter blending with the music drifting from speakers hidden in the crowd. With every chuckle, my heart fluttered. I wanted to tell Noah how I felt, to lay bare the secrets of my heart. Yet, every time I opened my mouth to speak, the words shriveled into silence. What if I ruined our friendship? What if he didn’t feel the same?

As I shook off my doubts, that’s when she arrived. Jordan. The name sent icy tendrils down my spine, conjuring memories of high school torment. There she was—strutting towards us like she owned the night, her shimmering hair catching the glow of the fire. She was the embodiment of the girl who made my life a living hell, and tonight she had chosen to swoop into my world once more.

"Hey, Noah!" she smiled, leaning against the side of Folio's truck with a flirtatious smile, as she playfully tugged at the hem of his hoodie, that instantly soured my stomach. "What’s a guy like you doing with a bunch of misfits?"

Laughter erupted in the group, but all I could focus on was the heat creeping up my neck. I could pretend I didn’t feel the flames of jealousy licking at my insides; I could act like I wasn’t feeling small and insignificant next to the Amazonian figure of Jordan. My fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides, desperate for release.

Noah chuckled awkwardly, side-eyeing me for a moment. "Just enjoying a bonfire. Nice to see you, Jordan." He nodded, taking a step back from her.

She leaned closer, her voice dripping with malice. "You could have a lot more fun with me" Then she turned her gaze to me, a wicked smile blooming on her lips. "What’s Roxy doing hanging out with all the boys? Shouldn't she be off somewhere shooting up with her mommy?”

Everyone was silent. Eyes widened in shock. The reaction was instantaneous, the alcohol coursing through my veins igniting a fire of courage I didn’t know I had. The scars from high school throbbed, and before I even registered what I was doing, I was stepping forward. “Say it again,” I demanded, my voice steady in its resolve. A quiet “oh shit” coming from somewhere behind me.

Jordan laughed, a sound that was anything but genuine. “What? You didn’t hear me?” She gave a fake pout, which only infuriated me further. "I said, 'Shouldn't you be off shooting up with your mother? Or maybe picking her up from another crackhouse?”

In less than a heartbeat, I charged, adrenaline coiling tightly in my chest. I lunged at her, and the shock in the crowd reverberated around me like an electric shock. I swept her legs from under her, and in a heartbeat, she was on the ground with a hard thud. “Fuck you!” I came down on her, my fists raining with a furious energy I didn’t know I possessed.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd, but they were drowned out by the pounding of my heart. Each punch was cathartic, breaking through years of pent-up anger, old wounds that had never fully healed.

But just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Noah’s arms were around me, pulling me away with a force that startled me back to reality. “Roxy! Stop!” His grip was firm, and his chest was solid against my back. I felt my fists clench and unclench, ready for more, but I made no more attempts. Breathing heavily, I turned to face him.

His large hands cupped my heated cheeks. “Are you okay?” His voice was low, concerned, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—as if the situation sparked a fierce intensity within him.

Breathless, I nodded, though I could feel the remnants of adrenaline coursing through my veins. As the crowd began to murmur and disperse, Noah led me away from the fire, his arm around my waist, gently guiding me toward the makeshift parking lot in the gigantic field we were in. His grip was warm, sending sparks of something undeniable running through me.

Once we reached nicholas’s suv, he opened the door and sat me down in the passenger seat, standing between my thighs like an ever-looming wall of safety. “Where the hell did that come from?” he asked, his brows knitted together in concern, mixing with a hint of admiration that almost made my heart skip.

“I don’t know, Noah. I just…I can’t stand her. She used to do that shit to me in high school. She brought up my mom an—”

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, his expression shifting. “You shouldn’t let her get to you, she’s a fucking basic bitch that peaked in high school.”

I looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the evening wrap around us. “But she…I just wanted her to know I’m not the same girl she used to pick on anymore.” My breath hitched, the truth of it spilling out, sparking all sorts of feelings I hadn’t yet embraced.

“That much is clear, and I’m proud of you. I won’t lie, That was pretty bad ass.” he said, a slight smile breaking through. “And if I were her, I’d think twice before messing with you again.”

Noah’s words wrapped around me like an embrace, and for a moment, I felt invincible. “She wants you, and it makes me sick. She can’t take you away from me Noah..” I whispered, looking down as the weight of my emotions pressed on my chest.

He stepped even closer, the warmth of his body surrounded me, while his eyes searched mine. “You won’t lose me. You’re my best friend, Roxy. Always.”

“I’m sorry..” I sighed heavily dropping my head in embarrassment. He shook his head, his hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. "Don't apologize.” His touch sent a shiver down my spine, a sensation I had often felt around him but never wanted to acknowledge. I turned my face towards his hand, pressing a soft kiss on his palm.

"Thank you for always being there for me," I murmured, my eyes finally meeting with his.

In that moment, something shifted between us. The air crackled with unspoken feelings. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine softly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The kiss was soft and sweet, ending way too soon for my liking.

"I've wanted to do that for so long" he smiled, his smooth voice making me crazy. "I've always felt this way, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship." He eyed me almost nervously. Like he was waiting for my rejection.

I lifted my hand, lightly running it up his abdomen feeling every muscle beneath his shirt. I reached his neck, finally cupping his soft cheek in my hand. “Ive always wanted you Noah.” I whisper lightly, a small smile tracing my lips.

He smiled, a mix of relief and anticipation lighting up his handsome face. “You have me.” He whispered, running his big hands up my thighs.

Without waiting for a response, he leaned in again, this time not holding back. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender, exploring every inch of my mouth as if memorizing the taste of me. I moaned softly, opening my mouth wider, inviting him in. His tongue slid against mine, a sensual battle for dominance that left mine breathless.

My hands roamed over his body, desperate to feel every inch of him. I tugged at his shirt, and he quickly obliged, shrugging it off, revealing his tatted up chest and abs. I couldn't resist running my hands over his skin, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

"Wait, not out here" Noah panted, breaking the kiss. "Scoot back"

I needed no further encouragement. I scrambled farther into the back seat, my heart pounding with anticipation. He followed, his eyes dark with lust, slamming the door closed behind him. He wasted no time, capturing my lips again as he pulled me onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips.

My fingers fumbled with his belt, eager to release the growing bulge in his jeans. He groaned as I freed his straining cock, stroking it gently, relishing the feel of his hardness in my hand.

"Fuck, baby," he breathed, his head falling back. "You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this"

I smiled, trailing light kisses over his jaw. "Show me, then.”

With that, he grabbed the hem of my jeans. He slid them down and off, before finally guiding his cock to my already soaking pussy, slowly lowering me onto him, taking him inch by inch. I gasped as he filled me, stretching me deliciously. His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as I began to ride him, my wetness clinging to his shaft.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Your pussy so fucking tight. So perfect." He groaned, pulling my shirt off throwing somewhere in the car.

His words only served to heighten my arousal. I leaned forward, my breasts brushing against his chest as I quickened my pace. His hands roamed over my body, squeezing my breasts. A breathy moan escaped as he pinched my nipple, taking the other into his warm mouth sucking softly sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Fuck I'm so close," I whimpered, my voice breathless. "I'm gonna cum, Noah please."

He bucked his hips, driving himself deeper into me, at a fast pace. His lips released my nipple with a soft pop, as he groaned against my hot skin "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it."

As if on cue, my orgasm crashed over me, ripples of pleasure radiating from my core. I cried out, my body trembling as he continued fucking me through it. Soon after he followed suit, his cock throbbing inside me as he came, filling me up.

Breathless and satisfied, I collapsed onto his chest, our hearts pounding in unison. He kissed the top of my head, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Are you okay?” He whispered as his long fingers ran through my hair.

I lifted my head, cupping his cheeks with shaky hands. I kissed his lips softly, a huge smile falling over my lips. “I’m perfect.” He smiled, pecking my lips one last time before reaching for our clothes. We got dressed, and he turned toward me with his perfect smile. “You ready to go back out there?”

I sat quietly for a minute before giving him an answer. “Actually…can we go back home?” He smiled, nodding his head before leaving to round up the rest of the guys. My heart happy that the man I wanted, wanted me back.

[newbornwhumperfly]

what water says as it plummets...

i'll be honest, fellas? 🥺💖🥺 this one is a plot point i'd built up for a long time and it sort of poured out of me all at once in this chapter 💖 it's a little rougher than i'd like due to sleepiness but i'm so happy to bring this character to my audience in this @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 15: a soft reprieve - cause i'm sure you'll love her. 🥰

title insp. by the poem "interview" by jordan kapono nakamura - "i have extensive experience in studying what water says as it plummets..."

~

“Okay, honey, you can hop up on the table whenever you’re ready.”

Sarai has found that Morja, as a patient, generally prefers orders. That’s to be expected, for sure. It’s usually safer to be told what to do when you’re told what to do every day of your life and Morja has often frozen, still and quiet, when offered an option right away. So, the best way to start these appointments is to sort of sound like she’s telling him what to do. 

Every patient is different and has different needs from their doctor. In this way, every patient is the same.

Sure enough, Morja’s shoulders go down a notch from their raised tension as he hoists himself to sit on the bench. He’s been…less tense with each visit, especially recently. He even took one of the candies Sarai offered without protesting. 

But today, something is…different about Morja. Or, moreso, something is the same, some pattern that has been shifting is fixed, cold and solid, in place in Morja’s countenance.. There is a way that Morja holds himself, tight, rigid, that comes and goes, but there is something even worse that she’s observed - it was the dead, resigned bracing in his face when he first got an exam. It was as if he was locked in around the certainty of a terrible thing, his body merely a vessel which would carry whatever was to come. 

He looks like that now, his hands and the mass of scar tissue they hold not clenched loosely or folded politely, but laid palm-up in his lap, still but for the twitch of a finger, and it sends the familiar pulse of knowing down Sarai’s spine. 

Knowing isn’t the only thing that is pulsing in her body - the tidal wave is cresting earlier than usual. 

The familiar ocean of pain, her vision of it, has crept up on her, busy with setting up shop, with answering messages, with putting in another order that wasn’t refilled because prescriptions are delayed and not being a civilian is not much of a fucking advantage with medication the past two months. The whirlpool centers at her spine, radiating down the leg in a strong current, and she winces as she rubs her thigh. Okay, we’re doing things a little differently today. 

“Hey, Morja? Would it be okay if we did some of our appointment stuff on the couch today?” She thinks about leaving it at that. Remembers, with a slow, purposeful inhale, how vulnerability is a gift to others, as well as yourself. You’re not exempt from being nice to yourself, girl. “I’m having some, uh, bad pain today and I think the exam would be easier in my office, if that’s alright with you?”

At that, change ripples through Morja’s body. Under the industrially bright bulbs, his strained face falters, briefly, but what comes in place of listlessness is…a sort of determined expression. Not bracing, only…something, Sarai’s thinking wavers under the fog rolling off the water. It’s something. 

“Of- Yes, Doctor.”

The crinkle of the gown, the rustle of climbing off the table, the shuffle of feet in socks across the floor as Sarai turns herself towards her office. Luckily, her warm corner is only a few feet away and the couch beckons like a haven. It’s a shitty couch, sure, but military bases can’t be choosers and it’s new, which means its firmness holds up the parts of her body that need it. She actually sighs as she sinks down into the cushions, pats the neighboring cushion in a sit gesture. 

The careful exhale of breath beside her as Morja sits, careful and precise as he always is, tells her that the softness of cushion is a relief from the hard plastic of the table as much as the relief for her being off her feet is. She smiles at him to let him know his moves were right and lays her cane to rest against the companion side-table, stretching out her limbs to make room for the little streams of voltage pinpricking her skin from the inside. She can tell, now, just by the way he didn’t try to stand at attention, hands clasped behind his back, that she did the right thing. 

In the softening shadow of her purple-shaded lamp, Morja looks so small on the couch. For all his bulk, the muscle that has been so pounded into those broad shoulders, the wide torso hard and sturdy as a sack of potatoes, he doesn’t fill up the space much at all. Tucked into the corner, folded neatly, compact, trying not to draw attention. 

Sarai lifts the stethoscope, the warmed metal a comfort in hands that move with shaky slowness, deliberate and obvious when pressing it against Morja’s back, her murmured breathe in for me, please, now out, now in, very good a rhythm she could say in her sleep, her focus on the measure of his pulse. Listening to this man’s lungs make it impossible to not listen to other parts of his body. How the texture of scar rises to meet the shirt that covers it. How even those ridges are and how they rise with his breathing into her hand. There are so many. 

“Doctor?”

Sarai is almost startled by the sound of Morja’s voice. He is so quiet, often, in the examination room. She wonders if it is the softly-lit enclave of her office nook which prompts him to speak first or the intensity of whatever state he’s in. Sarai smoothly folds her hands in her lap, visible and also at a safe distance. 

“Yeah, Morja?” Her voice is slower, the tide catching up to her a little, dragging the lilt away a bit, and she doesn’t quite swallow back a wince at the depth her pain is dragging her voice down to. Morja doesn’t seem to get snagged on the roughness though, his body leaning forward, brow wrinkling up in an intense concentration expression and Sarai tries hard to be alert. She’s so glad there is no sterile smell or bright light to distract her. “What’s up?”

“...Your cane is…pretty. Why, Doctor?”

Damn. So it’s that kind of mood. Huh. 

Fuck, she’s watery, the pulsing little hammers at her temples, her knees, her back, are trying to pull her away from the conversation. But she breathes in, out, in a hum that lets him know she heard, she’s thinking. 

“Great question, Morja.” Sarai says softly, at last, making a rainwater of her voice, flowing with the pain and the rolling mists. Working with her body, not against it. The bright hues of the cane pull her focus and she lets that be her guide. She was feeling…blueish, today, and her blueberry earrings, her sea-deep dress, mirror the cobalt-on-white, delicate patterns on mimicking porcelain teacups, spiral up to the sturdy handle, its blue velvet cushion, anything but fragile as a dish. “Pretty things make me feel better. And…since my cane is me, ya know, it makes sense that it makes me feel better. I hurt a lot some days and, uh, I figure I deserve all the help I can get, so, gotta give it to myself.” 

Her gaze drifts back to Morja’s face and his eyes are deep wells that meet her own. A groove of emotion carved deep into the valleys and ridges, scar after scar, rough terrain hiding buried treasure. So dark in their brown they approach black and the color is what guides her brain again, guides her to recognize the furrow between those eyes, the shadows beneath. The spasm of pain in her chest is not from any illness, only an emotion. The weight of pretty as it fell out of his mouth is the weight of his body on this couch. A luxury Morja  (believes, so strongly believes he) can’t have. 

It only lasts a moment, less than a heartbeat, before Morja looks away and Sarai is unable to swim after it. She’s quite sure he never meant to look her in the eye. She’s quite sure that he wanted to. Morja’s mouth is no longer slack and a frown is an expression, better than nothing. 

The fog thickens around the corners of her eyes, head going all syrup again, thick sugar, bitter as burning caramel, and she breathes out, out, out through a cluster of needles up and down her neck. Fuuuuuuuck. The back of her head thumps against the wall, the darkness of her lids pressing back the dizziness. 

“Hey, Morja? I’m a little out of it- I’m okay, it’ll pass, but do you want to sit in here with me or sit in the exam room? No wrong answers, honey.” 

Her voice is a rumble in her chest and she breathes out the wince, the tremors rocking the tilt behind her lids precariously. 

“Can I…change back into my clothes?”

Oh, honey. 

Her lid cracks, as does the corner of her mouth, and though he’s blurry, she wants the sunlight of how pleased she is of him asking for a thing to break through her cloud of exhaustion. 

Fuck, her head hurts so much, but she’s proud and glad, ouch ouch ouch. 

“‘Course, Morja, gra’ me a can’y when y’get yourself on, pl’se...” 

The rustle of Morja leaving and returning is close together, time doing its foamy thing while she counts her breaths, but the press of a wrapped peppermint, round and crinkly, in her palm is so gentle. 

The couch sinks and settles into the shape of another body, doing the thing she is doing, leaning back into the firm crevices that hold you up. The soft-crunch sounds of the wrapper as she squeezes her fist around it, as Morja unwraps his own candy, as she tries to just kind of be as Morja is on the spot beside her. 

The office is dark and cool and quiet and they’re both in good company right now. 

“...It’s nice. The candy.” 

A flat whisper, halting and small and brave, fumbling across the inches in the dark. 

A flat answer fumbles back, warm and limping and still good enough to greet him.

“I'm glad, Morja. It's really nice.”

~

sincerely hoped you all enjoyed this venture into my story 🥺💖🥺 sarai baptiste is the team's medic who is stationed at base forthill and she's disabled and kind and badass as hell and deserves the world 😢💖✨😍

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @haro-whumps @whump-tr0pes @i-eat-worlds @wolfeyedwitch

@straight-to-the-pain @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight

@tears-and-lilies @whumping-every-day @whumpthisway @stoic-whumpee @liliability

@whumpster-draganies @whumpzone @suspicious-whumping-egg @lave-whump @kixngiggles

have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone! 💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[foundress0fnothing]

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries

For @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk. Happy Holidays! It has been such a joy to get to know you over these last few months. You are wonderful and brilliant, and I cannot wait to FINALLY be able to scream in your comments about my obsession with Semper Eadem without arousing your suspicions.

Many thanks to @velidewrites and @perhapsajacket for beta reading this first part of this fic and reassuring me that the Nessian vibes were working. And many thanks to @acotargiftexchange for putting together this wonderful event. Y’all are the absolute best! 🥰

Summary: When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

For information about the historical elements to this fic, see the end notes.

This is chapter 1 of 4.

Read on AO3 or continue reading below the cut!

Chapter 1: Somerville College, Oxford

July 1916

“I think of you hour by hour. You are always close in your own secret place in my heart. I hold you in my arms when no one else is near. I kiss your forehead, your eyes, your hair. No, not your lips, dear, even in fancy. I have never in my maddest dreams kissed your lips. But I ache and crave and long for them, though—till you give me leave—I dare not even pretend that they are mine. Will you ever give me leave? You say No now. Yet I think you will, Avery. I think you will. I have known ever since that first moment—”

“He’s asking for you again.”

Nesta looked up from her book to see Gwyn Berdara’s head poking through the doorway. It was late—or early, rather, she realized, blearily squinting at the clock on the wall and rubbing her eyes. She should have retired to her bed in the dormitory hours ago, and from the pleased look on Gwyn’s face at catching her off-guard, her fellow nurse was well-aware of that fact.

“Surely someone who’s actually on duty,” Nesta said, yawning and looking pointedly at Gwyn, “can take care of whatever it is he needs.”

Gwyn snorted. “Apparently there’s no one except ‘Nurse Nes’ who can make the pain go away with her magic touch.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So it’s a good thing you’re still here.”

Bristling at the nickname that only one of the soldiers convalescing at the Third Southern General Hospital was shameless enough to call her, she replied curtly, “I’m not going. Tell him I’m not here.”

“I don’t think he’d believe me,” Gwyn said, grinning.

“And why is that?”

“Because,” said Emerie Carynth, appearing suddenly beside Gwyn and wearing a matching smile on her face, “I told him you’d still be here.”

Nesta glared at her.

“Not on purpose, I swear,” Emerie quickly amended. “But don’t think I missed that you have a copy of Dell’s new romance.” Nesta glanced down at the book she still held open in her hands, her attention briefly flicking back to the dramatic confessional love letter left she had been in the middle of reading. “We saw you try to hide it in the dining room when it came in the post. I bet Gwyn you wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to start it.”

Returning her focus to her traitorous fellow nurse, Nesta frowned. “That doesn’t explain how he knows I’m still here.”

“He may have overheard me celebrating my victory a few minutes ago.” She smirked. “Gwyn has to take my shifts with Merrill for the next week.”

Nesta grimaced. The older nurse was brutal to work with, especially if she thought the VAD nurses like Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were shirking their responsibilities. She accommodating enough for the soldiers, but all the nurses knew to steer clear of her wrath whenever possible.

Gwyn nodded at Nesta’s expression. “And he was my next patient when Emerie found me.” 

“And what? He forced you to come back here and bother me?”

“He asked nicely.”

“Weak, Gwyneth Berdara. Weak.” Nesta knew her fellow nurse had a soft spot for soldiers like him who bore their injuries with grace and good humor, willing to crack a joke or, if they were not too injured, gambol about the grounds during recreation hours. Especially if those soldiers were tall and dark-haired and unreasonably muscled.

Gwyn shrugged unapologetically. “Like he doesn’t make you flustered, Nesta.”

“He does not,” Nesta bit out. Exasperated, absolutely. Incensed, occasionally. Even, in rare moments, begrudgingly amused. But certainly not flustered.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are,” Emerie said, grinning with a faux innocence that Nesta didn’t believe for a moment. “He’s not even my type,” she smirked. “But I have eyes.”

“I hate you.”

“As much as you hate him?”

“More.”

Gwyn hummed. “Lucky Emerie.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh, nothing. I’ve just never known anyone whose hate looked so much like desire before.” 

Emerie winked salaciously at Nesta, who only rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “I’m still not going.”

“Sure you’re not, Nurse Nes.”

“Emerie, I swear—”

“He expected you’d say that.” Gwyn smiled, interrupting them. “And he told me to tell you that if you didn’t come help him, he’d have to cope with the pain through song.”

“Arse.” She had heard him singing with the men before—loud, raucous marching songs that seemed to be dictated primarily by enthusiasm rather than any actual musical talent. “So he intends to wake the whole wing if I don’t go? That’s asking nicely, Gwyn?”

Gwyn shrugged. “I’m sure Clotho and Merrill wouldn’t blame you for it.”

But they would, Nesta knew. When she paused her studies at Somerville to join the VAD and the military hospital that sprang up in what had once been her college, she and her fellow volunteers were told to make the patients in their care as happy as possible, no matter what. They were not to do anything that would cause a scandal, of course, but barring that, any desire was considered reasonable—extra food after mealtimes, a new pillow every hour, even time with a preferred nurse if requested. After all, they were exactly what the first letter of their organization’s acronym indicated: voluntary. They had no previous training, no credentials or certificates like those possessed by the professional nurses who oversaw them. What did they know? 

Quite a bit, and often more than the so-called ‘professionals’. Certainly more than they did a year and a half ago when they first entered the service. Nesta may have been raised in a manor house, bred for marriage and comfort after the culmination of her studies, but the war had changed all of that, had changed her. She was no longer a stranger to fluids and grotesque injuries, to bodies and hard, messy work. Gwyn and Emerie were the same.

But none of that mattered, not really, to the more senior nurses, except for the fact that it made their jobs marginally easier. The VAD women were still expected to appease and please. So they did. 

 Nesta sighed, looking forlornly at the book she wouldn’t get to pick up again for at least another day. 

“I’ll tell him to expect you in ten minutes, then?” Gwyn asked, reading her decision on her face.

“Yes, alright,” Nesta grumbled, standing and stretching for the first time in—she glanced again at the clock—three hours. She hoped that whatever nonsense she was about to face would resolve itself quickly enough that she could get home and sleep, although, she thought, as she began to gather her things, she wouldn’t count on it.

“Hope Dell’s book was worth it!” Emerie called as she moved out of the doorway and back into the darkened ward.

“I’m sure it was,” Gwyn said to Nesta, following Emerie out. “Piers’ letter?” She asked knowingly.

“Piers’ letter.” Nesta mimed fanning herself, and Gwyn laughed as she left Nesta to gather her things.

Grumbling about needing to find new friends, Nesta slowly made her way into what had once been the West dining room. With thin walls, cramped quarters, and a confusing odor of long-forgotten roast dinners mingled with astringent antiseptics, it was ill-suited to its current purpose as a hospital ward.

Almost as ill-suited, Nesta mused to herself as she wended her way through the beds of sleeping men, as she was to the nursing profession. Her friends seemed to take to the profession naturally: Gwyn had quickly amassed a staggering knowledge of illness and injuries and could diagnose patients quicker than most of the physicians; Emerie demonstrated a singular talent for using the standard physician-prescribed therapies in innovative ways to help the soldiers progress more quickly along their healing journey. 

Nesta had no such mastery. She wasn’t incompetent at any task, and was quite good at many of them, but she did not have any particular specialty. Nor did she excel at the ‘appease and please’ aspect of her role. She had little patience for the soldiers’ petty complaints, their bored antics, their casual flirting. She did her job, cared for her patients professionally and efficiently, shutting down their attempts for favors and conversation and flirtation, and went home to her books at the end of the day. It was how she liked it. And it meant that, over time, few soldiers particularly liked her.

All except one. 

At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Nesta saw him turn his head, a satisfied smile already stretching across his face that, had he been anyone else, would have caused Nesta’s heart to start racing. 

As a man, Lieutenant Cassian Davies was magnetic. Handsome in a rugged kind of way, he was imposingly tall and broad with a body that, even injured as it was, spoke of lethal grace and destructive power. His face bore the proof of this: small scars cut across his eyebrows and lips, and his nose had clearly been broken and reset at least once. His hazel eyes often shone with a mirth that drew soldiers and nurses alike to his bedside, but there was an edge to them as well—something surprisingly hard and deceptively calculating. Like all of the men convalescing at their hospital, Lieutenant Davies had seen tremendous bloodshed, but he alone seemed to rise above it, to possess some inherent mastery over it. He was dangerous and desirable in equal measure, and though Nesta refused to join in with the other nurses when they gushed about him in the privacy of their dormitory, she couldn’t deny his appeal.

As a patient though? He was everything she loathed: loud, flirtatious, stubborn, and shamelessly relentless in his attempts to irritate her. 

“Nurse Nes!”

“Threatening to wake the ward is a new low, even for you, Lieutenant Davies. And don’t call me that.” Nesta hissed, approaching his bedside and glaring down at him.

“Sweetheart—” Lieutenant Davies raised his good arm in an attempt to pacify her, but Nesta interrupted him.

“Wrong again, Lieutenant.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Nurse Archeron,” he apologized with mock contrition, affecting the tone of an impudent schoolboy brought before his headmaster. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was just about to treat the lads to a rendition of ‘Pack Up Your Troubles.’”

Nesta didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to look over his chart to guess at what it was he might need. The sooner she could figure it out, the sooner she could leave Lieutenant Davies and his foolishness behind. She could make it through this without succumbing to his antics. She could be professional. She could.

Even with her eyes focused on his chart, however, she felt the weight of his gaze on her, deciding how best to challenge her attempt at professionalism. 

And then he found it: “I still could sing, you know. You might benefit from hearing the chorus.”

She whipped her head up and saw his eyes spark with pleasure at having successfully baited her, but she was too irritated to care. “‘Smile, smile, smile?’” Nesta asked, biting out the lyrics. 

“You already know the words! You’ll be a natural in no time.”

“Please.” She resisted the urge to argue further, forcing herself to direct her attention back to the chart in her hands. Could he want another pillow? Or more food? Was he due for—

“So, what do you say, Nes?” Lieutenant Davies asked, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you going to smile, smile, smile?” He grinned as he softly sang the melody.

“Your singing is atrocious.”

He scoffed. “It’s excellent. Now, my dancing—.”

“I can only imagine that it’s even worse, Lieutenant Davies,” she interrupted. 

“Once I get back up on my feet again I promise to show you just how wrong you are. Don’t think I didn’t notice you considering a smile.”

“Enough.” This had to end. Nesta could feel the weight of her hair heavy on her head after having it tied up in her standard braided coronet all day, and that, coupled with Lieutenant Davies’ teasing, was threatening to give her a headache. “What do you want?”

“Nesta Archeron,” he admonished, and Nesta chose to ignore the way her body shivered at the sound of her full name on his lips. “We have got to work on your bedside manner.”

She huffed. “If you find it so appalling, there are at least a dozen other nurses who would be more than happy to assist you.”

“I told Gwynnie. None of them have your magic touch.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Nes—”

“Wake the whole ward for all I care.” She dropped his chart with a clatter and turned on her heel, ready to storm out

There was a pause, and then, before she could take a step, Lieutenant Davies called out softly, “My shoulder is a little sore.”

Nesta imagined it was. The report of his injury at the Somme had been a gruesome note in what was and continued to be the bloodiest battle of the war thus far, and one that just kept going, if the steady stream of new patients into the hospital was anything to be believed. A few days into the battle, Lieutenant Davies had been wounded by shell fragments that embedded themselves into his chest and shoulder, some dangerously close to his lungs. He bore the injury well, but from the lines etched on his face and the tension in his jaw, she could tell it ached more than he let on. He would be bedridden for at least another two weeks before physical therapy could begin.

“And you couldn’t ask Nurse Berdara for another dose of morphine?”

“You make me feel like I’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

She snorted at that. “Fine.” She stooped to gather the supplies she would need from a low shelf on the cart at the foot of his bed, then turned to pull on gloves and prepare the needle for the injection. “But only because you were due for one anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Nurse Archeron. I know you like me.” As she administered the drug, he began humming quietly, his body slowly loosening as it worked its way through his system.

“Done. Goodnight, Lieutenant Davies.”

“No goodnight kiss?” He murmured the question as his eyes shuttered closed, relentlessly flirtatious to the last.

Nesta watched the morphine lull Lieutenant Davies into a deep sleep. “For you? I think not.”

She turned and made her way quietly out of the ward, thinking of her bed and her book. And if her thoughts drifted back to a certain sleeping soldier and she smiled slightly? Well, there was no one awake to notice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

August 1916

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant Davies?”

Cassian looked up from the casualty sheets he had been apprehensively scanning for his brothers’ names to find Sr. Merrill, one of the older nurses who oversaw the hospital, standing at the foot of his bed. 

His arm fucking ached—not that he would say that to a nun. He hadn’t lost all his manners in the trenches.

Just most of them. And especially when faced with the pretty nurse who made him feel more than a little stupid with her honey-brown hair and sharp tongue. But Nesta Archeron was nowhere in sight, nor had she been for several days—attempting to avoid him, most likely.

So he only answered, “Still a little sore, m’am. But better than yesterday.”

Sr. Merrill smiled at that. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re in good spirits. You’re to start physical therapy today.”

Cassian could have wept with joy. Although the injury had been localized to his upper body, the damage had been severe enough that the doctors had insisted that he remain bedridden and stuck indoors for at least a month. And he had, albeit reluctantly. For someone used to near-constant activity, whose men called him ‘the General’ for the drills he would put them (and himself) through between battles, a month of idleness was akin to torture. There were only so many card games a man could play or books he could read, only so many soldiers and nurses he could talk to, and (in his bleaker moments) only so many times he could catalog in minute detail the unidentifiable stains that graced the walls of the ward. Restless and bored, Cassian was more than ready to get back on his feet, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on his face again. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow. I have you scheduled with Nurse Carynth. She’s one of our best for physical therapy.”

Cassian knew her. Strikingly pretty and statuesque, she could out-swear most of the men and had earned her reputation as an excellent physical therapist through a combination of what appeared to be genuine brilliance and a singular ability to browbeat and cajole her patients into pushing themselves. He had seen her work with a few of the other men from his company, and knew that if anyone else in the hospital deserved the title of ‘the General,’ it would be her.

But he wondered—“I’ve heard she’s effective, yes, but,” He paused, looking for the right words, although he knew that Sr. Merrill and the other nurses were inclined to humor their patients’ requests whenever possible. “I was wondering if I could work with someone else.”

“Oh?” She looked puzzled, but pulled out a pen to note the change. “Do you have a specific nurse in mind?” 

Cassian smiled.

He was still smiling as he sat in Sr. Merrill’s office the following day listening to an incensed Nesta Archeron argue with her supervisor.

“No.” She said, her blue-gray eyes flashing flintily as she crossed her arms. “I’m not working with him.”

Sr. Merrill raised an eyebrow. “And why not? Do you have an objection to working with Lieutenant Davies?”

“Yes.”

When Nesta didn’t elaborate, Sr. Merrill gestured for her to continue. “Go on.”

Nesta tilted her head, and Cassian could tell she was calculating her response. “It’s not personal,” she began. 

Cassian snorted. He knew that it absolutely was. Nesta Archeron was the one nurse at Somerville who couldn’t stand him. From the look on Sr. Merrill’s face, the older nurse knew that as well, although she did an admirable job trying to hide it.

“It’s not.” Nesta turned to face him for the first time since they entered the office a few minutes ago. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. He could feel the anger radiating off of her, burning cold and sharp and exhilarating. It had been over a month since Cassian had seen any combat, but watching her like this scratched the same itch, and he knew that he would do any number of unspeakable things to keep stoking that fire. 

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Then what might be the issue, Nurse Archeron?”

She glared at his use of her correct title for once, knowing he only did it to irritate her in front of her supervisor, then turned back to face Sr. Merrill with a barely audible huff.

“My reasons are professional. I am not a particularly skilled physical therapist, and the severity of Lieutenant Davies’ injuries suggests that he’ll need special attention. He should be working with Nurse Carynth or Nurse Madja.”

Sr. Merrill frowned at that. “You’ll be following a plan of care left by one of the doctors, so there’s no need for you to do anything terribly innovative. That’s not your role here.” 

“I know you’ll take good care of me, Nurse Archeron,” Cassian added, doing his best to look sincere. And he was, mostly. Nesta may not have been the warmest nurse at Somerville, but she was a damn good one. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

She didn’t respond to his comment, but Cassian was familiar enough with her expressions after a month of making a study of her to know she wanted to roll her eyes, and he couldn’t help the grin that began to break over his face.

“But I know how you VAD girls are,” Sr. Merrill interrupted, forestalling any further argument between them with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her tone dripped with derision, and Cassian’s grin faded as he saw Nesta tense, her spine straightening.“If you’re truly unwilling, I’m sure Lieutenant Davies will accept another nurse for his therapy.” She paused. “But I will be making a note in your file, Nurse Archeron.”

Nesta’s lips tightened. Cassian grimaced slightly as he observed her wage a silent war with herself, feeling increasingly ill-at-ease with his provocation of this element of the hospital’s hierarchical drama. 

“Well, Nurse Archeron?” Sr. Merrill asked.

Cassian watched Nesta collect herself. The changes were subtle–her spine remained straight, unbowed by the weight of the threat, but he saw the way she banked the fire burning in her eyes until all that seemed to remain was a cool, professional detachment. He hated it.

But he knew her answer.

“I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Sr. Merrill handed Nesta a folder that Cassian presumed was his plan of care. “Thank you for wasting everyone’s time.”

Nesta took the folder and stood abruptly, stalking out of the room.

“Lieutenant Davies,” Sr. Merrill addressed him, drawing his attention away from Nesta’s retreating form. “I understand if you’d like to switch nurses after that … display.” She looked distastefully toward the door. “I have always believed that you boys deserve better than being subjected to the whims of spoiled ladies unused to hard work.”

Cassian stood stiffly, his injured arm aching from tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and frowned down at Sr. Merrill. “I meant what I said. I trust Nurse Archeron to take care of me.” His tone was sharp, defensive. 

Sr. Merrill sniffed. “Of course. See that I don’t hear any complaints from your commander if you remain on the injury register longer than you ought.”

“You won’t. M’am.” With a sharp nod of his head, Cassian turned to follow after Nesta, moving a damn sight slower than he would have preferred. His arm throbbed and his legs felt heavy and stiff, aggravatingly fatigued already. 

Nesta had stopped by the entrance to the ward, presumably to wait for him, her gaze focused off into the distance rather than watching his progress.  

Cassian didn’t rush—wouldn’t have, even if he could have moved more quickly—taking the time instead to study her. She still wore the detached professionalism she had donned during the meeting, but her eyes were tired, wearied after the confrontation with Merrill. He wanted the fire back.

And he knew how to get it. Quashing his still-lingering guilt, he asked, “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

She startled slightly, coming out of whatever reverie she had been caught in, and scowled up at him as he drew abreast of her. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

He smiled to hear a hint of spirit back in her voice. “I’ll take you in whatever mood I can get, Nes.”

She hummed, her gaze assessing and the set of her mouth unimpressed. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

With that, she pulled open the door to the ward and began walking deeper into the room, not stopping to see if Cassian was following after her. 

He trailed along behind, noting that she passed the door that led outside onto the lawn where most of the other officers had been led by their respective nurses for therapy or recreation. The late summer day was inviting, after all—bright and sunny and warm after a span of rainy weeks.

Because of this, the ward was nearly empty, so Cassian called out to her, “I didn’t mean to cause any problems, you know.”

Her gait didn’t change, but he saw the tilt of her head as she considered his words. “That’s not an apology.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t know about Merrill. I’m sorry for having involved her. But,” he smiled, “I’m not sorry you’re assigned to me.”

“We’ll see,” she said, finally stopping and turning around to face him.

Nesta had led them to a room at the back of the ward. It was small and slightly dingy; he guessed that it had once been some kind of larder for the college before the war. 

Cassian looked inside and then back at her, a question in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to go inside. “After you.” 

“I thought officers got to go outside for their therapies.” He looked back longingly toward the door to the lawn, the late summer morning streaming through the window panes nearly irresistible after a month indoors.

“Not the ones assigned to me. Everything we need is right here in this room,” she said. She wasn’t quite smiling, but he could see a hint of malicious pleasure gleaming at the corners of her eyes.

Cassian forced himself to smile, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t evident. Well played, Sweetheart. He turned to the only weapon he had remaining because he damn sure wasn’t about to give her this victory easily. “It certainly is, sweetheart. And we’ll get to be so close,” he all but purred, trying to ruffle her feathers. 

But she only rolled her eyes and began setting up the space according to whatever was detailed on his chart, dragging a chair and a few small weights to the center of the room. 

He turned to cast a final glance back, wondering what he could do to change her mind. Surely she didn’t want to spend the day cooped up inside too. What would she want? Would she want him to beg for it? Would he?

He would. For her. And for the outdoors.

But then the sound of a throat clearing delicately brought him back to the cell of a larder, and he returned his attention to Nesta. Her eyes were on him, head tilted to the side like a predator studying its prey.

“Positive you don’t want to work with Nurse Carynth now?”

Cassian looked her over, his gaze catching on the blue-gray eyes that dared him to call her bluff, and he smiled, a real one this time. He would play her game. For now. “Positive. Do your worst, Nurse Nes.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few notes on the historical elements of this chapter:

— The title of this fic comes from Robert Graves’ poem “Intercession in Late October.”

— The quote that opens this chapter is from Ethel M. Dell’s Bars of Iron, which was one of the best-selling books of 1916. Dell wrote hugely popular romances and was successful enough to support her family on the proceeds of her writing alone, although her work was often disparaged by critics and criticized for being too sexual.

— Cassian is loosely based on Robert Graves, a captain in the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, a poet, and the author of Goodbye to All That, a 1929 memoir about his experiences in WWI. Nesta is loosely based on Vera Brittain, a VAD nurse and author of Testament of Youth, a 1933 memoir about her experiences as a nurse and her postwar turn toward pacifism. 

— Both Robert Graves and Vera Britten were connected to Somerville College, although they were not there at the same time. Somerville was founded as a women’s college in 1879; it was requisitioned by the War Office to serve as a hospital during WWI. Vera Brittain had been reading English Literature when the war broke out, and she took a leave of absence to serve in the VAD, returning to complete her studies in History in 1919. Robert Graves, after being injured in July during the Battle of the Somme (July 1, 1916—November 18, 1916) was sent to Somerville to recover, and while there, had a brief romance with one of the nurses.

—  The tensions between the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) and professional nurses was a real concern during WWI, although it has been dramatized here. Most of the volunteers were middle and upper class women and lacked both the skills of professional nurses and (for some) the propensity for hard labor and discipline. These tensions gradually dissipated as the war went on.

— “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit-Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile” was a popular WWI marching song, first published in 1915. The words were written by George Henry Powell and were set to music by his brother, Felix.

— The notice “Officers are requested not to throw custard at the walls” was real; it was found in Maitland Hall after Somerville was converted back into a college.

[whenthegoldrays]

i've been meaning to ask: do you have any recs for kdramas available on amazon prime? other than marry my husband i haven't found a ton of the ones you've mentioned available on there :((

Hey honey! I’m so sorry for leaving this ask for so long 🫣 I kept thinking “I’m gonna find some for her soon” and then wouldn’t do it akajdh 💀

To be honest, I personally haven’t watched any kdramas on Prime besides MMH, but there are a couple that I’m a bit familiar with because my parents or friends have seen them, so here’s a few recs I pulled together for you 😉

My First Love (2018). This is on the shorter side, just 10 episodes. It’s about Kang Shinwoo, a high school teacher who has a chance to reunite with Jisoo, his first love from high school, only to hear that she’s died in a car accident. Then he’s transported back to high school, but as his own adult self, and tries to play cupid for his teenage self and Jisoo. I didn’t watch the first episode of this myself, I think I joined my parents about halfway through episode 2. It was pretty interesting, bittersweet but funny and cute.

My ID is Gangnam Beauty (2018). My mom watched this without me, but I think it was a cute one! It’s about a girl who’s been bullied for being ugly her whole life, so she gets plastic surgery in order to completely start over at college. And then she has her little romance with Cha Eun-woo’s character 🥰

Mischievous Kiss (2013). This is actually a jdrama, a remake of the 2010 kdrama Playful Kiss, but I’m only familiar with the Japanese version because my best friend was super into it a few years ago. (You know how I am about twinkle melon? That’s how she was about Mischievous Kiss 😆). This is an “oh my god, they were roommates!” story between two high school, and later university, students. (Unfortunately, season 2 isn’t included with Prime, only season 1.)

Secret Zoo (2020). I nearly forgot about this one!! This is a movie about a lawyer who’s assigned to bring business back to a zoo his firm has acquired. The only problem is, they have no animals, so they do the only thing they can and dress up as animals themselves. I just about died laughing with this movie, it’s a great mood lifter.

This is not a kdrama, but I just found out this beautiful movie is on Prime now and I’m going to take this chance to mention it: Running for Grace (2018). It’s a romance between a doctor’s ward and plantation owner’s daughter in 1920s Hawaii. It’s been a few years since I last watched it, but the grip it had on my heart 😩😩 10/10 recommend

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter IV

Chapter 4

Wordcount 3,8k

Title Your Voice

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: mentions of nudity; mentions of pain/aching and physical discomfort; slightly angsty and tense tbh

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I still didn't talk about it, but the notes in Italic that preceded Chapter I and the current Chapter are actually lessons from reader's mother, most of them taught during reader's childhood. They are based on her mother's personal experience as a woman and her views on marriage and parenthood, which will be explored in the future, since they're deeply connected to the reasons why reader became Poseidon's wife. Reader's mission in the Kingdom of the Seas is obviously more than survive: as she learns about life and the rules of her new house, she will find opportunities to proof her mother's views right or wrong, as well as to discover secrets about her mother's past that might affect her future.

Also back with this gif bc I love it sm 🥰

They know they cannot tame us completely, so they invent ways to keep us locked. The first thing they do is to turn you into a wife. The second is turn you into a mother. The less time you have to think and to learn, the less power you have over yourself, and so is the will to speak for yourself. When you reach this point, it is over for you. When a woman wants to escape this, she often submits to craziness, sorcery or crimes, but none of these will grant her happiness, or so my experience says. On the other hand, being tamed and silenced will not make you happy either.

Do you remember what we, merchants, always say? Our voice, when well used, can be more precious than the gold we trade. Understand this, child: a woman’s voice is her freedom, and her freedom is gold. To protect your freedom, you must to learn how and when to use your voice.

I’m drowning. I’m in the depths of the ocean, and I can’t get out.

As the King of the Seas was making you his, this was the only thing you could think of.

The indigo curtains, seen from the canopy’s interior, were turned black to your blurry sight, and the size of the mattress made it impossible for you to reach their edges; the sheets, slipping under your body like silk, were cold when you first touched them, but now the heat of the activities over them went through the fabric, and you felt them clinging to your sweaty skin at each movement.

He was now using his legs to keep yours in place, and as one of his hands held your left arm, the other kept a firm grip on your waist, maintaining the closeness while he used his lips on your mouth, your chin and neck. You could hardly move on your own, but it wasn’t like you needed it: Poseidon considered that most of the work was supposed to be done by himself, and in the name of his pride he would insist on it even when you were willing to do your part. Not that he was brute or was unsure of what to do, of course – he knew exactly how to be good to his woman, quickly discovering where to touch and where to caress, taking the best out of you – but he was a god, and god’s ego was unparalleled.

I’m drowning, and he won’t let me reach the surface.

However, as much as his experience and boldness made everything special, this was also the biggest issue of this union: compared to him, you were frail and small, so your limbs succumbed before his strength and your body found hard to follow his pace after little time; with the weight of his body over yours, the steamy air barely filled your lungs, and his grip made it impossible for you to do things such as raising your hands to touch him.

Still, you watched your desire for him grow, so you wanted, you expected him to carry on: the taste of his lips had you addicted, and his scent on your nostrils was intoxicating. Like someone caught in the middle of strong waves, who finds a curious, new pleasure in their crashes against their skin, you found yourself wishing to see him crush, tear you apart, take everything out of you until there was nothing left.

I’m drowning... but I don’t want to escape.

This thought had you scared when it crossed your mind. You supposed that this was what people called a god’s enchantment, the reason why many couldn’t say no to become their lovers, to have their children or even to die or to be cursed for their sake.

This is how he keeps so many of us under his control, then.

Now you were gasping for air, your eyes burning with tears, and your body started to ache. Poseidon had his hands on your hips now, keeping you in place as he kissed your cheek. If you didn’t want to get hurt, you would need him to go easier, but would him hear you for a second time? Would you be testing his patience with this?

For the sake of your well-being, you decided to risk.

– P-Poseidon-sama… – you whispered, your hands on his shoulders – I can’t breathe…

For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you, but you sighed in relief when he stopped at last, taking his chest off yours. Your lungs were immediately filled with hot air, and for a moment you were unable to speak.

– Look at you – you felt his fingers brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead – So fragile that I could break you if I kept going… It is even pathetic…

You bit your lip to avoid an irritated reaction: yes, you weren’t expecting a formal apology for the state he put you in, but blaming you for it was too much. He laughed, as if your anger was too cute for him to take it seriously, and sat on the bed, taking you with him and adjusting you on his lap; your legs ached a bit, but at least you could breathe freely now. You leaned your hands on his shoulders as to seek for balance, and his hands kept a strong grip around your waist, guiding your body as he continued to make love to it.

– Still, I cannot help it – you felt his tongue on your cheek, where a single tear rolled through, wet and warm against your skin – Your flesh is softer… Your scent is more delicate… Your taste is sweeter… – he grabbed your thigh, pulling you tighter against himself; your muscles ached, making you moan – If I was a human like you, I would say you would be the death of me…

Those words aroused and surprised you at the same time.

In the beginning, by everything you’ve heard about Poseidon’s disposition towards your people, the fact that you were chosen to become his wife was just senseless; however, what he was doing, what he was saying now revealed a side of this story that you’d never suppose to exist. Was he as drawn to the human fragility as he claimed? Or was it the very reason why he rarely brought humans to his domains? This second hypothesis was easier to believe now that you were finally with him.

And if that was the case, your privilege – your luck – of still being alive was greater than you could imagine.

You felt his palm on the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your hair as he started murmuring in your ear, his lips brushing on it and making you shiver.

– Would you like it, little dragonet? If I said I would die because of you? – he kissed your lobe – Playing with your words, saying these absurd things about dying for each other… I have heard mortals enjoy it… But what about you? – and, since you didn’t reply, – Why are you so quiet?… Won’t you give me an answer? Hm?

You mumbled a negative reply, and he chuckled, his hot breath warming your skin.

– You do not like it? – his grip on your hair increased, keeping you in place – Liar.

– I’m not…! – you had the nerve to talk back – I’m not lying, my Lord…!

Instead of getting angry, Poseidon laughed at this: apparently, your frail attempts of denying him were really entertaining.

– Oh, no? – you felt his hands caressing your lower back, pulling you to him, his lips brushing over yours as he spoke – Then why your body says otherwise?

You bit your lip, refusing to reply because, in fact, you weren’t in conditions for this: the mere thought of having a powerful god at your feet, trading his life for you like a mortal man, was an audacity by itself, even more exciting when he put it in words. But you didn’t enjoy the sensation of having your fantasies exposed and scrutinized by him, so you avoided arguing, limiting your voice to gasps and tiny moans.

How did I end up this way? There’s a part of myself I don’t want him to reach... Still, my body desires him, to the point of making me think I would devote myself forever to him if I could… that’s so unfair...

Your heartbeats grew faster as hot tears fell through your face, and you threw your arms around him, hiding your face on his shoulder when your apex finally came.

However, it lasted longer than you expected: even though he noticed you were on your limit, Poseidon carried on for a while, only stopping when he has taken everything he could from you. By the end of it, your body was covered in sweat and your limbs were trembling, so that the only thing you were able to do was to stand still, panting.

He laid you down on the mattress, but didn’t take the spot by your side: he kept sitting on the same place, as you felt his eyes observing your exhausted form. Your ankle was tickled when he caressed it with his fingertips.

– I suppose you are not able to take more than this for now. So, stay there and rest – he spoke more to himself than to you; in his voice, you sensed a mixture of diversion and disdain for your state – But even when you are a tiny, delicate human, you resisted well, dragonet. You are a really entertaining creature. Bringing you here was a wise decision.

You were hearing all of this, of course, but being too tired to open your mouth or even to think of a response, you just stood quiet. If Poseidon thought you were already sleeping, you couldn’t tell, but he fell silent with the complete absence of your voice. Moments after, you noticed a pressure on the mattress, as if he was moving away from you, and the sound of the curtains being opened confirmed that he was going to leave you there alone.

***

You woke up in a startle and realized you were laying on the same position you were left on the bed. The curtains were closed, and everything was quiet inside them. You had no ways to be sure of how long you’ve slept, but you supposed it has been just a few minutes, because you didn’t notice any numbness or ache on the side of your body upon which you laid. You moved to the other side…

And startled when you found Poseidon lying there too. Your first impulse was to move away from him, but the possibility of him waking up and pulling you back to himself refrained you, so you first tried to make sure he was asleep: you didn’t even know if gods needed to sleep, but he was so quiet, his breath so slow and deep, that you were almost convinced that they did. You raised your hand and touched his chest, sensing it moving up and down to his breath, but no reaction came from him.

You moved your hand away, relieved, and tried to distance your body from his… but his voice, low and composed, stopped you midway.

– I am awake, if this is what you want to find out – you sensed the mattress being pressed as he moved on his side – And I would appreciate if you stopped trying to escape. You will return to the lodge, but only when I decide.

Before you could do anything, you sensed him stretching his arm and grabbing you by your waist, pulling you back and laying you upon himself. You shivered when you noticed he was still undressed, but stood quiet, your head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped tight around you. For a moment, you were afraid he would suffocate you again, but you were left at will.

You thought he would engage in a conversation after making you stay with him, but he just stood as silent as before: apparently, he had no interest in building any form of relationship with you through talking, but wanted to keep you as a living belonging, one that he could touch, smell and sense around him whenever he could, just as he was doing now: while he had one arm folded behind his head, the other one was around you, his hand tracing circles on your back, his fingers sometimes playing with your hair.

Your chest ached with that. If you were married to someone you knew well, and whom you had enough time to love, you would be in a peaceful, ecstatic state at that very moment. But, after being dragged to a room under the ocean to lie with someone you only knew by name and who wasn’t even human, there was no way for you to feel in peace now.

A lump appeared in your throat, and you tightened your lips and eyes to avoid crying, but when you noticed, your cheeks were wet and clingy, and you started trembling. You tried to contain your restlessness, but all your efforts were in vain, and none of this went unnoticed by Poseidon, who inquired you with a sort of annoyance.

– What is it?

You gathered all your strength to not sob and replied that you were just sore.

– Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

And, without waiting for a response, he took you out of the canopy, carrying you in his arms to another section of the room.

***

You went through a door that was invisible from the room’s entry, but easily detected when you left the bed. This door was similar to the one of the entry, but narrower, and it led to a corridor with cold, white lights and blue walls. By the end of it, there was what you supposed to be a bathing area, but you couldn’t see any shower or bathtub anywhere: it was just the floor and the walls decorated with small tiles that formed mosaics representing episodes of marine wildlife, from small creatures being swallowed by colossal predators to elegant beings playing, wandering and making love to each other. You were wondering why would someone want this last activity to be represented inside their house when Poseidon put you down and stepped away from you.

You passed your arms upon your chest and thought of asking what was going on when you saw him snapping his fingers, and the last thing you knew was your sight being covered by jets of warm water coming from all possible directions, making you protect your eyes as they cleaned your body entirely.

Heavens, if he wants to drown me, he could just say it out loud.

You closed your lips tight to avoid swallowing water, and after what seemed an eternity, the showering finally ended. With a sigh, you rubbed your face and blinked until your view got clear again. You were twisting your hair to take out the excess of water when Poseidon approached you and held you in his arms again; you tried not to look at his face, in order to avoid finding a new sign of disappointment in it.

You crossed a second door on the opposite side of the one through which you entered that area, and this time you entered a wider, lighter room that reminded you of a bathing house, with a rectangular water tank in the middle of it, so large that it looked more like a pool than a bathtub; the walls and the edges of the tank were of a rosy white, with delicate patterns of sea weeds and small fishes, and the water’s surface, trembling with ripples that reflected their shade, as well as the light descending from above, from what you supposed to be hidden lamps. All around you, the murmur of the streams falling from four spouts, one at each corner of the tank, worked to calm your moods as much as the lights.

One of the sides of the tank had three or four stairs carved on it that led to the water’s interior. Poseidon stopped in front of them and put you down, leaving you on the first stair as he went to a corner where you saw shelves of bottles in many sizes and shapes, something similar to what you found at the bathing area where Kenya and Yua took care of you earlier. He stretched his hand and grabbed one bottle on the top of a shelf, then a second on the one below it, then brought both with him.

The first bottle’s content reminded you of a pink, vibrant dust, and the second one was of pure white, like the expensive sugar you used to see at the tables of your father’s rich clients. Poseidon opened the bottles (their covers were attached to them) and poured a bit of each one on the water. He went back to put them in their previous places as you observed the color of the water change to a darker shade of pink, and a soothing fragrance came up from it as the dusts blended with it.

Once again, he came back and took you with him as he walked into the water.

The tub wasn’t really deep: on the opposite edge, in front of the stairs, the water reached Poseidon’s knees, which you supposed to be a bit above your own, and when he sat with you on his lap, the water covered your chest.

– What were those things that you poured on the water, Poseidon-sama? – you asked while observing your surroundings.

– Healing salts – he moved the strands of your hair away from your back, leaving your skin exposed – They will work on your pain and tiredness.

You didn’t reply, and he started taking small amounts of the water in his palms and pouring them on your skin, then massaging the wet areas: first, he caressed your back and shoulders, then spent a brief moment on your neck; he then made you uncross your arms and took care of them, and while you looked at his hands working, you startled when you saw the amount of reddish marks all over your body; still, you didn’t interrupt him. Your chest and your breasts were not forgotten, as he stroked them with his palms and gave special attention to your nipples, were the ache was deeper.

Since your thighs and legs were under the water, the effect of the salts reached them faster, still your husband took more time to take care of them: adjusting your position on his lap, he separated your legs and spent the next minutes caressing them, even more in the space between your thighs, where your muscles were more sensitive.

When Poseidon called those products “healing salts”, you supposed it was just a poetic name for common bath salts, which use was limited to cosmetic and relaxing properties, but as you sensed the pain ceasing with the massage and the warm water moving around you, as well as the subtle perfume of the salts entering your nostrils, you understood his words as a literal explanation. When you noticed, you were already feeling your eyes heavy, and, without warning, your head fell forward, and you only had time to sense him bringing it to his chest before the consciousness left you for the second time.

When you woke up, you were on the same place, and the water was still warm. You blinked and moved, trying to straighten up on your husband’s lap.

As soon as you did it, you heard his voice.

– I thought I would have to wake you up, dragonet – he brushed your hair, starting to dry, away from your shoulder – Usually, these salts just work on the pain and the superficial wounds on one’s body, and even to calm one’s mood, but they are strong enough to put a human to sleep.

You didn’t reply. He continued to speak, not letting it clear if he was talking to you or to himself.

– Each moment that passes, you find a new way to surprise me with your frailty – he chuckled – It is been a while since I allowed you to enter my domains, but you are still as tricky as in the old times. However, I am starting to enjoy the stressful mission that is taking care of you.

No word came out from your mouth in response, but you replied in thoughts.

If it’s so stressful, why did you bring me here in the first place?

If Poseidon was able to guess what you were thinking, you didn’t know, but he might have had a clue, judging by what he said to you next.

– You are always so silent. Is this shyness, or are you just not willing to share your thoughts with your husband?

That time, something grew inside you and gave you the courage to speak. You looked into his eyes – something that was even harder to do now that you were seeing his eyes under a clear light.

– If I told you everything that’s inside my mind, my Lord... Would you still keep me alive?

You noticed his right, golden eyebrow raising as he kept his glare over you for a moment, forcing you to look away. You felt his hand approaching your neck, his fingers crawling through your skin, making impossible for you to tell if he was just caressing you or if he was going to suffocate you.

– Why don’t you go ahead and speak your mind to find out?

You swallowed. If those were the conditions, you were better keep your mouth shut.

Poseidon laughed.

– Clever girl – his hand left your neck and held your chin, making you approach him; he gave you a long, warm kiss on your temple – Knowing when to talk and when to keep quiet is a beautiful virtue, and you seem to have mastered it. How did you do it?

Was it an invitation for you to tell him about your origins or past life? If that was the case, you would have to do it carefully: if his servants were able to find your house and deliver his message to your father, he must have been informed about details of your routine or homeland and was now testing your capacity of revealing and hiding things.

Not having much choices, you opted for an honest answer.

– I come from a family of merchants, Poseidon-sama. There is a saying among us: our voice, when well used, can be more precious than the gold we trade. In my house, we take this very seriously.

You observed the corners of his lips curl into a satisfied smile.

– It is good to hear that, dragonet. It means that there is at least one lesson I do not need to teach you.

Chapter 5

[willalove75]

Could you write something where Rebecca and reader are fake dating and in one instance (for whatever reason) they have to kiss and because they both secretly enjoyed it they proceed to make up excuses to kiss each other more? Then maybe something happens that causes Rebecca to get jealous and make a public display which kind of forces them to confront their true feelings?

🥰🥰🥰

Love your work so much!

Oooh yes I love this! Thanks so much for the request!!💕

And thank you SO MUCH!! I'm so glad you're enjoying my stuff! If you have any more requests feel free to send them my way! 💕

You and Keeley walk into Rebecca's office carrying bags of takeout.

"Hello!" Rebecca says happily.

Keeley runs over to Rebecca and gives her a big hug.

"Oh I haven't seen you in so long!" Keeley says.

"I know, now that you have your own PR firm you're too busy for me!"

Keeley gives Rebecca a pouty face and you walk over.

"Hi y/n!" Rebecca says as she goes to hug you.

"Hi Rebecca!" You say as she pulls you in for a hug.

"Let's eat, I'm starving!" She says.

The three of you make yourselves at home on her couch and have lunch.

"So what are you two up to this weekend?" Rebecca asks.

"Well, tomorrow night we're meeting up with some of my friends, including my ex and his crazy pretty new girlfriend." You say.

"Oh shit, that's tomorrow?" Keeley asks.

"Oh no," You say.

"Shit! I have a shoot tomorrow night! Oh y/n I'm SO sorry I totally forgot that was tomorrow!!" She says with disappointment.

"Keeleyyyyyy" you groan. "Fuck I can't go alone!"

"Why not?" Rebecca asks.

"Because her ex's new girlfriend is hot as fuck and she doesn't want to look like a total loser showing up to this big shindig alone." Keeley says.

"Pretty much. We still have a lot of friends in common and last time I saw the two of them I was alone and it was horrible!" You say. "Keeley was going to be my fake girlfriend for the night." You look over at her.

"I'm so sorry I feel so horrid!" She exclaims. "Wait! I have an idea! Rebecca, do you want to take my place and be y/n's fake girlfriend tomorrow?"

"Oh god you don't have to- I mean if you want to you can but I'd feel terrible dragging you into this." You say.

"Pleaseee take my place tomorrow night!" Keeley begs Rebecca donning puppy dog eyes.

Rebecca thinks about it for a minute and finally says

"Fuck it, why not! I have nothing going on tomorrow night anyway.”

"Really?" You ask with wide eyes. "You know she meant like girlfriend girlfriend, not just like a friend who's a girl, right? I just want to make sure before you agree and then realize it's not what you expected."

"Yeah why not, I think it'll be fun!" She says.

"Oh it's gonna be so good!!" Keeley says. "Ugh now I really wish I was going just to see his stupid face when you walk in with one of the hottest women in London!"

The three of you laugh and you give Rebecca some details and continue your lunch. You guys pack up and get ready to head out and say your goodbyes.

"Byeee!" Keeley says hugging Rebecca.

"By love." She says back.

"Bye, thank you so much, seriously, I really owe you for this!" You say giving her a hug.

"Not a problem at all! But drinks are on you." She says with a laugh.

"That's totally fair." You say.

The next day comes around and your nerves start to kick in, it was one thing when it was Keeley that was going to be your fake girlfriend, she's one of your best friends. Even though you've gotten to know Rebecca really well, you still don't know her as well as you know Keeley and you hope it doesn't go sideways.

You get ready for the night and the group chat with all of your friends that will be there starts exploding with "I'm so excited to see you all!" "I can't wait for you to meet my new boyfriend!" and the like. One of your best friends, Callie, sends a message to the group chat.

"I heard y/n has a new friend she's bringing tonight 👀😜"

The group chat goes nuts, thank god you didn't tell anyone who you were taking with you before Keeley canceled or this would get real weird real fast. You reply to the chat

"Mayybeeee 😉"

A bunch of your friends heart react to it and you notice one person give it a thumbs up, you check to see who it was and it was from your ex, Brian.

"Well, here goes nothing." You think to yourself.

You get a text from Rebecca saying that she's here and you walk out of your flat and get into her car.

"Hi! You look beautiful!" She says as she leans over the center console to give you a hug.

"Hi! Thank you so much for doing this, seriously you really didn't have to."

"Of course! I couldn't let my girl go alone!" She says as she playfully nudges you.

You talk about who's going to be at the restaurant and giving Rebecca cliff notes of who each person is. You pull up and you both get out of the car. She looks stunning, a tight red dress that hugs her body perfectly. It looks like it was made custom to show off every amazing curve on her body, you actually wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

Before you walk into the restaurant you pause and take a deep breath, Rebecca looks over at you, sensing your nerves.

"We're gonna kill it." She says with a smile.

You smile back at her and she holds her hand out, you grab it and you walk hand-in-hand into the restaurant.

You walk to the back room where everyone has gathered and you hear cheering and excitement when you walk in.

"Y/n!!" Callie says as she runs over to hug you. "Oh I missed you so much oh my god!!" She squeezes you tighter.

"I missed you so much too!" You squeeze her back.

Callie looks over at Rebecca and back at you and gives you a nod of approval.

"Cal, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, this is my best friend Callie."

"It's so great to finally meet you!" Callie says.

"It's so great to finally meet you as well!" Rebecca says as they shake hands.

Another friend calls Callie over and she excuses herself, as she walks past you she says with a smirk

"Damn girl, look at you."

You give her a look as she continues to walk away.

"Sorry," you say to Rebecca as you blush.

"Oh don't be, at least we know it's working." She says with a giggle. "Come on, I want to meet the rest of my girlfriends friends." She says with a wink.

You go around the room and introduce her to your friends and their partners, no one can seem to keep their eyes off of Rebecca. You hear whispers of "no way", "damn, good for her" and so on.

You feel really awkward interacting with your friends, worried about doing something that would make Rebecca uncomfortable. As you're talking to some friends you feel her slide her arm around your waist and you look up at her. She can feel your nervousness and gives you a comforting look, you relax a little and lean into her as she pulls you closer.

You start feeling more comfortable, you and Rebecca start flirting like a real couple would, sometimes you have to remind yourself that it's not real and you're both just playing a part.

About 30 minutes after you arrive you hear more cheering as someone else walks in and you hear someone yell

"Brian's finally here! Now the party can really start!"

You freeze when you hear his name and you're flooded with nerves. Rebecca must have picked up on your anxiousness because she turns you towards her and holds your hands as she looks into your eyes.

"You're okay," she says with a comforting smile. "We got this." She pulls you in for a hug. You relax into her arms and you feel her place a kiss on the top of your head as she holds you. Your anxiousness turns into butterflies in your stomach and you try to ignore them.

"It's not real." You think to yourself.

You take her hand and lead her towards the front of the room. Through the crowd you see Brian, looking as handsome as ever, with his obnoxiously gorgeous girlfriend Olivia.

"Wow, she is beautiful." Rebecca whispers to you.

"Yeah I wasn't kidding, it all makes much more sense now doesn't it?" You say with a small laugh.

"It sure does." She looks down at you. "But we look hotter than them anyway." She gives you a wink and a playful smile.

You feel your cheeks blush and the butterflies flutter in your belly again as you hear someone calling your name.

"Y/n!" You look up to see Brian calling you over.

You shake off the butterflies and walk over with Rebecca.

"Hey Brian! How are you?"

He pulls you in for a hug and you get a whiff of his cologne. You immediately notice that it's the one you bought him, your favorite scent. You feel the pain in your heart and try to ignore it.

"Good, you remember Olivia, right?" He asks.

"Of course," you turn to her. "Hey, how have you been?" You give her a hug.

"I've been well! How about you?"

"Good," you turn to Rebecca. "Brian, Olivia, this is Rebecca," you pause for a moment and look at her, she looks down at you and her eyes sparkle. "My girlfriend." You look at her proudly. "Rebecca, this is Brian and Olivia."

"It's so lovely to meet you both." Rebecca says shaking their hands.

She pulls her hand back and places it on the small of your back.

"Nice to meet you." Brian says. "You know I was surprised when you said you were bringing someone y/n. I didn't know you were seeing everyone."

"Yeah," you say, unsure of how to respond.

"We've been together for a few months now, but I was the one who wanted to keep quiet about it for a bit," Rebecca interjects. "And y/n was so patient with me, so as soon as she told me about this event, I figured it was the perfect time to officially meet everyone."

"Damn she's good at this." You think to yourself.

You think you see a hint of jealousy on Brian's face when Rebecca speaks, he puts his hand around Olivia's waist and pulls her in closer as they chat.

"Well love," Rebecca says, looking down at you. She gently pushes a stray hair out of your face and her thumb caresses your cheek. "I think it's time for a drink, what do you think?"

"I think so." You say, looking up into her eyes.

You both maintain eye contact for an extra second as you get lost in her gorgeous green eyes. The butterflies in your stomach get riled up again as you look at her, you look away back at Brian and you can clearly see, he's jealous.

You say goodbye to Brian and Olivia and lead Rebecca to the bar. You both order drinks and as promised, you pay for them. You find some empty chairs and take a seat at one of the tables filled with people you know, including Callie, and start chatting.

"So Rebecca, how did you two meet?" Callie asks with a raised eyebrow.

You look over at Rebecca, she sees the worry in your eyes. You just realized you guys never discussed this and you're terrified your cover is going to be blown. Rebecca looks back into your eyes and smiles and looks over at Callie.

"Well, y/n is great friends with one of my best friends, Keeley Jones," the table is a little star struck at the name drop, everyone knows who Keeley Jones is. "And we all went out for dinner one night and we got on really well. I thought she was beautiful and asked for her number and from there we spent more and more time together and we decided to give this a shot." She holds your hand and looks at you lovingly.

The table "aw's" at the two of you and you lean in closer to her, still holding hands.

The night goes on, you order more drinks and chat and have fun with your friends. You end up at a table with James, Brian's best friend, Brian, Olivia, Callie, her boyfriend and a few others. James is pretty wasted and starts to question your relationships.

“Y/n, I don’t fuckin believe for a second that you’re actually dating the owner of AFC Richmond. Can you fuckin’ believe that mate?” He says to Brian.

"How do you-" You begin to ask.

"How the fuck do I not?! Richmond is in my blood!" He says as he turns around, pulls his shirt off and shows off a Greyhounds tattoo on his shoulder.

Brian definitely doesn’t look thrilled, but shrugs him off.

“Shut up James, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say defensively.

“You’re fuckin’ lying, I bet she’s a fake date.”

Your face gets red, both with embarrassment and anger and look over at Rebecca. She looks calm and unbothered, she holds your hand and strokes the back of it with her thumb.

“James what the fuck do they have to do to prove to you they’re together, make out in front of you? You're ridiculous.” Callie argues back.

“Actually,” James says with a smirk “that’s exactly what they’d have to do.”

“Oh fuck off James. I don’t even know why you were invited. No one here besides Brian even fucking likes you.” You say.

“If you were a real couple, you wouldn’t fight it.” He says back.

You look over at Rebecca with fear in your eyes. She smiles at you as the rest of the table chimes in.

“I mean he’s not wrong!” “Just kiss her she’s your girlfriend.” "James shut the fuck up."

You look over at Callie, she senses your nervousness, but only thinks it’s because of them hounding you both to kiss.

“You don’t have to and I wouldn't blame you because he's an absolute knobhead, but it will shut him up and he won’t keep saying this shit for the rest of the night. It's up to you.” Callie says.

You turn back to Rebecca, you have no idea what to do, she can tell immediately that you’re freezing. She adjusts her chair to face you more and tucks a piece of hair gently behind your ear, leaving her hand resting on your cheek, and looks into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she says gently with a smile.

“Are you sure?” You ask back.

She nods and you study her face for a minute, trying to find any sense of hesitation or discomfort. You find neither, she's either one of the best actresses you've ever seen, or she's genuinely okay with this.

You take a deep breath in and she pulls you into her. You don't think you've ever been this nervous before as you lean into the kiss. Your lips meet and the first thing you notice is how soft and warm her lips are. The sounds of the restaurant are suddenly muffled, you feel your body relax as a warmth runs through you and the butterflies in your belly go crazy. You're not sure if it's the butterflies or nerves, or maybe something else entirely, but you feel sparks between your lips as they meet. The scent of her perfume fills your nostrils as you kiss, so elegant and heavenly. The façade you two have built crumbles as your bottom lips slides between hers. You bring your hand up to her face, your fingers resting on her smooth skin, you pull her in closer and she puts her other hand on your leg. She gently licks your lips and you part yours, your tongues quickly caress each other and you feel like you're floating . She gently sucks on your bottom lip as you part and you feel like the air in your lungs was stolen from you for a moment.

You notice your heart is beating so fast you think it's going to explode, you're a little afraid to open your eyes as you part and see her upset or turned off. You gain up the courage and open your eyes and meet her gaze. She's looks a little surprised, but her lips are curved into a satisfied smile.

"Is this real?" You ask yourself.

The entire world around you vanished for a moment and you're suddenly jolted back when you hear the commotion from your kiss.

You look back to the table and you look over at Callie, who has the biggest smile on her face, James looks shocked, and Brian isn't even looking at the two of you, he doesn't look happy.

Rebecca glares at James and he says nothing as he slinks away, you and Rebecca look at each other and laugh.

"Holy shit." Callie says looking wide-eyed at the both of you. "That was the hottest kiss I think I've ever see in my entire life."

You and Rebecca laugh and you rest your head on her shoulder.

With James taken care of, everyone's convinced that you two are together without a doubt and the night continues.

You notice that the flirting between you and Rebecca becomes effortless, you both putting your arms around each other, your hand rests on her leg, she touches your arm occasionally, like you're really a couple.

You get up to go to the bathroom and she pulls you in for a quick kiss before you walk away. You're definitely surprised, but very much into it. You feel the sparks again as your lips meet and the butterflies go nuts. You gently bite your lower lip after you part and you head off.

You make your way back and walk up to Rebecca sitting at the bar.

"There she is!" Rebecca says with a smile.

"I hope you didn't miss me too much!" You playfully respond.

You put your hands on her hips as she drapes her arms around your shoulders, you look into each others eyes and you get lost in hers for a minute. You're brought back to Earth when the bartender puts two drinks down on the bar. You hop into your seat and you both enjoy your drinks.

Callie runs up to you and pulls you off of the stool towards the dance floor.

"Come on!" You say to Rebecca, grabbing at her hand.

"Oh no, I don't dance. But go! I'll hang out here." She replies with a smile.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely!"

You kiss her again before you head off and like the previous kisses, sparks ignite when your lips land on hers. You smile as you look into her eyes and she looks like she's beaming. At this point, you're really not sure if you're pretending anymore. You head off to the dance floor and dance with your friends.

A slow song comes on and Callie's boyfriend steals her away and you go to walk off of the dancefloor. Brian slides in front of you and grabs you to dance, his movements as smooth as butter.

"What are you doing?" You ask with a laugh.

"What, I can't dance with my ex?"

"Usually that's pretty frowned upon."

"Ah, well, I was never one to follow the status quo."

"I'm sure your girlfriend would beg to differ."

He laughs and you're immediately transported back to when you were dating. You loved his laugh, it never failed to make you smile even when you didn't want to.

"So how you doin' y/n?" He asks.

"I've been good, how have you been?"

"Not bad, not bad at all."

He spins you and pulls you back into him. You catch a glimpse of Rebecca sitting at the bar and you can tell something changed.

"How's your girlfriend? You know I was surprised when I heard you had a girlfriend."

"She's wonderful, and I don't know why, you knew I liked girls." You say, rolling your eyes. "Speaking of girlfriends Brian, your girlfriend Olivia is going to kill the both of us if she sees us dancing. What's going on?"

"And your girlfriend won't?" He asks with a smirk.

You look over his shoulder and Rebecca has turned her back to you both, leaning on the bar.

"She very well might." You give him a look.

"Nothings going on, I just wanted a chance to talk to you by ourselves for a minute, I miss our talks." He says sincerely.

You sigh and give him a look.

"I do too, but, we broke up, we've both moved on,"

"Why can't we be friends?" He says cutting you off.

"I'm not saying we can't, but I am saying we cannot slow dance alone. Go get your girlfriend and bring her out here before she leaves you too." You give him a playful smirk and twirl away from him and head towards Rebecca.

"Hey," you say, sitting next to her.

"Hi."

You notice she's looking down into her drink, slowly swirling it in her glass, she doesn't look up at you.

"Hey, are you okay?" You ask concerned.

"Yeah," she says and pauses for a moment, watching the mixed drink swirl around. "Actually, I don't know."

"What happened?" You put your hand on her arm, worried that something happened when you were with Brian.

She looks up at you, there's a sadness in her eyes you immediately pick up on.

"Rebecca," you look into her eyes, worried about her. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she says shaking her head. "Nothing, I'm fine actually."

"You're definitely not."

"Ohhh trouble in paradise!" James says a little too loudly.

"Shut up James, Jesus, don't you have anything better to do?"

"Nope." He says, keen on watching this play out.

You push him away and Rebecca gets up and goes to walk away. You grab her arm and gently pull her towards you as you stand.

"Rebecca," you look up into her eyes, desperate to know why she's upset.

She looks away from your gaze, you see her looking over at Brian dancing with a visibly unhappy Olivia and you realize why she's upset. You know she's not acting, she's not playing the "jealous girlfriend" part, seeing you two together genuinely upset her and your heart breaks when you realize what's going on.

"Oh god," you pull her closer to you and your hand slides up to her cheek. She looks back at you, the hurt in her eyes makes you want to cry. "Honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't- I didn't realize-" You're lost for words, tears well up in your eyes, the guilt eats away at you, even though you didn't know for sure that she had feelings for you.

"I know," she says and looks away. "I didn't either but- when I saw you- when we-" She looks back into your eyes and takes a deep breath. "I can't do this anymore." She says quietly, her eyes becoming glassy.

"I'm so sorry, I never would have- I didn't- fuck!" You look away as a tear rolls down your cheek. You look up into her eyes, a few tears fall onto her cheeks and you wipe them away. "It's okay."

You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her in for a hug, she hesitates for a second, but tightly wraps her arms around your waist. You place on hand on the back of her head and hold her close.

"I don't want to pretend anymore." She whispers into your ear as you hold each other.

"Me either." You whisper back. "I feel like I stopped pretending hours ago. I just didn't know that you- I'm so sorry."

"I stopped pretending after that first kiss."

You pull back and look into her eyes.

"I thought I was crazy, that I thought there was- I just told myself it was nerves."

She shakes her head, you wipe away a few more tears and hold her face in your hand. You see sadness and fear in her eyes, neither of you expected this to happen when you agreed to come here as fake girlfriends.

You pull her into you and kiss her, you feel her wrap one had around your waist and the other slides up your shoulder blades as you hold her face. Her lips salty from her tears, you gently lick her bottom lip and she opens just enough for your tongue to slide in. She caresses your tongue with hers and kisses you harder, you've never felt so connected to someone else when you kissed them. She pulls away, the tears on her face dried, you look into her eyes and the fear and sadness is gone. You let out a sigh of relief and notice that a lot of the people around you stopped and watched. You feel your cheeks get red and Rebecca whispers into your ear

"Come with me."

She grabs your hand and leads you away without saying another word. She takes you outside and brings you to her car in the carpark. She opens the back door and gets in and pulls you in after her. You shut the door, as soon as you turn to face her she kisses you again. She pulls away, holding your face in her hands and looks into your eyes.

"We needed to talk without anyone else around. And I just needed to know that it wasn't-"

"It wasn't." You say, looking back into her eyes.

"I can't pretend that I like you, not when I care about you so much. I'm so sorry I got upset but watching you dance with him, it did something to me that I wasn't expecting and it terrified me."

"I don't want to pretend anymore either, I thought I was crazy for thinking that there was something between us after that first kiss so I had to convince myself it was just nerves. But I kept forgetting we were pretending, it felt so real. I wanted it to be real."

Rebecca pulls you into her and your lips meet again, the sparks more intense now than they have ever been. She pulls you into her lap and you straddle her in the backseat of her car. She gently digs her nails into you as she grabs handfuls of your dress, you slide one hand to the back of her head, you run your fingers through her soft blond hair and hold onto it. You feel your heartbeats become one as your tongues explore each others mouths. Small moans escape as both of you gasp for air between kisses, the moment becomes more and more intense the longer you kiss.

The kiss slows as you both hold each other close, both of you panting trying to catch your breath. You feel her soft lips brush against yours, her eyelashes gently caressing your cheek when she closes her eyes. You feel her warm breath on your face, she loosens her grip on you but still firmly holds onto your hips. You pull back and look into her eyes, glimmering in the dimly lit carpark and you can't help but smile as you look at her for a minute.

"So, no more pretending." You say breaking the silence. "It's for real this time, right?"

She gently kisses you again and looks into your eyes.

"Right."

You kiss her once more before you get out of the car. You two walk hand-in-hand back into the restaurant and reclaim your seats at the bar.

"Is everything okay?" Callie slides up next to you and quietly asks.

"Yeah, everything is fine." You say back.

"Are you sure? Because it didn't look fine five minutes ago." She glances over at Rebecca.

"Yes, it was just a misunderstanding, but we got it sorted, I promise. Everything is good now, probably better than it was before honestly." You say with a smile.

"Okay, just wanted to make sure."

You give her a hug and turn your attention back to Rebecca. You grab her hand and kiss the back of it, holding it against your cheek. She smiles at you and nuzzles into you, a newfound sense of peace washing over you both.

Another slow song comes on and Rebecca's attention is immediately grabbed.

"Oh I love this song!" She says.

You get up out of your chair to guide her to the dance floor, she hesitates for a minute.

"Come on baby, dance with me, just this one." You say with a smile.

She gets up and pulls you into her and kisses you.

"I love hearing you call me that."

You both head to the dance floor, your hand around her waist, hers around yours and your other hands gently clasped together, you sway to the beat of the song. You lay your head on her chest while you move as one and listen to her steady heartbeat. The room around you vanishes as you close your eyes, letting the rhythm guide you. You open your eyes and look up at her, her green eyes shining as the lights reflect off of them. She looks down at you with a smile, looking deeply into your eyes. Before you know it your lips are interlocked, you bring your hands up to her face and she places her hands on your hips. Your lips part and you rest your head against hers, letting the music continue to guide your movements. The song comes to and end and Rebecca gently twirls you and you spin back into her arms, your lips meeting hers once again.

You head back to the bar and close out your tab as the night comes to an end. You say your goodbyes to your friends and you see Brian, he gives you a nod and you return the action. You and Rebecca walk back to the car, hand-in-hand, your fingers interlocked and your arms gently swaying as you walk through the carpark.

You get into the car and she looks over at you.

"So, babe," she says with a smile. "Would you like to come back to my place?"

"I would love to, my beautiful girlfriend."

You both giggle as you lean in for a kiss. Rebecca puts the car in drive and pulls away.

Walking into the restaurant tonight, you never would have guessed that this is how your night would end, but you're more than happy about it.