#this was not a string of words I anticipated reading today

[g0niki]

cheer for me ── s.jy

pairing: girlfriend f! reader x basketball player! jake

word count: 2k+

contents: smut,, lots of it. oral (giving & receiving), unprotected sex (do not free willy y’all.), light slapping, semi-public scene, light biting, let me know if i missed anything

jake dribbled the ball across the court, his jersey hanging off his body loosely as beads of sweat trickled down his face.  

he was already way past tired, in for a majority of the game and scoring a good portion of the points. time running down on the timer as he debates whether or not he has enough time for one last layup. the large red numbers reading 13 seconds, and sure he isn’t that far, standing around the three-pointer line, but the sight of you waiting on the bleachers while clutching the pompoms in your hands is enough to distract him for just a couple more moments. only being brought back to earth when the sound of his teammates back on the bench yell at him to ‘get a fucking move on already’. 

shaking his head to get back into the game, he realizes it’s now or never and makes his final shot. the whole gymnasium goes silent for a moment, watching as the ball spins off the tips of his fingers and hurdles toward the hoop. 

he swears he can see you clutch the plastic material between your fingers even tighter. not bothering to see if the ball is going to go in. more focused on seeing his pretty girlfriend stare off with a certain glow in your eyes, and he knows that he’s scored when he sees your face go from anticipation to relief. turning your head towards him and locking eyes before his team swarms him and drags him away into the crowd. 

【☆】★【☆】

your back hits the cool material of the lockers a hiss leaves your lips in response, jake quickly hushing you with a suffocating kiss. rushed and messy, but his plush lips feel so right against yours. 

"so pretty, made it so hard to focus the entire time.”  his hands move up to grope at your chest, mentally cursing at the thick fabric of your uniform stopping him from feeling your hardened nipples. his tongue dances with yours for a split second letting you have fun before quickly overpowering yours. he revels in the fact that sometimes it’s a bit harder for you to keep up. adoring the sounds leaving the back of your throat as you practically choke on the mixture of saliva the two of you are creating. 

he lets his tongue return to his mouth, pulling back and watching the strings of spit hold the two of you together for just a moment longer. 

“did so good for me today,” brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and taking in your flushed appearance. “cheering and looking cute, all for me right?” he watches you almost helplessly nod, your eyes big and empty while he’s hardly done anything. 

his hands cupping the backside of your thighs before he gives you the signal to jump up. you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, feeling his cock press against the front side of your cunt. 

“come on tell me you want it.” he doesn’t let you properly respond, his mouth coming back into contact with your own as you whine out how badly you want him, his mind filling with all the things he wants to do to you. 

he turns around and lies you on top of the plastic bench, right in the center of the changing room. he straddles the piece of plastic and pulls your legs over his, maneuvering your body and making it possible to press his groin against yours. he drags his hips down, placing a heavy amount of pressure against your thinly covered cunt. 

“i could fuck you full right now.” kissing down the side of your neck and massaging your clit over the clothing. your back arches up at the flick on your clit, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. 

he removes himself from under you and sinks to his knees, pushing his face into your cunt. inhaling deeply and taking in your scent, moaning against your safety shorts. you look down to see him turning his face, taking a deep bite into your plush thigh, marking your cunt as his. 

and then there’s a banging on the locker room door. 

“coach left me to lock up, get the fuck out of here!” leaving you to dust off your skirt and have a walk of shame past the team’s captain, your hand interlocked with jake’s as you both mutter out an apology. 

“…. sorry heeseung.” 

【☆】★【☆】

"gosh, that was so embarrassing.” you bury your face into your hands, spinning around in your vanity chair as you reflect on the moment. “i don’t think i’ll be able to look at him after that..” 

jake walks in front of you, squatting down and massaging your thighs. taking a moment to thumb at the sore bite he left.

“why don’t you let me make it up to you?” a not-so-sweet smile on his face. “let you cum on my tongue.” 

he shimmies you out of your safety shorts, groaning at the sight of your thin thong being pressed between your lips. he immediately dives in, not bothering to remove the material since he finds it much hotter to eat you through them. his fingers play with the rim of your cunt, slipping in every so often but never sliding fully in. 

“so wet, trying to suck me right up.” your fingers find solace tangled within his hair, harshly tugging and leaving his scalp sore.  “can’t believe i had to wait for this.”

his lips wrap around your clit, playing with the sensitive bead while his fingers shallowly fuck you. the sounds of your whines progressively getting louder make him smirk against your heat, knowing that you’re almost near your climax. 

pushing his digits just a bit deeper before curling them against the spot. your legs come together, burying jake under your skirt as you fight back cumming so quickly. 

“yunie please~” 

“please what?” 

“i wanna cum please.” 

“mm, good job angel~” the term leaves his lips so lightly and with much endearment while he slaps your cunt a couple of times while curling his fingers repeatedly inside of you, rubbing against your g-spot perfectly and leaving you practically shaking around him. 

“i don’t think this is enough. you deserve so much more, could hear you shouting for me the whole game.” he licks around his fingers that are still plunged into your cunt, letting your juices drip down onto his tongue. “my sweet girl.”

jake pulls away, ready to scoop you up and take you over to the bed but you quickly stop him. walking over to the bed while sliding off your top and lying down on the mattress, leaving your head to dangle off the edge.

“use me.” your tone was too much for him to deny, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

“you’re a fucking angel.” rushing to remove his clothing and meet you. 

he stares in awe as you lay there with your mouth wide open. gripping his hot length and slapping it against your forehead. 

he laughs lightly, amazed at how gone you are. watching as your eyes slightly cross in a bad attempt to eye at his cock. 

“don’t hurt yourself pretty, i’ll give it to you in just a moment.” his hands lightly wrapping around your throat and pushing down to your tits, playing with your nipples and fumbling with them until they harden under the pads of his thumbs. 

you mindlessly stick your tongue out and lick at the underside of his shaft. ignoring the slight burn in your neck as you fight to hold your head up, jake groaning in shock and tightly gripping your supple chest. 

he leans back up, sliding his hands around your neck once again and aligning his cock to the opening of your mouth. pushing his dick into your mouth and letting it lie heavy on the roof of your mouth. 

he pushes his cock all the way in, letting your throat close around the tip giving him that extra tinge of pleasure.  he shallowly fucks in and out of your mouth, listening to the sounds of you gurgling around his member. 

he doesn’t want to come quite yet, pressing his pelvis flush against your face and holding. slowing his breath while you choke around him, spit spluttering out of your mouth while he fights to calm himself down. he almost can withhold while his cock sits in the back of your throat, but the feeling of your tongue pressing against the veins on his cock.

quickly pulling out and leaving you gasping for air.

“i need to be in your cunt.”

his eyes get dark, the light completely leaving and being replaced with an overwhelming amount of lust. your mind is already hazy as you gaze up at him, eyes fighting the urge to roll back. 

you quickly move around, placing yourself right in front of him and spreading your legs to expose yourself completely. 

your thong is completely soaked and painted a shade darker. 

“look at my little personal cheerleader. get to come home and fuck you stupid.” his finger slides under the thin material, pulling it a couple of inches back from your cunt as he continues his tangent. “my little prize, have to watch all the other players eye fuck you across the court. your empty little brain hardly even notices it.”

a quick look of annoyance flashes across his face, clearly annoyed at the idea of all the other guys ogling at you.

“but my dumb cheerleader always makes sure to chant my name and cheer for me. every. single. night. that right?” you eagerly nod, unable to bring yourself to speak at the moment, jake slapping you around a couple of times in response. “come on, use that pretty voice.”

“yes jaeyunie, only yours. i only cheer for you.” 

“good girl.” fucking his cunt up into yours, satisfied with how you gasp at the intrusion. he pulls out slowly before slamming his length into you multiple times, watching your cunt squeeze around him and stretch around his girth. a bulge slightly evident in the pit of your abdomen. 

the sound of you practically squealing every time he punches your insides. 

his hand finding its spot on your clit, his thumb swirling in circles and matching up with his pace. he admires the look on your face, your eyes closed tightly while you bite down on your lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

“aht aht, can’t have you hurting yourself angel.” his free hand coming up to cup your chin and slide a thumb between your lips. he presses down on your tongue slightly, enough to get your jaw slacking open and prevent you from causing any more damage to your pretty lips. 

“now come on, i know you wanna milk my cock pretty.” replacing his thumb massaging your clit with his ring and pointer finger, applying more pressure onto the muscle. he spits down onto your cunt, letting his cock push his saliva into you and coat his cock even more. your already slicked-up cunt crying around him even more as your back arches up. 

“there it is.” your walls convulse around him while he continues his movements. watching the white ring around his cock get thicker and thicker, feeling his tip swell inside of you. he pulls out enough to leave his tip still plugged inside of you, seeing the veins on his cock throb down the rest of his length.

his climax climbs up his back, but he doesn’t completely tip over until he sees your small hand creep down to your opening and wrap around the exposed area of your cock, sliding up and down and urging him to cum right inside of you. 

his hand grips the frilly material of your skirt, grasping onto anything to keep himself grounded, knowing that his orgasm is going to hit him hard. not bothering to hold back his whines and moans as his cock swells with sensitivity. 

“i worked so hard for you, please.” was all it took for him to paint your walls. his warm seed dripping out of your cunt and between the dip of your ass. “so… good,” leaving your lips as your head nods back and sinks into the plush mattress. 

guess you could say jake loves having a personal cheerleader. 

[luveline]

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 

“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 

“My vampirism.” 

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 

“Of course you did.” 

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say. 

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 

“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 

“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Literally everywhere cold.” 

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 

You squint at him. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 

“Anywhere with you.” 

“Well, you’d have to.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 

“Never.” 

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 

[sorrowsofsilence]

Diagnosis • Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, fingering, female!receiving), PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!recieving, choking, doctor x patient (uncomfy situation so pls don't read if the idea of a doctor being unethical isn't your vibe- it is also not my vibe but yk, Dr. Davis can do anything to me lol)

Prompt: You had no idea your past highschool school hook-up would be your substitute doctor during your annual check-up; but let's just say you were in desperate need of a physical.

Author note: LOL I AM GOING TO HELLLLL - but also I've seen so many Dr. Davis ideas I had to create one myself; so thank you to especially (@valiantroeagleangel) whose work inspired me. You are wonderful. And shout out to some sexy phrases by @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 - I’m weak

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d  @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch

(I wasn't sure who I should tag, and if you would like to be tagged in one-shots please let me know! If you’d like to me to remove you as well pls also let me know!! I just took some tags that I've had in past one-shots, and those I think would enjoy! <3)

You picked at your fingernails nervously as you sat in the waiting room, your leg bouncing up and down rapidly.

Something about Doctors’ offices always made you nervous, especially when it involved a doctor that wasn’t your own. You were getting a routine check-up and your first pap smear, scheduled with your regular doctor, but she had a last-minute family emergency. This meant you were going to be inspected by someone else, and that thought made you slightly uneasy.

You played with the mask that covered your nose, pinching at the metal band that rested on the bridge before tugging at the string.

The old woman next to you watched your anxious wading with curious eyes, and you simply shifted in your seat, avoiding her gaze.

Your name was finally called and you followed the nurse, allowing her to check your height, and then leading you into a room located at the end of the hall.

She sat you down, your legs crunching beneath the paper as she placed the blood pressure bump along your arm, squeezing until it tightened and let go.

“Your blood pressure seems to be a little high?” She said, eyebrows furrowing.

You rubbed your hands nervously between your thighs, “I’m just a little anxious.”

Her eyes smiled, indicating a soft grin beneath the mask she wore, “You’ll be just fine. Dr. Davis is a fantastic doctor.”

His name rang off her tongue, piquing your interest. Davis. You knew someone with that last name in high school.

“You can take your mask off in here by the way. Just set it on the side.” She nodded before leaving and you sat there for a few more moments, nervously shifting in your seat.

After a few minutes, you heard a soft knock on the door and you sat up straight, anticipating the man who would be taking care of you today.

The door opened and a man with soft chestnut hair that fell slightly in front of his face walked in, thin-framed glasses sat promptly on top of his nose, covered by a black mask. He hadn’t looked up from the clipboard that was in his hands as he kicked the door closed with his foot gently, tattooed fingers holding up the top page as his eyes skimmed rapidly over the words.

“How’s it going? I’m Dr. Davis.” His voice fell from his lips in a firm but gentle tone and your eyes widened in surprise as you remembered the faint lisp at the end of his ‘s’, and the twang in his accent.

“Hi,” you whispered as you absorbed his image, eyes skimming over his white coat that draped down his long body. The light-blue button-up sat tightly against his neck. You swallowed gently at the ink that crawled just above the collar, sinched between a black tie traced with binary code as the pattern.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He asked with a curious tone, gaze immediately leaving the page as his orbs met your own, and your heart raced as his ochre eyes bore into yours.

His professionalism dropped slightly as his eyes skimmed over your face in recognition, and your lips parted slightly. He stood still, frozen in remembrance before he coughed, setting the clipboard on the counter and taking a seat next to his computer.

Noah Sebastian Davis is your doctor.

He immediately avoided your gaze as your face began to warm, and you crossed your legs, feeling vulnerable under his authority as he sat there, distracting himself with his computer.

Your high school hookup is your doctor.

“Well,” He began typing, a soft waver barely evident in his voice, “It’s been a long time.”

“Thirteen years,” You licked your lips quickly, smiling shyly as you stared at your legs, glancing up every so often to steal a look at your doctor. You felt even more nervous than before as the man who sat in front of you eventually turned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he watched you intensely.

“Look, let’s just keep this professional. If you’re more comfortable with someone else I can get another doctor in here.” He said monotonously, leaning over his lap as his elbows rested on his knees.

You mustered a small smile as your chest hammered, eyes grazing across the tattoos embedded into his fingers Memories of the way they used to dance along your skin left your stomach swirling.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind…” Your thoughts trailed off as you looked at the ground, “if you don’t mind?”

Dr. Davis maintained strict eye contact, his voice proper and fixed, “It’s my job to remain professional and competent. I strive for nothing but efficiency, and I’ll have you in and out Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Miss,” You corrected quietly, picking at your nails again.

Something flashed across his eyes at the realization, and your ears flushed as you adjusted yourself on the examination table.

He turned on the chair again, fingers tapping on the keyboard.

“Let’s go through some medical history to clarify things under your files. It seems you usually have Dr. Thomas, am I correct?”

You hummed in confirmation, nodding along.

“Any health concerns to bring up in your visit today?”

You shook your head, “Just a routine check-up and a pap smear.”

Dr. Davis nodded along, shifting in his seat at the mention of a pap, his hand reaching to pull against his collar as if loosening the tension that was building within the room.

“Any issues regarding mental health?”

You shook your head.

“Eating and drinking well?”

You nodded.

“Any allergies?”

You shook your head.

“Sexually active?”

You noticed his voice hither slightly, as he glanced over at you briefly, before fixating his eyes on the computer again.

“Not like, regularly.”

He shifted in his seat, nodding.

“Multiple partners?”

“Uhm,” you began to stutter nervously at his questions, “A few. Not frequently changing.”

It was a routine check-up, you reminded yourself. Doctors asked these questions.

You shrugged, eyes skimming up towards him again as his eyes bore into you once again, your abdomen clenching as his gaze darkened.

“How many since me?”

You coughed, caught off guard as you stared at him in disbelief, “P-pardon?”

He didn’t repeat the question, but instead continued typing, clicking away at your file.

“Three,” You then said, watching him carefully and he hummed in response.

“Anything else you think I should know?” He asked, returning to his cool, professional composure.

You shook your head again, watching as his chest heaved slowly as he stood up. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, and you watched as he placed the ends in his ears before standing in front of you, maintaining a distance.

“Let me check your lungs… can you take your jacket off?” He asked, watching you carefully as you peeled off the layer, placing it to the side.

Dr. Davis then sat next to you on the examination table and your heart began to pick up pace at the proximity of his body, his cologne melting into your senses.

His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned behind you to place the end of the stethoscope on top of your back.

He asked you to take in a deep breath, and you inhaled swiftly, attempting to exhale in a slow, controlled pattern; but the breath that left your lungs was shaky and uneven.

“Sorry,” you whispered, and he ran the stethoscope across your back again, this time placing it underneath your shirt, the cold metal causing a shiver to run down your body.

“Three more,” He asked gently and you obliged, each breath faltering again as your heart raced.

There was no doubt he could hear the thump of your heart pick up as his warm fingers gently skimmed your skin as he controlled the stethoscope; knowing how nervous his proximity made you.

He pulled away, staring at your flushed face before leaning behind you to grab an ear otoscope.

“Just going to check your ears,” he said as his warm hands pulled along your ear, his warm breath creating goosebumps along the skin in your neck as the hairs stood up.

Your stomach butterflied as he then grabbed a wooden popsicle stick, standing in front of you now, placed between your legs.

“open,” he commanded and you obliged, sticking out your tongue and making an ‘ah’ sound.

Dr. Davis held underneath your chin to look up at him as he placed the wood on top of your tongue, pressing down slightly. Your abdomen clenched as a rush of emotions ran through your body, making eye contact with the tattooed doctor as he stared back, not even looking at the back of your throat as your mouth was agape, open widely for him.

You wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull against the fabric of his mask, greedily wanting to expose his lips to see the rest of his face and smile, to see how handsome he had gotten with age.

Your chest heaved as his fingers slid from underneath your chin, trailing down your throat with firm but gentle fingertips, the tension between you building as seconds passed by. He pulled back his hand, along with the popsicle stick, and your mouth closed slowly as he took a step back.

As he turned from you, the way he slid his hand into his pocket to readjust himself didn’t go unnoticed, before he faced you again, nodding curtly.

“I’ll let you get undressed from the waist down. You can place this blanket over yourself, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He averted his gaze as he opened the door, closing it gently behind him.

You let out a breath as your mind began to race. The way your mind kept tracing back to years of messing around with him in high school sent your stomach into a lustful spiral, the warmth of his inked fingers relighting years of memories he engraved into your skin.

Noah had given you years of orgasms, some of the best you ever had. None of your other lovers had compared to him, and your body knew this, sparking complete excitement at his presence once again.

You shifted on your feet embarrassed at this, peeling off your jeans as you folded them neatly on the chair. You slid off your black panties, placing them on top of your pants before lying down on the bed, the cool air causing you to shiver.

Or perhaps, it was the fact Noah was going to be extremely close to your intimate space after so many years of deprivation.

You two hooked up on and off for years during adolescence, never forming a relationship beyond that; even though you always wanted to.

You always had feelings for Noah, but you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senselessly, and then part ways. No strings attached.

After high school graduation, you two parted, never speaking to each other again. You had always wondered what he had gone off and set to do, and being a doctor was honestly the last thing you’d think he’d do. Noah had always been extremely smart, but it still came as a complete shock when he was the one who walked through that wooden door just fifteen minutes prior.

You covered yourself with the thin blanket and a moment later Dr. Davis came through the door again, glancing at your exposed legs before turning to grab a pair of gloves from the counter.

You watched him intensely as he pulled the latex over his fingers, almost drooling at the thought of them running along your folds. You shook away the thought, knowing that you would be completely dripping by the time he would be sitting between your legs, examining you.

The last thing you wanted was for him to know the effect he still had on you, even after all these years.

He made eye contact with you again, tugging at the tie around his neck once again as he took the chair, rolling it to the edge of your feet. Before sitting he pulled out the stirrups.

“You can rest your heels on here,” He pointed to the plastic, and you noticed how his ears began to flush red, his chest rising and falling quickly as he glanced into your eyes once again.

When he looked away you glanced down at his black slacks, swallowing harshly at the bold outline of his erection that was extremely evident, through his tight pants.

You swallowed as you slowly lifted your legs, exposing yourself to the man who now sat at the end of the bed, the thin blanket sliding down your thighs gently, leaving your body on display for Dr. Davis.

“Fuck.”

The word was barely audible. He had whispered it so quietly through gritted teeth, but you still managed to hear the four-letter word, and it sent another rush of warm lust through your body.

“I-I’m just going to examine you before inserting the speculum.” Dr. Davis’ professional tone faltered briefly, and you wanted to look down at him so badly.

You knew that he was aroused, but you had no idea how badly Noah wanted to tear into your pussy right then and there.

For years Noah wondered what happened to you. After years of dedication to med school, he didn’t have much time to form relationships, and he usually had a quick fuck here and there to tie over his cravings. He reminisced frequently about how good you felt wrapped around his cock, all of his past flings never making him feel quite how you did.

This morning when he agreed to substitute at the clinic he had no idea what to expect. You were the last thing he thought would happen, and the second he read your name on that piece of paper as he entered your room he felt his mind begin to spiral.

How was he supposed to remain professional around you?

His biggest regret was never pursuing anything further with you years ago, worried that if feelings got involved he would lose the best thing he ever had. In turn, he fucked himself over in the end, because he had lost you either way; but now, you were right here in front of him, naked and on display.

The second he saw you sitting on the exam table he felt an immediate rush to his pants, his mind racing as he began to sweat, the room suddenly feeling stuffy and tight. He couldn’t help but watch your lips as they parted when you talked, memories of them wrapped around himself as your tongue slid up and down his length leaving him unable to concentrate as he attempted to read your file.

He watched as you shifted nervously in front of him when he checked your lungs, heart racing rapidly under his touch. He wanted to rip your thighs apart, slipping his fingers into you, wanting to leave you begging.

Noah wanted to pull his name from your lips; leaving you worshiping him, needing him.

He kept reminding himself that he was a professional now and that it was unacceptable to push the boundary of client-patient professionalism. There was a code of conduct and ethics he was required to follow; but he wanted to forget years of practice, just to get a taste of you.

You lay there, trying to keep your heavy breathing quiet; but you immediately gasped as one of his covered fingers spread you open, barely touching your skin, afraid to go further.

You closed your mouth tightly, biting the inside of your cheek as you scolded yourself.

Don’t fucking moan, don’t fucking moan. He barely touched you.

“I’m going to insert the speculum now,” He said quietly, and you heard him whisper another sentence to himself, “God, you don’t even need lube…”

You knew that he knew how turned on you were by just his presence alone, and you closed your eyes as Dr. Davis inserted the plastic into your body, the feeling of fullness causing you to chew on your bottom lip.

Dr. Davis clicked the hinges as the speculum opened you up, and you covered your mouth with your hand, something Noah had noticed.

“Are you in pain?” He asked gently, and you shook your head.

“N-no, I-I’m okay.”

He hummed again, and it was quiet for a moment.

There was a lack of movement for a second until you felt a gloved finger brush across your clit slowly, and you furrowed your brows in anticipation.

Fuck, that had to be an accident, right?

You tried to think rationally about the situation, but your thoughts trailed to dirty places, silently pleading that Dr. Davis would press against your intimacy again.

Noah had listened for your reaction as he sat before your legs that held you splayed open for him, his mind battling. He swallowed hungrily.

You felt his fingers brush against you again and your thighs jolted to his touch, before you felt the pad of his finger press firmly against you, tracing small circles as he tried drawing a moan from your lips.

Your mouth fell open in satisfaction as your body clenched, Dr. Davis’ fingers rubbing faster and faster.

You couldn’t help it as a gentle whimper crawled from your chest, and with furrowed brows, you bucked your hips into his touch; giving him the permission he desperately wanted.

You felt the speculum being removed, and seconds later a wet swipe trailed up along your folds.

“Oh my god,” You whispered and Dr. Davis hummed, his lips latching onto your sweet spot before two gloved fingers slid into you, curling upwards.

You began to moan again, pulling the blanket away to see the brunette devouring your body. He looked up at you with lustful eyes, his mask pulled underneath his chin.

You ogled upon seeing his entire face, brows furrowed with desire as he remained stone cold.

“If you moan loudly one more time I’ll stop.” He said as he began licking your body once again, eyes fixated on your own.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He said, pulling his mouth away as he continued to pump his fingers in and out rapidly, taking his thin glasses off and placing them on the table.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, burying himself between your legs again in famish, devouring you feverishly with complete craving.

Your legs began to shake from his praise and you covered your mouth with your hands as your hips pushed into Dr. Davis’ touch, completely engulfed with euphoria.

You didn’t know that he was palming himself through his slacks as he ate you out, desperate for friction, desperate for you to be the one touching him instead.

“Cum.” He demanded, and in a second his tongue swiped along your folds you felt the knot that he built release, elation washing through you as you choked back a desiring cry.

Your free hand gripped Dr. Davis’ hair as you pulled him closer, rubbing yourself along his face as he ate you until it became too much, pushing him away.

He stood up, mouth agape and wet from your release as you watched him with yearning, both your chests heaving.

He hastily began pulling off his white coat, throwing it to the floor as you watched him loosen his tie. Sitting up you beckoned him over and his fingers gripped your throat, pulling you towards him as his forehead rested against your own.

You looked into each other’s eyes as unspoken words danced between you, both of you needing each other but too afraid to speak.

He held you firmly for a moment before pulling your lips to his own, kissing you completely with need and hunger, forcing you to taste yourself

You groaned quietly into his lips as your tongues ran along each other, your fingers shaky as you began unbuttoning his blue dress shirt.

His fingers tightened around your neck as your hands trailed to the hem of his black pants, tugging at his waistband as you pulled apart his belt, sliding the zipper down slowly.

He moaned softly as your fingers slid along his abdomen, threatening to dip in to grab where he needed you.

“You’re in no position to tease princess, remember that,” He squeezed your neck again as he towered over you in authority, and you smiled.

“This is wrong.”

“So wrong.” He mumbled before kissing you in desperation again, your minds fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.

Dr. Davis’ hands pulled your shirt over your head as he pulled back, taking in the image of your exposed body, ready for him.

His covered fingers found their way to your core once again, slipping in and out as you pulled down his underwear, his body hard and ready to devour you.

You licked your fingers, smiling up at him as he watched with lustful eyes, before grabbing hold of his erection, pumping up and down as he thrust into your hand in eagerness. He pulled his fingers in and out of you quickly, your mouth falling open as you watched each other, pleasing one another.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Dr. Davis pleaded, and you opened your thighs farther.

“That’s it… Wider,” He whispered, before pulling his hands away from you, wrapping them around himself as he positioned his body to yours.

Dr. Davis didn’t hesitate any longer before he pushed into you, a loud whimper leaving you. His eyebrows furrowed angrily as his gloved hand covered your mouth, pushing you back into the wall.

“Be fucking quiet,” He said through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as he continued to thrust into you, filling your body, claiming you as his own.

He tore into your skin with his motions, the feeling of him pulling out before pushing back in deeply causing your legs to clench shut. He pushed them open with the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth.

“I said to spread them,” He scolded, fingers digging into your thigh before he slapped the top of your intimacy, earning a yelp from you as your body jolted from the contact.

He remained cold and composed, attempting to keep up his professional facade that was beginning to crumble before you. His eyes squeezed shut as he pushed your thighs back towards your chest, opening you as he fucked your body with possession.

You watched his head tilt back, exposing the tattoos on his neck as his lips fell open in complete satisfaction.

Your body felt perfectly wrapped around him, years of need ready to release into you.

Dr. Davis wanted to flip you over so you stood in front of him, one leg lifted onto the bed as he gripped your ass and pounded you; but he knew that right now, he needed to watch your face contort in pleasure for him, from him.

Your body clenched around him, “Dr. D-Davis,” You whimpered, still trying to remain quiet so as to not be heard by the rest of the clinic.

“Noah,” the brunette growled, bringing you into a kiss and you nodded, murmuring his name back to him against his lips in a plea.

He was close to his release, but he held back, waiting to pull another orgasm from you before he would bring you to your knees, ready to cum down your throat.

“You can do it, that’s a good girl.” He praised and you melted at his words, letting go as he thrust into you one more time, your body completely enveloping him as your mouth was covered by his hand once again to mask your screams. Your body shook through the orgasm Noah offered you.

He slid in and out slowly, before pulling away. His fingers were threaded through your hair as he guided you to the floor, placing you on your knees.

You took him into your mouth mercilessly, sucking and bobbing along his length before he gripped your face, pulling you closer.

You gagged along him, tears forming as a deep growl rumbled from his chest, signalling he was close.

Seconds later Noah’s release coated the back of your throat, and you swallowed his orgasm, looking up at him in commitment.

“You’ve always been mine to ruin,” He said, panting as he pulled you off of him, and you sat on the ground, smiling up at him.

The two of you got dressed in silence, the hormones lingering in the air as he pulled off the gloves, grabbing his prescription notepad and a pen.

“I wasn’t able to get a good enough sample to send off to the lab,” He said, scribbling away, “I’ll need you to meet me at my office this weekend.”

Dr. Davis handed you the note and you looked at the paper, staring at the phone number and address as he nodded toward you, opening the wooden door and leaving the office.

hshshgsghshghsshgh ok i am a mess

[honeyedmiller]

Checkmate | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader

warnings: dbf!joel, age gap (reader is late 20’s, joel mid 40’s), reader is depicted as shorter than joel but otherwise has no other physical description (picture in mood board is for aesthetic purposes only), mutual pining, making out, smut (thigh riding, brief mentions of f oral receiving, unprotected [bc] piv, slight cockwarming, riding), reader’s best friend’s name is hailey, no use of y/n. 18+, minors dni.

huge thank you to my baby @party-hearses for beta reading this for me. i love you to a million pieces 🖤

a/n: also this is my 900 follower celebration?! i still can’t wrap my head around the fact that so many people follow me and enjoy what i reblog / write. i love u all so, so much. i also feel kinda bad bc i hyped this one shot up a lot only for the smut to not be that descriptive, but this is more about joel and reader’s feelings than what they essentially do with each other. hope y’all still enjoy it :’)

word count: 4.6k

synopsis: you and your dad’s best friend play a dangerous game, and one of you ends up losing faster than you both anticipated.

dividers by the lovely @saradika

You wiped your sweaty brow on your forearm as you lugged a fifth box into your new apartment. You’d finally saved up enough to move out of your parent’s place. Your master’s degree had paid off after all, landing you a job in the heart of Austin, Texas. You were only a thirty minute drive from your parent’s house, which your mom totally loved. She couldn’t wait to help you decorate your place and hand you down the pots and pans that’d been in the family for quite some time. 

The move wasn’t necessarily a tough one, because you were ready to get out of your parents’ hair. You all got along well, but you were dying for your own privacy and space that you could call your own. You couldn’t be happier now that you had it. 

In the midst of the move, your dad insisted he’d phone his best buddy, Joel. You’d only heard about him a handful of times while you were away at college, and in the months you’d been back with your parents, your dad always went over to his house to watch sports or hang out. When the whole family was invited over to his house for barbecues, you always found yourself either already having other plans with your friends, or you were working. Today was finally the day you’d meet the mystery man that is Joel Miller. 

And that’s when you saw him. Tall, broad, ruggedly handsome, body clad in an army green shirt that showcased his biceps and veiny forearms, dark jeans that showed off the muscle of his thick thighs, and scuffed up boots from plenty of days, weeks, hell–months of hard work that added an inch or two to his already towering height. 

He must’ve been in his forties if you had to guess. His dark brown hair was dusted with slight specs of gray, the  scruff on his jawline mirroring the hair on his head. His nose was strong, and was perfectly fitted with his face. He had dark brown eyes that were kind yet held some kind of sternness—a look that made your panties easily dampen. His mustache framed his lips that were pursed into a slight frown, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like all over your body. 

He looked at you just the same, all but hungry eyes roaming your body as he caught a glimpse of you for the first time. Like a damn deer caught in headlights. 

He was your dad’s best friend?

Oh, you were truly, utterly, royally fucked. 

You introduced yourself to him and he shook your hand, the calloused pads of his fingers meeting your soft skin sending a string of butterflies through your stomach. 

You genuinely don’t think you’d ever been this attracted to someone at first glance. 

After he and your dad helped you move all of your stuff into your new place, you’d concluded two things: one, Joel Miller was a man of very few words–at least, around you that is, and two: you were sure he was attracted to you just as you were to him. 

Was it so wrong to want someone a little bit older? Perhaps not. What was wrong was that he’s your dad’s best friend. You shouldn’t want someone like that. Someone you were absolutely sure could handle you in the best way possible. 

About a month after you’d finally gotten settled into your apartment, you invited your best friend Hailey over a movie night and a glass of wine. You told her about your predicament, to which she couldn’t help but be the little devil on your shoulder and encourage you to go after Joel. 

“Look, I know he’s your dad’s best friend n’ all, but what he doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?” She questions, legs tucked underneath her body as her lips curl into a sly grin before she takes another sip of her wine. 

“I mean yeah, but I’ve never done something like this before. An older man, who’s closely acquainted with my dad? I oughta be out of my damn mind.” You sigh, rubbing your temple. 

“Live a little, babe. You’ve been a good kid to your parents your whole life. It’s time you do something for you for once and go after it. Make a subtle move on him next time. That might spice things up a bit.” She suggests, pursing her lips. 

“You’re right. But if I make a move and it backfires, I’m completely fucked and I’m moving to the other side of the country.” You laugh exasperatingly. 

She reaches over to pat your thigh softly. “Only one way to find out.” 

-

You hadn’t seen Joel as of late, but you weren’t phased by it. It’d been a really busy couple of weeks at work, and you were joining your coworkers tonight for a celebratory t.g.i.f. drink. 

Hailey was over at your apartment getting ready with you and you both were already two shots of tequila in. You weren’t much of a drinker, but truth be told, you needed this night out. 

“So I’m either between this dress or this one.” You explain to Hailey, and she studies the options you held up for her to thoroughly inspect. It was either between a black satin mini dress with sparkly straps, or a strapless maroon bodycon dress 

“This one,” She points at the black dress. “With your red kitten heels.” 

You toss the maroon dress onto your bed and take the black one off of the hanger, changing into the dress after Hailey goes to pour herself another shot. You slip aforementioned heels on and give yourself a once over in your full body closet mirror, satisfied with your appearance. 

You wanted to look and feel hot tonight, and it was safe to say you achieved just that. Maybe you’d pick up some hot guy at the bar tonight. He may not be no Mr. Miller, but anyone to take the tension of the past couple of weeks away would suffice. 

You were applying one last layer of lipgloss when Hailey’s knuckles rapped on your door twice, head peeking into your bedroom. 

“Uber’s here. Let’s go get fucked up.” 

You laugh at her enthusiasm, hot on her trail as you locked up and headed down to your Uber. 

The ride was only fifteen minutes before you pulled up to the bar that was already packed. You both slipped inside, spotting your coworkers at a table. They were laughing about something when you and Hailey walked up, and they all cheerily greeted you with hugs. 

It wasn’t long before the DJ was playing some line dancing songs, and multiple people made their way to the dance floor to move their bodies. You and Hailey were the only ones left at the table as you laughed at your coworkers trying to keep up with the beat of the song. 

“Mr. Hottie over there has been checking you out for some time now.” Hailey leaned into you, nudging your side with her elbow as she jutted her head toward a man at the bar. 

You felt your body drained of warmth as you saw none other than Joel Miller standing at the end of the bar, sipping on his beer tentatively. His eyes were locked on you, and the stupid butterflies rumbled around in your stomach once more. 

“Hailey, that’s him.” You say, swallowing thickly. 

“Who?” She gives you a questioning look, the drinks she’s had tonight making her mind a bit fuzzy. 

“My dad’s best friend. That’s Joel.” You say, and her eyes nearly bug out of her head. 

“Oh, girl, if you don’t make your move I’ll force you to make one. He’s a fucking hunk.” 

Your eyes trailed back over to him, taking in his appearance. He switched out the green t-shirt for a gray one, dark wash jeans, and the same boots he wore when he showed up to help you move into your place. 

The way he was looking at you made you want to do extremely sinful things with him. Fuck. Now or never. 

“I’ll be back.” You tell Hailey, and her expression brightens up and cheers you on as you slip off of your seat. 

You saunter over to Joel, drink in hand, and you sip on it through the straw as you approach him. He looks down at you amused, eyes nearly black as he scans you from head to toe. 

“You stalking me now, Mr. Miller?” You tease, leaning up against the bar top. 

Joel scoffs a laugh and sips on his beer once more. “Y’think I don’t have something better to do with my time than to see where you are on a Friday night?” He retorts, but it wasn’t mean. You were sober enough to hear the hint of playfulness in his tone. 

“Mm, not really.” You shrug, feigning an innocent smile up at him. 

So you could be a brat. He bet he could fix that attitude in no time. 

He chuckled at his own thoughts, finishing off his beer as he set the empty bottle down on the sticky bar top. 

“You caught me, darlin’. Any woman as ravishing as you is worth stalkin’.” The slight curl of his lip made you smile. You sipped on your drink some more as you watched the patrons of the bar dancing to the current song. Your eyes avert back up to his gaze, and you step closer to him. 

His eyes move down to your glossy lips wrapped around the straw, wishing so badly that your lips were wrapped around something else right at that moment. 

“What brings you here tonight, Mr. Miller?” You ask, reaching a hand out to touch his bicep. His body goes rigid at your touch, and you fear you’ve gone too far so your hand immediately drops. Joel does a quick scan of the bar before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his sturdy body. 

“My brother’s best friend’s birthday.” He shrugs, and you nod. You felt like a fucking hummingbird with how fast your heart was beating, and you were sure Joel could feel it with the close proximity between the two of you. 

The air became thick and heavy. Your breathing accelerated, looking up at Joel and into his lust-clouded eyes. His grip on your waist tightened in the slightest, and you nearly whimpered as you felt his bulge through the denim fabric of his jeans. 

“Joel.” Your voice was merely a whisper, and he smirked down at you. 

“Care to line dance, darlin’?” He asked nonchalantly. Your eyebrows furrowed as disappointment shot through you. Were you reading the situation wrong? 

“I don’t really know how.” You say, setting your now watered-down drink on the counter. 

“I’ll teach you.” He shrugs, grabbing your hand and dragging you onto the dance floor. He showed you step by step how to move, but your mind was so hazy with lust that you could barely even focus. 

It’d been months since someone touched you in an intimate way, and the burning need and desire was aflame through your body. All you could think about was Joel’s hands and tongue on you as you moaned his name. The thought nearly made you pout. 

“You even listenin’ to me?” Joel pulls you out of your daydream, and you look up at him with half lidded eyes. He was teasing and holding out on you and he knew it. 

His face held pure amusement as he watched you squirm under his stare uncontrollably, fidgeting like a little kid on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa to stop by. 

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” You sigh, walking back to the table Hailey was waiting at.

“What happened?” She asks, looking behind you at Joel who was burning a hole in the back of your body. 

“No idea. Guess I’m not getting lucky after all.” You shrug with a disappointed huff of a laugh. You looked back to see if Joel was still there, but he seemed to have disappeared. 

You grabbed your purse and made your way to the bar, leaning over it. The back of your dress rode your thighs significantly, barely covering your ass at this point. Before you could get the bartender’s attention again, you felt a hand on your shoulder pull you back and press you into their body. You were about to mouth off on this person before you realized it was Joel. 

“Fuck, c’mon.” His hand slid down to your wrist, gently tugging it. You looked at Hailey as you started to follow Joel and pointed at him discreetly, and she gave you a thumbs up. 

Joel led you out into the cool air of the night, immediately chilling your whole body. Goosebumps raised onto your skin as he led you to his truck, your heels clicking against the unevenly paved asphalt. 

“What are you doing, Joel?” You ask as you stop in front of a dark truck. 

“I’m about to give us what we both want.” He said before trapping your body against his truck and between both of his strong arms that landed on either side of you. You cocked an eyebrow up at him, eyes and lips glossy underneath the dim parking lot lights. 

“Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ doin’ this.” Joel murmurs before leaning down, smashing his lips with yours. You moan softly into the kiss, carding your fingers into his longer locks. You give the ends a slight tug and he moans into your mouth. You feel the arousal pool in your panties and your untouched core starts to throb. You whine into the kiss, and Joel takes that as an opportunity for his tongue to invade your mouth. 

He tastes like mint now, probably having popped an altoid in his mouth before coming back to get you from the bar. His hands travel downwards and find purchase on your thighs underneath the dress, rubbing circles into your soft skin. He starts to rut his hips into yours, the bulge in his jeans catching onto your clothed clit deliciously. 

“Joel, please.” You choke out as his lips disconnect from yours, hot kisses traveling down your neck and onto your collarbone. 

“Please what, baby?” He asks, voice raspy and muffled as he breathes against your neck. 

“Need you. Fuck, please, just touch me.” You don’t care how desperate you sound to him at this moment. His touch left a trail of flames everywhere his hands landed, and you couldn’t get enough. 

Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you away from the back door of his truck, opening it and helping you slide in. He got in right after you, closing and locking the doors. Your chest was rapidly heaving up and down, trying to catch your breath from the intense moment. 

Joel didn’t give you much leeway, though, because as soon as he spread his legs to get comfy in the backseat, he was pulling you on top of him. You closed the gap between you two this time, rutting your hips forward so your heat sat right on top of his bulging crotch. He groaned lowly, looking down to where your dress had ridden up. He saw your pink lace panties that you had on, and god were you grateful you chose to wear those tonight.

Joel hummed in appreciation as he slid his calloused hands up the smooth skin of your thighs, looking back up to meet your gaze. Your lipgloss was nearly gone off of your lips and onto Joel’s, and he had to admit he liked the sticky cherry flavor. 

“Your daddy would kill me with his bare hands right now if he saw what I was doin’ with his darlin’ daughter.” Joel chuckles, shaking his head. 

“That’s why he won’t find out,” You shrug. “Besides, I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions and decide what I want… and what I want is you, Mr. Miller.” 

Joel raises an eyebrow and huffs a small laugh. “That right?” He questions, grip getting slightly tighter on the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“Mhm.” You nod, hand cradling the back of his head. 

“What we’re doin’—this is bad.” Joel chastised, mostly to himself. 

“Relax, Joel. I won’t tell if you won’t.” You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck through your fingers, applying more pressure onto his groin. He grunts in response, adjusting himself slightly as the confinement of his jeans was nearly torturous at this point. 

“Fine. But we’re endin’ this whole hookin’ up thing if anyone gets even the slightest bit suspicious.” He negotiates, and you nod. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Miller.” 

Joel chuckles and shakes his head, leaning up to capture your lips into his once again. You hum against him, hands moving down to his chest as your nails scratch over the thin fabric of his shirt. 

You start to grind yourself onto him again, and he groans once more before separating his lips from yours to mumble against them. “Use my thigh, baby.” He shifts you onto his left thigh, and you steady yourself on him by gripping his shoulders. 

“I don’t wanna ruin your pants.” You sigh, the pressure of your clothed clit on his thick thigh already providing the tiniest bit of relief. 

“I don’t give a shit about my pants, baby. Soak ‘em for all I care.” He presses his lips to your neck once more, and you shiver at the contact. You’re shy at first, not ever having gotten yourself off on someone’s thigh before. 

Joel senses your hesitation, so he moves his hands back up to your hips and shifts them forward, causing your soaked cunt to glide along his jean-clad thigh. 

You take over yourself, rocking your hips back and forth at a languid pace. Desperate moans are falling out of your mouth as you fist his shirt into your hands, feeling yourself so close already. 

“Joel, feels so-so fucking good.” You whine, head dropping back. Your jaw goes slack and eyebrows thread together, picking the pace of your hips up. 

“Yeah? Such a good fuckin’ girl, takin’ what she needs to get off.” 

“I need you, Joel, please.” 

Joel moved his hands to fumble with his belt buckle and jeans button to take his jeans off in the slightest, finally relieving his erection. You moaned at the sight of his thick cock, pre cum gathered at the tip. You brought your thumb to his slit, gathering the pre cum onto your finger before bringing it up to your mouth to gently suck on it. 

Joel’s jaw ticked, resisting the urge to bend you over the back of his seat and fuck you senseless then and there. Luckily, he had a lot more restraint than he thought, because all he did was just stare at you sucking seductively on your thumb. 

You shifted yourself so you were straddling both of his thighs now, and you grabbed his cock into your hand to give it a few slow tugs. Joel sucked in a breath at your touch, head being thrown back onto the headrest of the seat. You tugged your panties to the side before you ran the tip of his weeping cock through your slick folds, a lewd wetness sounding throughout the cab of the truck. 

You moaned as Joel hissed at the contact. It’d been awhile since Joel had been with someone, so he prayed to whatever god was out there that he’d be able to last. 

“C’mon baby, don’t be a fuckin’ tease.” Joel grunts, fingertips digging into your hips. You look down at him with half lidded eyes as you sank down onto his length without much resistance. 

The stretch was fucking heavenly. Your lips parted as you puffed out a pant and sucked in a breath shortly after, reaching the hilt. 

“So fucking big. Fuck.” You mewl, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance once more. 

“Stay still for a little.” Joel’s voice was strained, sounding nearly pained as he choked out his words. You felt so good wrapped around him that he just wanted to appreciate your warmth. 

Joel slid the sparkly straps of your dress down your shoulders, tugging down the neckline of your dress to reveal your breasts. His tongue darted out of his mouth to briefly wet his lips, large hands moving up to gently squeeze the soft flesh of your chest. 

“So fuckin’ perfect.” Joel whispers, moving his head down to envelope one erect nipple into his mouth while his thumb and index finger toyed with the other. You moved one hand up his chest and to the back of his hair, threading your fingers through the thick locks once more as you pushed his face deeper into your pillowy flesh. 

The feeling of his expert tongue and heavy cock in you was beginning to be too much. You needed him to move, or at least let you move. You weren’t above absolutely begging him until he gave in, but he seemed to have the same idea as his hips thrusted into you. 

You took that as an initiative to move, so you began to slowly glide yourself up and down on him. You sucked in a sharp breath as the feeling of him repeatedly filling you made your legs shake. He took his mouth off of your swollen flesh to avert his gaze to yours, eyes locking as you moved up and down. He moved a hand down to generously rub at your aching clit, causing your cunt to deliciously clench around him. 

“Gonna ruin this tight little pussy. Just you wait.” His voice is throaty and deep, sending shivers down your spine. The dangerous glint in his eye let you know that he was dead serious. 

You wanted Joel Miller to ruin every other man for you. 

That’s how this, the dangerous thing—the game—started. 

You both were determined to win at something that wasn’t even tangible; something so lucrative to both of you that the consequences wouldn’t even fucking matter. 

It didn’t matter as he took over and fucked his hips up into you at a brutal pace, causing you to orgasm violently on his cock within minutes. It didn’t matter when the windows of his truck fogged up and the drag of your fingertips adorned the glass. It didn’t matter when you reassured him he could cum in you because you were on birth control. 

As months went on after that night at the bar, him fucking you up against the wall of his shower or pounding you into your bed or eating your pussy until you physically could not breathe anymore was all that dazed your mind. 

Fuck the consequences. 

None of it fucking mattered. 

Because, over the months, Joel Miller was the kind of man you didn’t mind having in your bed after you two’ve fucked. You didn’t mind when he slept over, or when he wanted to be the little spoon, or when you both went out on dates like a normal couple would. 

The euphoria of it all didn’t last forever, though. You knew it wouldn’t, but the heavy weight and reality of it all came crashing down on you one day when Joel was buried deep into your warm cunt, both of you teetering on the edge of a climax, when your dad came knocking on your front door. Pure panic seized your body and you had to make Joel hide in your closet like a fucking teenager. 

That’s when you realized you both were way in over your head with this whole thing. Getting caught was going to be inevitable if it kept up like this. 

You were eternally grateful that your dad was a man who didn’t hover. He left your apartment after fifteen minutes and when Joel came out from hiding, you told him that it was way too close and it was too risky to keep doing what you both wanted to never put a stop to. You’d silently promised yourself that was the last time with him. 

Joel tried to argue against it, but you put your foot down. That is, until you got slightly buzzed one night and begged Joel to come fuck you. Truthfully, you didn’t even really need the sex from him. It was just a plus. You just enjoyed being around him so much that having him in some way, even if only physically, was to suffice. 

Little did you know, he felt ten times stronger than what you felt. Joel Miller would worship the ground you walked on, if you allowed him to do so. 

He was at your doorstep in no time, pushing you against the wall and kissing you with such neediness as if you’d disappear right beneath his fingertips. You were wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of panties to which Joel discarded immediately. His thick fingers rubbed against your slick heat, hips bucking to meet the languid pace he set. 

Joel shouldn’t be here.

You promised yourself the last time would be the fucking last. 

And yet, you found yourself willingly shoved up against the wall of your living room by none other than the man you swore you’d stay away from as he leaves hot, fervent kisses along the slope of your neck.

“Joel, we—fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this. We have to stop.”

“Yeah? Not what you were sayin’ when you were practically beggin’ me to fuck you again over the phone.” He grits. He sinks his fingers into your aching cunt, prying a strangled moan from your throat.

He’s frustrated with himself. 

Frustrated that he so easily succumbed to you, allowing himself to wrap himself in the greedy need and carnal desire he had for you. Frustrated that you were twenty years younger than him, and frustrated that you should’ve been off limits.

You were supposed to be off limits, god damnit, but Joel Miller was a greedy fucking man. He just had to have you in a way that nobody else could. 

He really didn’t blame your father if he strangled the man  with his own bare hands if he ever found out what you two did behind his back, in secret, and for months at that. 

Joel knew better. 

He fucking knew better and still decided to get a taste, get a feel, fuck you like no other man had. Something his greed deliciously sunk its teeth into, allowing himself to indulge in the forbidden realm you offered to give him. 

You knew better, too. But you did get one thing you wanted, after all. 

You’d be a fucking liar if you didn’t admit that Joel Miller had officially ruined every other man for you. 

The dangers of the game had sunk its teeth so deep into both of you. It was like the world’s most impossible chess match, and one of you was finally waiting for the other to say “checkmate.” 

 The thing is, Joel lost a long while ago. 

He fucking lost the game. 

He couldn’t stay away from you no matter how hard he tried, and when you called him begging him to fuck you tonight, his need for you practically drowned him in his weakness. 

Joel Miller was not a weak man. You had him under a fucking spell that he couldn’t seem to reverse. 

It’s like you were his fucking kryptonite. 

He was the one that royally fucked in the end. 

Joel wished he didn’t have these feelings that clawed at his fucking rib cage every time he glanced at you, some sort of animalistic creature trying to escape when you were under him, legs spread wide, your warmth wrapped around his cock as he buried himself in you.

Every single time he had you like that, had his lips on you, had you moaning his name like a prayer on Sunday mornings, saw your sweet smile, smelled your perfume that he loved so much, heard your contagious laugh, he knew he lost.

Checkmate. 

tags: @nostalxgic ; @ilovepedro ; @bastardmandennis ; @tinygarbage ; @amanitacowboy ; @holesandlividity ; @planet-marz1 ; @joelmillers-whore ; @cool-iguana ; @janaispunk ; @freakygothgirl ; @survivingandenduring ; @clawdee ; @danaispunk ; @kiwisbell ; @untamedheart81

[shamrockqueen]

Omega Retreat : Chapter 3

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, reference to physical ailments

Word count : 2083

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary : As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

You tried to focus on your work, but you found yourself losing focus time and time again. Your eyes kept leaving the dull glow of your computer monitor to steal glances at your phone.

“You seem distracted.”

Her tone was playful, but the abrupt interruption still had you jumping in your seat. Your boss had snuck up behind you easily as you were rechecking your email on your phone.

“Geez, we’ll have to string a bell around you if you're going to sneak up on people.” You laughed back, reassured by her coy smile.

“Something’s got you in a good mood.” She hummed behind you.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” You try to hide your pink cheeks, too embarrassed over getting caught texting a new flame like a love-struck teenager.

“All the girls can smell the change. Even the betas, dear.” She sang back.

“Who is he?” She tried to hide her beaming smile behind the back of her hand as she leaned over on the wall of your cubicle.

You scoff, trying to cover your warm cheeks as you answer. “You sound more excited than my mother was.”

She gasped with a wide smile, like a schoolgirl getting gossip from a friend. Omega’s always connected more closely, and it warmed your heart that she could be equally happy for you. So, when she leaned in for a hint of another scent that may have been left to linger on your skin, you quickly answered the anticipation in her eyes.

“We haven’t met in person yet; you're not going to catch a whiff of him, so don’t bother trying.” You laughed up at her before she pulled away.

“No fun. You could at least tell me what he is.” You knew it had to be the question bugging her the most.

You hesitated for a second, biting back on your lip before whispering back, “An alpha.”

“I knew it!” She nearly jumped with delight, leading you to try and shush her before the other cubicles were privy to your personal business.

It made you happy that you could feel like you had bonds even at work, and we’re thankful for her gentle omega nature.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just so happy for you. After everything, I just..”

You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Luckily for you, she wouldn’t, looking back into your saddened eyes instead. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’ll meet him soon?”

You chuckled alongside her, glad to have the conversation shift back to a lighter tone.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” You shoo at her, hoping to get some of the work she’d given you done today.

She gets the message, realizing she’d been gushing for too long and had work of her own.

“Fine, but I expect an invite to that wedding.”

It was the last you heard of her before she walked back to her office.

You smiled back at your computer, a drab Excel sheet still painted over its background. You sighed back at it until a telltale ding rang across your previously ignored phone.

A relationship with an alpha was still scary, but Bucky seemed to dampen those worries every time you looked at his photo blipping over your screen.

You pulled the phone towards you to glance over the notification of Bucky’s message.

“I wait to see you tonight.” You read along with the small message box.

You ran your fingernail along the power button before pressing on it, letting the passcode window light up the screen before tapping on a handful of numbers.

You looked back at the few cubicles behind you, making sure you had a moment to answer.

“Me either. I can’t focus on work,” you typed fervently.

“I’d rather meet you in person, Omega." The message pops up in the next second.

You let out a breathy chuckle with a smile, still in disbelief that you could be his omega even in text.

“I know. Hopefully soon, but I’m excited about our video date.”

You were more than excited; it was all you could think about as the hours ticked away slower than they normally would. When 5 p.m. finally rolled around, you nearly lept from your seat. You nearly forgot to shut off your computer before grabbing your stuff and rushing away.

A giddy drive home was a delightful change of pace, spurring you to drive just a tick above the speed limit as you neared your little house.

You fly through the house, letting the door slam behind you before tossing your purse over the couch. You stumbled past the mirror, only to twist back towards it after catching sight of your messy hair.

Your fingers only tangle into it as you fight to take it out of its messy bun. You only tied it up halfway through the day for a little comfort, only to ruin all the work you put into it that morning.

You didn’t have any time to fuck with it now, yet you continue to burn through the few seconds you have left trying to tame your tired looks. Could each flyaway be seen through your laptop's webcam?

You stopped for a second, closing your eyes and sucking in an uneven breath before looking back up at your reflection.

You looked red—nothing new, of course—but not a face you wanted him to see, and yet there wasn’t anything you could do to fight it except to finally calm down.

Your hair wasn’t bad, and your reflection wasn’t meant to scare you, and as you continued to breathe, that red blush began to fade. You can do this.

You leave the mirror, setting your eyes on the laptop still sitting on the coffee table. You lowered yourself to the sofa to sit as comfortably as possible before pulling the computer to your lap and switching it on.

A brief photo of you with your arm wrapped around your mother’s shoulder flashed in the background of your screen before you set up the video call.

It was just more of those bouncing dots with a different ring as it all danced along a blue screen. You held your breath, waiting patiently for his image to take over. Yet, when the square zoomed over the page and movement took over your screen, every ounce of air seemed to force its way from your lungs.

He was there, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at his own screen as you gave a shocked smile.

“Hi!”

You mouthed back an overwhelmed ‘hi’ as you watched him intently. Your mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but you were far too mesmerized by the real alpha on your screen. That is, until his smile fell.

“Is your sound on? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” You were quick to reassure him, wanting desperately to see that smile set upon you again.

Just as you hoped, it was back in an instant after hearing your voice.

“Sorry, I was just a little speechless for a second.” You blinked at his image, wanting to make sure it was real as you spoke to it. “It’s amazing to finally see the real you. Not that I thought your photos were fake..uh it’s just.” You fought your way through your ramblings as he chuckled at your giddy and nervous demeanor.

“No, I know what you mean. It’s so exciting to finally see you, Omega.”

It was like a dream, finally laughing and talking where you could see one another and study each of his expressions as he took each word that left your stuttering lips. Hours pass, and the conversation continues to burn through the night as it’s carried happily between the two of you.

It was so much better, but not nearly enough. A frustration shared by both you and him began to show as the veneer hiding it broke away.

“But, I wanna bury my face in your neck.” His voice deepens, showing a glimpse at a small possessive side. It was something you’d initially feared from an alpha.

“I gotta see you for real.”

It’s so sudden, you could hardly believe it would always be like this for omegas, but how could someone who had shut themselves away for so long really know?

You think back on what others spoke of during their tales of pleasure and even the more harrowing words from your physician only a few weeks prior. They’d cut off your suppressants ‘for your own safety’, and urged you to seek a sexual partner in the most blatant terms. But, they weren’t wrong, and with another possibly fatal heat on the horizon, you had to make a very difficult choice.

“Maybe we should. It's just...” You stopped for a second to calm yourself. “It hasn’t been very long, and you're already..so smitten.”

“Can you blame me?” His voice rang low over the speaker yet still sang through your worries so melodically.

His tone drops, becoming more serious and heavy, so much so that it only echos the ever-grave voice that bounced around the back of your mind. “What are you scared of?”

It hit close to home, like he could be looking right through you and seeing every mounting fear you tried so hard to bottle up.

“It's just, with a heat coming in a couple weeks..” you tried to ignore the breaking of your own voice as you spoke. You didn’t want this to be the reason why, and you didn’t want it to be so soon that you two had to meet or finally be intimate. “...and I just don’t want to rush things. But I agree; maybe we should consider meeting in person soon."

You fought not to let your true emotions show and not to let your true fears come to light in front of him. It was a relief when his face lit up with so much joy. He just stared back at you, his eyes beaming through the screen.

You could nearly cry. After ripping off this first bandage, it was such a relief that you finally felt you could breathe properly. You chuckled happily together, taking in each other's joyous reaction when he finally spoke again.

“I can send you an invitation right away. I can be there for you.” He spoke so passionately, looking at you with big, wet blue eyes before typing away at the keys on his keyboard.

“W-what invitation?” You nearly coughed on the words as they left your throat.

You do think back on the vacation packages on the original website and how they boasted about safety as well as elegance. The thought of having that kind of special getaway with the Alpha often, finally seeing Bucky where the sun could hit his skin instead of in the glow of your laptop monitor.

But, he was still technically a stranger, in spite of the two of you consistently sharing messages over the course of several weeks. Running away with him seemed, in the most juvenile sense, stupid. Yet, a twinge in your stomach urged you to leap at his offer.

“It is such a beautiful resort.” You chuckled nervously. You recalled all the photos you’d scrolled through before he’d matched you on the website.

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want me to, Omega. I just want to feel you so bad.” The low drag of his voice wasn’t unfamiliar by now, after having heard similar sentiments during a steamier exchange over a phone call. You felt a little embarrassed as your skin started to flush again.

“I don’t want to make you spend that much money on me.”

"This is not about money. I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

You try to force yourself to speak, but each word falls flat on your tongue. He was offering you what felt like a lifeline with open arms. You never wanted something like this to progress so damn quickly, but maybe you were really that desperate. Maybe you were really that scared.

It was so nice to be wanted, and by him especially, an alpha unlike any other you’d ever met. You still wanted time to think about it, but what time do you have left before a possible disaster? The date of your heat was growing closer, but you had to afford at least a night to ponder something like this.

“C-can I have a few days to think about it?”

Chapter 4

Tag list : @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string" | part 7

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f! reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 7,8k>

warnings: none but, angst, mentions of bruises, and FLUFF

a/n: Hello, hello! chapter 7 is here! The next one may be the last since it's time to say goodbye to this silly fic, by the way, I hope you like this one because I added everything I could and it's kinda cute. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dm and asks are always open for you if you wanna talk.

dividers by @/saradika.

Joel

I miss you; I haven’t seen you in a week!

You thought that by now, Joel would have begun to behave very differently from the teen boy trying to win your heart back in time, that in your 30s he was going to find different ways to show affection, but he still got the boyish smile on him all the time he saw you, as if you hang up the moon. He still got the dirtiest jokes about salad dressings, and most importantly, he still got your heart in the palm of his hand, but this time he was taking care of it as if it were crystal, and you were so grateful for his actions, talking louder than his promises.

You loved him; he still made you feel like the only girl in the room.

You

Well, sorry for being on a job trip.

I miss you too, but I’m back tomorrow!! Don’t be so needy.

Joel

A delicious dinner will be waiting for you at my house when you arrive.

And well, me.

You

I have a daughter to go see first!

Joel

I will be waiting for the both of you then.

You chuckled at Joel's response; his enthusiasm was evident even through text messages. Despite being apart for just a week, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would be reunited with him.

You adored the way he always had the time to make you feel special, but he also made his time to include Tara too, as if she were a tiny extension of you to love and take care of as if she were his own daughter.

He was behaving like the father Tara needed.

And you didn’t know this, but Joel was starting to love Tara as if she were his daughter. He knew you and her, plus he and Sarah will become a family soon.

When you arrived again on Tuesday, you made your way to your mother’s house. You couldn’t wait to see Tara. She had been staying with her grandmother while you were away, and you missed her terribly after seven days apart.

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were met with your mother’s smile, welcoming you to enter the house; however, she stopped you for a second.

“Tara seemed to be bothered by something.” Your mom warned.

“What do you mean? Did Dwight do something?” Of course, Dwight was the first person to put the blame on him since he was going to have a day with his daughter because you allowed him to see her once this week while you were away.

“I don’t know, but she was really upset today, and she doesn’t want to talk to me,” she said, her voice tinted with worry.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” you assured her, with determination in your voice. You knew that Tara often kept her feelings bottled up, especially with all the drama between you and her father.

Heading towards Tara's room, you knocked softly on the door before gently pushing it open. Tara was sitting on her bed, her gaze fixed on the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

"Tara, sweetheart, hey!"" You greeted her, approaching her carefully.

“Mom, you’re back,” she said, stepping up from her bed and welcoming you in a tight hug. You knew her so well that you noticed something was off with her. 

You held her close, feeling her warmth and the familiar comfort of her embrace. "I missed you so much," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Is everything okay? Your grandma mentioned you seemed upset."

Tara pulled away slightly; her expression was troubled. "It's nothing, Mom," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But you could see the sadness in her eyes; the weight of whatever was troubling her was evident in the way she held herself.

You reached out to gently cup her face, tilting it up so you could look into her eyes. "You can talk to me, Tara," you reassured her, your voice filled with love and understanding. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

“Shouldn’t you be at Joel’s by now?” she mentioned, dismissing the topic.

You sighed softly, recognizing Tara's attempt to divert the conversation. "I was planning on going there, but you're more important to me right now," you replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "If you want to talk about what's bothering you, I'm here. But if you'd rather not, that's okay too. Just know that I'm always here for you."

Tara's expression softened at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Mom," she said quietly, leaning into your touch. “But you should go; he must miss you by now.”

“He actually wanted both of us over for dinner,” you mentioned, studying her face, which shone at the mention of Joel’s invitation, but it faded soon.

“I just... I don't feel like going out tonight," she admitted softly, avoiding your eyes.

Your heart sank at her words, knowing that Tara's reluctance to go to Joel's house was a sign that something was truly bothering her. "Okay, sweetheart," you said, trying to hide your own disappointment. "We can stay in tonight and talk, just the two of us."

“No, you must go,” she said.

You could sense Tara's insistence—her desire for you to go and spend time with Joel—conflicting with her own reluctance to join. It was clear that she was trying to put on a brave face for you, but you couldn't ignore the underlying sadness in her eyes.

"Tara, if something is bothering you, I want to be here for you," you said gently, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Joel will understand if I need to stay with you tonight. Your well-being is my priority."

Tara squeezed your hand, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "I know, Mom," she said softly. "But I'll be okay. And I don't want you to miss out on time with Joel because of me."

You sighed, torn between your desire to comfort Tara and your longing to see Joel. But ultimately, you knew that Tara needed you more in that moment.

"Okay, Tara," you conceded, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'll go to say hi to him, but I'll be back later, and we can talk more then, okay?"

Tara nodded, her expression filled with understanding. "Okay, Mom," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

With one last squeeze of her hand, you rose from the bed and made your way to the door, feeling a pang of guilt as you left Tara behind.

As you made your way to Joel's house, your heart raced with anticipation. Despite the conflicting emotions stirring within you about leaving Tara behind, the prospect of seeing Joel filled you with a sense of excitement and longing.

Finally, you arrived at Joel's doorstep, your heart pounding with nervous energy as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the quiet night, and you held your breath, waiting for Joel to answer.

Seconds felt like an eternity until you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. And then it swung open, revealing Joel standing before you, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I've missed you."

Seconds felt like an eternity until you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. And then it swung open, revealing Joel standing before you, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I missed you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your lips.

You melted into his embrace, feeling a rush of relief and contentment wash over you. In that moment, all the worries and uncertainties faded away, leaving only the comfort of being in Joel's arms once more.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth as you leaned into him and into his embrace, where you belonged.

“Where is Tara?” Joel asked after noticing the absence of the teen behind you.

“At my mother’s. She said she didn’t feel good, and I know she is lying, but she insisted on me coming to see you,” you said to him.

Joel's smile widened at Tara's thoughtful gesture, his eyes softening with affection but still showing worry. "She's always looking out for you," he remarked, his voice filled with warmth.

You nodded, feeling grateful for Tara's care and concern. "Yes, she is," you agreed, feeling a surge of love for your daughter. "I'm lucky to have her, but she is my priority, so I just came to say hi.”

Joel pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace once again. "Maybe you could ask Sarah," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe she knows something.”

“Are you sure?” You mumbled against his shoulder.

“Yes, she is inside; come on.” Joel took your hand, leading you inside his house.

As you entered the house, Sarah greeted you with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey," she said, stepping forward to hug you. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart," you replied, returning her embrace. "How have you been?"

Sarah shrugged with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Same old, same old," she said cryptically, her gaze flickering towards Joel before returning to you. "What brings you here?"

“Your dad is her boyfriend, and he missed her terribly,” Joel answered to his daughter for you.

You glanced at Joel; a smile creeped on your lips at his words.

A mischievous grin spread across Sarah’s face. "Is that so?" she teased, shooting a playful look at her father. "You must really like her."

Joel chuckled, giving Sarah a mock glare. "She wants to talk to you about Tara."

Sarah's grin softened into a more sympathetic expression as she turned her attention back to you. "Is everything okay with her?" she asked, her tone serious.

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at the opportunity to discuss your concerns with Sarah. "I'm not sure," you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. "She seemed upset earlier, and I can't shake the feeling that something's bothering her."

“Dad, can you let us alone for a bit?” Sarah asked Joel.

Joel nodded, but before heading towards the kitchen, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as a sign of affection and love for you, saying he was there for you whenever you needed him.

As Joel left the room, Sarah turned her attention back to you, her expression filled with concern.

"What do you think could be bothering her?" you asked gently.

“Well, she seemed off this morning at school. I knew she was with her dad yesterday, so I guess it has to do with him,” she confessed, carefully not to say beyond what she knew; it was Tara who should tell you once she feels ready for it.

You nodded, understanding Sarah's hesitation to delve too deeply into Tara's personal affairs. "That's what I was thinking too," you admitted, feeling a knot of worry tighten in your chest. "But I don't want to push her if she's not ready to talk about it."

Sarah nodded in agreement, her expression sympathetic. "I get it," she said softly. "But maybe knowing that you're here for her, whenever she's ready, will give her some comfort."

You smiled gratefully at Sarah, touched by her insight and understanding. "Thank you," you said, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Sarah was there to support Tara too.

Sarah returned your smile, her eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," she said. "Family looks out for each other, right?"

Your heart warmed at those words, and you looked at Sarah, driven by pure adoration, and found Joel was there spying on the both of you. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Joel peeking in on your conversation with Sarah; his expression was genuine adoration. You couldn’t help but admire the girl he had raised on his own all this time.

As Sarah caught sight of Joel, she grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the playful moment. "Dad, you're such a spy," she teased, her tone filled with playful banter.

Joel chuckled, stepping fully into the room and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I can't help it if I'm curious about what you two are plotting," he replied with a wink, his gaze shifting between you and Sarah.

You leaned into Joel's touch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you at the warmth and love radiating from your little family. "We're just talking," you reassured him, exchanging a knowing glance with Sarah.

With a smile, Joel pressed a kiss on your temple, his love for you evident in the gentle gesture. "Well, don't let me interrupt," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

As Joel made his way out of the room, you turned back to Sarah, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "He's something else, isn't he?" you remarked, feeling grateful for the man by your side and the daughter who had grown up under his loving care.

Sarah nodded, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "Yeah, he is," she agreed, her voice filled with warmth. "But we wouldn't have it any other way, would we?"

You shook your head, feeling a surge of love for your family. "No, we wouldn't."

As your conversation with Sarah came to a close, you felt a sense of resolve settling within you. It was time to return to your mother's house and check in on Tara, even if you didn't have all the answers yet.

Turning to Joel, you reached out to take his hand, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "I think I should head back to my mom's house now," you said softly, your voice filled with determination. "I want to see how Tara's doing."

Joel nodded in understanding, squeezing your hand gently. "Of course," he replied, his gaze filled with warmth and support. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

You leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling a rush of affection for the man who had stood by your side through thick and thin. "Thank you, Joel," you murmured against his lips, savoring the closeness between you.

With a final smile, you pulled away, reluctantly releasing his hand as you approached the door. As you stepped outside, you paused momentarily, casting one last glance back at Joel, looking back at you with bright eyes and mouthing “I love you”.

You made your way back to your mother's house, your mind buzzing with thoughts about Tara and what could be bothering her. When you arrived, Tara greeted you at the door with a warm smile, ready to go back home with you.

Since you and Dwight ended your marriage, you stayed at your mother’s house for a day until you found an apartment that was perfect for you and Tara to live together.

"Hey, Mom," Tara said, wrapping you in a quick hug before grabbing her bag. "Ready to head back?"

You returned her hug, giving her a reassuring smile. "Yes, let's go."

As you drove back home with Tara in the passenger seat, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease about her. Finally, you turned to her, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

"Tara, sweetheart," you began, your voice gentle. "I know something's been bothering you. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Tara glanced out the window, her expression troubled. "It's just... I don't know, Mom," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I guess I've just been feeling really confused lately."

You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. "It's okay to feel confused, sweetheart," you said softly. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. You can talk to me about anything."

Tara nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered, leaning into your touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," you replied, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for your daughter. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

"I love you too, sweetheart," you replied, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for your daughter. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

She nodded. “You know you deserve all the best in the world,” she said to you, her voice cracking a little bit.

“Do you think so?” You asked playfully, your eyes still focused on the road.

“Yes, and my father never deserved you,” she finally said.

You felt a pang of sadness at Tara's words, knowing the pain she must have been feeling about the situation with her father. But you also felt a sense of pride in her strength and honesty.

"I appreciate you saying that, sweetheart," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "But he's  still your father after all. What’s between us is just between us; don’t hate him just because he wasn’t a good husband.”

And hating him won't change the past or make things better. It's okay to feel hurt or angry, but holding onto that resentment will only weigh you down."

Tara nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed your words. "I know, Mom," she said quietly. “I just see Sarah and Joel, and sometimes I wish he was my father.”

Your heart ached at Tara's words, understanding the longing she felt for a stable and loving family dynamic. You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her comfort and reassurance.

"I understand, sweetheart," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But “what you have left to say was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing as if Joel sensed his name being mentioned; he was the one calling, “Oh my god, I’m going to dump him.”

Tara laughed at your words, encouraging you to answer the call, so you put your phone on speaker.

You glanced at Tara, sharing a laugh with her before answering the call. "Hey, Joel," you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Hey, Doe," Joel replied, his voice warm and familiar. "I was just thinking about you. How's everything going?"

"We're on our way back home now," you replied, glancing at Tara as you drove. "I just had a little heart-to-heart."

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, his concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you reassured him. "Just some family stuff. How about you? How's your evening going?"

"It's going well," Joel replied. "Sarah and I just finished dinner. She's upstairs doing homework now. I miss you, though.”

You smiled at the warmth in Joel's voice, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You just saw it like an hour ago.”

“I know, but still,” he said. “However, I was calling you for another reason.”

“Oh?” you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows.

"I wanted to ask if Tara would like to join Sarah and me for lunch tomorrow after school; I’m taking the afternoon off," Joel said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

You glanced at Tara, who perked up at the mention of her name. Tara's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, I would love to!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a tint of enthusiasm.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at Tara's eagerness. "You heard her," you confirmed to Joel, a sense of gratitude washing over you for his thoughtful invitation.

“Great!" Joel replied, his tone filled with genuine pleasure. "I look forward to it. See you tomorrow, then.” He paused, “Please tell your mother she is pretty and that I love her.”

“Bye! I love you,” you said on the phone.

You loved the way he had been including Tara in his life since you had returned to his, making an effortless attempt to make her feel loved and included in every single aspect of your now-joined lives.

The next day, Joel led the way to their table, his smile infectious as he engaged in playful banter with Sarah and Tara. The three of them seemed to hit it off effortlessly, their conversation flowing smoothly as they shared stories and jokes.

Throughout the meal, Joel made sure to include both girls in the conversation, asking about their interests and sharing stories from his own life. Sarah and Tara seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, their laughter ringing out amidst the bustle of the restaurant.

Tara hadn’t felt this loved by a paternal figure since she was nine, and she couldn’t help but feel the beating of her heart increasing, knowing that this may be her reality for the rest of her life.

Tara found herself opening up to Joel in a way she hadn't with anyone else since her parents' divorce. His kindness and attentiveness made her feel seen and valued, filling a void she hadn't realized was there.

Unbeknownst to them, Dwight was nearby, observing the scene from a distance. His heart clenched with jealousy and bitterness as he watched Joel bond with his daughter. He had always believed that he was the only father figure Tara needed, but seeing her smile and laugh in Joel's presence made him realize that he had been wrong.

Dwight's resentment toward Joel only grew; the man hasn’t only kept the hold of his heart in the palm of his hand, but now he is stealing his daughter from him, and his mind is swirling with thoughts of how to regain control over Tara's affections. But little did he know, Tara's heart had already begun to open up to Joel, and there was no turning back.

As Joel led the way back to his truck, Sarah and Tara chatted animatedly behind him, their laughter ringing out in the crisp afternoon air. But their jovial mood came to an abrupt halt when Joel suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he examined the side of his truck.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

Joel crouched down, inspecting one of the truck's wheels. "It looks like we've got a flat tire," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Tara peered over his shoulder, her heart sinking as she saw the damage. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over her.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll need to call for a tow truck," he replied, his tone resigned. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while."

As Joel pulled out his phone to make the call, Tara glanced at Sarah, her mind racing with thoughts of what could have caused the flat tire.

But a few seconds later, Joel came back. “I called Tommy; he is going to take the both of you home while I stay here waiting for the tow truck, okay?”

The teens nodded as Joel made the arrangements, and Tara and Sarah exchanged glances, silently communicating their concern. Despite the unexpected turn of events, they knew they could count on Joel to take care of the situation.

"Thanks, dad," Sarah said gratefully as Tommy's car pulled up beside them.

"Yeah, thanks," Tara echoed, offering Joel a reassuring smile.

Joel returned their smiles, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes. "No problem, girls," he said. "Just make sure to get home safely, okay?"

"We will," Sarah promised, giving Joel a quick hug before climbing into Tommy's car.

Tara followed suit, offering Joel a hug of her own before joining Sarah in the car. As they drove away, Tara couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Joel's kindness and reliability, even in the face of unexpected challenges.

After the girls were out of sight, a voice interrupted Joel’s solitude.

“First, now, are you trying to steal my daughter too?”

That voice. Joel knew that voice that damn well, and he was getting exhausted from hearing it.

Joel's jaw clenched as he turned to face the source of the voice, his expression a mix of frustration and irritation. "Dwight," he said evenly, his voice tinged with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

Dwight's lips curled into a sneer as he approached Joel, his eyes flashing with anger. "I saw you with your little girl and my daughter," he spat. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Dwight scoffed, his gaze cold and accusatory. "Right, like I'm supposed to believe that," he retorted. "You've been trying to worm your way into their lives ever since she came back and got to know my daughter.”

Joel's temper flared at the insinuation, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I care about Tara,” he said firmly. "And unlike you, I actually want what's best for her." He accused,” You saw her here, and you waited for her to go instead of saying hello to her, just to come up at me just like the pathetic loser you are.”

Joel's words struck a nerve with Dwight, his face contorting with anger. "You think you're better than me, huh?" He snarled, taking a menacing step closer to Joel. "You think you can just waltz in here and take over my daughter's life?"

Joel stood his ground, refusing to back down in the face of Dwight's aggression. "I'm not trying to take over anything," he said, his voice steady. "I just want to be there for Tara, to support her and care for her like she deserves."

Dwight scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don't know the first thing about being her father."

“And you do?” Joel asked, but the answer he received was Dwigth’s fist directly in his face.

As Dwight's fist connected with Joel's face, the impact sent a shockwave of pain through him. Joel stumbled backward, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his throbbing eye. Anger flared in his eyes as he regained his balance, his jaw clenched tight.

"Is that how you fix your problems?" Joel growled, his voice laced with defiance. Despite the pain, he refused to let Dwight intimidate him. "You think you can just throw a punch and scare me off?"

Dwight's expression twisted into a snarl as he lunged forward again, this time hitting on Joel's jaw, causing him to bleed, but still, with a swift motion, Joel sidestepped Dwight’s attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.

“I’m not going to hit you, not because I can't, but because I have respect for Tara,” Joel said, letting Dwight go from his hold.

Dwight's expression softened slightly, though suspicion lingered in his gaze. "You think you're some kind of hero, huh?" He muttered, rubbing his sore arm.

Joel shook his head, his expression serious. "I'm not a hero," he said.

Dwight regarded Joel for a moment longer before finally turning away, his footsteps heavy as he retreated. Joel watched him go, his jaw still throbbing from the impact of Dwight's punches on his face.

After receiving a call from Tommy about the altercation between Joel and Dwight, you knew you had to go check on Joel. Despite the late hour, you made your way to his house, your heart heavy with worry.

When you arrived, you felt an uneasiness before knocking on the door. When Joel appeared behind the door, you took a look at his appearance. His purple eye and swollen jaw made your stomach twist in pain.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, but the tension on his shoulder told you he wasn’t pleased at all.

“Who told you?” he asked, not a greeting, nor a hug, nor a kiss.

"Tommy,” you replied carefully, studying his subtle behavior.

As you spoke, Joel's expression tightened, mixed frustration and resignation crossing his features. He didn’t step aside, and he didn’t invite you into the house. He just stood there with a weary expression.

“Are you okay?” You asked again.

“Let’s see. I look like an idiot with this on my face; I can’t go to work like this, and I feel tired of your ex-husband.”

You winced at Joel's words, feeling the blame on his words. You couldn’t help but feel guilty; after all, Dwight had appeared in his life because of you. You wished you could take away all this, but you knew that wasn't possible. Instead, you feel small in front of him.

Feeling the weight of Joel's frustration, you took a step closer, wanting to offer him comfort despite feeling somewhat responsible for the situation. "I'm sorry," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. You lifted your hands to cup his face delicately, but Joel grabbed your wrists before you could feel his face on your palms.

Your breath left your lungs, and your heart sank.

You could feel the tension radiating from him; his eyes were dark and unreadable as they bore into yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

"I appreciate your concern," Joel finally said, his voice strained. "But right now, I just need some space."

His words stung, a sharp pang of hurt shooting through you as you withdrew your hands from his grasp. You nodded silently, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Are you putting the blame on me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You needed an answer before breaking down in front of him.

Joel's expression softened slightly at your question, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. He hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with regret.

"No, I'm not blaming you," he replied, his tone softer now. "I just... I need some time to process everything that's happened."

You nodded, understanding his need for space but unable to shake off the hurt that lingered within you.

“Go home, Doe,” he whispered.

With a heavy heart, you nodded in response to Joel's words. His request for space was clear, and though it pained you to leave him in such a state, you knew that respecting his boundaries was crucial in this moment.

"Okay," you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur. "Take care of yourself, Joel."

Turning away, you walked slowly back to your car, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. As you drove home, the silence of the car mirrored the heaviness in your heart, your thoughts consumed by the turmoil of emotions stirred up by the encounter with Joel.

It felt like the night he didn’t fight for you when you left him.

Arriving home with a heavy heart, tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stepped through the door. Tara, ever-perceptive, noticed your somber expression immediately.

"Mom, what's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice as she hurried to your side.

You tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but it faltered as the weight of the day's events pressed down on you.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "Just a long day."

Tara studied you for a moment, her gaze searching yours for any sign of what was truly bothering you. Seeing the unshed tears in your eyes, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, offering you the comfort of her presence.

"Is it about what dad did to Joel?” She asked, waiting for your answer.

Your heart ached at Tara's question; her perceptiveness never failed to astound you. You pulled back slightly from the embrace, meeting her concerned gaze with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"How did you know?" you asked softly, impressed by her ability to see through you. 

Tara sighed, her expression filled with empathy. "Sarah”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, grateful for Tara's understanding. "Of course,” you said. “Yes, it's about that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just feel so helpless, Tara. It’s all my fault for thinking we could be together again.”

“I don’t want you to say that ever again, mom,” Tara said, her tone clear enough.

Tara's words struck a chord deep within you, her unwavering support providing a glimmer of solace in the midst of your turmoil. You looked at her, your eyes brimming with tears, and felt a surge of gratitude for her strength and wisdom beyond her years.

"I'm sorry, Tara," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I just... I thought I could make things right, but instead, I've only caused more pain."

“I bet Joel wants space tonight, but that doesn’t mean anything bad.” She reassured me, “The way he looked at you, mom, He wouldn’t lose you over the prick of a father I have.”

Tara's words brought a small glimmer of hope to your heart; her unwavering faith in Joel's feelings for you offered a sense of reassurance in the midst of your doubts.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you said, your voice soft with gratitude. "I hope you're right. I just... I hate seeing him hurt because of me."

“He is not hurt because of you.”

Tara's reassurance was like a balm to your wounded soul, her unwavering belief in Joel's love for you providing a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts.

"You're right," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Tara. I needed to hear it."

As the night wore on, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to shake off the nagging feeling of unease that lingered within you. The thoughts of Joel consumed your mind, his bruised face haunting your thoughts.

Despite Tara's reassurances, you couldn't shake off the guilt that weighed heavily on your heart. The urge to reach out to Joel, to check on him and apologize for everything, gnawed at you relentlessly.

You glanced at the clock beside your bed, its hands ticking away the seconds of the sleepless night. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, the temptation to call Joel becoming too strong to resist.

But as your fingers hovered over the dial button, doubt crept in. What if he needed space? What if he was still angry?

With a frustrated groan, you set your phone aside, resigning yourself to the torment of your thoughts. Sleep remained elusive, the weight of guilt and uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

Just as you resigned yourself to the torment of your thoughts, your phone vibrated with the arrival of a notification. With a flutter of anticipation, you reached for it, your heart racing with hope.

The message was from Joel.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read his words, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding through you.

“Are you awake?”

You typed out a simple "yes,” and just seconds later, he was calling you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you answered Joel's call, the sound of his voice washing over you like a balm. "Hey," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of weariness.

"Hey," you replied, unable to mask the relief in your voice.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Joel spoke again, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I just wanted to hear your voice," he admitted, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his confession, dispelling some of the tension that had been coiling in your chest. "I'm glad you called," you said softly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How are you feeling?"

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just want to say sorry for the way I acted, and I wanted to remind you that I love you so much, Doe.”

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with tenderness. "More than you'll ever know."

“Go to sleep now, love,” he said, knowing you finally felt at ease. He would never repeat the same mistakes with you again.

The next day, you found yourself standing in front of Dwight's house, your heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination. You took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Dwight's girlfriend, his mistress. Her expression hardened when she saw you, and she spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice.

"My daughter is here," she stated bluntly, her tone bordering on hostility.

You held your gaze, refusing to be intimidated by her. "I didn't come for her," you replied evenly. "Where is Dwight?"

Her eyes narrowed at your question, and for a moment, she seemed to consider whether to answer. Finally, she stepped aside, allowing you to enter the house. "He's in the living room," she said tersely.

“Can you tell him to come outside?” you said, not showing emotion.

“Okay”

As Dwight stepped outside, closing the door behind him, you couldn't contain the surge of anger that coursed through you. Without a word, you lifted your hand and delivered a sharp slap across his face.

"Ouch, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dwight exclaimed, his hand instinctively rising to his stinging cheek.

"You know damn well what's wrong," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration and indignation.

Dwight's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't have to listen to this," he snapped, turning to walk away.

But you weren't finished. "Oh no, you're not getting away that easily." You grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. 

As Dwight attempted to walk away, you couldn't let him escape so easily. Fueled by anger and frustration, you moved swiftly, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt to prevent him from leaving.

His eyes widened in surprise as you held him firmly, your grip tight and unwavering. "Let me go!" he growled, struggling against your hold.

You tightened your grip, refusing to back down. "No," you replied firmly, your voice dripping with determination. "We're going to have this conversation, whether you like it or not."

“Listen to me now. Joel didn’t press charges against you, but I will if you don’t stop acting like this.” Your grip on his shirt left him speechless. “I’m tired of you trying to ruin my happiness when you know damn well what you did, and not only that, but acting like a bully when you’re pushing your 40s is pathetic; you may be older than me but not wiser.”

Dwight's eyes narrowed as he listened to your words, a mixture of anger and resentment flashing across his face. Despite his attempts to break free, your grip remained firm, holding him in place.

“Are you threatening me?” he spat.

You met his glare with steely resolve, feeling fury and disgust towards that man. "I'm not trying to dictate anything," you replied, your tone unwavering. "I'm simply telling you how it's going to be if you don't change your behavior."

He didn’t say a word, inviting you to continue.

“Tara doesn’t want to see you, but I told her you’re her father, and what happened between us should define her relationship with you, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll make sure you will never see her,” you stated firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't hesitate to protect myself and my family from your toxicity, so you will take a step away for a while; you will change your behavior and start acting like a man; and once you’re ready to be a father, you call me, and we can arrange a meeting with Tara.”

He gulped. “Okay.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he averted his gaze, seemingly unable to meet your eyes.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice lacking its usual bravado. "I'll stay away... for now."

You nodded, not entirely convinced of his sincerity but determined to hold him to his word. "Good," you said firmly. "And remember, this is your chance to make things right. Don't waste it." You paused, “Now I want you to get on your knees and promise me you will never go for Joel like that.”

As you waited for Dwight's response, he hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted. But eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and slowly sank to his knees before you, a begrudging acknowledgment of your authority in this situation.

"I promise," he muttered, his voice strained with reluctance. "I won't go after Joel like that again."

You watched him carefully, your gaze unwavering, as you waited for him to finish his vow. Once he had spoken the words, you nodded, satisfied that he understood the gravity of his promise.

"Good," you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Go to be happy with the family you choose; you have the chance to be a good father for that little girl of yours. And you will let me be happy with a daughter and the man I love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed for the first time, but you didn't want to buy his act so easily yet.

You observed him silently, your resolve unwavering as you awaited his apology. When he finally spoke, offering a half-hearted sorry, you shook your head.

"Say sorry when you mean it," you replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for ambiguity. "And remember your promise."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Dwight kneeling on the ground behind you, you were determined to protect your family and ensure that Dwight stayed true to his word.

When you returned to your apartment, your heart skipped a beat as you noticed Joel standing by the door, a concerned look etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw you, and he took a step forward, his expression filled with worry.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, stepping back at the sight of him, still carrying the colored traces of Dwight’s fist on his face.

“I wanted to see you, but nobody opened the door, so I was leaving,” he said, his voice laced with concern as he noticed a somber demeanor on you.

“Yes, Tara wanted to spend the day with my mom, so she left earlier and I was doing something,” you informed, stepping forward to open the door.

Joel followed you inside, his gaze lingering on your face with a mix of concern and curiosity. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was troubling you.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal about your encounter with Dwight. But seeing the genuine concern in Joel's eyes, you knew you could trust him with the truth.

"Not really," you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I went to Dwight's.”

Joel's expression darkened at the mention of Dwight's name, his jaw tightening with anger. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile to reassure him. "No, nothing like that.” You paused, “It was actually me who slapped him on the face.”

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your revelation. "You slapped him?" he echoed.

You nodded, feeling a surge of empowerment at the memory of standing up to Dwight. "Yeah," you confirmed, with a hint of pride in your voice. "He had it coming."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Joel's lips. "I wish I could have seen that," he said, a touch of amusement in his tone.

You laughed softly at his comment, “Well, we also talked, mostly me, and I think it's all okay.”

Joel's smile softened at your words, his eyes reflecting his relief. "I'm glad to hear that," he said sincerely, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m not”

“Yes, you’re. You stood by yourself, and that’s always brave,” he reminded you, pulling back slightly. He cupped your face in his hands and met your gaze with all the love dancing in his eyes.

You smiled at him, lifting your hand to caress his face, where his eye was still bruised as a violet. Your heart ached for him, for love, and for the memories he always brought with him.

"This reminds me of something,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a tint of amusement at the memory.

He chuckled softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as he recalled the same thought in his mind. “And I always get the girl,” he said.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Joel's words echoed the sentiment you were about to share. "Yes, you do," you replied, your voice laced with affection. "But don't think you can use those puppy eyes to get out of trouble every time."

He stole a kiss from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours. "I still have the ring," he whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat at Joel's words, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you gazed into his eyes.

“Then, ask me,” you whispered back, your voice filled with love and certainty. You didn’t care about rushing things anymore; you knew that, for a marvelous reason, what had made you separate for thirteen years was the same reason that brought you back together, this time older and wiser, and you wanted to dive in, not hold back anymore.

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the depth of your request. But beneath the surprise, there was a glimmer of joy and a spark of hope that ignited in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your eyes for any hint of hesitation.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I've never been surer of anything in my life," you replied, your voice filled with conviction.

“Well, I don’t have the ring with me right now,” he warned, embarrassed.

Your smile widened at Joel's words; his concern about the ring only added a touch of genuine joy to this. "That's okay," you reassured him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.

“I’m doing this anyway,” he said, getting on one knee and causing you to chuckle, hiding the emotion in your throat.

As Joel kneeled before you, your heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and joy. Despite the playful chuckle and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over, you allow him to continue.

"Will you marry me, Doe?"

a/n part 2: Before someone says the last part may be stupid, let's clarify this is fiction.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99 @lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick @sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

[eddiemunson-mylove]

Always Have, Always Will

summary -

Things don't go to plan when you finally confess your feelings to your best friend Eddie

warnings -

Angst with happy ending | Nothing else really

word count -

1.8K

masterlist

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Four solid taps to the screen door with the palm of your hand was enough for Eddie to call from his room, “I’m in here!” Rolling your eyes at his lack of safeguarding, you swung the door open and let it slam behind you as you toed yourself out of your shoes, leaving them by the door. With one final deep breath you padded down to his room, replacing your look of dread with a rehearsed smile.

You found him as you usually would. Sat on the bottom corner of his bed furthest from the door, facing away and resting his arm atop an acoustic guitar, his pen and pad strewn hastily next to him in the event of any new material for the band. His hair was sitting low on his shoulders in a bun that you were sure was about to unravel (usually at the case of his hair band snapping at the struggle to contain it all) and his tank top was so low cut at the sides, you wondered why he bothered to wear a shirt at all.

“Hey sweets” he chirps, always the first to break the silence. You return your best ‘hello’ before joining him at the foot of his bed, hands curled in your lap as the two of you settle into a silence as he aimlessly strums at the strings. What would normally be a moment shared that you’d cherish, it quickly became suffocating as you allowed your mind to swirl at all the possibilities and outcomes of this visit. To Eddie, you were simply a best friend that had come over to spend time with him after not having seen him for a few days longer than usual. But to you… this could be the end of everything that you held dear to you.

The very thought that after today Eddie could potentially no longer be a part of your life pained you to your core. Physically pained you in a way that could not be expressed in words. Almost enough for you to forget the whole ordeal and settle for the what ifs. But you had made a promise to yourself, and to Robin, that it was necessary for you to allow yourself that one possibility. That single chance that would result in Eddie feeling the same way. Have him leaping into your arms screaming hallelujah as the credits roll on a happy ending. Slightly getting ahead of yourself there… 

You let yourself lay back onto his bed, resting your head and closing your eyes to just bask in the sound of Eddie’s light strumming and the wildlife from the forest outside his trailer. On one final flick of his fingers across the brass, you feel his body adjust to lay his guitar on the ground before situating himself next to you. He lets out a big sigh, further inflating your anxiety. It’s almost as if he could sense the dread; he could feel the fear.

“Something’s wrong,” he confirms, staring blankly at the ceiling just as you were doing. It was now your turn to let out a sigh, one that was larger than his.

“Nothing’s wrong” you reply meekly, making his head fall to the side to see your profile.

“Okay… something is definitely wrong.” He could read you like a book. And at times like this, his talent for doing so was exhausting. You wished that you could spend a few more moments just pretending that everything will be okay. He has no idea that you are stalling on handing him some life altering information. No idea that he is rushing his potential downfall. 

But you had to tell him now, sooner than anticipated. You couldn’t even bring yourself to come up with another excuse. You had spent one too many nights crying yourself to sleep, aching for something more with your best friend. Having him be with you and present but not in the way that you want him to be, always at arms length for you to desperately reach out to grasp for hope. Hope that he would let you fall into his arms as he whispered a thousand ‘i love you’s’. Hope that he would pull you in by your chin for a saccharine kiss, one that leaves you dizzy and disoriented. 

And yet the only person that could make this a reality is you and your confession. You droop your head to the right to meet his gaze, before quickly picking a spot on the wall behind him, unable to stay strong under his stare. You pray quickly to a god that you didn’t even believe in, you finally open your mouth to speak…

“I’ve been thinking…” you begin, before immediately being cut off.

“Uh-oh” he jests, a smirk sitting tight on his lips. You elbow him and close your eyes to take a deep breath before you open them again. His smirk is gone, finally realising the weight of the situation.

“I have been thinking, more of a realisation to be honest. And this realisation can lead to two outcomes. One being the outcome that I would like, and the other meaning we could no longer be friends” your voice cracks at the end, as though uttering such thoughts allowed were enough to scar you. Your eyes meet his briefly and you can see his mind desperately trying to gage the situation before he opens his mouth again,

“Well surely you’d choose the one where we’d still be friends… right?” He presses, his tone shaking slightly at the sudden threat.

“That decision isn’t up to me Eds” You reply in a voice smaller than anticipated, yet he still clung to every word.

“Well then who? Did your mom say anything again? Your dad? I thought he liked me at least!” He was starting to panic now, similar to your own feelings but you knew you had to stay calm and coherent for him.

“No Eddie… it’s up to you,” you butt in before he could start rambling his anxieties, “it’s yours and your decision only”

“Well then I choose the one where we can still be friends! Obviously.” You take your hand that lay flat on the bed to grab his own that had started flailing in the air as he stresses his point. Placing it back between you on the bed, you let go in order to shift yourself onto your side so that you were facing him properly for the final blow.

“It’s not as easy as that Eds, you haven’t even heard what my realisation is yet.” You can feel the sting behind your eyes, suddenly conscious that this could potentially be the last time you get to see him like this again. The last time that he would let you be so close to him. Maybe even the last time he would let you speak to him. That last thought causes your waterline to threaten to spill over.

“Well what is it then?” he bursts out, his patience wearing thin, his panic reaching its peak, “What could be so drastic that we couldn’t continue being friends?” You allowed yourself one final deep exhale as a single tear escaped your eye and ran down your face before getting lost in your hair from your horizontal position.

“I love you, Eddie”

You say nothing more. Just letting it hang in the air for the trembling boy before you to process. But he is quick to issue a response,

“Okay? And I love you too,” he returns a little dumbfounded, “you can tell me what it is”

“No Eddie,” you stress at him slightly harsher than you intended too at the prospect of having to repeat yourself and dig an even bigger hole trying to explain, “that’s not what I meant… I love you”

“Oh…” he muses, as though no damage had been done.

“Oh?” he tries again, as though piecing the puzzle together.

“OH” the penny drops as he’s quick to shift his gaze from your own. His hand that was currently resting on your wrist shifts away from you before he sits up suddenly. You're quick to match his posture, waiting for words to come but a silence settles over the two of you again. This time it was anything but a comfort. 

“Eddie?” you shadow your hand over his shoulder but he dodges your advance to stand to his feet. You watch with your eyes stinging from the presumed rejection as he paces his room once, twice, three times before he grabs his keys and finally faces you for clarification.

“I’ll be right back” he deadpans, staring at his open bedroom door.

“Eddie… what?” your voice breaks again, the tears free flowing at this point. 

“I’ll be back, I promise. I just need to…” he trails off and gives you one last glance before darting through his hallway and out the door, leaving the screen to slam behind him.

Left only with your crippling thoughts, you resume your previous laying position and find yourself naturally curling in before letting out what would be your first gut wrenching sob of many. The ache in your chest had progressed to a sharp stab with each gasp for air as your whole body shook. It wasn’t long before a damp patch formed on the duvet beneath your head and your sobs quieted down into soft wails. 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. The late nights of contemplation and exhaustion from crying finally took its toll. But now you had to once again face reality as your slumber was disturbed by the slam of a door and some heavy footsteps trudging towards the bedroom. Afraid to move, afraid to compromise your safety bubble, you remained in your fetal position.

You followed the sounds of the footsteps until your eye line was met with two dark jean-clad knees. You finally angled your head to look upwards to find Eddie looming over you, a freshly picked bunch of bluebells in his grasp. Slowly and cautiously, you raise yourself into a seated position.

“You didn’t think I was actually gonna let you confess to me did you?” He beams at you, as though the last few hours of pain hadn’t happened.

“What?” you question, confusion deeply rooted in your brain.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got a rep to protect here. Can’t have you going around telling people that you swept me up. That’s my job,” he chuckled, mostly to himself. He moves to sit down next to you, his hand reaching to caress the one that you were using to hold you upright. Angling his head so that his eyes could meet your own, he places the flowers between you on the bed so that his free hand could raise up to cradle your cheek.

“I love you too,” is all he mutters as he leans across to close the gap, his lips slotting effortlessly against your own. He presses firmly, almost as if to stress his affections to you before pulling away all too soon to finish,

“I always have, and I always will.”

[zcorners120]

Hi! Can you write something with Arthur Leclerc and the reader are doing the “Truth or Dare” video for Prema, and he says he would kiss the reader. And at the end he really peck her on the lips

ooooooooooooooo yes i like the sound of this !

synopsis; req above ^ MASTERLIST

warnings; kisssssing oooooo la la , flirting ;)

The big lens bored into my eyes, Arthur and yourself sat in silence waiting for the flag to start speaking.

“Go.”

“Hello everybody, welcome back to another Prema video, here with Y/N/N” Arthur’s voice spoke out, nudging you slightly as he said your nickname.

“And today we’re doing truth or dare, with the questions suggested by you guys!” You gestured your hands towards the camera, smile painted on your face.

Two piles of paper were slid onto the table, both in bold with one reading 'TRUTH' and the other 'DARE'.

The camera cuts, moving into the other rooms where other drivers are sitting patiently, before they come back to focus on yours and Arthur's clips for the video.

"I'm a bit nervous." You spoke aloud, in the now empty room.

You saw the rumours circulating online, your Instagram dm's filled with threats from preteen girls, questions from journalists and bunches more.

"It's going to be fun Y/N/N, I'm picking all dares since I am quite bad." He smugly smiles at the end of his sentence, laying back against the charcoal leather sofa.

You snorted at the bold statement, "As if Arth, no way is that true."

Right as he opened his mouth to retaliate, the producers came back in the room.

"Put three ice cubes in your mouth until they melt." Read out with a cheeky grin, watching as Arthur laughs nervously.

Watching as he tries to gracefully put them into his mouth with a spoon made you both double over in laughter. He sits back with his arms crossed, eyes closed.

"He can't speak, he's incapacitated at the moment everyone." You look at him, as he turns with his mouth full, gargling out the words, "Truth or dare." in his loud, Monégasque accent.

"Ay ya ya, it hurts!" He flicked his hand about, the sound of the ice cubes moving about in his mouth appearing also.

"Okay, dare." You risked, watching the string and scissors appear onto the table.

Arthur tied your hands to your ankles, and you had to stay like that the whole game. He wrapped the string gently around your wrists, making sure it's not too tight before looking up at you with those blue eyes.

It's moments like these where you doubted your friendship with him, letting your true emotions take control. In a room full of cameras and people, it felt like it was only the two of you.

He momentarily pulled the strings making it really tight, winking at you with the eye facing away from the camera making your cheeks flush pink.

"So now, it's perfect." He spoke, watching you struggle with sitting on the sofa.

He holds the next dare up to you, waving it in front of your face.

"Go outside and hold a sign that says 'Honk if I'm cute.'" You laugh, watching as he gives a confused face.

"What?" Turning the slip back to himself as he reads it again.

"Guys we're going to get noise complaints from the amount of people honking..." You flipped your hair over your shoulder, pretending to flex as Arthur looks at you with a bewildered expression.

"It'll be me in the car.." He aggressively winks badly moving his whole face, producing having to cut due to the laughter.

You look at the paper signs giving from the producers, with text in Italian as well as English.

"That's going to be so embarrassing, it's much worse than what you got!" You leant back, forgetting your arms were tied, whole body falling against the sofa and Arthur's side.

After a couple more embarrassing dares and painful truths, the filming progressed onto the most anticipated question, not only for the audience but for the producers also.

It would be stupid to think that the producers don't think the pair would be cute together, why else would they always be together in videos!

You picked up the next slip of paper, Arthur's eyes widening at your evil grin.

"Just read it, you're scaring me!"

"Ooh! If you had to choose, who would you kiss in this room?" You said matter-of-factly, turning to face Arthur.

He plucked the note out of your hand, slightly fanning himself whilst looking up at the ceiling, "It's starting to get a bit hot in here."

You fell onto your side laughing, "But you have to be completely, completely honest." You spoke, getting back up.

You started pointing around the room, "So there's a sound engineer, there's Angelina." You say smiling, but as you go to look at him you realise that he's only looking at you.

"Well to be completely honest it would have to be you." He says, staring at you as Oscar burst into the room getting everyone to say their "Awwws".

You blush furiously, both of you going into fits of laughter to alleviate the tension.

The video in question cuts to you and Paul outside the building, both being dared to stand with the embarrassing sign.

You held up the sign first, stepping out onto the side of the road and being met with honks as soon as the drivers could read the sign.

"Gosh, my ego is going through the roof." You laughed, getting scared by another abrupt honk.

You turned around to see Arthur sticking himself half way out the car window, opening the door to pull you inside the tiny grey Fiat 500.

"Sorry guys I'm kidnapping her for a while." He shouts out.

This would seem slightly confusing, but gets cleared up quickly by the end snippet of the video being; Arthur gently pulling your chin in his direction, the camera catching a quick kiss before everyone erupts into cheers, Dino and Robert jumping so hard the camera was knocked off the tripod.

[bazpango]

A lawlight fan fiction where the NPA’s benefits package includes—mandatory—counselling sessions (their job is emotionally taxing) but they can’t use them because it’s too much of a risk to the task force’s objective in catching Kira:

Matsuda waltzes in with a stack of notebooks under his arm. “I read in Good Housekeeping that journaling lowers stress!” L groans. Soichiro—desperate for any crumb of autonomy in this investigation—fully endorsed the idea.

Light freaks. If anyone finds the Death Note and they hire a graphologist, the first samples they’ll want to compare will be his—if L has anything to say about it. He has to be careful. This will be a burdensome paper trail. With a second (well, third) notebook to keep track of, the mental load is at risk of becoming dangerously heavy—for even the best of liars.

Every morning and evening the team journals for thirty minutes; they are locked away in a safe at all other times. It becomes a sort of ritual for clocking in and out of work.

Light is meticulous. Holding his pen off-kilter to throw off the curves and edges of his penmanship. He takes to journaling like he’s penning the world’s most mundane, most detailed, most virtuous autobiography.

L’s notes on the other hand are borderline illegible. Each entry is merely one or two sentences at most. Sometimes just a word, or a string of numbers.

Strawberries too tart today, taste terrible

He is Kira

1600. 50? …

Misa Light-kun’s girlfriend

Watari. HQ. microwave mud cake?

Light-kun did not kiss Misa back

L feels it, something quiet and scheming in the man sitting beside him. He tugs on his tie. It’s something new, since they’ve started journaling.

Weeks go by. One night, he tiptoes down to HQ hoping to break into the safe and confirm his suspicions; to his surprise he opens the door to find Light seated on one of the couches, flipping through his journal and scrunching his nose at it. “Light?” Caught you. “You aren’t to be here after curfew. Especially not with that.”

“You’re one to talk.” Light’s eyes scan L and then flicker to the coffee table, where his own journal sits invitingly. L’s been got, and what’s worse, Light knows it. He always knows. L wonders if he’ll ever get used to it.

“Yes, but.” L perches on the opposite sofa. “There’s no reason for you to be reading my journal. I’m not a suspect in this investigation.”

There’s plenty reason, and they both know it. If Kira can anticipate L’s hunches, he can misdirect. It’s a poor bluff, but still it’s one that Light can’t cop to.

“I suppose your right,” Light says, lips tightening into a line. He locks eyes with L and closes the journal softly, tossing it on the coffee table. L scratches at his wrist, where the handcuff used to be. Questioning if this opportunity would be wasted by fighting fire with fire.

“Perhaps my journal offered some insight. I was thinking the same about yours,” L mutters, “…Kira is my white whale, I suppose.”

“But I’m not Kira.”

“Yes, you keep saying that.”

Light crosses one leg over the other. “And Captain Ahab isn’t someone to aspire to. I’d be careful Ryuuzaki,” he warns; sounding perfectly concerned as a friend ought to be, “or the task force might begin to question your aptitude. You’re beginning to sound obsessed.”

Snide bastard.

“And what of you, Light?”

Light stiffens. So begins the spar.

“Do you shed the work day off in the shower with ease? Is your sleep dreamless, or do you comb through evidence you might have missed? You are tasked to help us hunt down the most prolific serial killer to ever walk this Earth, and…” he raises a thumb to his teeth, “surely that can’t be accomplished between the hours of 9 to 5, even for someone as brilliant as yourself.”

He’s monologuing now. Leaning forward. Dangling the fish hook and begging that Light takes the bait.

“That would be a most incredible feat for any man,” L says. He’s got Light right where he wants him, wide eyed and stubbornly still. Careful not to reveal any tells, which is one in and of itself. “But you don’t see yourself as one, do you?”

Light scoffs. “What are you asking, Ryuuzaki?”

It’s a ruse. Light always knows exactly what he’s saying, and does this stupid little dance with him anyway because he knows he can. L normally quite enjoys it, but tonight he’s had it and he isn’t sure why. He stands, only to step across the coffee table and plant his foot on one side of Light, the other soon to follow on the other side. Light instinctively recoils until his back is flush with the back cushion. It isn’t quite straddling, because L is still quite hunched overtop of him. But it is an intimidating closeness. Obsessive, even.

“I’m asking,” L mutters, eyes darting back and forth between Light’s, “if you think yourself God, or man.”

He’s still an immovable force, a statue underneath him. But there’s a flush of pink to his cheeks. So, you are human after all.

“This is ridiculous!” Light huffs, wiggling, and for the first time there’s a tinge of urgency to it. “You’re not getting a false confession out of me, pulling a stunt like this.”

“That is not my intention.”

“Then what is?”

“Have I not made that clear?” L asks, and the patronizing tone gives Light significant pause. L looks at the wetness of Light’s lower lip and bites that thumb between his teeth. “…Or have you just tricked me into thinking you’re smarter than you actually are?”

Light, ego bruised and bested, smashes their lips together. He plays dirty, and spars with him until their lips are swollen and there is a tinny, metallic flavour on both their tongues.

God, man, monster. Whichever he is, L likes the taste.

[groceryreceiptss]

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | j.p.

james potter x reader | word count : 7.2k | requested

↳ part one / part two ───✧₊∘

summary : james always said that you were his best friend and you always said that he was yours. but you didn't realize that the meaning of the words had changed for you until it was a week before the yule ball and you two were walking through the snow covered streets of hogsmeade (reader's pov)

contains : my writing (warning lmao), pretty cheesy. (childhood) best friends to lovers!! flufff, herbal tea slander (sorry if you like it), lots of out-of-place references (like pjo and spiderman, i'm SORRY, i can't help it). i’m never sure on what to put in here to be honest so just let me know!

a/n : soo i might have gone a biiiiit overboard and make it a two part! this one takes place in hogsmeade (mostly), told from reader's point of view. i'm planning for the second one to be from james' point of view and for it to take place during the yule ball (no promises on when i’m going to finish it though TT )

credits : lovelyy dividers by @cafekitsune, pins i used (1) (2) (3)

───────────────────────

The castle seemed to have its own separate life in December. Snow, trees, warm hearth, lights, candles, sweaters, hot drinks, and not to mention the food. The students always seemed to be reinvigorated by the time this month came too. Excited whispers floated the hallways in strings of exclamations.

This year, they were way louder than usual though. And the reason for it was visible in every room. The vibrant yet elegant posters, the talks of elaborate plans, scenes of people asking and being asked (and the cheers that would follow it), conversations of suits and dresses, and absolutely nonchalant talks of dates and hopes.The Yule Ball.

This extravagance of the event only happened once in every four years, so of course, everyone was excited. Nothing could be more thrilling than a chance to live out your silly teenage dreams and be like one in the movies.

You loved it too. The smiles, the laughter, the gossip, the drama. It was fun, though you weren't expecting much for yourself. You weren't being a downer or whatever (which was what James would definitely tell you), it was just that, if truth be told, you had learned not to hope too much in anything. Retrospective had taught you a long time ago that it would only tarnish the joy out of a perfectly good moment. 

Today was a festive Saturday morning. Talks of the ball were echoing off the walls in a more persistent way than ever. Understandable for they only had a week left before the festivities, anxiety and anticipation were sure rising.

You were just about to enter The Great Hall, the comforting smell of good breakfast already reached your nose, before someone suddenly threw their arms around you from the back, throwing you off balance a bit, his warmth enveloping you. James Potter.

Funny how someone's laugh could be so familiar to one's ears.

"How are you in this fine lovely morning?" The bespectacled boy greeted you as you turned around, eyes meeting his, your lips turned upward mirroring his smile. He really did have the most annoying charming smile. It was infectious.

"Freezing to death," you responded, slinging his arm around your shoulders as both of you walked the rest of the way to the hall. "Where are the others?”

"Already there," he scoffed, and continued on dramatically, "They left me to fend for myself!"

"To be fair, you are a heavy sleeper."

"You're one to talk," he grinned at you, "Why do you think both of us are the last ones to arrive?"

And he hit it right. You straightened up, ready to defend yourself. "Well, look–"

But he was way ahead of you. "Good book?" he smiled knowingly. And right again.

"So good," You nodded your head vigorously. "You should read it sometimes. I'll add that to your list." You waved your hand away casually, as if to say ‘done and done.’

"I look forward to reading it."

You smiled up at him, agreed. "Good, because you must." And before you could stop it, you went on telling him all about your reading from last night.

He didn't seem to mind, he never did. In fact, he always seemed to be interested in everything you had to say, so you continued. It had become a routine. You told him about a book he had never heard of, he told him about a match you had never watched.

James Potter was your best friend. Always had and always would be. The two of you had known each other since you were five and knew nothing and everything. Both of your parents had been best friends and it just progressed naturally. They would often spend the holidays and breaks together and so his house was yours as much as yours was his. 

And when both of you got the Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was inevitable that you grew even closer. Everything about him had become so familiar now. It was like you knew him at the back of your hand.

His favorite color, his favorite food, his favorite song. How his eyes brightened a bit when he laughed. The dimples that came with his smile. How he would bite his lip a bit when McGonagall caught him and his friends in their mischievous schemes, or when he was thinking of a lie to tell her.

How he liked to put his arm around your shoulder, or tucked it in the inside of your arm every time he saw you. His glasses that were always lopsided, and his hair that was always tousled. Just like it was right now.

Both of you sat down in front of Remus and Sirius, who were laughing about something. Crisp toast, bacon, and eggs on the plates completely abandoned. You eyed them closely and wondered how two people could be so oblivious to one another when they were sitting that close to each other. And look at Remus! He was almost red.

If only you did not have a sense of decency and could have it in you to interfere with these two, then maybe, just maybe, they'd finally admit their feelings and go to the Yule Ball together.

"Where's Wormtail?" James asked them, getting himself a plate of eggs and sausages. You decided to grab some toasts, marmalade, and some eggs.

"Don't know," Sirius shrugged. "Probably hatching a plan to ask Jane out."

"Doesn't she already have a date?" You asked him, confusion on your face.

"Not sure," Remus chimed in, "it's hard to keep track these days." True that.

The four of you talked some more. You and James tried multiple times trying to get these two to talk about their dates to the ball—or more like the lack of it—and did a bait and switch. And you were good at it, but boy were they better.

After their plates had emptied, Remus said that he was going to make a quick run at the library and Sirius, very subtly and casually, offered that he could come too because he was "bored." You and James could barely contain your smiles until they disappeared out of view.

He grabbed a bit of your toast, put some of his fruits on your plate in exchange for it, and asked, "So... what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who are you going with to the dance?"

"Oh," you pondered a bit, biting one of the strawberries. "I don't know. I'm thinking of going by myself, maybe? I think it'd be fun."

"No one has asked you yet?" He asked, surprised.

You let out a laugh at his expression. "Don't pretend to be shocked now, James. I don't exactly have a line of people waiting to ask me out."

"People here have bad tastes then.” He concluded. 

You shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’d be a pity spending the night with some stranger I don’t know, or even like, anyway. What about you and Lily?”

James' die-hard affection for the red-head girl was never a secret. The entire school knew it. It had been going on since first year and you doubted it would ever stop.

The way he always talked about her — with so much fondness and care. It was, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked. But you noticed the way he looked at her too. It was like he fell in love every time he laid his eyes on her.

You figured that he was going to at least work up the courage to ask her out to the ball, even if it would only end up in vain, but no news from him so far. It was weird, like a sudden change of the weather. You had had to endure listening to him for what seemed like ages after Lily talked to him for the first time. And then another and another and another about his failed attempts at asking her out. What's with the quiet and silence now?

Was the fact that she turned him down again for the dance hurt him that bad? Oh, now you felt guilty for asking.

What was so strange, though, was that there wasn't sadness on his face now. No hidden pain or aches. Instead, he said, ever so casually, your toast in his hand "I haven't asked her yet."

You were taken aback, shocked, eyebrows scrunched up. "What?"

James' fruitless efforts with Lily was also very much widely known, but he was never ashamed of it. You couldn't remember the last time he passed an opportunity to confess his— as he said it —undying love for her.

"What, what do you mean you haven't asked her out?" You sputtered out.

He chuckled nervously at your response, raising his hands in trying to calm you down. "Is it really that surprising?"

"Considering the fact that you, James Potter, have been after her for like forever and never faltered in his efforts to make her know that he is head over heels for her, then I'd say, yeah. It's pretty surprising." You responded, baffled. "What changed?"

"Nothing! I just figured that she'd turn me down anyway and didn't bother. And then I heard she already accepted someone else's offer anyways." he shrugged.

"Oh," you put his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

James squeezed yours in return and gave you a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm fine, honestly." he assured you. “I think it might be for the best.”

Though you didn’t believe that, he did look fine. And James was never one to hide his feelings from you— in fact it was the total opposite, he was always ever so dramatic — so you took his words. You bit your lip and asked, "You want some tea?"

"What is it this time?" He asked as he took a bite of the egg.

You grabbed one of the teacups and gave it a sniff. "Oh," you scrunched up your nose from the smell, "Herbal, I think." you put it down. "That's a no then."

He groaned, "Why couldn't they just serve normal tea?"

"Because then we won't have a ‘refined’ palate." You rolled your eyes, quoting something Madam Pince had told you in the library for what seemed like a long time ago.

"That's a silly excuse for serving only herbal tea at breakfast."

You couldn't say that you disagree.

"So,” he started. “What are you doing today? Any plans?" 

"No,” you shook your head, “Nothing much." You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and passed the jug to him. "I'll probably just read. You?"

He poured one himself and grinned at you. "That depends, you want to go to Hogsmeade?" 

"Uh-oh," you let out a laugh, sensing trouble. "What are you up to?"

He gasped dramatically. "What do you mean ‘what are you up to?’ I am offended.” He placed a hand on his chest for good measure. “Could it be possible that maybe I just want to spend the day at Hogsmeade with my best friend?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

He laughed. “I’m not going to do anything, honestly. And It'll be fun, I promise!" he nudged you. "We haven't gone there in a while." Well, that was true.

"It's cold," you argued.

"I have an extra coat if you want double."

"It will be very crowded."

"Then we'll find some place no one knows."

"That's impossible."

"Anything is possible, love. Please." He pleaded, looking at you with his big doe eyes. It was so unfair of the world to give someone such gorgeous brown eyes and left the others to dust. So unfair.

You sighed, letting out at last. He would be the death of you one of these days. "Fine," — which brought a whispered "Yes!" from him— "But we're going to have to visit the quill shop."

"Consider it done." 

──────────────────∘

Hogsmeade was truly beautiful in the winter. Its snow-covered roads, the orange lights visible in every shop, and the chattering crowds in their coats and scarves. Though the hits of cold wind on your face made you shiver, you were glad that you decided to go. And that you were with James. His arms around your shoulders provided you warmth just as much as his breath on your cheeks did.

As promised, both of you visited Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. James had complained at first and tried to negotiate by saying you should "save the best for last" and head to Zonko's instead to open the trip, but after both of you saw the line the place'd formed, he agreed that maybe quills were more fascinating.

"Why are there so many types of ink?" he whispered loudly at you as he examined the shelves, "Who cares if it's lavender purple or lilac purple? They're purple!"

"Lots of people do." You answered before quietly squealing to him after finding a rare gem. "Look!"

You pushed the ink bottles to his face so he'd read the label. "Rainbow ink?"

"Rainbow ink!" You nodded excitedly.

"You do not need rainbow ink, love." He shook his head but couldn't force back the affectionate smile that had appeared on his face.

"Just like you don't need those hand-biting teacups or whatever from Zonko's, and yet here we are." You hummed giddily as you grabbed one of the brand new boxes of rainbow ink from the shelf.

"It's nose-biting teacups— please don't take the fun out of it," he corrected you, "and yes I do need it! It's fun! Trashy fun, but fun!”

"Whatever you say, love." Something caught your attention and you immediately grabbed the cuff of his shirt. "Oh! Let's look here!" 

With the rainbow ink tucked safely in your coat pocket, you and James walked out of the shop and visited Zonko's. He recounted all of the items he had once bought and how he had used them up, mostly with Sirius. He ended up getting something called Inflatable Tongue (for what you didn't want to know) before both of you walked out. 

You turned to him with a glint in your eyes. "Honeydukes?" 

He returned the mischief and grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Time?"

You thought it over, looking at the clock nailed onto the wall of the shop through the glass.

“Five minutes,” you pointed out. “Letter?”

"B,” he decided as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "Ready?"

"One..." you looked over at him, I'm going to obliterated you. 

"Two…”

“Three.. Go!" you declared before both of you ran to the brightly colored store. 

You and James had many traditions. This was one of them. 

The challenge was simple. You only had to find as many candies as possible that started with the decided letter in those few minutes.

It had started with a silly argument in second year, about who knew more about sweets and, later on, the knowledge of Hogsmeade's own candy shop's stocks and products. You only had been able to visit by third year of course, and the real game had only begun there, but the fire was already established way before. 

Your friend, Marlene, thought it was stupid, and so did the rest of the Marauders, but there was something to be said about the similar stubbornness you two had. Sirius had said they were eerily alike.

You and James entered the shop with thrill and jumpy nerves, but were still decent enough to try not to run like little children that would definitely result in getting kicked out. Like that time both of you visited those muggles candy stores over a summer when you were younger. Lessons were learned.

You immediately went to the right part of the store, claiming the territory. Directed by your decision, James went to the left. 

You knew the store well. James didn’t know it, but you had been visiting this cheerful shop a lot recently. Mostly because Mary was so down after her breakup with her toxic ex and these treats are one of the things that could cheer her up. But on the side, you had done your research. The Bs were on this side of the store.

Bolandi’s Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Blood-flavored lollipop. Bat’s Blood Soup? Gross. And some chunks of brownies. 

Five minutes passed, and with James only got Bertie’s and bubblegums, you came out of the shop victorious. 

You jumped and threw your hands in the air. “And miss y/l/n won again. Thank you, thank you.” You bowed to a nonexistent audience. 

He only smiled at you. “Don’t be so proud now. Remember, miss y/l/n, I am still the running champion here. 3-2” he reminded you with a smug smile on his face. 

You shrugged. “That won’t be hard to feat, you mark my words.“ you offered him a look into your paper bag. “Want to try some?” 

“What’s new?” 

“Bat’s blood soup.” Your nose wrinkled at the name. “He said that it’s actually chocolate, but the name is too off putting.” 

“It’d be good with strawberries,” he offered. “We can grab some from dinner later.” 

You nodded your head as both of you made your way through the village. “I think Mary would like it too anyways.”

“Oh, right.” James said. He and Mary weren’t close but they were friendly, especially from being past neighbors and all. “How is she these days?” 

“Better every day I'm sure. It’s for the best, Matt’s an asshole.” 

“We can only hope that that itching powder will find its way real soon.” he grinned at their latest form of tricks. “Or maybe during the Yule Ball actually. That would be so much better.” 

You snorted. “Usually I would say that’s cruel, but he deserves it. We thank you for your service.” You continued solemnly. 

He waved his hand as if tipping off his hat. “And you are so very welcome.” 

Both of you walked through the well-lit village. Talking about everything and nothing, laughing at that student making a fool of himself in one of the shops, and slipped some bites of the crystallized pineapples.He asked you about how far into the book you were now, and you asked him about his Quidditch team and whether the newest member– someone from year two, you believed–was still afraid of heights.  

James had his left arm around you and your gloved hands were holding his–the one near your neck–fighting for some sense of warmth. You and James hadn’t done this in a while and you’d forgotten how much you missed it. You looked up at him as he was talking about the second-year boy and saw the flecks of snow scattered on his face, his askew glasses, and his jet black hair. It made him look a tad bit adorable, you thought. His brown eyes that had that bit of green in them were alight with something so charmingly infectious that you couldn’t help but smile. 

You looked at him as he talked about the latest match, his right hand going everywhere as he was talking at the speed of 893 miles per hour. You loved seeing him talk excitedly about something. There was just something so beautiful in hearing the people you cared about talk about things that they cared about so passionately and ardently, no matter how trivial they may be. It was like you were trusted enough to see this crazy side of them. It’s nice.

A group of third-years passed by and you heard them complaining about not being able to go to the ball yet. Something about dances, dresses and suits, and dying alone. 

"Oh," you fought a smile to keep it from surfacing as you remembered a particular last week incident. “How are your dance moves coming along?" 

He groaned. “Not this again.  You're trying not to laugh." 

"I'm not!" but a chortle escaped you either way. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best."  

"I am!" he whined. "It's just really hard and Padfoot isn't exactly the best dance partner for practicing," he grumbled.

"Steps-on-you-shoes kind of bad or doesn't-catch-you-after-the-spin-that-you-end-up-falling kind of bad?" You said with a smile and with raised eyebrows. 

He rolled his eyes as he revealed a sheepish smile. As if he could forget. "I said I'm sorry."

“I know. but it was right there. I couldn't not do it.”

A week ago, in the empty common room at night, James had asked you to teach him the basic dance steps most people used for the ball. Despite his mother's graces for it, you found that her son was very much an amateur. 

He kept stepping on your foot and collided with you as he took the wrong directions. You were laughing and kept saying that it was fine, but he still apologized every other second of it. 

The ending to the attempts was a disaster. A playful one for you, but he seemed very embarrassed of it. You had suggested the spin—and honestly it was your fault to have recommended it in the first place when it had only been an hour and a half—and as he tried to pull you back, he might have tugged your hand a bit too hard and you ended up crashing into one another. Your figure on top of his, his hands on your waist. 

His cheeks had turned slightly red, and yours had grown hot as the fall stopped and you found your face so close to his. Your eyes inevitably found his brown ones and you felt his rapid breaths on your skin. His eyes have a little bit of green in them, like stars, your mind wandered before catching yourself. You let out a slight awkward cough and tried to laugh it off as you made yourself stand up. 

He gave you a string of apologies afterward, and although you had assured him that it was all in good fun, he never asked you to teach him again. You kind of wished he would, for reasons you couldn't quite explain, but you didn't want to push him when he had turned to Sirius to "let the failures just befall on him", as he'd said it. 

"But, either way, have you improved under the capable hands of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter?" you asked him now, an eyebrow raised. 

"Well, he's definitely not as capable as you." He gave you an admiring smile, and you almost looked away from it. Taking compliments was never one of your talents. Especially if you felt undeserved of it. 

"Well, it might come to you as a surprise, but what we learned was the easy part. I'm an intermediate myself." Deflected and dodged. 

He laughed. "Either way, you're still graceful at it. You know, the incident did happen again. With Sirius." 

You snorted. "What?" 

"Yeah. Luckily, it's still in the privacy of our dorm. so it's good."

"I'd give money to see that." 

"Would never let that happen in a million years."

“With the way things are going, I might. The dance is a public affair.” 

“I’d have to get better by next week then.” He said it solemnly like it was a promise, but he probably was kidding. That small child-like smile on his face said it all. 

You had walked to the empty side of the village. You didn't think there was one, but the snow covered streets around you were scarce of people. Only a few passersby before they too disappeared into the warm shelter of a wooden shop. Just the way you preferred it.

A sudden thought crossed your mind and before you could even give it a second thought, your mouth decided to give it a voice. "You want to try again?"

He looked around, his snow flecked eyebrows raising, and his smile tinted with a hint of amusement. "Here?"

Well now you wished you hadn't. But, playing along was always better than an embarrassed "never mind, that was stupid" right?

"Well, yes!"  you told him as if you definitely didn't have any second thoughts at all. "Almost no one’s here. Besides," You continued with a light feather edge on your words. "I heard it's freeing to dance in the cold December wind."

He shot you with one of his cheeky smiles. "Is that so?" before putting on his thinking face, a guess on the tip of his tongue. "Romance?" He ventured.

"Partly. It's a coming-of-age drama and such." You corrected him. "It's also on our winter list for this year you'll see."

"Can't wait." and he meant it. But only because, "I hope you'll also like that match tape I got of a muggles' football match. They're entertaining too to say the least."

After years of being best friends together, he had learned that you liked to talk in quotes from the books you'd read and the movies you'd watched. And after years of spending winter and summer breaks together watching and listening to the muggles' form of entertainment media, it was like you shared the same frequency. He could guess which type of movies or shows or songs you had probably heard the saying from, and you could guess which sport match did he reference that joke from.

It was a whole different game. Total number of players : two.

He stopped in his tracks, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, making your neck shudder a bit at the loss of warmth.

"So," he gave you a gentleman's bow—and a playful smile along with it—and offered his gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

You almost let out a surprised laugh at the gesture. You took a ladylike bow, pinching the fabric of your invisible royal dress. "That depends," you said in an exaggerated accent, "are you able to do so without giving me a head injury?"

He returned the overplayed accent. "I shall make no promises. But, if i were to slip and let you fall, best believe I'd try my best to catch you."

On the usual days, you'd bring up Gwen Stacy falling into her demise in one of the remakes of the Spider-Man movies. How Peter wasn't able to catch her and she ended up dead. James would've gotten the reference—you had cried to him for hours after that first watch last summer—but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

And yet instead, you were here, trying not to let the invisible red take too much space on your already freezing cheeks. You smiled, and it was a smile you couldn't contain. Not like others. It was one that just kept going wider and wider the more you looked at the beam plastered on his face until it wasn't physically possible anymore.

James, your head echoed his name as you mentally shook your head. A soft laugh escaped your lips. What have you done?

“We’re going to look stupid.” You admitted.

“Hey, it was your idea." He reminded you, his hand still stood in the air.

"It was a moment of foolery." But you took it.

The wind had started to pick up its course again and caused the snow to fall rapidly. Under the glow of the streetlights, you two danced and laughed. It started off as an attempt to the formal dance two would usually use at a ball, but after one or two or seven missteps, you agreed that maybe you should start over.

There was no music to accompany you but there was a faint piano playing from one of the shops. It whispered gently with the wind that swept you and James' rowdy steps. 

His laughters were echoing in your ears, into your mind. His breath was on your cheeks, and his gloved hand on your woolen one was a warming touch. His glasses were a bit askew, and a part of his hair that came out of his beanie was flecked with snow.

There was no rhyme nor reason to your steps or the placement change of your hands. It was so stupid and silly. One minute it was an amateur attempt at classic dances, and another you were fooling around as if you were at a house party.

It was nice. Like you two were five again and you knew nothing and everything. Childhood innocence, where have you gone?

There were a lot of things you were late to realize about your friendship with James. You guessed you didn’t really think much about a friendship that had started since you could remember. It had always just been there, all your life. So long that you couldn’t imagine a life without it. A steadfast thing, the most you ever had one with someone that used to be a stranger to you.

You couldn’t even imagine that now. James Potter, a stranger. It felt so wrong. You had known too much about him, he had known too much about you. He was memorized in your mind.

From his hazel brown eyes that felt like the warm hearth of your home every time you looked at them, to the quirk of his lips and the gentleness of his smile.

To his voice that had once become a soothing presence after you had had paranoid nightmares about one of the people you knew dying. To the sound of his laughter that accompany the hot days in June and the freezing weather of winter, like how it did right now.

How he would run his hands through his hair when he was frustrated or didn’t know what to do. Or how his handwriting looked and how the Gs and Ys are always so sloppy and how the Ss barely look like one.

And so many things. So many other things you couldn’t imagine living without. Maybe this was just you being too present in a moment that you couldn’t think of it being ripped away and making you not be there anymore, but you weren’t sure.

You looked at him, and it was like the rest of the world fell away. His eyes had stars in them and his cheeks were red from the cold.

Your thoughts raced in a hundred miles per hour as your breaths and the pulse in your veins tried to catch up. All of them were beating to get out of your skin and onto the snow. They all had the same jitters, the same sound, and the same beat. And they all were talking in one unison, a whisper of the name of the person in front of you.

James Potter. James Potter. James. Oh. Oh.

It was a moment too late before you realized you had not been watching your steps and tripped yourself over a good mound of snow.

“Woah, woah” You started as you fell forward onto the snow, with your hands still on James’.

You heard the soft thump of the snow hitting James’ head, as your body fell on top of his. The rough old material of his father's coat met with your similar one. Your eyes were inches from his and so were your lips. You didn’t know what to think, your mind just went blank at the sudden proximity.

You should— wait, what should you do? You should— right, oh my god, apologize!

Fighting your inner thoughts and denying its claims, you immediately got up. Maybe too quickly for nonchalance but your racing brain didn’t have time to think it through. Not when it was jammed with mixed and confused signals from your heart.

“James! I’m so so sorry!” you offered him your hand and pulled him to stand, brushing off the snow from his coat. “Sorry, I wasn’t in my mind for that one second. Sorry.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, or even look at him—which almost never was a problem before, at least not because of this kind of… thing— so you resumed correcting his lopsided beanie. 

He just laughed though. All casual as if you didn’t just find a big revelation. “It’s okay, it’s fine.” He tried to assure you. But you still wouldn’t stop, so he took hold of your hands to stop them from fixing his woolen headwear.

Great, now you were forced to look at him. You just hoped the cold weather was still a believable reason to cover up for whatever your face may look like now. Flushed, probably. But hopefully not too embarrassed.

You looked at his face, a trace of mirth still on his lips that were so close to you a minute ago. His face was kinda red too, but it was probably because of the season.

“It’s okay,” he assured you again. “You know,” an end to his smile turned a bit more upward and you knew that a tease was coming. “You reminded me of an old me,” he continued breezily, “i made this same mistake too back then. When i was more foolish.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort. James, james. Alright, just let things—and especially you—calm down a little, you told yourself. Let everything go back to normal.

“You mean a week ago, old man?” You lightly punched his arm, before dusting off the snow from your own coat. 

“Time is relative. Miles Morales said it himself.” He said as he helped you brush the snow out of your hair and coat. “Or actually it was Ernest whatnot but whatever.”

You let out a breath of laughter as you shook your head. His glasses were crooked so your hands automatically went up to fix it. Like you had done so many times. “There. It was crooked.” You heard yourself explaining.

“Thanks,” he said with that stupid silly smile of his. You hated that smile now. How can one have such a charismatic smile? It wasn’t fair. 

“No problem, wise man.” You responded with your new-found nickname for him, playfully rolling your eyes.  

“Seaweed brain," He called back, and that made you smile– you didn’t even realize it.

You gave him a nod of approval. "The Percy Jackson reference. Touché."

"I've learned sooo much from you." He said solemnly.

"I know." You smiled up at him. And he looked right into your eyes, that blinding smile of his radiating onto them before suddenly averting his gaze onto the ground, where evidence of your very own accident made a mark on the snow.

James rubbed his hands together, searching for warmth. "Hey, you want to go to the Three Broomsticks? It’ll probably be emptier now.” He offered, like he always did because he was your friend. Your best friend since you could remember.

You didn’t know why you were acting weird. It was only an hour ago when everything was normal. You didn’t know how everything could just change in a matter of seconds. He was your friend, it would be okay. However this would unfold, everything would be fine. Both of you had always overcome things before. It was with James, you two would get through it. You were grateful to have him. 

“Oh yeah sure.” You agreed. Wait, was that too quick of a response? Oh fuck it. He was your best friend, he had known you all his life too—which was exactly why if there was something off with you, he’d definitely be the first person to notice it, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You shook your heads to clear all maddening thoughts. “Have you heard from Frank? Haven’t gone there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah he’s great.” He continued in a whisper, “I heard he has just received a new package of fire whiskey and Sirius and I are hoping to get a snatch of it or two. You know, for the house.”

“Right, for the house,” You rolled your eyes.

He lent out a hand to you, "Shall we?"

You took it and he gave it a soft squeeze, its grip sending vibrations through your bones.

"We shall."

───────────────∘

James was right, it wasn't as crowded as it would be if you had come earlier. Most people here had their drink and company either at noon or late afternoon and night. 3 pm wasn't exactly a busy hour. Though there were still too many people and noises for your comfort, you and James could at least find a table for two in the corner, quieter spot.

He came to the table holding two butterbeers in his hand. Both served hot to minimize the cold. He slid yours down the table and took a seat in front of you. His glasses are turned slightly uneven again. 

"So, y/n" he started as you picked up your drink and sighed at the heat it gave you. Your hands were absolutely freezing.

"Hm?" You responded, more focused on the comforting smell that radiated from your cup.

"I've been thinking," He continued, and now you looked up. You were so distracted before that you didn't notice how his hands were moving as if he were drumming his thighs under the table— a habit he often did when he was nervous.

You furrowed your eyebrows for a second but decided to ignore it. "Uh-oh. Nothing good ever comes up from that." You took a careful sip of the butterbeer, its warmth traveled all through your withered body. "New horrible trick ideas?"

He rolled his eyes, a breathy laugh came out of his lips. "Why is it that you always always think the worst of me, miss y/l/n?"

Just this morning, at the Great Hall, every part of you was functioning alright. Nothing going haywire. But now, there was a skipped beat in your heart and a flip in your stomach. You tried to deflect it but the butterflies couldn't be bothered.

"I don't always always think the worst of you James. I just know you." You did, you really did. You wondered if he knew it though.

"Well, I bet you wouldn't guess what's going to come out of my mouth this time." He claimed in a challenging tone.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Five guesses." He grinned as he pulled up five fingers to illustrate his point. "No retracting."

"Alright then," You accepted the challenge. You silently thought to yourself before voicing it all aloud. "Wasn't a trick, so maybe you are... planning to do something to the Marauders? Like, I don't know, maybe get those two idiots together to the ball?"

He pulled down a finger. "You know, maybe I should. But that wasn't it. You were kinda close though." 

Close where? “Sirius and Remus?”

He made a loud incorrect buzzer sound and pulled down another finger.

“Hey, that wasn’t-”

“No retracting,” he reminded you, as he took a sip of his own beverage.

“Not fair,” you grumbled. You thought about it again before guessing, “Oh! Yule Ball shenanigans? Oh wait no-“

Another buzzer sound, and two fingers left. “My, you really don’t know me, do you y/n?” He feigned a dramatic hurt on his face and a slight pout. “You’re close though.” 

About the dance? What’s about the dance? “What, you’re going to skip the ball?” You said it as a joke but he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there was just a trace of truth in that smile of his when you said it. “What, I’m right?”

“No. But that depends actually.”

“You’re talking in riddles.” 

“Yeah, it’s fun, isn’t it?” His smile had a slight smirk now, like it was still held back or something. “That counted as incorrect by the way.” He made another buzzer sound and one finger left.

You sighed in frustration. The Yule Ball, but it wasn’t about any tricks. So what? Oh. The realization hit you as you felt your heart drop. It was so silly, but bad timing, James. Bad timing.

“You’re finally going to try and ask someone else to go to the ball with you?” You voiced out your thoughts, hoping there wasn’t a hint that could suggest something else; reluctance and hesitation. What, did he meet her in the hallway before you two went out or something? 

He pulled his lips together and gave you a small shrug. “Close,” he concluded. “But again that depends.”

You sighed. “Alright, fine. I give up. I surrender. Just tell me.” You almost pleaded with him. 

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Right. Best friend. Of course. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“So…” he stopped, like he was nervous to get the words out. That was weird.

A worse idea came to mind.Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to ask me to become his fake date for the ball to make Lily jealous, you silently desperately prayed. It would’ve been easy if it had been any other week before, but not this week. Not today. And specifically not at this hour, when you were still processing everything. 

“Will you…” he continued hesitantly, his fingers playing with a loose thread on one of his gloves, a smile fighting to still be displayed on his lips. “Give me the honor and go with me to the dance?"

You said nothing, only slightly raised your eyebrows in surprise. That depends. You didn’t want to let the fireworks surround you. Skepticism came first, as it always had to.

But your silence seemed to jittered him, and he immediately jumped to explanation. “You know, because we’re best friends, and none of us have a date, and I don't know, I thought it would be fun? To go together. As friends. Casual thing. You know.” He shrugged.

You let out a smile at that, and it seemed to relax him a bit. Why was he so nervous? Of course you’d go with him. You were his best friend, and he was yours, he knew that. “Well, you are not a stranger I don't know or even like.” You joked.

He gave you a grin at that. “No, I’m not. So, you’d go? With me, I mean?”

He was cuter when he was nervous, it wasn’t fair. Why was he nervous again? You’d understand if it was you who were nervous, but why was he?

You couldn’t focus on anything besides the annoyingly loud flutter in your heart—and how hard you are trying to beat and stomp it to death right now. This doesn’t mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture. James was in love with Lily, there was no question, of course.

But you still felt the butterflies on your stomach go wild. You were fighting to contain that smile on your face, scared he’d figure out it wasn’t just any casual thing for you. You were going to the ball with your best friend and you realized there was no else you’d rather go with. 

“Of course, James. You’re my best friend!” You smiled up at him, the warmth coming through your gloves from the hot drink was now small compared to the thrill that coursed through your body. “Though do you have a written contract for possible head damage compensation because I might need it.”

He shook his head, a slight relieved laughter came out of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me because of it.” You were only teasing, but you thought he looked at you with such sincerity in his eyes that it jarred your senses a bit. 

“Yeah, I do.”

───────────────────────

[formulapookie]

✨💍

under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 (thank you @thesunthemoonthestarstheearth for being my beta reader)

Written in the stars rosquez, 4.5k words

It's sunny in Romagna today, but not the bothersome heated sunny day that gets you irritated.

It’s still fresh, a light breeze breathing, letting a chill temperature on all the guests.

People are seated, they’re talking, some more some less, who has a more hushed tone, who has raised their voice already.

Vale is anxious. He’s sweating a bit under the collar of the shirt, his fingers are twisting around one another, he can’t seem to stay still.

Luca gets a hand on his shoulder, it relaxes him a bit, but he’s still tense as a branch.

He can see many of his friends and family, even Graziano is there.

Marta with her and Luca’s kid is looking at him with pride in her eyes, as are Migno, Franky and Cele, giving him a thumbs up as they notice his stress levels spiking.

Uccio is not there, and he gets that, but still, it hurts a bit.

“Vale,” it’s Pecco’s voice calling him from a bit behind, he turns, meeting eyes with the boy “relax, it’s all going to be perfect” Vale nods, smiles, even if he can’t help looking at his left every three seconds with anticipation.

The location is really pretty, the trees cover the space and offer some repair from sunlight, and cool it down a little.

He hears Bezz and Pecco laughing about something, he snaps his head back, admonishing them with a gaze, and the two shut up, even if they still have a smug grin on their faces.

“Why am I so anxious Luca? Ooh God, I’m gonna die” he turns towards his brother, who has an understanding smile on, and grabs him by the shoulders.

“Vale. Pecco said it already, we all told you like fifty times this week only. It’s going to be perfect ok? This right here is destiny, fate, call it whatever you want. It’s all good, I checked it thousands of times.

Don’t worry Vale, really.”

He does a quick work of calming himself down, breathing in out, in out, in out.

Slowly, each breath is taken and released as if it’s the last.

His nails have now scratched his palms way more than usual, he feels the skin hot and sweaty under his own fingers.

His mind shuts up when he hears music starting to raise, voices dissolving and even the wind seemingly quieting down.

He breathes robotically again. In, out. In, out.

And then his thoughts become only one. Marc.

He’s walking with Julia down the short carpet leading them to the altar, the quartet of strings they booked playing a soft tune they came to love while spending time at the Ranch.

Marc is smiling so bright, it’s blinding., Hhe’s got his gaze fixated on Vale, who can’t keep a straight face and begins crying.

He can’t help it, he’s so beautiful, radiant, he seems like a god or an ethereal creature from some fantasy book written in the past.

He’s dressed in all white, light as a cloud and bright like snow, reflecting the sun. Vale feels like he could write poems about him right now.

Marc is crying a little too, but Vale is unbeatable, he can barely see the love of his life through all the tears he’s shedding.

“You are perfect” he mouths to Marc, who blushes and smiles ever broader than before “you too”.

They are lost in each other’s eyes, the officiant begins speaking, and after a ritual introduction asks the two to read out their vows.

Marc begins, his voice and hands trembling, he’s speaking in Italian the whole time, Vale smiles, he’s truly found the best love he could ask for.

He talks about the beauty of sharing so much together, of the light he had when he first met Valentino, of the fact they struggled, not referring directly to the wound it left.

He talks about how they overcame the many difficulties of being who they were, of their undying love that has always been greater than whatever obstacle they were put through, by themselves or others.

Vale and Marc aren’t the only ones crying, most people have tears in their eyes, Bezz is trying to keep his composure but he’s sniffing like those are his own vows.

Then it’s Vale’s turn.

He hesitates for a moment, his voice is caught up in his throat. 

But then he looks at Marc, to him, perfection made human.

And everything is calm. Tthere’s only love and joy in his heart.

His whole speech is written in Ccatalan, he’s revised it with Alex millions of times to make sure everything was how it should be. Perfect.

“Marc, I didn't think I would’ve ever seen you like this after what we went through, after the pain I dragged us both through as if I didn't care about you, about us.

But this moment, imagining and playing out in my head the day when I would’ve called you mine forever got me going, it gave me hope and made me take the step forward to come to you and tell you I was sorry, for everything I did and for every lie I believed or convinced myself of.

Not even when I said it have I ever meant I hated you, because it’s just impossible to feel that towards you” 

He stops for a bit, catching his breath, Marc is smiling like a baby, Alex has a proud look on his face, and he can hear Bezz crying as quietly as he can behind his brother and Pecco.

“I am sure nothing I’ll ever say will truly make you or anyone else understand what I feel for you, my love for you is just impossible to be spoken of, there are no words in any language I could think of to make you understand.

I want to give you the best life you can dream of, because that’s what you deserve.

I can’t say I’ll be perfect and that we will never argue but I will try to be the best for you because I know you’ve already done that all your life for me, and there’s no right compensation for it except doing the same.

Thank you, for always forgiving me, even when I was unforgivable, even when I made you feel like I hated you.

In the end the only thing I can truly say about you is that I love you, and that we will do and struggle through everything together, no matter what happens, because you are the love of my life and I could never think of anyone better than you to share my life with.

You made me believe in love and forever again”

And it’s cheesy, it’s unlikely for Vale to say those things many people wouldcould think.

But in reality it’s just a part of Vale that only Marc could find, clean from the dust it had fallen under, and bring back to life.

Vale is crying, smiling and just looking at Marc like nothing else exists in that moment, and Marc is doing the same.

The officiant asks them to take each other as spouses, and cherish each other always.

Both say I do.

Both are filled with love for each other.

The guests start clapping as the two finally kiss as husbands, the academy boys are all smiling, as are Alex and Dani and Jorge, the last two turning towards each other with honey in their eyes.

After a few hours they’re all at the reception, Vale and Marc seated beside one another, their hands have never broken their hold., Tthey thank everyone for coming there and Vale finally gives the go for food and drinks to flow in.

All the guests cheer, Marc and Vale chat, looking at all their friends happy smiles and laughing

And then they look at each other for the thousandth time that day, Marc has a blush coming up his neck and painting his ears red too, in heavy contrast with the candid white of his suit and smile.

“15 years since we met and still you blush like the first time I told you you were beautiful.” Vale says it nonchalantly, a fond smile painted on his face, planting a chaste kiss on Marc’s lips, smiling in the kiss.

A slightly tipsy Bezz yells from the groomsmen table to “go get a room, we’ve had plenty of you at the Ranch!”, making Marc blush even more and Vale kill his kid with a stare that could cut glass.

Bezz is also admonished by Cele, who’s laughing with him though, Bezz almost spilling the wine he’s served.

The setting of their reception is very cute, hints of blue and yellow for Vale and Red and orange for Marc, not too heavy in contrast but still evident to the eye.

They've gone beyond what they could think of and brought their bikes there too, Vale the M1 with which he won his 2004 championship, for Marc it was the 2013 one, the bike that made him a legend.

They’re placed beside their table, and even when Celin had said it was the cringiest shit they could come up with, they still went for it.

It was their wedding after all, no one else’s.

Sure, they’ve given their blessing to one of the academy boys to propose, but just because they knew that they were gonna be the center of the day anyway.

It doesn’t take long before they are asked to go dance, and it’s now Vale’s turn of being embarrassed.

Marc knows how to dance, hell Marc knows how to do everything at this point. Had he asked him “Can you draw exactly like Leonardo Da Vinci?” he probably could.

Vale on the other hand can barely get two movements right in a row, despite having Marc teach him every move and how to do them correctly.

They dance for a bit, then signal to the others to all flood to the dance floor, and the music changes, going more for a party/dance style which they didn’t let Bezz have a say in., Abecause as Vale said “I don’t want your depressing music playing at my wedding, reserve it for when you think your boyfriend wouldn’t love you if you were a worm.”.

Dickhead.

They are surrounded by love, they are love and in love, continuously kissing each other and never interrupting their smiles.

“Amore mio” calls Vale, and Marc jerks his head towards him with the speed of light “Mh?”. “Ti amo” like he hasn’t said that three thousand times already.

But Marc can’t help smiling at him, it’s so pure, sincere and bright he can’t possibly not smile.

“Jo també”. Vale loves Marc’s accent, how he speaks both in his native language and in Italian. It’s so cute, it makes him feel trusted when Marc speaks catalan, it feels like family.

They get up to dance again, together with the guests, looking at Pedrosa and Lorenzo who are talking to each other like they’re the only ones in the room, asking themselves how long it’ll take the two Spaniards to understand they’re disgustingly in love and should marry right now.

After a while it’s Luca’s turn as Vale’s best man to make a speech.

It’s not too long, filled with small details from their life all together at the Ranch and the strength they had to go on despite everything, and wishing them the best about their future.

Alex, acting as Marc’s best man, gives a similar speech, a bit more focused on Marc’s difficult times when Vale wasn’t there, but otherwise praising the older as much as he could.

They all toasted to the perfect couple they had there, some still not believing they were actually married now, not just in their imagination as it always would’ve been.

Bezz and Celin were dancing a lot, especially the more romantic songs Marc managed to slide into the playlist to force Vale to dance with him.

It soon comes the time to cut the cake, it’s a classic white three tiers cake, but it's decorated with one of the best moments in the couple’s life.

It’s the moment in which, back in 2013, Vale had taken Marc’s hand and almost bowed to him after his first victory in MotoGP, it has both men smiling, thinking of how long ago it was now, 15 years after their first podium together, Marc still a kid worshiping Vale and Vale beginning to break to the idea he could be a real one. 

Again, when they had told the academy, Celin had frowned and said it was once again embarrassing, but the pair had shut him down once more., Iit was their moment, the kid hadn’t lived it through like they did, they didn’t hold it against him.

They cut the cake, Vale playfully steals a bit of whipped cream and puts it on Marc’s nose and lips, Marc doing the same., Iit’s so corny and Mig makes the gag sound making the boys laugh , but ultimately they shut up when they see the love in their friend’s and his now finally husband’s eyes.

Once the cake is takenbrought away Marc decides to go for the throw of the flower bouquet, Vale is already smiling, they’re doing it for one person and one person only.

There’s the countdown and when it hits zero Marc makes the quickest sprint of his life to leave it in the hands of a shocked curly boy who stands with his mouth agape.

Aas Celin turns to his side Bezz is there, a hint of a tear in his eyes, a bit red from wine and all the dances they had together, he’s looking at him with his stupid smile on his face, kneeling, with a small wooden box holding a pretty ring, not nearly as shiny or bold as the one Vale got for Marc but once again, he’s not a millionaire like his boss.

He asks the question with a trembling voice, Pecco and the whole academy waiting with more anxiety than anyone else.

“I- oh my god Bezz I didn’t- yeah yeah of course what yes I want to marry you I- kiss me come on”

Celin stutters through the entire time he speaks., Hhe just can’t believe he got proposed to, like yeah they’ve talked about it., Hhaving a wedding on the track, he’d looked it up, you can do it, then a few laps alone around the circuit just for the two of them and the beautiful view of the sunset on a track they love. 

But being proposed to for real was just…perfect.

Bezz smiles, raising from the ground and putting the ring on his boyfriend’s finger, kissing him softly.

Behind them, Pecco uncorks the Prosecco bottle they reserved for the occasion, spraying the two as if they were on a podium.

Luckily they were smart enough to have a change of clothes, so they gowent to grab them and come back clean, but obviously it took a bit more than it should, celebrating privately must feel great, especially after you’ve just been proposed to. 

Marc and Vale would know something about it for sure.

When Vale proposed it wasn’t a romantic date at the beach, or at a fancy restaurant, or in any elegant city in Europe where the two went on holiday to.

It should’ve been like that, Vale had planned it.

A trip to Capri, the sunset on the sea, his yYacht stalled somewhere fairly far from the shore to have their privacy, two flutes of Prosecco and the marine breeze. 

But instead the proposal had coame in a rush, in a peak of adrenaline and happiness.

At the Ranch, only the two of them present, racing together, trying to beat each other like they always did.

Marc winning, dirtbikes crossing the line with less than a tenth difference, Marc laughing, taking off his helmet and smiling at Vale so kindly he thought it was heaven.

And it just struck him, the beauty and perfection of the one person he always knew was tied to his soul in ways no one else ever could dream of.

So Vale slowly removed his helmet, panting, looking at Marc with a love so pure in his eyes he didn’t even recognise himself.

“Marry me.” it wasn’t even a question, he could fear his ears ringing, time seemingly sitting still for a moment so long it could’ve been eternity., Tthe only thing he could hear was the blood running through his veins, his heart beatingpulsing.

Vale climbed off the bike, removed his gloves and unceremoniously threw them to the ground, taking a speechless Marc still gloved hands in his.

“Marry me.” he repeated it, he needed to do it, he needed Marc to hear it again, to have him realize he actually had asked him to be together their whole life.

“Vale are you- are you” he had tears in his eyes, he never thought the day would’ve come, not with Vale’s insecurity about marriage, not with lots of things going on all at the same time.

“You are really asking me to marry you? You-” and he started to cry, holding Vale tightly in his arms, sobbing and laughing, his laugh mixing with the tears he was shedding.

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes I will marry you!” and Vale was the happiest he had ever been, he was crying too, relief taking over the fear he felt when Marc didn’t respond right away.

“Te amo, Marc. Te amo te amo te amo!” and the kiss they shared was charged with of devotion and promises, love and forever, both of them laughing in the kiss, their bodies glued together.

“I-I should’ve proposed in two weeks, in Capri. Marc I had it all planned I- it was perfect and romantic and instead I just proposed to you wearing dirt-stained leathers at my- our Ranch sorry I wanted it to be perfect I really planned it.”

Marc smiled, so brightly it seemed unreal.

“Vale. I love the idea you had, but you proposing here it’s just as perfect as Capri, I don’t care for expensive or romantic or anything else.

This right here was perfect, in our Ranch, I would marry you even if you asked me while watching your stupid movies or while we fix the bikes.

Ti amo Vale, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you”

Then they had shared a slow and romantic night, cooking, baking, smiling, making love, falling asleep with the knowledge of a promise.

Marc snaps out the memory when he feels Vale’s body against his, hands intertwining, his husband’s chin on his shoulder, slow dancing at a tune that has all the couples hold each other a bit tighter, their heartbeats becoming closer, their souls touching.

 The rest of the reception is spent between dancing and laughing, a short video projected on the room’s wall featuring moments Marc and Vale shared: holidays, trips, races, podiums.

Marc is smiling, blushing at the pictures during the time they both raced, you could see from kilometers away the love in his eyes when looking at Vale.

As if summoned from his thoughts Vale leans closer to him, and whispers in his ear with a grin.

“I had a few more pictures of you in my phone but I don’t think they’d fit the romantic atmosphere we’re creating here” and that only makes him blush more, kicking the man lightly.

By the time the clock hits three in the morning, people are leavinggoing away, Bezz and Cele disappeared a few more times during the party, always coming back a bit flushed., Tthey were also the last to say goodbye to the couple, Bezz thanking them both for helping him propose, Cele doing the same.

And that way Vale and Marc were the last left in the room, music playing softly in the background, lights dimmed and their eyes shining with love.

Vale holds out his hand, Marc does the same, they reach the center of the room and start dancing, only for themselves, glued to one another, the tune from their wedding opening creating an atmosphere it’s only theirs.

“Ti amo” Marc says, his forehead on Vale’s shoulder, Vale’s on Marc’s.

“Jo també amor meu”.

They stay like this for a while, until Marc suggests they head back to their hotel.

They have two beautiful bikes waiting for them outside, white livery, the writing “just married” on both of them.

They ride tountil the hotel, park their bikes and go inside holding hands, Marc is rubbing his wedding ring, smiling like a child.

Marc goes to climb the stairs but lets out a surprised yelp when Vale takes him in his arms, bridal style and carries him up.

“You’re my husband now, need to have some chivalry, no?”

It makes Marc laugh, one of those laughs that could brighten up your darkest day.

He throws his hands around Vale’s neck, still laughing until they reach their room, a beautiful suite decorated for them.

They struggle a bit to get in, because Vale doesn’t want to let go of Marc despite it making getting into the room extremely difficult, but when thewy do and Vale kicks the door shut Marc’s breath is caught in his throat.

Rose petals scattered lovingly on the floor, leading to the enormous king sized bed Vale insisted on having.

As they reach it Vale gently lies Marc on it, pressing a deep and gentle kiss on his mouth, joy sparkling like fireworks between them.

“Vale?” 

“Si?” 

“Make love to me”

And the kiss they share is magical.

Intense, mouths finding each other like they were starving for their touch, charged with devotion and promises, love and forever, just like back at the Ranch.

Vale’s hands find the buttons of Marc’s shirt, slowly undoing them, no rush or thrill of adrenaline chasing after them, just the intimacy of them two finally tied together.

Marc does the same, unbuttoning Vale’s shirt, his fingers almost trembling with longing.

They remove their clothes, lips almost never breaking away.

They’re finally both naked, Marc layslaid on the bed, his legs parted, Vale hovering over him, leaving caring open mouth kisses on his husband’s jaw and neck, making him moan softly at the action.

“Vale” it sounds like a prayer, Marc tangles his fingers gently in the other’s hair, pulling him towards his face to kiss again.

Vale grabs the lube from the drawer next the bed, coating his fingers with it, pushing a finger in as he feels Marc get more and more pliant under his touch.

By the time he pushes a second finger in, they both need more, much more, Marc making those quiet moans he loves and Vale groaning and biting his lip as he imagines how Marc will feel once he’ll be inside him.

He takes his time to open him up anyway, he wants this to feel so good, it’s perfect, so that they both will remember this night with pure adoration.

He adds a third finger and goes back to kissing Marc, featherlike fingers dancing on his chest, Marc hands have always been softer and kinder than his, despite being equally scarred.

“Te amo, Marc te amo” he says as he finally removes his fingers and slowly pushes inside Marc, so slowly Vale can feel every thrill of electricity inside Marc’s body.

Marc’s lips are in a perfect “o” shape, something that is barely a whimper is let out by him, one of his hands goes to grab the back of Vale’s neck, pulling him closer, closer.

They stay still for a second, lips touching, until Vale speaks again, smiling brightly .

“Sei bellissimo” and Marc giggles, before feeling his lips against Vale’s, as he begins moving slowly, but deep, he feels complete, like they’re puzzle pieces sealed together.

Marc grips at Vale’s bicep with one hand, the other still tangled in his hair as the older lowers himself to kiss Marc’s neck, slow like his thrusts, and just as perfect.

“Vale please kiss me”

He can feel his husband’s smile on his neck, lips trailing to his brushing past his jaw and sealing together.

It’s sweet, deep and soul binding.

It’s everything it hasn’t been before they got back together and everything it will be from now on.

Both of them are close, Marc’s soft moans making wonders to Vale’s brain and same thing the other way around.

“I swear you’re perfect everyday more amore, just when I think you can’t be more beautiful than today tomorrow you’re even more breathtaking”

Marc is smiling and blushing, Vale has this sweet and romantic side to him that he only ever let Marc see.

“You’re perfect too Vale, I love you so much. This is the most beautiful day of my life”

They come in unison, Vale hiding his fav win the crook of Marc’s neck and biting at his collarbone lightly, Marc arching his back and tightening the grip he had on Vale’s air and bicep.

They stay like this for minutes, slow breathing and the smell of them together in the room.

After a while Vale starts laughing lightly, sliding out Marc and sitting up to look at him.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I just can’t believe you said yes, and then that we got married for real and you looked so beautiful and that you - I just can’t believe someone like you loves someone like me”

Marc smiles back, the smile Vale loves over everything else in his life.

“Stop being stupid Vale, I always loved you nothing ever changed that, and of course I said yes I would be crazy to say something else, and you looked way more than beautiful in that suit you know? Made me question my morals while getting married wasn’t very pure of yo-”

Vale shuts him up by kissing him, both still laughing in the kiss, like teens stupidly in love.

“Run me a bath? I need it” “Everything for you amore. You want the blue bath bomb or the orange one?” “Blue, smells more like uuuh” “Lavender” “Yeah that one yeah” “Don’t. Even think about walking there I’m taking you to the tub once it’s ready” “You will get me fat if you don’t let me move Vale” “Fat is happy as my nonna said so no problem in that no?”

Marc laughs again, staring at Vale as he goes to ready their bath, putting the amount of bubbles he likes and throwing in the bath bomb, making it fizz.

He’s sure he couldn’t have been luckier in any other life, because this is surely the most beautiful of the finales for him.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi hello! I just found you blog and I love your every work, I read almost all of them, rarely I found someone who writes for so many characters and not just the main ones, and I love the fact that you put the same effort and dedication in writing for all of them.

So I have request for Garrick x reader, I really loved the one where reader was Xaden’s little sister, and how about shes a little bit (a lot actually) shy and quiet and it took a lot of time for Garrick to make her talk to him and be comfortable around him (shes also oblivious and not used to guys coming up to her because of Xaden and not beliving a guy like Garrick might like her) …and hes like very soft for her and going out of his way to help her and like getting distracted because of her and having a secret crush on her since their childhood, but his feelings being off limits since reader is Xaden’s little sister…A lot of slowburn and fluff.

Take as much time as you need!! Thank you for keeping on writing for the characters we love💐

Idk this just gushed out of me today so here’s a little something. Thanks for reading, darling, and for the kind words. 🤍

Constellations

He felt like an idiot. Absolute fool. Cursing fate ever since his eyes had landed on your soft features. The gentle soul gazed at the cruel world through the most gorgeous eyes Garrick had ever seen. He had never minded the brutality of the world. Quite the opposite he had found calmness in it. In the fact that he could use his power as a weapon. But that day for the first time he had hated that you had somehow ended up between these blood-stained walls. That someone was cruel enough to bring this destiny to you.

“I need you to look out for her”, Xaden pulled both Garrick and Bodhi aside one evening. “I can’t always be around her but I can’t…”, his voice had trailed off. Xaden never showed emotion. But this. You. You had been the only weakness in his otherwise unbreakable walls. “You know that we will”, Bodhi had been the first to speak that night, “We look out for our people”. Garrick had simply met Xaden’s pleading eyes that night. Granting his long-time friend a tight nod. Watching as worries slipped away from Xaden’s eyes.

But Garrick had never imagined that watching over you. Being near you. Would stir the parts of his heart that had been rusting for years. The violence inside him clawed at the fluffy softness that you carried. Yet he kept his distance. Mortified to tarnish you in any way. You two simply locked eyes over and over again. And with every glance, a spark of warmth flickered.

He was exhausted. A meeting stretched out longer than it should have. Longer than he liked. Mindlessly Garrick yanked at clasps on the collar of his leathers. A long night of sulking awaited him. Until his eyes caught on a movement down the corridor. Hand instantly reached for a dagger at his side. He knew that if he was quiet enough he could outrun the person lurking. And the fact that someone was lurking on this level was bad enough. This could very well put the whole rebellion in danger.

So, Garrick acted quickly. Moving through the low-lit side paths to cut off the person right by the stairs. Convenient too if you were to ask him. In hand-to-hand combat, he would win with ease. Meaning that if he needed he could throw the person over the edge of the staircase. He breathed in once. Hand reaching out into the dark. His blade caught the glisten of light from above.

A shriek bounced off the walls. Garrick’s whole body went still because the frame now fully pressed against his chest was way tinier than he had first anticipated. He looked down. Turning to person around in one swift movement and making spear his soul his dinner nearly came up.

“What in the right fuck are you doing here?”, he hissed through clenched teeth. His glare was sharp. Or a version of sharp he tried to muster. “I… the… I was…”, the string of meaningless words slipped past your lips. Xaden would hang him if he found out that Garrick has spooked you. “It’s late. This”, Garrick gestured, “Ain’t your floor, shorty. Not good”. He explained it almost as if he was talking to a toddler and you instantly crocked your head to the side with a frown. “Xaden’s room is here. I stay here sometimes”, you said crossing your arms over your chest, “I just wanted a jacket”.

Garrick knew your life here hasn’t been easy. At this rate, at least two-thirds of the war college had attempted to harm you in one way or another. A message to Xaden. One that had turned him into a maniac for the most part. “What for?”, he asked simply making you blink a couple of times. He barely spoke to you. Barely acknowledged you. You knew he watched you as required by Xaden. But he never came close. “What for?”, you repeated, making Garrick let out a sigh, “What do you need the jacket for, shorty?”, “Oh”, you mussed, feeling your cheeks flush, “It’s the… It’s silly”, you muttered under your breath. Reaching to tug a loose strand of hair falling from your messy braid, one that Garrick’s fingers had been itching to pull back.

“Try me with that”, he muttered, trying to stay as cool as he could. You licked your lips in anticipation and fuck did he not need a visual of that because his mind would… “It’s the clearest the night sky will get this summer. I wanted to stargaze”, you cut right in, somehow merging to flip the last thought with such unintentional innocence that it felt as if Garrick had gotten a whiplash.

“Let’s go”, he said quietly, making you let out a slight chuckle. “What’s so funny? Go”, he urged you, and the smile died on your lips as quickly as it lit up. “But…”, you shook your head, “That would incline that you’re coming with me?”, you muttered. “Oh, so you aren’t just pretty, you’re also smart”, Garrick huffed stepping towards the stairs, making your heart flutter in your chest as his words slowly registered. A strange warmth fills your chest. “Will you report this too, Xadens’s pup that you are?”, you chirped, matching your steps to his. The corner of his lips turned upwards, “Maybe one day I will bark for you too, princess”.

The light wind kissed the heat away gently. The long grass swayed alongside it. Crickets well deep into their nightly concert. Garrick lay not far from you, hands beneath his head as you continued to thread greens into crowns, sending one after the other in the river. The silver of the stars makes the water glisten. For the first time in… He had no idea how long if Garrick was being honest. He felt content. As if nothing was missing.

“What devil did you wrong for this?”, Garrick’s voice cut through the late-night magic. “I don’t think I follow”, you muttered, only stopping your movements for a moment. “A soul like yours don’t belong in Basgiath”, he said sitting up. You scoffed, “Thanks, being bullied for weakness wasn’t on my list tonight”. “You’re putting words in my mouth, shortly”, Garrick chirped, pointing a finger at you. “Your communication skills are shit, Tavis”, you huffed, “And don’t call me that”.

Yet another smile tugged at his lips. Too many smiles for one day. “You shouldn’t be upfront facing…”, “Have you ever heard of the worries who found their way back with the help of stars?”, you cut in. The message was clear. That conversation was off the table. But for the first time, Garrick didn’t care that he wasn’t getting the information he so desperately wanted. “Memorize the art of constellations, Tavis”, you breathed out. Eyes looking up at the sky. But Garrick’s eyes stayed on you. No matter the beauty for the world around you two, nothing compared to the flicker of hope dancing in your eyes. “One day they might lead you home”, you muttered and Garrick couldn’t help but wonder if they hadn’t done that yet.

[endereies]

FUCK IT - MATT STURNIOLO

Spotify Playlist:

Pairing: Matt x Oc

Contains: Growing up with parents who make her feel isolated, what happens when she meets Matt. A person who introduces her to new people, new experiences and new feelings.

Requested?: no

Author's notes: My first ever fic which is crazy but I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it (hopefully it will have consistent updates)

Word Count: 4857

“Is this something we are meant to do?”

“Fuck it.”

Seeing the hallways early in the morning was always an eerie feeling. The corridors that normally bustle with kids and teachers were now silent, the only sounds being my own footsteps that thud on the marbled floor below. That never failed to make me paranoid. I pull a headphone from my ear, taking my case out my pocket with my spare hand. Usually, I am then met with anticipated silence as my music dims from my ears; today was different. My body pauses at the door to the music room, my hand hesitates to reach for the handle as sounds of drumsticks that crash against snare drums and cymbals interrupt my normal routine. I grow curious and open the door wide and I walk through the doorway, the guitar on my back slamming the door into the brick wall behind it. A loud crash echoes behind me which startles me and the boy who remains sat behind the drum kit. My face falters once our eyes meet and I realize who it is.

Matthew Sturniolo

“You have to be shitting me” I mumble and grit through my teeth, laying my backpack and guitar case onto the sofa opposite the drums.

“Shit sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone in here...” he almost groans back, seeing my demeanor towards the situation.

“Yeah evidently” I return my words with a sarcastic tone, practically mocking his obvious statement. I sigh and slump down on the sofa which my backpack now leans off of. The sound of leather creases below me and I adjust myself on the uncomfortable material, my foot immediately finding this as an opportunity to tap against the carpeted flooring. “So, how long do you plan on staying in here?”

He lays his drumsticks on the drum watching them proceed to roll off, awkwardly trying to catch them as he now stammers making me raise an eyebrow and scoff.

“U-uhm well until class starts, do you need to practice your... guitar?” he peeks his head around his cymbals to view the case my instrument is carried in.

My feet awkwardly shuffle on the floors “obviously not as much as you do.” I grovel in response rolling my eyes before propping my body weight up from the sofa to lean against my knees.

“What’s that supposed to mean.” He mutters with a slightly colder attitude than previously possessed.

“Calm down, not like that, I mean… you’re in several performances for the band’s talent show next weekend. I was saying it was a higher priority than my...” I trail off now focusing my gaze on my guitar casing “hobby.”

“Oh.” His voice weakens, almost timid now realizing his now false accusation. He shifts on the seat and manages to look me in the eye again.

I drag out a tangled lead from the side of my case, flashing the headphones to Matt before practically throwing them on the couch as I drag my guitar out of the case, kicking the wrapping off to the side. I lean the guitar up against the height of the sofa as I start to untangle the lead with both my hands. I weave my fingers through the loops and slide the cable against itself. The length of the cable eventually reveals itself with the final tug on the wire.

The click from the guitar plug completes my set up as I start to tune my guitar, listening to the string’s pitch change as I twist the tuning pegs. The odd chord here or there slowly blends together until the strings match the necessary sounds. Leather beneath me creaks again as I sit back down the sofa with the guitar lying under my arm and on top of my thigh.

Matt trails from the conversation and picks up his drumsticks creating a light beat with the tips of them. It was a basic beat merely to gain a tempo before he nods his head to a new beat that I instantly recognize.

Dark red – Steve Lacy

I begin to study Matt’s actions, them intriguing me for the first time this morning. His hands are focused on the beat of his drums, occasionally hesitating before another sound emits from the skin of the drum. His pace steadies more as he concentrates on his movements. I find myself tapping the body of my guitar lightly to the beat he makes. Matt nods his head gently to the drums which causes a strand or two of hair to fall Infront of his face, resting just above his eye. I swallow harshly and look down to the strings on my own instrument and I pluck at them before strumming to create an occasional note from the song matt is playing.

I give in, however, and adjust my guitar on my lap so that I can play the song properly. Grabbing my pick that is sat beside me, tainted with its own ‘dark red’, my guitar now hums with the according notes.

He snaps out of his focused state and snaps his head over to me with a smile. For some reason it makes me smile back as I continue to play the song more passionately as I hum the lyrics to keep me on beat. I hear a breathy laugh from his direction as we then hit the chorus which makes me smile once again. Thankfully he is only focused on the drums.

I feel his gaze on me when its time for me to change my chords for the verse. I follow suit and switch the tune as the beat drops, I strum a little harder on my guitar which makes a stronger sound emit from my instrument. I keep humming the words to the song gently in tune with Matt’s drums; I steal another glance at him. He isn’t smiling much as before but you can instantly feel the passion as he plays and nods his head. He doesn’t seem to care about anything else, not the strands of hair that fall from their initial position, not the amount of noise he is making at 8:12am or music sheets that slide further of the holder. Something about Matt’s playing almost distracts me, every music class I’ve been too everyone looks so forced into their instruments. Those kids even make me feel negative about music at times, but this? This is different.

He looks up at me, meeting my gaze and I instantly look back down to the guitar resting on my lap. I purse my lips together as the final 30 seconds of the song reach. Matt stops playing the drums to allow me to finish, finally fixing his hair and slicking it back over himself. The last chords I play are slower, softer and relaxed. I stroke the strings on my guitar slowly and sigh once the noise quietens.

A silence falls between us both. Both our breathing is a little heavier but not enough to be noticeable to the other.

“You can play guitar.” He speaks with a cocky smile as he leans back onto the stool below him.

“As if this was for show” A quite scoff escapes my throat as I retort. “You don’t play bad yourself”

“Thanks...” His tone diminishes to a calmer and more confused one, he looks at me with an expectant expression.

“Alyia…” I respond.

Playing songs with matt was refreshing from anyone who I normally play with, he can actually play his instrument.

The next week follows the same routine. I walk in the music room, greeted by matt and we play music together. It wasn’t like it was for fun or anything, only to help him practice for the talent show.

That’s what I kept telling myself at least.

-

“Good morning.” I speak into the room without acknowledging my surroundings. I take off my jacket and throw it onto a chair nearby and place my guitar case on the carpeted floor.

“Hey” A voice emits from behind me rather than its usual location behind the drum kit.

I turn my head sharply to the drums and I notice they are strangely empty; I turn my head another 90 degrees and my eyes meet matt. He is leant against the door frame with his drumsticks resting in his cross arms which lie against his chest. He adjusts his position so he stands straighter and slicks his hair back with his palm.

“don’t do that Matt, you scared me” I turn again to face my guitar, leaning down to unzip the casing and reveal my black guitar.

“you’re here early, how come?” Matt strides past me and takes a seat at the drum kit before tapping the base drum a few times.

“Well. You are here before me and this is the last day before the talent show tomorrow, why not?”

“Ah. Can’t get enough of me, can you?” he laughs at his own joke and shakes his head slightly. Before I can respond to it, he chimes in again. “What song today, Alyia?”

I finally take position at my ‘designated seat’ and strum a gentle #C chord. “Uhm...” I drag the m through my pursed lips before muttering. “What one is your weakest?”

“Fuck I don’t know? ‘There she goes?’ I keep going to fast about halfway through the damn song” he grumbles with mild self-deprecation and clicks his tongue against his cheek.

I don’t respond with any words but simply tuning one of my strings and immediately strumming the initial pattern to the song’s melody. I nod my head to keep in beat until matt joins in 10 seconds in with light cymbal taps, finally playing his base with more momentum 5 seconds later.

I enjoyed playing this song a lot more than the rest. Even if it did repeat itself, it only made it harder to mess up the chords. The pace was slow but enough to keep me entertained and created a soothing atmosphere that made me forget about the blisters that were starting to form under the rough skin on my hands from the week’s excessive playing. My arm that relaxed over the body of my guitar allowed me to relax into the song more.

I take a glance up at Matt for what feels like the millionth time this week and I see those same strand of hair as before fall onto his face, he manages to tilt his head and jolt it slightly to flick them back into place without ruining his pace.

I play fast about halfway through the damn song.

Not true. He plays it perfectly; we stay in tune with each other the entire time. Even when I add an extra note or riff to mess with him, he stays on beat.

Weird.

I finish the song with a gentle stroke on my stings with dissipates into the air around us. My eyes meet his again.

The door then swings open with a slam as it hits the brick wall in the same place that I hit it the first time I spoke to Matt.

“Mattyyyy” A voice echoes off those same brick walls which is followed by a groan from behind the other.

I hear Matt sigh once he relaxes from his jump scare. I still recover from mine as my body starts to relax once more. Curiously, I face where the voice came from and two boys enter the room and walk towards Matt, one quicker to hug Matt than the other. I recognize their faces as you can easily match them to Matt’s own expression.

“Hey Chris? What are you doing here...? Matt welcomes him with a side hug, holding his drumsticks in the hand that wraps around his back.

“I told him not to bother you but as per usual… He. Didn’t. Listen.” The third one speaks in a monotone voice through his gritted teeth before he puts his weight on one side of his body.

I stay silent, not wanting to disturb the interaction between the three, just lightly tapping on the edge of the sofa, plucking clump of fabric between our fingers. My guitar still rests upon my thigh, my fingers of my other hand lightly plucking at the strings as it drapes over the body of it.

“Whatttt, I haven’t heard Matt play in forever, he has basically shut himself in here for a week” Chris groans and wipes his hands over his face as he slumps on the third’s shoulder which pushes him to the side.

“Jesus Chris its not that bad, you will hear him more after the talent shows.” He retorts as he pushes Chris’s body weight off of him with both arms.

“Well, it’s nice for you two to show up...” he speaks with a calmer tone than previously as he then hints towards me with a simple head tilt.

Both the two boys turn their bodies in my direction and abruptly pause their sentences. An awkward silence comes over us and I offer a weak smile.

“Oh, my bad, whoops” Chris mutters towards me, becoming a little quieter than before and stepping back towards Matt “Nick, why didn’t you tell me someone else was here dude.”

“As if I fucking knew” Nick sighs as he side-eyes the younger boy. He turns his arms outward before dropping them to his side once more.

“Guys this is Alyia, she is the one who I mentioned who can actually play guitar without making our ears bleed.” Matt points his drumstick at me and waves it in a tight circle while leaning on one of his drums. He hints at me with a sincere smile.

“Uh, hey?” I practically mumble these words to the group of them; they all face me with blank expressions as we grow quiet in unison, the only sounds being the scratch of Chris’s soles on the rough carpet as he shuffles his feet subtly.

A meek wave is given as nick raises his hand to me hesitantly. He looks to Chris and Matt, rolling his eyes as they don’t speak again.

“So, you were the one who scared matt shitless the first time you met?” Nick’s voice fills the awkward silence.

“I mean that’s one way to put it I suppose”

Great introduction Ally

“Guys look, this is nice and all but why are you two here exactly. You are never here this early unless I beg you to join me.” He pauses as he ponders about the situation that he made clear “wait, did Nate drive you here?”

Nick nods his head strongly as does Chris, who has stopped shuffling his feet now.

“Yeah, Nate did give us a lift, and all Nick did was play Melanie the entire 15 minutes. I gave up and put headphones on” Nick then lightly elbow’s Chris in the ribs with gritted teeth, his gaze remains on Matt’s drums.

“Anyway, Miss Ackley is rounding up the bands for a final practice between people for tomorrow, we said we would grab you and bring you there.” His arms cross over each other and he sighs heavily.

“Fuck. This early? Damn, whatever…” A long sigh escapes his lips as he pushes himself up from his previous slouched demeanor. He slicks his hair one last time as he stands up and paces towards his backpack which seems far too empty to contain more than one book, maybe a pencil case if you’re lucky. Perhaps it was because the straps were worn out and tired from previous years. We were seniors after all.

I track his motions with my gaze, watching Matt’s footsteps hit the ground harshly, more so than on average. I can feel the vibrations under my own sneakers.

Both Nick and Chris race ahead of Matt, already leaving the doorway they previously crashed through with energy. However, Matt slacks behind whilst I turn my focus back to my guitar, expecting him to follow suit and walk out.

“You should come watch the show tomorrow, I’d like you to see that our practice wasn’t in vain.” His fingers pick at the chipping wood that hug the door frame.

“You sure? Its not like you needed the practice to begin with.” I raise an eyebrow and let out a breathy laugh for a short moment, which is only interrupted by his words.

“I’m positive. I’d like to see you there for at least one song.” His eyes essentially plead at me as he feigns a pout with his bottom lip, hoping for me to surrender, which I do.

“Fine. One song got it.?”

He salutes at me and pushes himself from the doorway, letting his fingers linger there for as long as he can before he turns the corner. That leaves me sat alone in the music room, which hasn’t been the case since before I met Matt. It feels wrong now.

After a few minutes, the silence becomes too deafening for me to work in so I pack up my equipment and leave the music room in search of the library. I couldn’t work in that silence I once used to wish for every day.  

-

The talent show was never all that important to me, if it was I would more than likely participate in it with my guitar. Matt is the only reason I ever showed up this year. I’ve only known him a week and normally I would just refuse, however, the fact that he is playing and playing well makes me want to go. Finally having someone else that can actually play music is more appealing to a musician than you may think.

-

An alarm blasts from my phone reading 6:15pm.

Shit. I’m running late.

I grab my bag, shoving some basic necessities into it as I exit my room in a hurry and speed down the stairs, skipping a few at a time. I turn the corner of my banister, quickly placing my hands Infront of me to stop myself from crashing into the cream-coloured wall that is now facing me. I use that momentum to push myself towards the front door, grabbing my keys on the way out, letting the door slam behind me.

*Matt pov*

“Hey Quinn, can you help me set up my drums? I got shit to do real quick” I walk offstage and adjust the earbud in my ear slightly, tilting my head as I do so.

“Uh sure? Just give me 5.”

I only respond with a nod from behind having already walked past Quinn whilst I walk to the main dressing room. The hallway echoes with my shoes squeaking as I walk heavily with long strides. People inside immediately perk up and glance to the door that swings open.

“Yo, Nate you coming out or what, I need you backstage on music, we have to start in 10 minutes.” As I talk, I seem rushed and a little stressed with my words; everyone is so nonchalant about the fact that they all have to be ready in 10 minutes and I am the only one currently onstage.

Nate stands up and walks towards me, grabbing my wrist lightly and pulls me out the doorway, the door lightly clicks behind us unlike the crash that I had previously made.

“Dude, you have to understand that this isn’t a theatre or concert. No need to stress, no one cares this much but you.” He jolts his elbow into my rib with a smile on his face.

“Ugh” I groan and roll my eyes, leaning off from Nate’s grip which remained on my wrist. “I know, I know, I just want it to go well. I rarely ever get to show off my drums to anyone, let alone a whole school.”

“Well, I’m ready, go get Martha and Dan and finish setting up. I’ll get my shit turned on now, ‘aight?”

A sigh escapes my lips as I nod my head slowly and separate from Nate, returning to backstage. I feel relief when Martha and Dan wave me over from their positions they take on stage behind the curtain. I take faster strides to my drum kit which is now fully set up and, looking back over my shoulder to see Quinn give me a thumbs up which I appreciatively reciprocate.

Once I take my seat my leg immediately bounces up and down making the floorboards under me creak ever so slightly. My fingers follow the same pattern and start to spin my drumstick meticulously between each finger one at a time circulating my hand repeatedly.

I get a cue from Nate at the side and I immediately force my foot on the bass pedal and strike it steadily. After 8 counts the snare and floor tom got added to my rhythm. By now the curtains have started to open for night and draw to each side. I try and focus on the beat I’m creating but my eyes can only fall to the audience and I start to scan almost instantly. At first, I’m not sure what for but then my brain catches up with itself.

Alyia

Dark Red – Steve Lacy

The steady, rhythmic beating of drums fills the air around me and I concentrate on the flow of my beat. I allow myself to fall further into the base lines I provide and I consistently hit the skin of the drums accordingly. I let my eyes look up to the crowd in front of me. Even though my drums are placed towards the rear of the stage, the lighting hoisted above me, allow me to see each audience member with ease. The lights aren’t harsh however since a slight red tint provided all our eyes with a little more comfort than the original hospital white shade.

Occasional glances flick between the audience and my drums as I attempt to locate Alyia, she never promised me she would attend, I just hoped she had promised herself.

I can’t tell if I am stressed about being on stage for the first time in ages or what but my heart is racing more than my anxiety ever normally causes it to. My hands are slightly clammy but I blame that on how much I’m playing the drums and moving my body.

As my body forces me to look at the audience once more, heads turn to the back of the hall, now facing the right-hand side. I follow suit and glance over in that direction. The side entrance has gently been pushed open and someone has walked through. Their back is turned to me and I momentarily put my concentration back into the music and timings. Curiosity gets the better of me once again and I exhale deeply, slipping my tongue between my lips to wet them briefly and I fix on the door again as I attempt to make out who entered.

My eyes squint as I focus on the person for about ten seconds before I finally realize who it is.

Alyia.

She actually came? I didn’t think she was serious when she agreed to the one song. Granted she was a little late. Nothing I minded at the moment, however.

I see her quickly set eyes on the stage, examining it quickly. I watch her eyes as they fall to my drum kit, lingering on the school logo on the bass drum. She hesitates as her eyes met mine, her expression, inscrutable. I maintain eye contact before I break it to change the pattern of my beats. And by then her own focus changes too.

When I am finally able to take my eyes away from the drums, the song is over. Dan and Martha don’t stay on the stage long enough to even acknowledge the people they had just performed to and they simply wandered off stage. I remain sat down on my stool. I plant my feet flat on the ground and use force to swivel my position back and forth as I drink from a half empty water bottle. I flip the bottle between my hands before I replace it with the quieter options of my sticks which rhythmically spin amongst my first few fingers to the beat of the song in my head – the song I was playing next.

Ride – Twenty One Pilots

I then notice some movement out of the corner and I turn my neck to see a hand waving at me. A confused expression grows on my face as I narrow my eyes off stage. I notice Nate standing next to the singer of who I’m playing for next and a worried expression is visible on the both of them.

A sigh disperses into the air for what seems to be the millionth time tonight and I push myself off my seat, lightly hitting the side of the cymbal with my hip as I brush past.

“What’s going on?” I finally reach where they are and stand closest to Nate, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Jess’s guitar string just snapped.” An exasperated sigh leaves the singers lips as he hands me the broken string from his own palm.

“Shit, uhm...” I inspect the string and based on the thickness I immediately knew it was a D string. My hand lays flat, holding the string in front of me and I hand it back them.

“It’s just a D string, I have spares in my bag, Nate will show you where it is.” I face Nate then nudging his side.

“Uh yeah sure, we will be quick Matt, promise.”

I nod before walking back onto the stage, and back to my stool which now is cold due the lack of body heat. With my legs only being covered in some black, denim shorts it makes me jump back somewhat.

-

After five minutes of delay, the ‘host’ announces the singer and guitarist’s names to the audience. I sigh with relief as I pick back up my drumsticks and get into position.

It’s not long after that I confirm everyone’s set up and intro the next song, after the initial counts of 8 I provide, the guitarist and piano audio that Nate creates joins in with me.

This song starts much more smoothly than the first few songs I played and everyone’s skill set is higher and much more practiced too. My sections are more complex than the last song however, I enjoy the flow and atmosphere enough to ease that stress and relax me.

Halfway through the song, the chorus plays for the second time and my arms relax into the repeated pattern which allows me one more chance to look into the audience. The first people I notice are Nick and Chris. Nick has one of our cameras out, fortunately without the flash on as Chris goofs off next to him which results in Nick jolting his knee into Chris’s. I roll my eyes at them and the pace of the song slows down. The lights dim gradually as we approach the final seconds of the song. My muscles stop tensing since I can play softer and leisurely. A deep breath fills my lungs and glance up into the audience, I instantly meet Alyia’s eyes again and we both smile, mine definitely showing more than I mentally allowed myself to, but I stopped caring quickly when she broke eye contact with a roll of her eyes.

-

My drumsticks finally rest upon the floor tom drum and I’m now sat backstage closest to the audience whilst I pack up my things. I grimace when I feel resistance in my ears from the earbuds I put in 2 hours ago now.

Once everything is packed up, I can only wait until the next song is over until I can leave this heated environment. The only distractions from time that I had were quick exchanges with two people I previously performed with, my bottle clattering on the floor next to me and another mini staring contest with Alyia that I ended this time.

-

“Finally.” I mutter when the host begins their ending comments to the night, I hold my coat between my arm and ribs and swing my backpack onto my right arm, praying my bottle didn’t fall out again when I rushed down the side platform.

My eyes close themselves, only opening again when a tug on my shirt wakes me up. I stop walking and turn my head around with an initially confused expression.

“So, you invite me out here and you don’t even say hi, Matthew” The girl in front of me is finally in a clearer view with all the main lights turned on and a lack of distance between us. I study her outfit momentarily which consisted of low-rise navy jeans; a cropped purple star tee, barely covering her bra straps; a white overhanging beanie and a bunch of small accessories around her neck, wrist and fingers.

“Alyia... hey.” I snap out of my stare as I look down at my air forces which shuffle around on the floor.

“I gotta say, I’m happy you came”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

© ENDEREIES 2024

[ken-dom]

Lingered Lips

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

7.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: When you move from a warmer climate into the house next door to Gus and Karin during winter, Lars helps you to keep warm, and to feel a little more at home in the process.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: This is for my pal @webbo0 who deserves all the warmth and comfort Lars would be able to give (that's a lot). I hope this is something close to what you imagined ! Thank you to my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading and encouraging endlessly! Title from Holding Your Hand by Yung Bae.

∘₊✧ Please note: The story has two possible endings. If you want fluff and kissing with some suggestive bits only, stop when you reach the break in the text (indicated with a photo set), 5.5k. If you want to end on a spicy note, there is an optional NSFW scene after, 1.6k.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: Fluff, homesickness, kissing, heated making out, lots of touching, nervous Lars. In the additional scene; NSFW, dry humping, touching over clothes, cumming in pants.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

To say there’s a chill in the air is an understatement. Somehow, it seems the inside of the house is colder than the outside. It had been left empty for a good few days before you arrived today with a moving truck full of your worldly belongings, but even so, feeling your fingertips turn numb, you never imagined you’d feel the chill this much.

An uncomfortable question flashes through your mind; Have you done the right thing?, but, already engaged in an internal battle to keep homesickness at bay, you force yourself to think about how you’d not had much of a need for thick duvets and firewood before, reminding yourself that you will adapt. That it will all be worth it. That the cold will soon feel like home.

The house is nice, and you know that once it warms through properly it will feel cosy and homely, even if right now it’s an empty shell of a building waiting for your stamp. But it’s getting there. You can already picture yourself settling down in front of a roaring fire with a blanket and a slice of pie.

You sigh at the fireplace. You have no means to build a fire, and even if you did, where do you begin? Instead, you settle with lighting a few candles you found with a book of matches in the box marked ‘KITCHEN’ in a futile attempt to create a feeling of warmth.

Once you begin the process of dragging furniture around and unpacking boxes that, despite being labelled perfectly well before the move seem to be all out of order again, you generate a little heat as the rooms begin to take shape.

After a while (you’ve no idea how long; you’ve misplaced your phone in the bubblewrap and the clocks are currently hidden in an unopened box, but it’s long since been dark out) you grow tired of organising your things and decide rest is in order. If only that fireplace was roaring and there was a freshly baked pie on the kitchen counter…

You reluctantly blow the candles out, wolf down a couple of the cookies you’d packed for the road, and shiver yourself to sleep under a couple of thin blankets, planning to venture into the town tomorrow and purchase a few items to help you adapt to your new climate a little more comfortably.

****

You’d not yet had time to hang drapes, so when morning arrives, with it comes the sharp winter sun flooding your bedroom, disturbing your dreams and pulling you back to the cold reality you’d fallen asleep in.

You stretch, gradually taking in your new surroundings, and start your day by finding some warmer clothes and a pair of boots packed into one of your overflowing suitcases. 

You step outside to appreciate the crisp covering of snow. It crunches beneath your feet, and you think you could get used to that.

There’s a little parcel a few feet from your doorstep, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. Looking around for a sign of who might have left it and seeing no one, you pick it up to carry inside. It’s heavier than you anticipate and has a label attached to the string which you read the moment you drop the package onto the kitchen table.

‘Welcome neighbour! Don’t be a stranger! Karin and Gus x’

It must’ve come from the big, white house just a short walk from your own; your closest neighbours, the others being at least a couple of minutes walk away.

You pick at the knot in the parcel string, the paper beneath falling away as the string loosens, and you see a huge tray of pasta bake. It’s homemade and makes your stomach growl just looking at it. The homesick churn in your stomach relaxes in turn, and a smile pulls at your lips.

You should introduce yourself to this Karin and Gus before you venture into town today. That would be the neighbourly thing to do, right?

Rifling through the bag of snacks you’d packed for the road, you found the large tupperware of homemade hamantaschen cookies you’d raided the night before, and, removing just one more cookie to eat immediately, you tuck the tub under your arm, shove your hands into your pockets (adding gloves to your mental shopping list) and set off to greet your new neighbours.

Rounding the corner at the end of your driveway, you see the figure of someone swinging what looked like an axe outside that big, white house.

Gus, you remind yourself of the names on the parcels tag. Karin and Gus.

As you step closer, you can’t help but notice that this Gus guy is kind of…

No. Stop. You cannot find your neighbour attractive. You can’t.

Can you?

‘Hey, Gus?’ you call with a wave, and the man, frankly oozing sexual energy with his brawny arms and that big axe held in an exceptionally strong grip, turns around.

Oh shit. He’s handsome too.

Your gaze drops from his sparkling blue eyes to his handsome mustache, perfectly groomed and sort of dashing…

‘Hi… I uh… I just moved in next door,’ you gesture over your shoulder whilst trying to snap yourself out of whatever this is, and focus on the steamy breath you can see in the air every time you breathe out instead. ‘Gus, isn’t it?’

He doesn’t answer. He bites his lips together and averts his gaze, shoulders hunched.

‘I wanted to thank you and Karin for my welcome gift. It looks so delicious.’

Dropping the axe, the handsome Gus straightens up and your eyes widen at his height.

He steps back, blinking excessively, cheeks blazing hot and hands clenching into tight fists as his sides.

‘Hey, are you alright?’ you try. A whisper.

‘Y-yeah, I-’ he stutters, swallowing hard and thrusting a hand out to you with his eyes closed tight, as though he’s bracing himself for some sort of terrifying impact.

Carefully, you take it, feeling the way his arm tenses when your flesh meets his. He’s warm and clammy and you want to pull him close.

‘I- I’m Lars,’ he breathes, his hand dropping back to his side. ‘Gus is my brother.’

Lars. Your heart skips a beat.

‘Ah… Lars. Nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ you say softly, ‘I just wanted to bring some cookies over for Gus and Karin.’

Lars clocked the container under your arm and visibly settled. ‘Oh… oh, they’re not in right now. I could look after those cookies for you until they’re back though? I promise not to eat them.’

‘Ok, sure! I’ll maybe stop by tomorrow to introduce myself properly, but if you could tell them I said thank you for the warm welcome, I’d appreciate it?’

‘Sure,’ Lars nods, a little skittish.

‘And you can have a cookie,’ you joke, pushing the tub toward him.

Lars huffs out an awkward little chuckle and instead of taking the tub from you, whips what you thought was a thick blue scarf from around his neck.

‘Y-you look cold. Here-’

He shuffles toward you, averting his gaze as he fumbles with wrapping the little handmade blanket around your shoulders, his fingers delicate but shaky.

The fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with light musk hits you and you all but swoon at the combination. It’s not just a swoon; it’s homely, too. Lars is homely.

‘Thank you,’ you breathe, smiling. Is everyone so kind and polite here?

‘It’s alright. I’m getting a bit hot from chopping wood anyway.’ Lars steps backward, staring at the ground as he creates a more comfortable distance between the two of you. Is it comfortable though? He feels an urge to go back to you. ‘You can bring it over when you’re warmed up and all unpacked.’

He’s so sweet you feel like your heart is on the verge of exploding.

‘I don’t have many winter clothes, actually. That’s where I’m heading now – into town to introduce some wool and a decent coat to my wardrobe, and a nice big duvet to my bed. I knew it’d be cold here but I didn’t think it would be this cold.’

Lars looks down, biting his lips together again, bracing himself to say something. You wait patiently.

‘W-where did you move from?’

‘Somewhere much warmer than this,’ you shiver, sucking in a sharp breath of cool air. ‘For a fresh start.’

Lars’s brow furrows and he lets out a small, ‘Ok!’ He isn’t sure whether it would be too much to question any further, so he drops the subject, reaching a hand out to you.

For a moment, you freeze, a whole movie playing out in your mind of what might await you in the future if you take his hand right now and just… kiss him.

Lars clears his throat. ‘The um… the cookies?’

‘Oh- yes.’ You push the box toward his outstretched hand. ‘Take a couple for yourself too.’

You see a crimson blush dust flare up on his cheeks again.

‘Th-thanks.’

The air thickens then as your gazes lock, until  Lars turns away, and you wonder if you’ve overdone it. He did seem a painfully shy. Maybe he could read your mind and was horrified of what he’d witnessed… or the offer of a cookie was just too much.

Just as you open your mouth to ease the tension and singsong a, Well, see you around, Lars!, he sets down the tupperware full of cookies, gathers a few logs in those burly arms and turns back to you. His cheeks are positively glowing now.

‘Th-these are for you.’

There goes that lightheaded swooning feeling again. ‘Oh, Lars, are you sure?’

‘Of course! I’m really good at it. I chop the wood for Gus and Karin’s house all the time, so it’s really no problem to spare a few… for my neighbour.’

‘Oh! You live here too?’

Lars turns sheepish, nodding toward the garage behind you. ‘I live… there.’ He remembers the time he spent in his home with Bianca. Moments far and few between, but usually tender. He remembers dancing with her by firelight, a jazz record playing softly. He clears his throat. ‘Do you know how to build a fire?’ he asks, much more confidently.

You get the feeling he would take great pride in teaching you, but still feel a little silly admitting the truth to him. How could you accept these logs in all good conscience when you’ve never built a log fire in your life and have no idea where to begin other than… setting them on fire?

Embarrassment creeps onto your cheeks and you hold your breath, scrunching your nose up. ‘Nope. You got me. Something else for me to learn now that I live here.’

‘I could show you some time,’ Lars mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. His voice cracks as he backtracks, ‘if- if you like?’

You nod, and both of you are blushing so hard you’re barely able to look at one another aside from surreptitious stolen glances.

You hug the firewood close to your chest and take a deep, steadying breath. ‘Thank you, Lars. For everything.’

As you trudge back over the undisturbed snow to store the logs in your porch, you chuckle to yourself. You needn��t have worried about the cold, all you have to do is talk to Lars for a few minutes and you’ll soon warm up.

****

Wrapped in the same paper and tied with the same string, another parcel appears on your doorstep the very next morning. 

Your head tilts as you bend to collect it, wondering what else Gus and Karin could possibly have sent you when you haven’t even met them yet. Would this turn into a never-ending exchange of reheatable meals and cookies?

It feels lighter, soft in your hands.

You tear the paper open right there and then, too curious to wait. Two thick sweaters spill into your hands, a small sheet of note paper floating to your feet.

They smell like Lars, and you know instantly that they’re his. It’s the same scent you caught from his blanket yesterday; the same one that lingered on his skin when he had leaned in close to wrap it around your shoulders – fresh and soft with a hint of musk. Comforting. Homely.

Butterflies soar in your stomach and for a moment, you forget that you’re standing in the frosty air in just your pyjamas and socks.

You collect the note up and shut out the cold, heart beating a little faster as you sit down to read it and learn what his handwriting looks like. It’s neat, large letters, cursive. Romantic.

You shake your head, still in denial that you’d ever dare to think of him that way, pretending you hadn’t fallen asleep wondering what his soft lips might feel like against yours and dreamed about him teaching you to chop wood, his strong arms braced around yours to guide you as you swung the axe.

You tried to focus on the words rather than the style of the handwriting or your own wandering mind, almost nervous to begin reading, wondering what he wants to say to you.

I hope you don’t mind me leaving these for you – I don’t wear them so much any more and thought they would be put to better use building up your winter wardrobe. 

One has a hole in the sleeve. I’m sorry about that. I would have fixed it but I never learned how to sew. It’s ok if you don’t like them.

Hope you’re keeping warm! 

Lars (your neighbour)(the one from the garage)

You bite your lips together to keep a whine from escaping. Your neighbour? The one from the garage? As if you could possibly forget him.

‘Could you be any cuter?’ you grin, and fold the letter, standing to head right back to your bedroom and dress immediately throwing on the new puffer coat you bought in the town yesterday over a Lars scented sweater, grab your last tub of cookies and head out, marching straight up to the door of the garage next door.

****

‘Hi.’ Lars swallows the word, opening his door just enough to poke his face through the gap. 

He’s just as handsome as you remember. Maybe more. The way the bright winter sun hits his eyes and sets the deep blue sparkling, the coy little smile he can’t quite hide beneath that impeccably groomed mustache…

‘Hi,’ you sigh. You might feel a twinge of embarrassment, but Lars seems so taken aback to see you, you don’t think he’ll notice your indiscreet little swoon.

You clear your throat. ‘Thank you so much for the sweaters, Lars. You really didn’t have to.’

‘Oh it’s nothing,’ he protests, struggling to meet your gaze and chewing his lips as though he’s scared of what he might say if he doesn’t bite them together.

‘I brought more cookies. Just for you this time.’

Lars squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep steadying breath.

‘Are you ok?’

He blinks his eyes open again and finally looks into yours. ‘Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.’

Even so, his fingers fiddle with the slightly chipped paint around the edge of the door he’s holding ajar.

‘Alright, well…’

‘Did you use the firewood yet?’ he blurts, eyes closed again but voice much louder.

‘No, I never got the chance to look up how to build a proper fire last night, so-’

‘Would you like me to show you? Now?’ His face scrunches up in what looks like pain.

‘Yes! That would be great.’

Lars nods, smiling, and opens the door. ‘Please, come in,’ he breathes, and you notice his hand gripping so tight onto the door now that his knuckles have turned white.

You step inside the little garage apartment, immediately so at ease that you almost feel at home here.

There’s a jazz record playing softly, and you sway a little as you glance around, clocking the log burner in the corner. His bed is neatly made with two or three blankets layered on the top, warm and cosy. You wonder what he wears to bed.

The kitchen is sparse and clean, a small double hob occupying a whistling kettle and a pan. There are a few cupboards you imagine are mostly bare. 

A door to the left looks like it must lead to the bathroom, because aside from a small closet and a couple of shelves on the wall, that’s all of it. Lars’s entire home.

He doesn’t appear to have many worldly belongings, but what he does have, he appreciates and takes good care of. You smile at that. Maybe he would take good care of you, too.

In many ways, you think, perhaps without even knowing it, he already has.

Lars closes the front door, but doesn’t move from his spot beside it, staring down at his feet.

‘W-we might as well enjoy the fire after I show you how to get it going. Would you like to stay for a drink? We could share the cookies? If you like?’

He glances toward you with that pained look again, but it quickly softens when you answer simply with a gentle; ‘Yes. I’d love to.’

Lars grins, incredulous, and springs into action, preparing to start work on building the fire, dropping to his knees before the log burner.

‘Alright, the first thing we need to do is make sure the firewood is in good condition. I know mine is, of course, but it’s always worth checking, because…’

You sit beside him, fully intending to learn a valuable lesson that will no doubt serve you for many winters to come, but Lars picks up a log with such care the mere sight of it makes you shiver.

Carefully, he runs the tips of his long, thick fingers over the smooth edge of the wood, treating it so delicately that every word out of his mouth blurs into barely perceptible background noise and all you can manage to do is watch those elegant fingers tracing over the contours and try not to imagine how they’d feel on your skin instead.

Startlingly, he stops the demonstration short and turns to you. It’s far from abrupt, but it drags you out of your reverie nonetheless.

‘Got that?’ he asks eagerly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Ready for the next step?’ Lars beams at you. He’s been talking nonstop, completely lost in the world of firewood while you were lost in the world of… Lars.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ you lie, hoping the next part won’t be as difficult to take in and that you can piece together whatever you’ve missed.

Lars opens up what he calls the damper, leaning forward to place kindling into the centre of the stove, his sweater rides up a little at the back, and although you try with all your might not to look, you can’t quite avoid it. Beneath those three layers, his exposed skin looks so soft and pale and… warm.

There are a few small beauty marks dotted close to his hip and you get the urge to trace them with your finger tips, follow them like a constellation and connect the stars with your tongue…

But you’re not supposed to be thinking about the flesh of Lars’s lower back under your fingers and lips. You’re supposed to be listening to his instructions.

You close your eyes and try to focus.

Good logs. Damper open. Something about kindling.

You can do this. You can.

Oblivious, Lars continues, arranging dry wood around the kindling and placing the logs gently on top, taking as much care as if he was creating a work of art.

He’s so passionate and thorough in the way he describes the process, the way he’s handling the equipment, that this in itself is making you come over too hot.

Is he this passionate and thorough with a lover? 

Stop.

You shake the thought from your head and wonder if you will manage to actually sit in front of a blazing fire with him at all if he carries on like this. Carries on being so… so…

‘Would you like to do the honours?’ he grins, sitting back on his heels.

You swallow hard. ‘Sure!’ 

Lars hands you a half empty box of matches. His hands are no longer trembling, you notice, but yours have certainly begun to shake as you select and strike a match.

Lars’s palm slides over the back of your hand, warm and soft, to guide your flame to the kindling. Your head spins and you lean forward together, bodies pressing close as you hold the match still and wait.

Both of you watch with delight as the fire takes hold and bursts to life before you.

You smile at Lars, who beams back. There’s but an inch between you and you can’t help but lick your lips and you glance down at his.

‘We did it,’ he breathes. ‘Next time, you can try arranging the kindling-’ He stops himself. 

Next time.

Suddenly his face is burning, his forehead is damp and his chest is tight, and a voice in his head is firmly telling him to run in the opposite direction.

‘How about that drink?’ you remind him, hoping it’ll ease the tension.

Lars is more grateful than you could ever know for that simple suggestion. It gives him a reason not to completely consume you, which is both his greatest fear and his strongest urge with you so close. He isn’t sure whether the heat he feels is from the fire or from his burning attraction to you, but thinking about it is making him dizzy.

He snaps up to stride into the kitchen and start the kettle boiling, and you try to focus on breathing.

As you feel comforting warmth radiating from the glow of the fireplace and listen to him pottering in the kitchen, your eyes slip closed.

This is home.

‘Is hot chocolate ok?’ Lars calls over.

‘No lactose for me, please, Lars.’

‘No problem! I can work around that. See, if you mix the cocoa powder into a paste with a small amount of the water first, you can make it smooth and thick without the need for milk! Neat little trick, huh? And I can skip the cream topping, just for you.’ 

Lars is once again in his element. He seems so happy to share his habits with someone – with you – that it eradicates the overwhelming nerves he was fighting moments ago. 

‘That sounds wonderful. Thank you.’

‘Uhm- do you… do you mind if I have a little cream on mine?’ he asks, cautious. ‘I’ll only have a little bit.’

‘Of course I don’t mind!’

He chuckles quietly with a shaky exhale of nervous energy. ‘Ok!’

You watch as he finishes up and joins you again placing two big mugs of hot chocolate on the little rug in front of the fire.

‘You know, I used to treat myself to a hot chocolate now and then before I moved here, even though it was much warmer. I wonder if it’ll hit different now that I actually need heating up,’ you laugh, blowing out a steady breath to ripple over the surface of the steaming liquid before taking a careful sip.

Lars watches the way your lips move, snapping his eyes shut when he realises where his thoughts are going – the same place they went last night when he was trying to fall asleep but you kept appearing in his semi-unconscious state, asking if you could hold his hand and kiss him.

He clears his throat. ‘So, how are you adjusting? Have you seen the doctor yet?’

Your brow furrowed. Did you need to see a doctor just for moving here?

‘No, I mean, it has felt a little strange, but I thought it was just a touch of homesickness…’

‘I think that’s normal,’ Lars nods, face turning serious and voice lowering like he was keeping a secret from prying ears. ‘I had a girlfriend who came from a much warmer climate, you see. She was half Brazilian and half Danish, and she’d been used to warmer temperatures before she came here. So, I’m used to it.’

Lars shrugs and sips his drink, casually sure of himself.

‘Girlfriend?’ you blurt before you can stop yourself. You try to at least sound easygoing, but it comes off more strained than anything thanks to curiosity getting the better of you.

‘Oh, wait, I’m not suggesting that we’re uhm… friends of any sort- I mean-’

‘No… no, it’s ok.’ Another easy smile. ‘I just wondered about her, that’s all.’

You move to place your mug back down as Lars makes the same motion, and as you reach forward, your skin brushes his.

Time stops. Lars almost flinches, but he lingers instead, seeking you out once again, grazing the back of his fingers against the back of your hand, witnessing the connection, awe pulling at his features.

It’s different from when he guided your flame to the kindling, and he realises that then as much as now, your flesh against his feels almost… tolerable. More than tolerable. It feels good.

You hold your breath, needing to be closer again. Needing to feel heat from him and not just the fire, inhale that comforting scent that you’ve already come to associate with your new home, the one laced on his hand knitted blue blanket that you forgot to return today in your rush to get back to him. You don’t plan to tell him you’d slept clutching it for comfort, or that it remained beneath the covers on your unmade bed.

‘It’s getting a bit hot,’ you breathe shakily, eyes locking on his. ‘May I take off my coat?’

Lars doesn’t answer, he just helps you with removing the coat from your shoulders like a true gentleman, folding it neatly and placing it on the bed for you.

‘Better?’

‘Much.’

‘You’re wearing one of my old sweaters,’ he says quietly, staring at you as he takes in how it fits your form compared to his, how good it looks on you and how he wants to help take the sweater off your body, too…

His fingers wander to the collar, where he drags a fingertip gently over the familiar wool before dropping back to his lap.

The air between you grows thicker again and all at once you’re breathless.

‘Lars…’

‘Hmm?’

‘You have some, uh…  cream… just-’

His gaze is intense on your lips as your fingers move to wipe the cream from his perfect mustache. It’s tender. Loving, almost. His breath is hot and ragged against your fingers and for a wild moment, you think about slowly pushing a finger between his plump, shiny lips.

Instead you come to your senses and bring it back down, coated in a light covering of the cream.

‘You know, lactose intolderance doesn’t always stop me,’ you smirk, licking the cream from your finger. ‘If it’s just a little bit. Perhaps… a little bit more?’

Lars doesn’t move as you press forward, closing the gap between you and leaving enough pause for him to move away. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips to yours and elicits contented hum that makes him simply melt into you.

There’s more cream on his mustache that smears onto your upper lip and you pull back, licking yourself clean and pushing forward to lick the last of it from him, too.

Lars parts his lips to allow your tongue inside. It feels natural yet unusual, not at all how he imagined kissing would feel. But it’s just as thrilling as he’d hoped it would be, and the butterflies in his stomach that he’d been trying hard to control begin to explode into something wonderful, a new sensation that he had the overwhelming urge to chase.

Your lips against his are so soft and wet, and his head is swimming with what all of this means.  The feeling growing somewhere deep inside him pushes through to the forefront. It’s something he can’t seem to control. It’s too new, too exciting, so he follows his gut.

With a shaky hand, he reaches forward to touch you. He’s not sure where, or how, but he’s overcome with that sudden urge to consume you entirely again, and he can’t stop the hand hesitating midair from grabbing your shoulder and pushing you down onto the rug.

He’s strong, and that sets your nerves alight. You knew when you saw the perfect control with which he wielded his axe. Your hands slide up over his biceps and squeeze the firm muscles, and Lars whines.

Even with this newfound dominance, he’s unsure, hesitant — but eager. Your tongue guides his, gently leading him into a steady rhythm with slow flicks and languid slides, each one setting his desire aflame until he’s breathless.

Your guidance doesn’t falter when he positions himself on top of you. If anything, the kiss turns hungrier and Lars moans, muffled in your mouth, and he wants more despite the nerves bubbling up in his stomach. Worries creep in that he’ll do something wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this at all. 

There’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that making out like this isn’t something he should be doing. It feels far too exciting to be allowed. Far too naughty, and that seems to spur on the excitement, and it all feels so good how could it be wrong?

His pants are getting tighter and he knows he can control himself if he just manages to get back outside and pick up his axe and burn it off, but he doesn’t want to this time. Not with you here, kissing him, touching him, making him feel good.

But what will Gus and Karin think when they find out he kissed their new neighbour with such fierce passion less than forty-eight hours after you arrived in town? Somewhere within his muddle of thoughts, he hears Gus muttering an impressed, ‘It’s always the quiet ones…’ and his cheeks burn a little hotter.

He feels you pushing at his shoulders then, a signal to stop, and he scrambles back to sit up, covering his face with his hands.

He was on another plane of existence just a moment ago and now everything was crashing down around him. He had gone too far, been selfish with his affections. What had he done?

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-’ he sobs into his palms, muffled and desperate.

‘Don’t be,’ you soothe, sitting up to join him as you fight off the haze of pleasant lightheadedness his kiss had caused. ‘I liked it.’

You grab the half-full mugs of chocolate and pass him his. He accepts with a nervous smile and you sip the remaining drinks together in comfortable silence, enjoying the crackle of the fire, the kiss having broken the tension.

You lay your head on his shoulder and sigh, content. You hadn’t felt so at home since you’d arrived, and you didn’t want to leave. You also didn’t want to admit that you’d not really listened when he’d been kind enough to show you how to use the logs he’d gifted to you.

Meanwhile, Lars’s head is buzzing. He thinks over how he’s already shared his first kiss with you (first kiss with tongues, anyway — he’d kissed Bianca once or twice in moments of madness, but never with tongue). He thinks about how far he’s come since Bianca, and how if it weren’t for her he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to finish a conversation with you yet, let alone push you onto the floor and dare to let desire consume him for a short while.

And he can’t just leave it there now, not now he’s tasted you, shared a part of himself with you; he needs more. He decides he needs to act now or he will think about it so much he’ll scare himself away from the idea.

So before he can even formulate an actual plan to ask you out, he blurts;

‘You want me to show you around sometime? There’s the lake, and- oh, I have a treehouse there!- and we could go into the town together, too, maybe to the mall? Gus and Karin would love to have you over for dinner, I bet. They’re always asking me, so I could bring you as my guest! Do you bowl? I’m not very good, but I’m getting better and-’

‘I’m absolutely shit at bowling,’ you laugh, and Lars laughs too, relieved you’d stopped him talking himself into a certain hole he’d never climb out of. ‘But I still like to play. I’d actually really like to go with you sometime.’

You feel Lars holding all his breath in his lungs, and smile to yourself. He’s so easy to fluster. You could have fun with that, you muse, but stop yourself thinking on it for too long.

‘C-can we still… kiss?’ Lars stutters, trailing off, ‘I liked it, too.’

You chuckle to yourself, giddy at how nice this all feels. ‘Do you make a habit of kissing your neighbours, Lars?’

It’s a playful question, and although you can’t see his face you can sense that he’s blushing profusely, blinking hard again.

‘No! No, I’ve never-’

‘Good. But, how about… you do it again? Just for me?’

∘₊✧─────────NSFW─────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Lars throws his coat and hat on so haphazardly to get out of work at the earliest possible moment, his hair is sticking out at every angle.

He rushes home, wheels spinning against the gravel before his car screeches to a halt outside the garage. He grabs his briefcase and the little plastic bag he carries his good shoes to work in, and darts out of the car to his front door.

Gus and Karin don’t know about you yet. Or rather, they know about you, but not about the way you’d touched and kissed Lars. Or the way you occupied his thoughts every second since. When they’d mentioned you to Lars over breakfast this morning, he made his excuses and ran, worried he’d give himself away with blushing cheeks or breathlessness.

He may as well have not gone into work today. He might have been physically present, but his mind was very firmly elsewhere. All he could think about was the way your lips felt when they had slid so sensually against his. Not burning or uncomfortable in the least. It’s almost jarring, how good it made him feel. He’d only ever been that comfortable with Bianca before, and the thought sets his teeth on edge and his heart racing.

His stomach churns every time he replays the kiss you’d shared. And the second kiss. And the third. Except it’s not churning exactly. It’s more like fluttering, low and unsettled in his belly. Is that what people mean when they say they have butterflies? He’s never felt that before.

Right now he needs to focus on getting inside before he’s stopped by Karin. His chest heaves when he finally unlocks his door and slams it shut behind him. Luckily Karin doesn’t see him, or has decided against chasing him for dinner tonight. She’d been better at that since Bianca, leaving Lars to mind his own business much more often than she used to. Lars thanks his lucky stars that tonight is one of those nights.

He’s trembling, he realises, as he hangs up his coat and sets his bags down. His stomach is in knots with these mysterious butterflies again, and his heart is thudding in his ears.

He braces himself against the wall by his coat pegs, resting his forehead to the back of his hand as he tries to force his breathing slow, and to focus on organising his thoughts.

All he has to do is choose a sweater, brush his teeth and comb his hair. Simple, easy steps. One thing at a time. Sweater. Let’s start there.

Within twenty minutes, there are six discarded sweaters scattered on his bed and Lars is staring himself out in the bathroom mirror, hair perfectly combed back, breath minty and teeth shiny. He runs his tongue over them, wishing he was running it over your teeth instead.

****

You settle down for dinner with a successfully built fire crackling and hissing in the hearth. You were a bit distracted as you spent far too long adjusting the kindling and remembering the order of the steps to take, piecing together the scraps of information you’d somehow retained from your lesson with Lars. But you did it, and now your house is the glowing, cosy home you’d hoped it would be.

Before you can take a bite of your delicious looking dinner, courtesy of Karin and Gus, an urgent banging at the door makes your heart jump in your chest.

Please be Lars, please be Lars, please be Lars, you hope, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror as you head for the front door, trying your very best to appear casual, and as though you haven’t been thinking about him nonstop since you left his place yesterday.

‘Lars!’ you exclaim, far more excited than you intend it to come out, and your cheeks prickle with heat.

Lars is leaning with one hand up against the door frame, mock confidence oozing from him, and he looks so handsome it makes your head spin. He’s wearing a gorgeous sweater which you gather he must save for special occasions. His hair is combed back perfectly, and a warm smile graces his lips.

Your eyes lock with his when you’re done checking him out so obviously his cheeks are crimson now too, and you simply can’t say another word. The gaze between you is so intense, so filled with intention, the cold air turns thick and you can barely breathe.

Lars lunges forward and presses himself to you. Your lips crash, then his chest is flush with yours and you realise his arms are snaking around your waist, but it’s all so fast and so frenzied you can’t quite keep up. You just need each other and in that moment, knowing he’s close is enough.

With a shaky sigh, he rolls his hips into you. He’s rock hard. You gasp, and he whines into your mouth as the frictions tingles through his core.

He’s fighting to control himself but it’s so difficult when you want this as much as he does and he knows he can chase the thrill with you.

He didn’t even mean to get hard, but after thinking about you for twenty four solid hours and trying not to think about how you’d feel touching him there, it truly was a task not to succumb to the natural pull of arousal before now. He’d done well to last this long.

Only, what if you’d changed your mind since yesterday? He should have asked. He shouldn’t have assumed from your dilated pupils and the way you bit your lip as your eyes grazed over his lips. 

He pulls away, mortified. His body had betrayed him, he lost control, he-

But you push forward, reaching between your flush bodies to stroke the hard bulge tenting in his smartest pants. The fabric is soft against the flesh of your palm and you sigh into his mouth, rubbing needily over his length.

You’re ok with it, he thinks somewhere from within the haze of incredible pleasure and fading embarrassment, a prickly combination that falls away as he kisses you back and it all just becomes you and him. I can be ok with it, too. 

You pause for breath and Lars hisses from between gritted teeth, feeling the overwhelming urge to moan and to chase the coiling sensation tightening in his gut.

He needs more, but it’s already too much. He’s not sure how these things work exactly. He doesn’t know if you would consider him a… what are they called? A one night stand. Or if you’d expect something in return, or for him to make a move before he-

‘Ohhhmmnn…’ he groans. It’s low and primal for such a small sound and it makes your core ache.

His head falls to the crook of your neck while his fingers grip at your arms with a strength that makes your breathing catch in your throat, and just as you’re considering unfastening those smart, grey pants to get your hand inside and really feel him, Lars’s whole body shudders and you wrap your free arm around his lower back to steady him as he turns weak and flops against you, hips bucking as he spills, hot and thick, inside his pants.

A string of ragged, breathless moans and weak little whimpers slowly tear from his throat as he tries to regain composure.

Weak, he keeps his face buried against you for now, his eyes shut tight as you slide a hand up to stroke through his hair, bringing him back to you.

He needed that release, and with it came a sense of clarity that he only wants more of you. He wants to see you, feel you, kiss you every single day. Is that unreasonable?

The real reason he’d knocked on your door swells within his stomach, butterflies returning swiftly to replace the heated coil that had wound up and finally sprung free at your touch.

Desire – in particular, sexual desire – is not the original reason Lars came over tonight. He never dreamed he would make such a mess in his trousers or that you’d kiss like that again, even though he’s kinds of glad both of those things did happen. Glad but… embarrassed.

His underwear is sticky against his skin, and he knows his release is soaking through the front of his pants. Along with the uncomfortable sensations he wants to soothe away with a refreshing shower and a clean pair of underwear, shame consumes him as he struggles to peel himself off you. 

But you come to the rescue as you so often seem to do, guiding him over to your sofa and flopping down onto it with him. Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together as you settle comfortably.

It feels like home. Lars feels like home, and once again you get that feeling in your gut that tells you never to leave his side.

‘Lars…’ you start, voice barely a whisper, and he turns to you, finally meeting your eyes, and you notice how wet his are. Had he cried when he came? 

‘Was there… a reason you came over tonight? You know, other than-’

Lars clears his throat before you can say any more. There’s still a pang of shame, and he knows what he did, he doesn’t need to hear it too. ‘Yes, I… I wanted to ask you something.’

As you prepare to hear it, he presses his lips together into a tight smile.

‘What is it?’ you ask gently. ‘Whatever it is, I’m ready.’

‘I wanted to ask you… well, I thought- maybe- I could be your boyfriend? I-if you’d like…’

Your answer comes as another bruising kiss, head spinning at the question until you pull back, panting, and rest your forehead against his. He nuzzles against it, never having found such comfort in anything but his blanket before now.

Lars smiles, ‘I think you mean yes.’

‘Yes,’ you confirm, your own lips curling upwards. ‘Take me bowling?’

[todreamadream]

Gwynriel Headcanon: Idk what to title it, just read it and label it however you’d like

Disclaimer: This is my first Gwynriel piece (despite the fact I’ve been reading Gwynriel fanfics since ACOSF came out). This is also the second thing I have ever written and posted publicly. I am aware that this is not the best content. I just really wanted to read some new Gwynriel and there wasn’t anything that I did not already consume so I wrote something myself. Despite that, I hope you all enjoy!

‘So then you loop it around, like this’ Gwyn twists her fingers, and the bracelet she’s weaving has a new knotted row. ‘See, simple’. His shadows swirled around her fingers as if agreeing with her. 

It was not simple. No wonder she’s been able to master the maneuvers in training, those were nothing compared to the complexity of making friendship bracelets. ‘Berdara I appreciate your help but this is futile, my mess of strings looks nothing like the bracelet you have. If I gave this to Cassian he would think it’s a sign of retaliation.’ 

Cassian and he got into a small little fight a few days ago. Ironically enough it was about Gwyn. Cassian thinks that Az should ask her out, on a date. First off, he has no romantic feelings towards Gwyn at all. Sure, she’s beautiful. And lovely. And deadly. And smart. Gods, she was so cauldron damned smart. And witty. And pretty. Okay, fine. Maybe he is falling slightly in love with the Priestess. But she’s smart. Smart enough to know that going out with him would be a terrible idea.

‘Shadowsinger, are you even paying attention?’ One of his shadows swished in front of him to get him to focus.

‘Berdara, it doesn’t matter how much attention I pay. My hands are simply not as adept as yours. How about you make a bracelet for me and I just give that one to Cassian?”

Gwyn fake gasps, ‘Wow, Azriel. I cannot believe you. Actually, I can believe it. Of course you’re trying to cheat your way out of this. Just like you do with everything.’

Fuck, the sound of his name under her tongue? Heavenly. Thank the Mother he’s wearing his leathers to hide the goosebumps erupting all over his skin. If only she could say it again without accusing him of being a cheat. 

‘Berdara, for the last time, I did not cheat. It was a race, and my legs are longer than yours. Accept the defeat.’ He totally cheated. 

‘I will not. I’m faster and more agile than you. I’m lighter on my feet too! You shoved Nesta right in front of me when you thought I was going to win.’ her eyes lit up with fire, the teal burning with the intensity of it. 

‘It’s not my fault you can’t dodge an obstacle in your path.’ He rose an eyebrow challengingly. 

‘I can dodge obstacles just fine, I completed your stupid obstacle course didn’t I? What you did was a cheap shot! I call a rematch’ she practically snarled the last words and it made the blood in his veins burn hotter in excitement. 

‘Name the day and the place. I’ll be there.’ He was baiting her, a rematch meant more time to spend together. Time to see more of her freckles. More of her sneaky moves. More of her irreverence.

‘Deal. House of Wind rooftop after training. We’ll choose one of the priestesses to be an impartial judge.’ 

His shadows whizzed around the room in excitement. This will be fun. He could work with this. Maybe he could date Gwyn without her realizing it. Spend so much time with her that when he finally asks her out officially she’ll say yes because she’ll be so comfortable with him that it makes perfect sense to spend more time with him. 

‘Let’s make this more interesting. Loser does the winner’s activity of choice and eats their choice for lunch.’ his heart beats faster in anticipation. Gwyn and he never ate lunch together. They only ever trained together during those restless nights. The impromptu bracelet-making today is an anomaly that came from the kindness of Gwyn’s heart when he told her last night (or early this morning) about the little spat between him and Cassian. 

This was a stupid idea, he never should have suggested - ‘You’re on. Get ready to eat dust Shadowsinger.’ Thank the Mother. His head is pounding and dizzy with the possibility of eating her eating with her soon. This may be the best/worst idea he’s had in his 500 measly years of existence.

[tiramissyoucake]

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Bully gojo x female reader, reader is a teacher at jujutsu tech, 1k words, little proof reading

CW: DUB CON (gojo bullies reader here), spanking but only once, gojo makes you keep a secret

Notes: scared of posting this because its yk dark content, this is the first time I'm posting sth like this as well so yeah please scroll away if you don't consume dark content in general. Understand that this is PURELY FICTIONAL AND IS IN NO WAY ENDORSED OR ENCOURAGED OUTSIDE OF FICTION.

The moment you see a pair of dark shades contrasted by white hair, panic fills you, Satoru Gojo made it a daily assignment to corner you somewhere and terrorise you until he was satisfied. On some days they were meaningless comments thrown your way haphazardly either overtly sexual comments about your appearance or comments poking at how weak you were compared to him, other days he would trap you in an empty classroom with him and watch you grimace, knowing what's coming.

"Wimpy, let's fuck lots today~ 'Kay?" That demeaning nickname he chose for you, it was insulting and in situations like these, gross.

Satoru was convinced you enjoyed his bullying deep down, otherwise, you wouldn't be letting out moans and whines muffled by his lips as he fucked you on one of the desks in the vacant classrooms. His hands pinning yours down and welding his fingers between yours, a romantic gesture mocking the cruel undertones of your situation, separating from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips and yours snapped. "You like this," he panted between slow and harsh thrusts. "You like me." He emphasised his point by driving his cock harder into you, Satoru smiled as he saw you bite down your bottom lip and try shake your head, you're such a cute liar.

"I don- ah!.. I- aahhnn.. hate..!" You couldn't complete your sentences, any coherent thought you had melted as your mind kept thinking of how the strongest was balls deep inside you, he only laughed as you stopped speaking to continue moaning through the pleasure, vision blurring you could still see his shades clearly.

"What's that? Speak up, baby~" Satoru mocked you, you couldn't be bothered to hear him, focusing only on surviving his merciless pounding, his hands slipping under your uniform harshly and feeling every part of you, slowing down his thrusts you assumed the torture would be over, however that thought was quickly discarded as he suddenly and rapidly rubbed at your clit causing you to let out a noise that crossed between a squeak and a moan, the jerk had the gall to laugh.

"Yeah? You like that, dont'cha?" He lowered his voice, bringing his face closer to yours he kissed your messily, saliva coating your lips. "You love having my attention," he began. "You're so fucking weak, it's so cute. Wanna keep you all to myself.."

Satoru's cruelty knew no bounds, whenever he had the chance to fuck you he would humiliate you and force you to hear claims of how you loved his attention, you loved having his eyes on you, his hands on your body, his cock inside you–

"Sensei! You okay?"

You straightened, eyes snapping up noticing the familiar faces of your students look at you in concern, Nobara tilted her head in confusion. "You were talking about how you knew Gojo sensei in school, why'd you stop talking?"

"Oh... right, sorry‐ just uhm.. some unpleasant memories, nothing much!" You waved it off, Yuuji piped in. "About Gojo sensei? Was he a bad guy in school?"

You grew quiet, trying to think of the proper words to explain the phenomenon that is Satoru Gojo, Nobara and Yuuji took your silence as anticipation for a bigger revelation while Megumi watched with an uninterested expression, not caring enough to listen.

"Well... Gojo was–"

"A nice guy who doted on his juniors, of course!" Satoru appeared at the door, you couldn't see his eyes beyond the blindfold but you knew he was examining the scene to make sure you didn't say anything that would ruin his students' perception of him.

"Yeah, I doubt that!" Nobara responded and Yuuji shot back at her "I can see it, He's nice to us, right? He was probably the same in school!"

Megumi squinted in confusion at his friend's logic "yeah.. but I doubt anyone can stay the same for years, Nobara's probably right."

The group's back and forth was stopped as Satoru stepped into the room and clapped to bring everyone's attention to him. "Alright kiddies! Yaga gave me the OK and we're all goin' on an assignment together! Take this as a valuable learning opportunity, alright?" Satoru turned to you. "You don't mind if I steal them from you for a bit, right?"

You shook your head, the initial surprise of his appearance now gone. "You can go ahead, we were just chatting anyway."

"Okay! Everybody out! I'll catch up in a sec~" Satoru turned back to his students. "Me and Miss (name) here have a little faculty gossip to catch up on!" Ignoring his fake excuse, Nobara and Yuuji got up, Megumi stood up straight from his leaning position on the wall, and the three headed out while chatting among themselves about the previous topic.

As you watched them leave, Satoru stood closely next to you, leaning down near your ear. "So, did you snitch on me?~" his tone was playful, but you knew better.

Shaking your head no, he hummed and examined you for any signs of lying– similar ones that he would look for when you two were students, he rubbed your back almost soothingly "good girl~ remember, it's our little secret, 'Kay?" He may be older and smarter now, but the obsession with you hadn't dwindled over the years.

You turned your head away from him, clasping your hands at your front. "You should go, Satoru." He frowned at that, "you shouldn't keep the students waiting. They'll get mad at you."

"... hmph, so cold to me.." his hand stopped at your waist. He could see you growing flustered. "But just remember who's the weak one here." His tone had a firm warning to it, telling you not to get ahead of yourself.

You insisted on silence, but you hadn't anticipated his large hand coming down to spank you on your ass once, elliciting a shocked yelp from you, he walked away pretending as if nothing had happened, as if he wasn't just threatening you to know your place.

"This assignment won't take long, so let's fuck lots when I get back, 'Kay wimpy?" He tugged his blindfold up slightly, one of his piercing eyes drinking in your flustered state before he would leave with a newfound motivation to finish the mission, bestow his knowledge on his lovely students then return to this very same classroom to fulfill his promise to you.