#> but then half way through the song i was like oh. oh n. oh no. oh. đđ them...
if i dare to say !
akaashi keiji x reader.
a/n: sooo my laptop got broke, and i had a hard time getting it repaired, which is why this one's coming like a week later than it was suppossed to, but here it is! in some days i'll have the kageyama x reader too, so keep your eyes open. make sure to take care of yourselfs and get enough sleep :)
you can still remember the way he looked at you that day, eyes cold and distant, like a stranger wearing the face of someone you used to know. the words he said, the way he broke you apart, still echoes in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.
âitâs not working,â he had said, his voice devoid of the warmth that once embraced you. âwe need to end this.â
you had asked him why, your voice trembling, but he only shook his head, refusing to give out any real answer. âitâs just better this way,â he had said. And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, with your soul shattered into a million pieces.
for weeks, you tried to understand what went wrong, replaying every moment in your head, searching for signs that you might have missed, but all you could find was more pain, more confusion, until you couldnât take it anymore. you had to let go, even if you didnât have all the answers.
months passed, and the wounds he left behind began to heal, slowly and painfully. you forced yourself to move on, to build a life that didnât revolve around him. you surrounded yourself with friends, threw yourself into your work, and even began to rediscover the things that used to make you happy before he came into your life. it wasnât easy, and there were days when the ache in your chest felt like it would never go away, but you kept pushing forward, determined to find yourself again, to be whole without him, even if it meant staying away from the things you shared.
and just when you thought you were finally getting there, he came back.
you were sitting at a cafĂ© with a friend, yukie, laughing over some silly story she was telling you, when you saw him. he walked in as if he belonged there, as if he hadnât ripped your heart out and left you to pick up the pieces alone.Â
you froze, laughter dying in my throat. yukie noticed the change of demeanor and followed your gaze. âoh no,â she muttered.
 âwhatâs he doing here?â you ask in a hoarse voice.
âi donât knowâ
he hadnât seen you yet, and you had half a mind to slip out before he did, but it was too late. your eyes met across the room, and his face lit up with a smile that made your stomach churn.
he walked over, and you couldnât help but notice that he looked just the same. same tousled hair, same easy smile, as if no time had passed, as if nothing had changed, but everything had changed. at least for you.
âhey,â he said, his voice annoyingly casual. âitâs been a while.â
âyeah,â you replied, your tone clipped. you wanted to say something more, something sharp and biting, but couldnât find the words.
yukie glanced between you, clearly uncomfortable. âiâll, uh, leave you two to talk,â she said, grabbing her purse and giving you a look that said, call me if you need an escape. you nodded, appreciating her unspoken offer, but stayed put. even if it hurt, you needed to hear what he had to say.
âso,â he began, once yukie was gone, âhow have you been?â
you stared at him, incredulous. âhow do you think iâve been?â you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.
he winced, as if the words had physically hurt him. âi know, i know. i messed up, okay? but Iâve been thinking about things, and i realized that i want us to be friends again.â
friends. the word hung in the air between you, heavy and unwelcome. you almost laughed at the absurdity of it. âyou canât be serious,â you spat, crossing your arms over your chest.
âi am,â he insisted, leaning forward as if that would make his words more convincing. âi miss you. i miss us.â
âus?â you echoed, shaking your head. âthere is no âusâ anymore, remember? you made sure of that.â
he sighed, running a hand through his hair. âi know i screwed up, and iâm sorry for that, but I was going through a lot, and i didnât know how to deal with it. breaking up was a mistake, i see that now.â
a mistake. thatâs what he called it? a simple mistake, like forgetting to return a phone call or misplacing your keys. not the complete and utter devastation of someoneâs trust and heart.
âwell, itâs a little late for that, donât you think?â you said, voice shaking. âyou didnât just hurt me, you broke me, and now you think we can just go back to being friends, like nothing happened?â
âiâm not saying we can go back to how things were,â he said quickly. âi just⊠i miss having you in my life. canât we at least try?â
you looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, didnât feel that old, familiar pull. the one that used to make you forgive him for everything, that made you overlook the things that hurt. instead, all you could feel was exhaustion, you were tired of fighting for something that was already dead.
âi donât think we can,â you said quietly, finally admitting the truth to both of you. âtoo much has happened, and iâve changed. iâm not the same person you left behind, and i donât think you are either.â
he looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and something else you couldnât quite place. âi understand,â he said after a long pause. âi guess i just hopedâŠâ
âyeah,â you cut in, not wanting to hear whatever hope he had been holding on to. âwell, we canât always get what we want.â
he nodded, standing up slowly. âiâm really sorry,â he said, and for the first time, it was like he actually meant it. âfor everything.â
you didnât answer, instead looking away. what was there left to say? he lingered for a moment, as if waiting for you to change your mind, but when you didnât, he finally walked away.
after he left, you sat there for a long time, staring at the empty seat across from you. and you should have felt relieved, maybe even proud of yourself for standing your ground, but all you could feel was a deep, aching sadness.
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gm i woke up thinkin abt sleipnir. but then i was listenin to deftones and what happened to you? and its such a slepnir/barnabas song i. tearin up. :')
LIKE ????? đđđ
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ă»â„ 'Are you Hugh down under?' p2
You and Hugh were the stars of the biggest movie, Wolverine and Ladypool, and fans love the two of you.
[Here's p2, thank you for loving the last one and being as obsessed as I am. I hope i got everyone on the tag list and the second part to Ladypool and Wolverine is on its way. Again this isn't proof read, this is just vibes. There's some sexual innuendos and sexist comments that Hugh is at the rescue for. Also, i'm British so half of these interviews just end up being British icons]
part one
You and Hugh being in love for twenty-five minutes (part two)
2017, Y/N heart monitor
You were doing an interview for your latest movie with Nick Grimshaw on BBC radio one. It was a new thing he'd come up with, trying it with you for the first time as you were hooked up to a heart rate monitor.
'Is it working?' asked Nick. 'Is she alive?'
You help him put the stickers onto you. 'It's like, there's nothing there,' you joke with them.
'She's a robot.'
The beeping began and it found your heart beating at a steady pace, a good start.
'So, I'm going to show you a series of images and we're just gonna see how you react to these images, ok?' he asked.
You grin, nerves kicking in. 'Ok.' It could have been anything. And boy were you right.
Some of them were fine, easy, normal. A picture of a co-star the heart rate was fine, a pair of shoes that you wore a lot, a picture of cash and an ex that had it risen but not alarmingly.
'And finally,' Nick picked up an image. 'Hugh Jackman! How does he make you feel?'
Your cheeks go red and you laugh. 'I hate you all so much, um, Hugh Jackman?' you were too busy laughing. Once you had made a joke about Wolverine and how good looking he was, now it was following you everywhere.
'Heartbeats rising!' Nick cheered as you covered your face. 'Heartbeats the highest it's ever been, eighty-five, up to ninety! One hundred!' he claps.
You bang your head on the table, finally finding control over yourself. 'I can't believe you all.'
Nick slid the picture over to you. 'Here, you can take that one home with you.'
'Thanks. He looks great there, doesn't he?' you say. 'A classic, Hugh Jackman picture.'
'Yeah, you like it?' he teased.
You grinned. 'That's going on my wall when I get home.'
The Graham Norton show
You and Hugh had walked out, waving at the adorning crowd that cheered as you took the sofa.
âHello! Hello!â Graham called.
The two of you looked the pair as you smiled and sat next to each other in spite of the space on the sofa.
âSofa to ourselves, i like that,â you say, lying back.
âThe other guests were too intimidated,â said Graham. âNow, was the walk out ok for you guys, Hugh, are you happy?â He asked.
Hugh frowned. The crowd laughed. âIt was very good, thank you.â
âBecause, is it true- and Y/N correct me if Iâm wrong, you had a specific song you walked out onto set with?â He asked.
Immediately knowing what he was talking about, you laugh while Hugh hangs his head and sighs.
You sat straight and took to explaining while patting his back. âYou see, itâs very tough for Hugh to get into character as Wolverine sometimes. So the only way was to get him out the trailer was to play a specific song.â
âOk, ok so shall we do it again, this time with the song?â Graham proposed. He ushered you both backstage, Hugh squeezing your shoulders as you went.
âWhatta a manâ by salt and pepper started playing and you led the way out for Hugh who danced his way out. The crowd clapped along as Hugh shows his moves and ended with dipping.
âOh wonderful!â Graham called as the two of you took your seats again.
For the rest of the interview thing went very smoothly.
âNow is is true that the first time you met, Hugh, you didnât actually meet Y/N?â
Hugh again huffed and shook his head. âThis show is all to embarrass me, isnât it?â
âMakes a change honestly,â you say.
Hugh looked back to you and started to tell the story. Through out, his body had moved toward you, his entire presence facing you despite talking out to everyone. âWhen I first walked on set, you know, at the ready, I was very excited to be there and even more excited to meet this wonderful lady here. And I got suited up, you know, went to hair and makeup and one of our first shots was quite a challenging one, a big stunt.â
âBig,â you agreed, taking a sip of your drink. You knew where the story was going.
âYea, so anyway, I walk over to Y/N whose already in her suit. Looks great by the way. Anyway so I start introducing myself and saying hello and how thankful I am for being here, a real heart to heart you know-â he says, âand then Y/N walked in and i realized Iâd been speaking to her stunt double the whole time- whole time!â
The crowd laugh as do you, almost choking on your drink.
Wolverine and Ladypool press:
You and Hugh sat with each other all day doing press. You kept it light with jokes between the two of you, working through the people and questions.
One particular interviewer just had to get his answers though. âSo your suit,â he starts, looking to you. âItâs very tight and eventuated several parts of you, did you find that hard to manoeuvre around?â
Hugh answered before you had the chance to open your mouth. âI found it very easy to move around in. You know, first x-men movie, not so much but these suits, are perfect.â
The guy chuckled, it was clearly forced but you thanked Hugh for taking the question, patting his knee. âCan you wear like panties with them or thongs, cause they are skin tight.â
âIâll take this one!â Said Hugh again. âI go commando, but thatâs just because I like it.â
âHe does, he does like it,â you nod, grinning. âHeâs going commando right now actually.â
The guy tried one more time to ask you a question about the suit. At this rate, your entire body turned to face Hugh. âDo you feel sexy in the suit?â He asked you.
âVery,â said Hugh.
After that, Hugh made several vulgar comments when you were alone, but luckily for you, Hugh was your own superhero.
Buzzfeed quiz
'Hello!' you greet the camera, holding your phone to your chest. 'I'm something-something Jackman.'
'And i'm the greatest actress of all time,' said Hugh.
You deflated, looking at him. 'Oh, well now I just look like a dick.'
'No, it's ok,' he shrugged. 'One of us has to look like a dick.'
The two of you were doing quizzes for Buzzfeed, answering if you're more Ladypool or Wolverine. Although you were sat next to each other, you'd both craned your bodies back so the other couldn't see what you were putting in, like it was a test.
'We're really competitive with each other,' Hugh told the crew.
'Yeah, not with anybody else, but I have to- I just have to prove i'm better than Hugh Jackman at something,' you said.
'Who are you hoping to get?' asked the lady behind the camera.
'Oh, Ladypool, obviously,' you said.
Hugh nodded along, watching you. (Did this man ever not look at you?) 'I wouldn't be angry about getting Ladypool either.'
You tut. 'So quick to betray yourself.'
If you could have a super power, what would you chose?
You read through the options. 'I think telekinesis,' you said. 'Mainly just because I'm lazy and it would be so easy to pick up the tv remote or close the curtains. Very practical.'
'Yeah, that's a good one,' Hugh hummed about it for longer. 'Maybe healing ability.'
You roll your eyes, throwing your head back. 'That's such a Wolverine answer!'
'I know, but I'm getting old, be nice for things to not hurt a lot,' he said.
Who's your favourite MCU character?
Hugh scanned the options. 'I er, don't see Wolverine on here?' he looked around at the crew behind the camera's shaking his head.
'Can't get the staff these days- oh my god Spider-Man's on here!' you cheered, distracted.
'She loves Spider-Man,' Hugh told the camera.
'I do. I really do,' you agreed. 'If it wasn't gonna be Wolvie, it was gonna be Spidey,' you look into the camera, holding your phone to your ear, mimicking for Andrew Garfield to call you.
Hugh dragged his finger of his neck in a cutting off motion if he ever did.
Who do you pick to be your road-trip buddy?
'You have to pick the Wolverine, c'mon,' Hugh nudged you.
You looked through the options which all considered x-men. You hesitated, humming. 'I dunno.'
'We had great fun in the car!'
A red blush took over your cheeks as you re-called the multiple, multiple takes you and Hugh had to do. Hugh saw this and draped his arm over the back of your chair.
'Yeah, but that was- that was different, this is a roadtrip not a porn video in a car,' you joked. 'And Wolverine's like so serious, Rogue, she's so fun.'
'Woah, woah,' Hugh paused everything. 'Rogue is great, don't get me wrong. But who's better!' he pointed at himself. 'Wolverine's not grumpy with you, he loves you!'
You look over at him, grinning sweetly. 'No, you love me and it's judging your character.' For five minutes, the two of you argued over who you'd rather have as a road-trip buddy. Most of it got sped up during the video. 'Ok, fine, I pick Wolverine. Who are you picking?'
'Charles,' said Hugh even though Ladypool was on the list.
You faced the camera, mouth hung open as Hugh laughed loudly and gave you a side hug, assuring you it was a joke but he still clicked on Charles!
Which musical number would you want to perform with your 'Wolverine and Ladypool' cast mate?
'Oh, some great choices!' boasted Hugh as he read through them all.
You smile at him, eyes softening. 'You've awakened the musical theatre beast.'
'Y/n, there's so many good choices! What do we pick?!' he grabbed your hand and squeezed as you watched him with joy.
There was a few choices: 'Love is an Open Door,' from Frozen, 'The other side,' which Hugh obviously did for The Greatest showman. But there was also 'The Love Melody' from Moulin Rouge and 'You're the one that I want,' from Grease and when you both saw that you gave each other a look and knew which one you were picking.
By the end when your results came up you cheered and punched the air, practically jumping out you seat. 'Ladypool! God, this felt like my audition for the character all over again,' you wipe pretend sweat from your brows. 'What did you get?'
Hugh showed you his phone. 'Ladypool! I got Ladypool!'
'We're so alike!' you entwined your fingers. Slowly and dramatically the two of you leant in, pretending you were going in for what would have been a very wet kiss before you both pulled back and explained your answers.
You and Hugh with Alison Hammond again!
The interview with the two of you and Alison Hammond was pretty much the two of you flirting and Alison fangirling. Fans couldn't stop editing it together.
'Ok so obviously there's been a lot of competition between the two of you, so we need to settle who's better once and for all,' said Alison. 'So i've got a series of challenges for the two of you to complete but there's a twist.'
'We're naked!' said Hugh causing you to laugh. 'No, sorry.'
Alison handed you both each a boxing glove. 'I want you to put one on each and sign your autographs, which ever is close wins the point.'
'You're on, Jackman,' you said, already sliding your hand into the boxing glove.
Hugh gave you a cocky smile. 'I am so gonna win this, you know why? Cause you've given me a right boxing glove, but i'm left-handed!' he quickly got to scribbling his autograph.
'Fuck!' you cursed, struggling with your own. (It was bleeped out on this morning).
When you handed them both back to Alison it was obvious who the winner was. 'Thanks for this guys, it'll do numbers on Ebay.'
The two of you practically topple on each other with how hard you laugh.
Next you had to try to open a bottle of water with your gloves on and pour it into glasses and try drinking from it, both of which you failed at. Then the two of you just started fighting each other so Alison called it off like she was your teacher in a rowdy class.
'So, as I am a morning presenter, I thought I'd see how good the two of you would be if you had your own Hugh and Y/N morning show- so here's some guards, scoot closer, scoot closer,' said Alison.
The two of you took the cards and moved your chairs together until your thighs were pressed together. You waited for your cue before the two of you began your audition for your own morning show.
Hugh threw his arm around your shoulder, drawing you in.
'No, Hugh,' you denied, 'we must be professional on tv!'
Alison cackled. 'Yeah, you wouldn't do that on tv.'
Hugh looked offended at the both of you. 'We're re-defining what it means!'
You push him off you and hit him with your cards.
Hugh assesses the camera. 'Where's the shot? Above our chests, perfect, so I can do this.' And he puts his hand on your thigh, sprawling it out as you bite your lip to stop the grin.
'I'm taking this audition seriously, Hugh!'
Finally, the two of you start, acting as if it was a real morning show while Alison gave you pointers.
'Did you have a good weekend?' Hugh asked you (in reality all your weekends had been spent in his company) 'What did you get up to?'
You shrug. 'Nothing much.'
'No,' he interrupted causing you and Alison to laugh. 'When I ask a generic how was your weekend, you have to tell me a great funny story that we've set up before. So, Y/N, what did you do on your weekend?'
'I went fishing,' you said the first thing that popped into your head.
'Did you fall in?' he asked.
'I fell in.'
'That's hilarious!' the way he said it and the way he looked into the camera, caring about it just made you laugh so bad. 'Don't go anywhere, we'll see you after the break!' you were still laughing when Hugh wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck, making kissing noises and hiding behind the cards.
Even more at the premier
You and Hugh stood next to each other, him keeping an arm around your waist as you both listened to the interviewer ask you questions.
'So, Y/N, we found this interview from 2017 and we thought Hugh might like to take a look at it,' they said, pulling out their phone and clicking on a video.
As soon as it started playing, you knew what it was. 'Oh god.' you hid yourself, turning to Hugh as he watched.
It was the famous heart-rate monitor interview, where, when you saw a picture of a shirtless Hugh Jackman, your heart-rate spiked higher than any other picture.
Hugh was smiling the whole time and beamed at you when the video finished. 'You have that effect on me,' he assured you, leaning his head on top of yours and smiling at the interviewer.
'Y/N, do you still feel that way when you look at him now?' they asked.
'More,' you said, speaking loudly over all the noise. 'I feel it ten times more.'
And fans, anyone, could see how much the two of you were in love. Whether it was just flirting or if it was real, it was there and everyone was happy for you.
As the two of you walked off, the camera followed you. Hugh's head was bowed low, seemingly taking low to you as his arm remained around your waist and yours came up to rub his back up and down. He laughed loudly at something you had said before dropping a kiss to the top of your head and continuing on the journey.
(there probably won't be part three but I'm working on another compilation with you and Hugh)
taglist (thank you all!): @geeksareunique, @angstdaddy, @tranquilty, @gotta-go-now, @pear-1206, @chronicallybubbly
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fixer upper
A/N: IM ACTUALLY SO EMBARASSED TO ADMIT THIS IS BASED ON âFIXER UPPERâ FROM FROZEN đđđ does that mean it counts as a song ficâŠâŠ.. (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)
Summary: The kids arenât saying you can change him, per se. Theyâre only saying that loveâs a force thatâs powerful and strange. 2.8k words
Warnings: fluff, babygirl steve, cursing, mentions of toxic (?) relationship, hopeless pining, pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting
Steve can barely see through his rose-tinted daydream, but he's sure he recognizes your smile as soon as you enter the food court. And you lead a trail of whiny teenagers right to his register. This is the fourth time this week you've heard about Steve's lusturous hair and dazzling eyes. You have to hand it to them, they're not bad salesmen, just a tad young to elicit ethos. What the hell do they know about love anyway.
That's what happens when you're licensed and free on a Friday afternoon: babysitting duty. Now, in the event that Steve had been the one saddled with the party on his day off, he would've argued that they're not really babies and they should be self-sufficient. Knowing Dustin, however, this argument proves to be false almost every time.
But it wasn't Steve, it was you. Steve doesn't think he's heard you complain about one thing in your life.
Not even your deadbeat boyfriend called Brad. Who, as Dustin and Max and Robin love to remind him, is utterly replaceable and on thin ice every other week. Steve knows better than to get his hopes up after three months of having them crushed, though. He's learned to live with the strong sense of yearning he feels whenever you're within thirty feet of him.
Take now, for example: you're coralling half a dozen brats into a somewhat single-file line without even having to raise your voice. He should think it's impressive, but he's too distracted by your lip gloss and your voice and the way you did your hair today.
"I hope you give discounts to distressed young women," you tease, brows knitting when you look up at him. This is the part where he's supposed to respond with something charming. Sexy and charismatic, maybe.
"Oh, uh," he chuckles, "No, I mean, yeah. Sure"âOh, but you smile at him and all that pent up charisma flies out the neon-framed sliding doors. They chatter out their orders at lightning speed, and he can barely catch half of what they're saying when you look at him like that. You finally make it to the register and pay half price. And your cone is always on the house, of course.
"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Max says unenthusiastically. Lucas elbows her side before retreating with Dustin.
"He's also a great driver!" Will chirps, shuffling away to one of the booths with Mike and El who giggle the whole way there. You turn back to Steve who stares off at them incredulously.
"You see what I have to deal with?" you say with some degree of affection for the chaos.
"Aw, come on," Steve says, tilting his head with a shrug, "you love it."
"I think they keep forgetting I already have a boyfriend."
Not much of a boyfriend if you ask me, he thinks.
But what he says: "Ah, yes. The elusive Brad."
You roll your eyes and grin at him. You know Steve has a crush on you. Or else the kids and Robin wouldn't be so adamant on marketing him to you. It's sweet, really. And honestly, you don't think Steve's unfit to play boyfriend or anything, but you're also not disloyal.
Your scoop melts down the side of the cone between your fingers. Steve nearly hurls himself across the counter handing you a thick stack of napkins.
"Shit, thanks," you huff, lapping at the stream of sticky ice cream. His stomach churns as his face screws into a sickly smile.
"Yeah. No problem."
"No, really"âyou wrap a napkin around the cone, shoving the rest into your pocketâ"I don't know what I'd do if I had to pay the entire bill everytime one of them had a craving."
"Really, it's not a problem," he shrugs it off like it doesn't come out of his paycheck. "I like helping out pretty girls when I can."
You giggle and tilt your head. "Steve Harrington, you're my hero."
He's almost embarassed at how fast his face flushes red hot and frantic. He reaches for the back of his neck on impulse, and any attempt he makes at seeming suave is foiled by Robin patting him on the shoulder.
"If you think that's heroic, there was this one time he singlehandedly saved Hawkins with this sick baseball bat with nailsâ"
He huffs, "Robinâ"
"No, seriously! Don't be so modest, Steve, you're selling yourself short!"
"I'm not trying to sell myself at all!" he says, turning her around and guiding her towards the door to the back room.
"Great seeing you!" she hollers over her shoulder just before disappearing behind the swinging door. You wave with a chuckle. Steve tuts, fixing his sailor hat and shaking his head.
"Did you really do all that? Save Hawkins, I mean?" you ask. And you seem genuinely interested which is why it guts him. The one girl who actually gives a shit is coincidentally unavailable.
"Yeah," he says, shrugging, "but only to clear my conscience. It's like penance, or whatever."
You giggle, not sure if he's being truthful or playing it off. He meets your eyes and he's sure his heart stops dead in his chest for a beat. Nobody pulls off mall lighting like you.
The kids come skipping back to the counter, declaring they've all got different wants and needs around the mall for the next few hours.
"Okay, hold on, I promised I'd have you guys back before my date," you say, Steve overseeing the conversation from over your shoulder.
"Well," he interjects, "when's your date?" All the attention shifts to Steve, and he suddenly wishes he could swallow up the words and take them back for good.
"Two hours from now. Across town," you say, looking a little guilty knowing he's about to make the kindest offer of the year.
"I'm off at five, so I can just"âstop talkingâ"take them home after my shift."
"Steve, really, you don't have toâ"
El grins, eyes wide as she whispers in Max's ear.
Steve shakes his head, "Sweetheart, believe me, I want to. Besides, you've already been through enough with the rascals. Go have fun."
You turn to the kids, almost pleading with them to accept Steve's generosity.
"Is that okay with you guys? I don't wanna leave you stranded," you admit.
They nod in agreement, throwing out a couple yes's and sure's. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, but you still feel bad dumping them on Steve like this.
Dustin interrupts: "This really just goes to show how Steve is a great candidate for marriage and other domestic relations. He can be odd at times and he might care too much about his hair, but you can tell by his actions that he would be a very reliable husband, a generous life partner, andâ"
"And a great friend," you giggle, trying not to let Dustin get too carried away. You have sat through enough of his speeches for one day. "Now, quit trying to set us up!"
Steve rolls his eyes at the boy. "Seriously, at least wait 'til she's single. Then she can reject me for me."
You whip back to face him with a sour look on your face.
"Steven! That's notâthat's rude to yourself," you huff, "Say three nice things."
He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at you.
"You're pretty, I like your shoes, and you smell nice."
"About you!"
"Ohh," he feigns surprise, "No." But you reach across the counter to whack him on the arm with a shocking amount of force. The kids chuckle from behind you. Steve can't help but smile when you raise your brows proudly. "Fine! I am deserving of love, I am great company, and my hair looks particularly shiny today."
"Good," you nod, "I agree. And I have to go, see ya!"
"With which one?" he says, watching you jog out of the store waving. "Wait! Sweetheart? Agree with which one??"
Steve sighs sharply, hands perched decidedly on his hips as his gaze falls flat on the militia of pre teens staring him down.
"What do you want?" he says.
"You're hopeless," Max says, mouth pressed in a hard line before she wanders off, arm-in-arm with El.
"Yeah, dude. And kinda desperate," Mike shrugs.
"Hey," he grumbles. Who knew such harsh words could come from such little humans. You'd think they'd be harmless at this age. You'd be wrong.Â
"You're a total virgin," Dustin says, very matter-of-factly.
Steve cocks a brow, honestly trying not to laugh at the severity of Dustin's demeanor when he says it. "I don't even think you know what that means."
Dustin blinks. "Well, I think you haven't had sex in long enough that you qualify as one."
"Shit."
...
Much to Steveâs surprise, it only takes butthead Brad two more weeks to absolutely shatter your heart. No one knows the complete details other than it happened at a frat party and you had to walk back to the dorms alone. But Steve doesnât need complete details to know he wants to shatter Bradâs jaw with his fist.
But he also vowed to use means other than violence to get his point across. He should be awarded for the amount of restraint it took to see your bloodshot eyes and not speed immediately off towards Asshole University like a Brad-seeking atomic missile.
Of course, heâs thankful you felt comfortable enough to call him. In fact, he was the first one you rang. And he knows this fact because you told him while you were sniffling away tears a week and a half after the break up.
Now, youâre sitting in the passenger seat of his beemer, curled into your sweater, and listening to late night soft rock radio while he focuses on the dark highway ahead of him. You hadnât wanted to do anything else but sit in his car and think. His heart clenches everytime you wipe away a tear with your soggy sleeve.
He pulls off the highway during an ad break, finding a secluded diner surrounded by nothing but trees and gas stations. He pulls into a parking spot near the back of the lot where the overhead lights arenât blinding, but you arenât completely in the dark. He leaves the car on so the cold doesnât seep in, engine still purring softly from under the hood.
âWho needs âem,â he says in attempt to lighten the mood. âBeing single is way cooler. Take it from me. You get a bed all to yourself and you can fart whenever you want.â
Youâre frowning, but you know he means well. You just canât help the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.
âOh, come here,â he whispers, leaning over the center console and dipping his hands over your shoulder and around your waist. His arms feel so strong and so warm where they envelop you entirely. Steve always was the best hug you ever receieved.
You canât help but chuckle wetly into his collar after a moment.
âGod, he was such an asshole, wasnât he?â
âUh, duh! Doesnât take a genius toâŠâ Steve laughs, pausing and brushing the hair away from your damp cheeks. âI know, sweetheart, and you deserve heaps better. You were always way too cool for that loser.â
You blink up at him in the low light. Thereâs a kind of twinkle in your eye that makes the tips of his ears hot. This time, you reach for him, weaving your arms beneath his jacket with a deep sigh. Your breathing slows against his neck, and he rubs your back while your arms tighten a little around his waist.
He canât help but wonder what youâre thinking whenever you look at him with your doe eyes, seemingly sweet and far too inquisitive. He knows youâre probably just looking, maybe thinking of something else. But the hopeless romantic in him rattles his rib cage and shouts you might actually consider him this time.
âWanna go get shakes? On me,â he whispers. You sniffle, wiping your aching nose on the cuff of your sleeve.
âI can pay for myself,â you tease, popping open the car door when he cuts the engine.
âNope! Sorry, I donât let girls pay, remember? Super sexist, I know. Plus the whole pretty privilege thing. Honestly, I should just be paying you at this point,â he says, hooking his arm around your back and feeling yours reach for his shoulder as you march towards the diner.
âI agree, rich boy,â you chuckle, âReparations are in order for wrongdoings on behalf of your sex.â
He chuckles. Heâs absolutely head over heels.
The waitress seats you at a cozy booth in the corner and makes a casual comment about the cute couple, asking how long you two have been together. Steve flounders at the question, flustered and pink in the face.
âOh, weâre actually⊠not together,â you say, laughing awkwardly when she pouts and, again, remarks on how cute youâd be together. You order shakes for the both of you before perching your chin in your hand. Steveâs still reeling when the waitress walks away.
âFunny. We canât even escape the third-degree from complete strangers,â you tease, winking at him from just a few feet away. Jesus, heâd think you were trying to kill him if you didnât seem so lighthearted and playful.
âYeah, pretty funny,â he sighs. And heâs probably being so obvious. Or maybe thatâs how he is all of the time, so his heart eyes seem subtle. Or itâs obvious all of the time.
The waitress slides the shakes in front of you, and the bright red cherries sink further into the whipped cream.
âYou know,â you murmur between sips, âI always thought you were pretty cute.â
He nearly chokes on his mouthful of chocolate malt, clearing his throat and trying not to crumble in on himself.
âOh. Yeah, I get that a lot,â he huffs, âMostly from little old ladies, butâHey!â
You flick him and say, âReally! I know itâs not couth considering⊠Brad and all, butâŠâ
âYouâre being facetious,â Steve accuses.
âNoââ
âSarcastic!â
âSteveââ
âIronic?â
âTry serious!â you hum, âIâm just saying, youâre very handsome. I was shocked to learn you were single when we first met.â
Steveâs blushing and puffing trying to maintain eye contact.
âWhat can I say? Iâm just,â he huffs, âIâm not really worried about it.â
You tilt your head. âYouâre not?â
âNah. I know the right girl will find me in the end. Even if it takes a while. I donât mind waiting for the right one.â
You settle back in the padded seat, wincing when it squeals beneath you. It makes you feel a little dejected, but you suppose heâs right. Especially because he seems so confident. So sure. Itâs admirable. You want to be that sure of soulmates and love and the future.
âI feel the same way,â you whisper. He finishes off the rest of his glass with a smile.
âThough, it doesnât exactly help having a bunch of little shitheads telling you to go get laid all the time,â he laughs.
âOh, yeah, tell me about itâ you lean in, âJust break up with him, steve is so much nicer. Dump that loser. Steve has a big crush on you.â
âThey said that?â Steveâs not dumb, heâs sure you know by now, but he thought it was all conjecture. They will be hearing about this next time they want free ice cream.
âYeah, that was like their main point. But I know with all the love in my heart theyâre all full of shit.â
You shrug, and he chuckles dryly. He canât decide whether you knowing is for better or for worse.
âYeah,â he sighs.
Steve drives you home. You fall asleep in the car, and he keeps the radio low so as not to wake you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, he doesnât care about the time or the fact that he lives far. He does, however, care about the way you smile lazily and peck his cheek in thanks.
âAnytime, sweetheart.â
He says it but he wants to tell you what heâs feeling. He wants to ask if youâre over Brad. He knows youâre not and thatâs okay, but he wants to ask if he can hold your hand to keep it warm. He wants to ask what kind of flowers you like and if it would be okay for him to drop them off on your doorstep tomorrow. He has so much he wants to say and do, but he doesnât want to suffocate you.
He doesnât know that you wouldnât mind him asking.
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Slim Pickinâs
âïž ln4 x bestfriend!reader
âïž where your childhood wish becomes a reality
âïž warnings - none !! just some fluff and kisses
âïž word count 1.5k
âïž a/n : so i heard sabrina carpenters song thatâs gonna be on short nâ sweet and then this was born two days later !! enjoy <33
âMaybe I'm gay.â
your best friend, lando, looks at you, confused. âwhat?â he asks through a chuckle.
you were fed up. The number of douchebag men that you have in your phone and not one of them has ever made it to a second date. That fact makes you want to rip your eyeballs out.
âmaybe god just forgot my gay awakening and thatâs why i canât find a boyfriend! maybe i just donât like men.â you throw your head back on the couch in landoâs living room in monaco.
âi doubt that he just forgot,â lando giggles
you knew this wasn't true. you knew you liked men and only men. because you definitely liked the man sitting at your feet, and you have since you were both 15. youâve just never ever told him.
And you planned to keep it that way.
you groaned. âNo, Lando, you donât get it! itâs slim pickings around here. half the men in my phone donât even know the difference between there, their and theyâre!â quiet giggles from the man sitting across the couch from you filled the room.
Lando knew you were only joking, yet he canât help but feel bad at your lack of dating life when he has models flocking toward him at all hours of the day. granted, the girl he wants isnât even a model. In fact, sheâs sitting right in front of him, sprawled out on his couch, complaining about boys. but she didnât know that.
And he planned on keeping it that way.
â
Throughout your week-long stay in Monaco, you decided to set yourself on a mission to meet a guy and go on a date. On the fourth day, you were successful!
During a coffee run while lando streamed, you met a guy who asked you out to dinner the following night. You were so excited since given your history, the chance of a guy asking you out was close to zero. When he asked you even scanned your surroundings to make sure he was talking to you specifically.
you were getting ready in the guest room of landoâs apartment, since you were staying there during your visit.
while applying your lip liner and gloss, you heard a knock on the door. âHey, what are you thinking we do for din- woah.â
the curly haired brunette stared at you in awe. you were always beautiful in his eyes, yet right now he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. it then clicks in landoâs head that youâre not dressed for him. âWhy are you all dressed up?!â he teases, a mischievous smirk on his face.
âoh i have a date!â you hum with a smile.
he looks at you confused, like he doesnât believe you fully. leaning against the doorway âwhat happened to slim pickings?â he pokes, crossing his arms atop his chest.
âcanât a girl meet a guy and go on a date? gosh.â you scoff, slightly annoyed that heâs teasing you over this. youâd hoped he would be happy youâre crawling your way out of this slump of being single. it was one of the things you loved about him â how he always treated you with nothing but kindness and support.
âFine, fine, whatever. have fun, i guessâ he turns around and ducks into his office, closing the door harsher than you expected. Just as you make a mental reminder to have a talk with him about it, your phone chimes â your date is waiting in the lobby.
lando watches you from the cracked doorway of his office, as you do a final check of your makeup in the mirror of the mud room. he thought you looked beautiful and was silently raging at the fact he isnât the man youâve dressed up for tonight. heâs liked you since you both were young kids running through the suburban bristol streets while your parents sat on the patio of his childhood home socializing over cocktails.
You were always there to support him through his racing career and you were the first person he called after McLaren chose to extend his contract. While he doubted himself and everyone told him to leave, you told him to follow his heart and do what felt right to him. Now, heâs a race winner with the team he calls home. To him, itâs always been you. You have always been the girl he pictured his life with.
But his gut always told him youâd never return these feelings back to him.
â
your date went horrible. All the guy did was talk about himself. and once he found out you were friends with some celebrities, the date had ended there for you. although you got some free drinks and a meal out of it. it only made you fall further into this loneliness.
the elevator dings, signaling youâve arrived at the floor of landoâs apartment. you stumble to landoâs door. the alcohol takes effect and makes you trip into the door, startling Lando whoâs standing just on the other side, waiting for you. He throws the door open, finding you standing there with slightly messed up hair and a frown on your face.
âcâmere,â he says quietly, taking you to the couch. sat on the coffee table in front of you, he gently took your foot into his lap. you feel his soft touch as he gently removes your heels from your feet. sending shivers down your spine.
âIt was horrible. all he did was talk about himself,â you say frustrated. âI also accidentally let it slip that I knew you, oh, and donât even get me started on his horrible taste in just about everything.â
He helps you up, taking you to the bathroom and sitting you down on the counter. He rummages through your toiletries bag, before taking out your makeup remover. As he starts removing your makeup, you study every inch of his face, counting every freckle and watching the way his jaw muscles clench as he focuses.
god he was beautiful.
you feel a lump in your throat as tears begin to fill your eyes.
âHey, hey, whatâs wrong?â Lando asks, halting his movements.
âitâs just- i'm pretty sure every good man in this world is either taken or dead and its not fair.â you say letting a stray tear fall. in your head you knew you were being dramatic, but the three glasses of wine you had to get through that date have taken full control of your emotions.
Lando chuckles lightly, folding with the used makeup wipe in his hands, he looks to you âwell, iâm neither of those things.â he says softly, almost as if heâs upset.
fuck. shit.
âno, no, wait, lando- i didnât mean it like that, you're a great guy. an amazing guy actually.â you say quickly. he smiles at you as you continue to ramble âi mean, shit, iâd date you in a heartbeat-â
âwhat?â
you slap your hand over your mouth. holy fuck, did you really just say that? and Lando not saying anything just solidifies that he doesnât return your feelings. Lando is staring at you like youâve got three heads coming out of both of your ears.
you start to panic âiâm sorry, i donât know why i said that, forget i said any-â youâre cut off with the feeling of landoâs lips crashing into yours. his hands gently cup your face as he kisses you. you instantly return the kiss. The world slowly falls away leaving just the two of you. your hands moving to find home in his curl, slightly pulling on them. Lando releases a quiet groan. His hands work their way down your body to rest on your hips, gently pulling you closer to him.
Lando pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. âI have literally loved you since we were 16.â
you smile at him, âi love you, too.â
The two of you find yourself in Lando's bed watching your favorite movie, wrapped up in eachother. Lando turns his head to look down at you resting on his chest. Admiring your sleepy state as you attempt to stay focused on the movie he gave up on watching. How can he focus on anything else when you were sitting next to him?
the girl he's wanted since the two of you sat on his porch on a late summer night, eating the ice cream his mother tried to hide. giggles filling the air while you pointed out constellations to lando, chatting about where you wanted to be in 5 years.
âWell I hope to be in formula 1â Lando admitted. âYou'll be there, I'm sure of it.â you added giving lando a smile he swore was brighter than the stars sat above.
He gasps slightly âdon't moveâ
you freeze as he reaches a hand to your cheek, softly swiping a fallen eyelash holding it in front you.
âMake a wishâ he breathed.
You shut your eyes tight, emphasizing the wish you were making before taking a big breath and sending the eyelash into the air. Followed by the sound of giggles coming from the brunette, he asks what you wished for. âIf i tell you it won't come true!â you gasp faking offense.
who knew that after 8 years, your wish would finally came true.
đ€âïž.
AYAYAYAYAY ALL DONE !!
big thank u too my lovely friend who edited this and helped me <33
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sweet child o' mine | pt. iv
to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you
thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x
pairing:Â neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.
warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption.
DISCLAIMER:Â this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if thereâs ever anything you feel iâve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.
word count: 12k
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post đ©”
Itâs September twenty-third.
Well, by now, itâs probably the twenty-fourth. Youâve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.
The weddingâs still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joelâs phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.
Youâre slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.
Joel Miller â Joel fucking Miller â is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.
This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, itâll all be over with.
This time in a month, itâll be a foggy memory.
This time in a year, it â
His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. âDid you fall in, or somethinâ?â
You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.
âI needed a fucking breather,â you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.
Joelâs stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty â dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.
Heâs so big. Itâs like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, youâre halfway to fucked, but â has he always been so handsome?
You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body â the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him youâve never seen before, will never see again.
You gulp. Quit fucking staring.
He doesnât notice, anyway. Heâs rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. âHow many goddamn times are they gonna play Itâs My Life?â
ââŠfor Tommy and GinaâŠâ you nudge him, ââŠwho never backed downâŠâ
Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. âTwenty bucks says heâs changing that to Maria.â
âOh, for sure. I ainât going back down to listen to it, though.â
He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adamâs apple bobs as he drinks.
âYou owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.â
He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, âIâm paying for the damn room.â
âThen I want a drink from yours. Make it even.â
He clicks his teeth and drinks again. âItâs one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.â
You frown. âWhen the hellâs your birthday?â
âTuesday.â
âBullshit.â
âSerious. The twenty-sixth.â
You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And itâs a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didnât know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.
But in the last two hours, heâs made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone youâve ever been with before â thatâs for sure. And youâve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. Youâre soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.
Itâs a fucking strange feeling, that you donât mind at all.
âHow old are you turning?â you ask.
Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, âForty-eight.â
âJesus,â you mutter, eyes wide.
He turns slowly, glaring at you. âHilarious,â he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.
You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.
Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.
He doesnât seem to mind, either.
You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.
The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.
The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.
âWell,â you pass him the bottle, âhappy birthday, old man. Hereâs to forty-eight.â
âHereâs to forty-eight,â Joel echoes, staring off into space, âand whatever the hell it has in store.â
1:29. 1:29. 1:30.
Itâs blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.
Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. Youâre hunched over the edge of the bed â knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.
âWeâre okay,â you whisper, blowing into the still night. âWeâre fine. Maybe it isnât labor, right? Maybe itâs just thoseâŠBraxtonâŠshitâŠHicks.â
The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.
Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.
Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.
You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.
The way heâd pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain â tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way heâd hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.
Heâs in Houston, though. Heâs something like three hours away. Thereâs nothing he could do, even if you did call â even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.
Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think thatâs gonna happen? You think your kidâs that much of an asshole?
Yeah. Theyâre half you.
Youâre on your own. Itâs nothing new; youâve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.
You havenât needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.
But â oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide â and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.
Fuck it.
You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.
Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.
âShit,â you whisper. âGoddamn it, Duck.â
Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.
Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.
Thereâs no hello, no double checking that you havenât accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone youâd swear sounded bored, if it werenât for the haste with which Joel asks, âYou okay?â the second he answers.
As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.
âYeah,â you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. âI just called at one in the morning toâŠto say hi.â
He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessaâs parentsâ porch. âAlright, smartass. What is it?â
âIâmâŠIâm in labor.â
âMhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.â
You groan. âNo, Joel, I swear â I swear, I just went into labor.â
He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. âYouâreâŠYou ainât kidding me?â
The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.
This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. Youâd be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.
âBaby?â Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didnât know it could reach. âTalk to me. Please, talk to me.â
Your fingers clamp around the phone. âIâm f-fine. Itâs fine. I just gottaâŠgotta change my fuckinâ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping ââ
âOh, Christ,â he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessaâs family home. âThe shâŠChange the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlinâ!â
You laugh, head tipping back. âItâs fine,â you tell him. âFeels like the kidâs trying to kill me, but I can â shit, I can take âem.â
Thereâs the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. âYeah?â Joel says.âYou can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.â
âAn ambulance,â you repeat, laughing again.
âYes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call âem? Let me go grab the landline ââ
âJoel, do not call an ambulance ââ
And if you thought youâd heard him at breaking point before â plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands â you know you have, now.
âYou gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!â
His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.
Joelâs panicking.
Itâs the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.
âI canât afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,â you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.
âI will pay for it,â he pleads, âIâll pay. Just â you gotta call them. You gottaâŠâ He sighs again, breath wavering. âYouâre in labor, and youâre alone. If anything happened to you, I ââ
A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.
âSheâs in labor,â Joel tells her. âI canât stay. Iâm going back for her.â
The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joelâs back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. âStill with me?â he asks.
âStill here,â you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. âDuckie says hi, I guess.â
He hums. âHi, Duckie. You little shit.â
You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. âHow long will you be?â
The truck door creaks open. âIâm leaving right now. Iâll beâŠFuck, Iâll be a couple hours, at least. Iâm on my way, alright?â
Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. âJoel,â you shake your head, âI donât think I can do this.â
âYes, you can,â he says. âAre you kidding? Got us this far ân now you want to bail? That ainât you, baby. Come on, now.â
âI wanna bail,â you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. âIâm scared, Joel. Iâm so scared.â
âI know you are. Lord knows Iâm scared, too â scared as hell. But ââ the engine roars to life, ââ I canât wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Canât wait to hold âem. Canât wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.â
âMom and Dad,â you whisper, sniffling.
âMom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.â
The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.
Joelâs voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that heâs closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.
âJust â donât let the kid give you any shit, alright?â
The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. âWhatever, Miller.â
âAttagirl,â he says. âThatâs the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.â
With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joelâs truck.
And then you hear it.
Three sharp raps, from downstairs.
You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. âJoel?â
âHm?â
âAre youâŠ?â
The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.
âAm I what, darlinâ?â
You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.
Itâs August again. Sunâs encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.
Knock knock knock.
Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.
The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.
Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. âAlâŠ?â
She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. Sheâs still in her pajamas â green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.
Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.
âOh, fuck,â you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.
âAre you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.â
She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours â squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.
You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. âHow did youâŠ?â
She hushes you with a finger in the air. âIâm up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?â
You shake your head, beginning to cry again.
Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. âWhereâs your overnight bag, sweetheart?â
You toss a thumb over your shoulder. âItâs up in the nursery. I can go grab it ââ
She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. âStay.â Another curt nod, then, âGet your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.â
âAlice, you really donât have to ââ
âGet in the car,â she insists, climbing past you. âIâm right behind you!â
You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. âDid youâŠhear all that?â
âAlice Brown,â Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. âWhatâd I tell ya? That woman doesnât miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.â
âThree centimeters,â the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. âStill a little ways to go.â
The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.
A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles â the same fucking smile everyoneâs been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.
Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.
You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.
âWill he make it?â Alice asks. Sheâs still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. âThe father, I mean. Joel.â
The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. âI donât see why not,â she says. âThings are moving a little quickly, but I donât see you having your baby in the next couple hours.â
âYou donât know this kid like I do,â you groan, shifting in the bed.
She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. âYouâre doing great,â she says. âIâll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.â She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.
Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. âHeâll be here,â she whispers.
You take a sip and settle back. âI donât think Iâm that lucky. I told him I hoped heâd get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.â
âWell, if itâs anyoneâs karma ââ she wiggles her fingers, ââ itâs his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.â
You scoff, shaking your head. âJust because weâre having a kid doesnât mean we should be together. You shouldnât be with someone for the sake of a baby who wonât even know any different.â
âRight, right,â Alice agrees, turning away. âYou should only be with someone if you love them.â
âExactly. And me and Joel â weâre not in love.â
She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. âIâm seventy-three,â she says. âIâm not a damn fool.â
Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.
Duckieâs heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell â a determined little thing, the doctor said.
Donât I fucking know it, you thought.
You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still â you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.
You let yourself fade from the suite â its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside â to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.
Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.
Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.
Half-hoping that heâll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later â And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.
Half-hoping that he wonât. That heâll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.
And youâll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.
The contraction splits your daydream in two.
In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.
You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. Theyâre giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.
Itâs a fucking nightmare.
Joelâs still not here. Last you heard, heâd just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.
It might be for the better that he hasnât gotten here. Youâve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.
And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.
âFuck,â you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.
Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. Itâs not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isnât damaging to your reputation.
âThatâs it,â she coos. âA little longer, just a littleâŠâ
The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.
Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.
Aliceâs hand pauses. ââŠa little longerâŠâ she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.
Safer.
Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.
He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.
You blink your eyes open.
Joelâs watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours â bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.
âJoelâŠâ you breathe, face turning in to his neck.
âHi, sweet girl,â he says, wiping sweat from your brow.
You fall limp against his chest. âHoly shit.â
He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like heâs just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.
But â heâs here. He made it.
The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isnât a human splitting you in two.
Heâs here. Youâre not doing this alone.
âHoly shit,â Joel repeats. âYou okay?â
âHow did you get here so â?â
âNinety-five the entire way.â
You frown. âOnly ninety-five?â
âTrunkâs a hunk aâ shit,â he admits. âCouldnât break a hundred.â
Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.
He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. âWhere we at?â he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.
âFive, almost sâshit â six centimeters.â You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.
Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. âSix? Jesus,â he gapes at Alice, âainât thatâŠainât that real fast? For â for your first?â
Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. âYour kid has a sick sense of humor,â you mutter into the silicone.
âThat ainât from me,â he says. âThatâs all you, maestro.â
You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. Heâs solid as a rock, swaying you through it. Heâs here.
Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. âNinety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.â
He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. âHad a little bit of an emergency, Alice,â he says, watching your face twist with pain.
âAnd what if youâd had an accident?â
âI didnât, Alice.â
âYou couldâve, goinâ that damn fast. Youâre lucky youâre even here.â
Joel finally looks up. âItâs four in the morninâ,â he protests, like a teenager. âLucky if I passed five cars.â
You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You wonât win, you mouth.
He presses his lips to your head. ââs too much fun,â he murmurs, and you snort.
âOh!â Alice throws a hand up. âIâm glad you find it funny!â She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.
Sheâs a busybody â has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.
Always watching, always listening.
You never thought youâd see the day when youâd actually be thankful for her snoopiness.
âThank you, Alice,â you say, head tilting. âFor getting me here, for holding my handâŠThank you.â
Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself â and then points to Joel. âYou call me as soon as that baby arrives. I wonât sleep, Joel, until you call.â
âIâll call,â he assures.
She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. âGood luck, Mom,â she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.
Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. âTake it she was out tendinâ to her tulips again?â
âYeah,â you snicker, âone in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.â
He chuckles. âYou feelinâ okay?â
âBetter now,â you tell him.
âIâm so sorry, darlinâ,â he says, shaking his head. âI shouldâve been here. A goddamn idiot, headinâ off like that. So damn stupid.â
âShh, youâre here now.â You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. âI just needed you to be here.â
He nods. âIâm here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.â
You take a deep breath. âI needâŠâ
Joel straightens â bracing, ready to jump at your first request.
ââŠI need a fucking break, Joel. Iâm so tired, and this fucking kid ââ
âAlright,â he sighs, shifting from behind you. âYou and your goddamn jokes.â
You smirk, looking over your shoulder. âYou missed me.â
âHm,â he fixes the neckline of your gown, âI missed you. I really did.â
Born at 07:43. Itâs a girl.
Itâs like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.
Mom.
You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And sheâs no stranger â no one you havenât known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.
I see you every time I look in the mirror.
Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder â a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.
The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.
Youâve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.
She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwifeâs arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.
She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though itâs all youâve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.
Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for â
You.
Her mom.
âJoel,â you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. âSheâsâŠsheâs so smallâŠâ
He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.
You turn to look up at him.
He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he canât help but laugh with elation.
âLook at her,â he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.
You beam up at him when he pulls away. âWe did it,â you whisper.
Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. âYou did it, honey,â he mutters. âI was nothinâ but a spectator.â
âYou almost missed the game,â you quip, and he laughs again.
Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as sheâs here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you donât feel a thing.
Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger â so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. Sheâs worth every fucking second of it.
You finally fucking get it.
She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her â the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.
You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.
Duckieâs eyes open â all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dadâs graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her momâs tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.
Youâre Mom, youâre Dad.
Itâs all sheâs ever known.
The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.
Youâre caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.
None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you canât take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.
Joel runs a finger down Duckieâs cheek. âAinât she the most beautiful thing in the world?â
âI love her,â you say, bubbling again. âI love her more than anything.â
An hour old, and sheâs already a daddyâs girl.
Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. Heâs never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. Heâs never seemed so content, so peaceful.
Everything heâs ever made with his hands â structures and framework and your goddamn closet â and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure youâd dreamt up right up until an hour ago â
This is the thing heâs proudest of.
Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.
Sunlight â or his daughter. Theyâre the same thing, anyway.
You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.
The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.
The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.
You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.
Joel looks up, toying with Duckieâs hand. âYou want her back?â he asks, a dumb grin on his face.
You shake your head. âI like watching you.â
He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughterâs, and whispers, âI wasnât gonna give you back, anyways.â He sways in the early light, staring down at her. âJesus,â he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, âI didnâtâŠI didnât know I could love somethinâ this much.â
âMe, either.â
He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.
You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.
âYou, uhâŠyou think of a name yet?â Joel asks.
âNot yet,â you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. âI thought we were sticking with Duckie?â
His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. âI thought of one,â he says softly. âMaybe. Itâs your call.â
You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. âAlright, Miller. Hit me.â
He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.
The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro â looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.
You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.
Sarah.
And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dadâs thumbs.
âSarah,â you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is â whose name it has always been. âSarah Miller.â
Joelâs shoulders lift. âWhat do you think? She look worthy of beinâ a Sarah?â
The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.
Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before sheâd walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?
More than the whole world, Mama.
âI love it,â you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. âSarah fucking Miller.â
âSarah fuckinâ Miller,â Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.
Youâre impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until â
He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.
And you know you shouldnât be doing it â know this isnât your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see â where itâs just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better â he feels like yours.
Just for a moment.
Joel takes the first week of Sarahâs life off work.
He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.
Heâs besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.
He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. Itâs a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.
Itâs hard. Itâs the hardest thing youâve ever done. By your count, youâve already cried three times to Joel â terrified youâre getting it all wrong.
But youâre doing it. Jesus God, youâre doing it.
You order takeout most nights. You canât stand long enough to cook just yet, and you donât trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down â despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your bodyâs given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.
You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! â until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.
Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.
âShh, baby girl. âs alright now, I gotcha,â he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.
She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big â the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.
He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.
âI swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,â you say. âSame nose and everything.â
Joel clicks his teeth. âGot her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.â
âLow-hanging fruit,â you snort.
He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. âDoinâ okay?â he asks, and you nod.
Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you canât tell if youâre crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.
Every time, itâs a combination of all three.
Life before feels so long ago â and it hasnât even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now â your arm misses the weight of her when sheâs not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when sheâs not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.
You can feel your daughter growing up already, and sheâs only ten days old.
On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.
Joel prods you with his elbow. âSheâd be proud of you, you know. Your mom.â
âOh,â you scoff, âno, sheâd be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.â
He chuckles. âSure she did,â he shrugs, âsheâs your kid.â
The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.
Itâs familiar â each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like youâve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.
Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.
Everything â and yet nothing youâve ever known.
âI miss her,â you whisper. âI miss my mom.â
His hand finds yours instantly. âI know, baby. I know you do.â
You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.
Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs â a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.
His voice rumbles against your skull. âWho sent the lilies?â
Your eyes flutter open. âHm?â
Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. âThe lilies? They werenât there this morning.â
âOhâŠâ You turn to look up at him, cringing.
He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.
âReally?â Joel asks, mirroring your expression.
You nod, trying not to laugh. âFrom her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but â she just wanted to drop âem and go.â
âWhat did sheâŠ? Did she say anything?â
Your head shakes. âShe justâŠshe said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things werenât sunshine and roses, anyway. You havenât fuckinâ seen her since Houston.â
He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. âI was goinâ to tell you,â he mumbles into his palms, âI justâŠHoney, I donât even know what day of the week it is right now. Iâm sorry.â
âYou donât have to tell me anything,â you mutter.
âYes, I do,â he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. âWe havenât really talked it through yet, me ân her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed itâs time. It â itâs past time. I shoulda called it months ago.â
âI guess,â you sigh. âAre you okay?â
Joelâs brow furrows. ââcourse I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,â and then, rolling his eyes, âyouâre here.â
âOh, fuck you,â you clip, batting his arm. âVanessa could do way better, anyways.â
âI donât doubt it.â
You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, âIâm sorry it didnât work out, Joel.â
He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure itâs not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.
âIâm not.â
ÂâHey, Duckie â can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?â
A vinyl wobbles on the turntable â some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. Thereâs wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.
Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarahâs chin.
She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.
He sighs, straightening. âShe donât like her uncle Tommy all that much,â he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.
You rest your lips on Sarahâs head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, âShe donât like anyone all that much, not unless theyâre her daddy.â
Joelâs head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.
âSheâll come around to ya,â he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. âWe all learned to, eventually.â
Tommy scoffs. âVery funny, old man. Jesus.â
Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.
She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.
âChrist,â Joel hisses, pulling back.
âThat was on you this time,â you chuckle, pointing a finger. âYou know she does that, and you still fall for it.â
Maria glances down at her watch. âIs that the time?â she asks, turning to Tommy. âWe should really turn in.â
âOh â right, right.â Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. âWeâre takinâ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.â
Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. âHey,â he whispers, elbowing you. âMaybe I should take her over. Sheâs getting sleepy â ainât you, little Duck?â
âOh, yeah.â
Tommy stands and holds a hand out. âWhy donât you let Maria and I take her? Weâll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We werenât half bad the other day, while yâall were at work. And if sheâs stayinâ at Joelâs tonight anywayâŠâ
You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.
âAs long as you donât mind,â you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. âLet me go grab her things.â
Joelâs hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.
You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.
âYou know how much I love you?â you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, âMore than the whole world.â
She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.
Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much sheâs grown in three months, sheâs still so tiny.
Sheâll always be the smallest, sweetest thing youâve ever known. And sheâs all yours.
âJesus, kid,â you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. âAlright, letâs go. Quit making your mom cry.â
The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. Itâs quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.
That â and hushed voices in the living room.
âJoel,â Tommy says, over and over again. Heâs trying to cut in between his brotherâs rambling. Joel â listen to me. Just listen, for one second ââ
You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joelâs voice from Tommyâs. Trying to pluck the words out, over Mariaâs humming from the next room.
ââŠand it ainât that simple, Tommy itâs ââ
âWhat ainât simple about it? You have a ââ Tommy says it through his teeth, ââ you have a kid together, Joel. You really think sheâs gonna ââ
Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.
You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. âShhhhit, Duckie, you ââ
Joelâs eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. âHey â hey, darlinâ.â
âHey,â you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.
She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.
âShe ready to go?â he asks, slinging a quick â telling â look at Tommy.
You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. âUhuh,â you reply, tongue against your teeth. âEverythingâŠeverything okay?â
Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. âEverythingâs great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel â you, uhâŠyou got a key on ya?â
âOh, yep.â Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brotherâs open palm.
Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.
She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. âWhereâs my baby duck?â she sings, reaching for Sarah.
You pass her over and she melts into her auntâs arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. âShe just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so â she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joelâs fridge, if you need âem.â
Maria nods, wrapping Sarahâs blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. âIâll text you as soon as sheâs down. Come on, Duckie, letâs get you to bed.â
Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.
Things could not have gone smoother.
Itâs suspicious as shit.
You turn when you hear Joel shifting.
âCâmon,â he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. âI ainât leavinâ you with this mess.â He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.
The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.
You linger in the living room.
Things have been good lately â peaceful. Youâre in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.
Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You donât have to think about being Mom anymore â she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal â one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.
One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.
Joelâs birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one â his parentsâ, Tommy and Mariaâs, yours â and Sarahâs.
A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasnât quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the birdâs chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.
Sure, you took charge for most of the project â but when he opened it and saw his daughterâs little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.
You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your momâs photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother toâŠa good friend, you could almost pretend.
Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.
Almost pretend that he wonât collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.
Almost.
âHey,â Joel calls, âdid you, uh â did you hear Tommy talkinâ about Jackson?â
You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. âUh, yeah,â you reply, lifting a towel. âMoose, pine trees. Yep.â
âIt sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarahâs first vacation.â
âYou mean the three of us?â
He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. âSure. I donât think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? Sheâd scream the damn airport down,â he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.
You hum. âMaybe.â
âYou donât feel like it?â
âNo, I do. I just â I donât know. Maybe someday.â
âOkay,â Joel says, nodding. âPut a pin in it.â
He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.
It feels awkward. It feels stiff. Thereâs something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you havenât felt around Joel in over a year.
You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. âIs that what you were talking to Tommy about?â
Joel pauses. âYou heard that, huh?â
âOnly the part about having a kid. Itâs none of my business, I know, I just ââ
âActually,â he clears his throat, ïżœïżœitâs plenty your business.â
He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.
HeâsâŠnervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.
He takes another unsteady breath.
âJoel?â you ask, head tilting. âWhatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if thatâll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, butâŠâ
His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.
âYou know, that night at Tommyâs wedding was one of the best nights of my life.â
Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.
âYeah?â you ask.
Joel nods. âYeah. Lying there â talking, laughing, messinâ around. I donât think Iâve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I couldâve stayed in that room with you forever.â
Your eyes start to sting. You look away.
âI thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,â he takes a deep breath, âthe next day, I look out front, and my newspaperâs sittinâ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking â and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.â
You shake your head. âI wanted to see you again. I missed â I missed you. Missed pissinâ you off.â
He laughs. âI missed you pissinâ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.â
âI didnât know if you wanted me to â you know,â you admit, and Joel nods.
âWe got pretty good at avoidinâ each other,â he grumbles. âAnd then â with Vanessa, I thought Iâd be doinâ you a favor. Letting you off light.â
âYouâŠyou took her number to do me a favor?â
âNaw,â Joel says. âI took her number âcause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ân I werenât speakinâ.â
You stare at him, jaw slack. âAre you fucking kidding me?â
He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, âI shouldnâtâve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldnâtâve done any of it. I shouldâve talked to you about what I was feeling.â
âWell, maybe we both shouldâve,â you mutter, wringing your hands. âI wasnât exactly the best at it, either.â
His head tips, considering. âCan I tell you now?â
You glance over to him. âTell me what, Miller?â
âTell youâŠtell you that I love you,â he whispers.
It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.
He nods to himself, then â certain of it â and says it again. âI do, darlinâ. I love you.â
Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.
âAnd, look ââ Joel takes your wrists, ââ I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months â and that kills me. But if youâll let me, I swear to you â Iâll make it up to you. Iâll take care of you for the rest of my life.â
You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too â glistening with tears. âJoelâŠâ you weep.
He cups your jaw. âListen to me. What weâve had, the last three months â I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.â
You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.
âI want to get married, or not,â Joel says. âI want to show up to Tommy and Mariaâs anniversary party late, âcause Duck couldnât pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take âem on vacation.â
âWyoming?â you sniff.
âWyoming,â he repeats. âI wantâŠI want all of it, baby. You ân me. I want you ân me, more than anything in the world. And if Iâm too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.â
Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists â the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.
âI love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive meâŠfuckinâ insane.â
âOh, fuck you,â you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.
Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. âYeah,â he sniffs, âI figured youâd say somâ like that.â
âI love you, too,â you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. âShit, I love you.â
âAinât that a thing?â he says, and his lips are on yours.
Itâs been a year. A year since the first time you felt him â lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.
And goddamn, youâve missed it.
Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.
Heâs hungry.
He laps at you as though youâll be gone in the morning. As though he wonât wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.
Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. Itâs dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.
His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.
âYou know how fuckinâ sweet you taste?â he growls, slipping inside again.
He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it â made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.
He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.
You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.
Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. âGood fuckinâ girl,â he slurs, watching you come undone.
He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. âTaste good?â he mumbles, kissing you gently.
Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.
He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.
Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joelâs lips.
âI love you,â you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You donât know that youâve felt something so true in all your life.
He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.
âCome here,â he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.
You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. âLooks a little different to the last time you saw her.â
Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. âBeautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.â
Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until youâre looking at him again.
And then he pushes in.
He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.
You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. âFuck,â you whimper, turning in to his chest.
âEasy, easy,â Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. âCatch your breath. Doinâ so good.â
âItâs not sore,â you tell him, nodding for him to move again. âItâsâŠitâs justâŠdifferent.â
âTighter,â he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.
You agree, âTighter.â
He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. âFeel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. âm right here.â
Itâs never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.
You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two â whole again each time his body meets yours.
Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.
âFeel good?â he pants.
Your head rolls back. âMhm.â
âTake it, baby. Such a tight little thing.â
âJoel,â you cry, âIâm close.â
His teeth nip at your neck. âShit,â his hips jump, âattagirl. Just like that.â He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.
You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joelâs eyes gloss over.
I love you, he breathes.
And the world whitens.
He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.
You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.
âYou were right next door, the entire time,â you whisper.
He runs a thumb across your cheek. âYep.â
âDo you think we wasted too much time?â
Joelâs lip turns. âNah,â he says. âWe found our way.â
âNeeded a little help, though.â
He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. âIâm sure sheâll hold it against us forever.â
You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips â newspaper ink and duck egg silk.
You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.
You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.
âWe should go,â he taps your thigh, âgot a little duck whoâll be wonderinâ where her mama and daddy are.â
The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.
Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.
âMama,â she presses a sticky finger to the back window, âflowers.â
âYeah, baby,â you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. âLots of âem, huh?â
âYeah,â your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.
Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.
Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. âAlright.â
âSure?â he asks. âTake as long as you want, darlinâ.â
But if you wait any longer, youâll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. âYou take Duck,â you reply, âIâll takeâŠâ
Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. âYou got it. Weâll walk on.â
He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.
Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.
Made for each other.
You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.
Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.
You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. âHi, Mom,â you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. âHi, Dad.â
Your grandma picked this spot. Sheâs long gone â laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met â so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.
It fucking sucks, but someoneâs gotta do it.
You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words â until a flash of pink catches your attention.
âDuckie,â Joel calls, following her between graves. âHey. This is a cemâŠHey, Duck, listen â this is a cemetery, we gotta be â Sarah!â
You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.
Thereâs no one else here â itâs only you. And itâs a quiet enough place as it is, so â you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?
âSorry itâs been a little while,â you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.
Heâs kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. Theyâre pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.
âI know I said Iâd come visit for Dadâs birthday, but I guess things got busy â what with the move and all. Weâre still living out of boxes. But the girlsâ rooms are almost done â we just gotta paint âem.â
You look back down to the stone. Your momâs name carved deep into spotted marble, your dadâs underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.
Dad probably heard Duckâs first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.
Sheâs probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarahâs getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes â and goddamn, sheâs right.
âJoelâs been working on the kitchen,â you continue. âI left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after weâre gone will find that. The four of us.â
âM-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?â Sarah tilts her head.
Joel nods. âMemory, yeah. Good job, Duck.â
âDuckieâs good,â you tell your mom. âSheâs top of her class in â well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. Sheâd have been your favorite â I know that much. And youâd have been hers.
âSheâs gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkinâ back to Joel â she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,â you laugh.
âHeâs good, too â Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week â they brought Buckley, and now Duck wonât stop goinâ on about us getting a dog.â
You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, âDonât tell her, but we called the pound last night. Weâre heading there tomorrow while sheâs at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joelâs giddier than I think Sarahâs gonna be.â
Joelâs carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.
She halts him by pointing to one. âN-eh-v-eh-neverâŠfff-or-g-forââ
He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. âSound it out, thatâs it. âs a big word, baby girl. You got it.â
The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them â wandering from shade into brilliant sun.
Your family. Your man, your blood â and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end â leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.
âMeans forever,â Joel says, kneeling beside her. ââs how long Iâm gonna love you for.â
âAnd Nel?â
âAnd Nel.â
âAnd Mama?â
âAnd Mama.â
Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. âBut me the most,â she concludes, nodding.
Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not heâs going gray.
She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.
Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage â the warmth flooding around your heart. Heâs so good at it â being a dad.
Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You canât remember a time you didnât wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.
He wanted to do everything. Heâd lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. Heâd race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.
And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldnât understand the meaning of the word.
But there are days when she says it â Sarah, looking up at you with Joelâs twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours â and itâs like youâve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like youâve been waiting your whole life for her.
Well. Her, and her little sister.
âAnd, uh â another thing,â you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. âI brought somebody for you to meet.â
A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy â the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.
âSheâs a little nervous, ainât you, Nel?â you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. âShe spit up on herself on the way here, but â I think youâre gonna love her.â
You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it â waving to your momâs name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.
âMom,â you sniff, âthis is Ellie.â
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SECOND THAT
luke castellan x reader
â
âiâm restless, iâm wrestling with the song that you love, itâs been stuck in my headâ
ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.
WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.
A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so⊠no hate guys đ also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend heâs actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, itâs PWOP sooo⊠anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows
luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being âgreatâ or âhonourableâ or whatever.
when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.
and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, whatâs the harm in continuing to pretend?
at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.
luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesnât he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. heâs entitled to it.
you, on the other hand? you donât. you donât deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.
to luke, youâre vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, thereâs darkness. thereâs an evil lurking within you- heâs sure of it.
he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.
he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?
your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, heâs not pissed that youâre acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but youâre going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.
maybe itâs because youâre pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe thatâs the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.
if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldnât have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that itâd be worth anything.
it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.
of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasnât the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.
âoh, iâm getting a degree in art history,â
seriously? art history? thatâs gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.
âreally? why art history?â he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.
you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your âlovelyâ 18th birthday and âeventfulâ senior year.
âi donât know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said itâd be a good conversation starter,â you say cheerfully, as if it wasnât the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.
luke canât help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. âyeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i donât mind either way,â
luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.
he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesnât want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that youâre a manipulative sycophant whoâs bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.
why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, thatâs your best quality after all.
of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.
but heâd still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.
and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a âmaybe next timeâ. but she didnât see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.
luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?
and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?
luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if youâre the most precious thing on earth.
fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.
a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.
luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. heâs so overwhelmed with anger, he couldnât fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.
he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.
âhey, y/n. you got a minute?â luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmotherâs busted car.
âyeah, why?â you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. âoh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?â he asks.
you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.
âwhy the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?â
you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. âexcuse me?â
luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. âyou heard me,â he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.
âdo you have a problem with me or something?â your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.
âyeah, i do have a problem. iâm tired of your little ânice girlâ act. itâs getting fucking annoying,â luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.
âare you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?â
âis that a threat?â
you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.
âlisten, luke. everyone pretends to be someone theyâre not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-â
luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. âfuck off, we are not the same.â
you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. âso what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?â you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.
ânah.â he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. âmkay, then what the fuck is your problem?â
luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. âyouâre my fucking problem.â
you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. âyouâre such a loser.â you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way heâs gripping your face.
he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. âand youâre a brat.â he retorts.
âare we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why youâre so obsessed with me?â you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.
luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.
luke was over it.
suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.
he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.
luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, heâs almost fooled.
you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. âis that all you wanted?â you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.
he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.
luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he canât help but let his mind wander.
âif youâre done, you can leave, castellan.â you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.
it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though heâs finally accomplished what heâs been yearning to do for years now. heâs seeing the real you.
he couldnât dare squander this opportunity now.
he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.
âbut you donât want me to leave, do you?â luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.
âi donât care what you do, castellan.â
luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.
he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.
you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.
his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.
luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. itâs as if you knew someone was going to see it.
you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke letâs put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.
âi fucking hate you,â he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.
âdonât care, take off your shirt,â you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.
luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.
luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.
lukeâs hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.
he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. âpathetic,â he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.
lukeâs thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.
âlukeâŠâ you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.
you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.
luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.
suddenly, he stops.
you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.
âso fucking needy.â he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.
you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.
luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.
he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.
like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.
you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.
âmm⊠luke, iâm gonnaâŠâ you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. âso soon?â he teases, rapidly moving against your body.
you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.
luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.
suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.
luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.
âi wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, donât worry, princess.â
you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. âsuch a pretty girl,â he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.
he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.
you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. âgoodnight, luke,â you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. ânight, princess.â
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I've got you - percy jackson
Request: yeah! "percy x fem!reader are on an unofficial quest together just before the big titan war (so set just before last olympian). idk what the quest is but basically reader gets injured during a fight w a bunch of monsters and percy goes a little crazy and does everything he can to protect her and once all the monsters are dead heâs super gentle and sweet w her??"
Pairing:Â Â Percy Jackson x reader
Summary:Â Â you're busy battling a handful of monsters when for a second it looks as if it might be your last fight. luckily, percy is there
Warnings:Â Â fighting, mentions of blood, injuries, swearing, angst
Word count:Â Â 1K
A/N:Â the show creators need to add grover's song from ep3 to spotify because it's been stuck in my head since wednesday. thanks for your request, enjoy!
gods forbid you're ever on a quiet quest.
you can't wait to get this over with so you can go back to camp and actually get a decent amount of undisturbed sleep.
the other kids at camp are probably spending their afternoon relaxing, or polishing their weapons, or sitting by the lake, or literally anything that's peaceful. not you and percy.
you're busy getting rid of at least half a dozen monsters.
percy's is in the distance, fighting his way through a couple of monsters. he's a blur of movement and you occasionally hear him curse or make a sound.
you know percy can handle himself. but it doesn't stop you from looking over your shoulder every once in a while, to check on him.
the second time you try to catch a glimpse of percy, it's a mistake.
you feel something sharp sink into your side.
with one swing of your sword you decapitate the monster, but not before his fang breaks off, still stuck in your leg.
'oh fuck.' you mutter as you see blood start to gush out of the wound around the fang.
but there's no time to rest. another monster lashes out at you, raking his claws through your shoulder.
you yell out in pain, getting percy's attention.
you drive your sword through the monster just as percy starts running toward you.
'fuck.' you mutter, looking at your leg.
well, that doesn't look good. you know demigods don't live long. but you would have liked some more time with percy. preferably when you don't have to fight monsters.
'y/n!' yells percy, who has nearly reached you.
'percy...' you say as he catches you before you fall to the ground.
'shit, hold on.' says percy. he carefully lowers you to the ground in his arms. there's a panicked look in his eyes as he looks at your leg.
he quickly reaches down and tears off a piece of his shirt.
'percy!' you yell, looking at a monster that's running towards the two of you at full speed.
with one swift motion, percy slices through the monster with his sword, then he drops it and turns back to you.
he pulls you towards him and wraps the piece of his shirt around your thigh, above your wound.
'how many behind me?' he says.
you look over his shoulder, quickly counting the monsters that are making their way to you. it doesn't look good. 'seven.'
'sorry.'
'wait, for what-'
you're cut off as percy pulls the knot tight, sending a sharp pain through your leg.
'fuck! percy!' you curse.
'I said sorry. stay here do not pull that out.' says percy, pointing at the fang that's still stuck in your leg. he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before turning around and charging the monsters.
you knew percy could fight but holy shit.
it's like he moves with unnatural speed as he works his way through the monsters, making sure none of them slip past him to you.
even more so, he makes it look easy. almost god-like.
when you overheard someone from your cabin say that he's the most powerful demigod of your generation, you thought "sure he's a poseidon kid, it makes sense". you hadn't really thought much of it.
to you percy had always been, well, percy.
he always makes you laugh with bad jokes and saves you a spot at the campfire. he'll walk with you to your cabin if it's raining so you wouldn't get soaked. he prefers to sleep with you next to him, claiming it's so he won't get nightmares, but you know it's because he just wants to use you as his pillow.
but as you see him fighting off the monsters, lashing out and stabbing them like it's nothing, you realise what others see when they look at him.
suddenly percy is in front of you again, brushing monster dust off of his shoulder like it's no big deal.
'you okay?' he says, kneeling in front of you. he reaches out to gently cup your face.
you're silent as you look at him.
'y/n?' he says, looking you in your eyes, brows furrowed.
'did I mention I'm like, really really in love with you?' you say.
percy smiles briefly. 'yeah you've mentioned it.' he says. 'how are you feeling?'
'lucky to have you on my side.'
'I meant your leg, y/n.' he says, moving so he can inspect your leg.
'still hurts.'
'that shoulder also looks bad.' says percy. 'listen, I'll pull the fang out and give you nectar but it will still hurt, okay? then we'll look at your shoulder.'
'alright, make it quick.'
percy nods, then hands you some nectar.
'want me to count down?' he asks.
you nod, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours.
percy wraps his free hand around the fang.
you take a deep breath and nod at percy.
percy looks you in the eye and gives you an encouraging smile. 'sorry in advance. 3... 2... 1!'
with one swift motion he pulls the fang out. blood gushes out of the wound and the pain is unbearable. you close your eyes and feel how percy gently pushes the nectar to you and you take a sip.
it tastes like the drink sally made for you when you visited percy's home for the first time.
you keep your eyes closed as you wait for the pain to go away. you can feel percy rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, comforting you.
'it's already helping.' says percy softly.
you reach out and wrap your arms around percy.
'it's okay. I've got you.' says percy, holding you close. 'we can sit here for a while, but then we have to keep moving, okay?'
'okay.' you say, feeling percy press a kiss to your forehead.
you're really glad percy's here with you. if it weren't for him, you're not sure you would have made it back to camp in one piece, or at all.
A/N:
If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHereâs the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist.
Please donât repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading!
Much love,
Marit/Max
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pure heart (theo x reader)
pairing: theodore nott x reader
warning: obsessiveness, possessiveness
summary: y/n found theoâs journal. now, she doesnât know how to act around him.
masterlist
song recommendation: sweet by cigarettes after sex
I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3
The days have been bleak for Y/N â nothing exciting, nothing new.Â
Obsessively self-conscious, she has limited herself. She rarely attends social events and avoids any interaction with men. She fidgets in her clothes, she avoids cameras, she overthinks everything she says - it has become too exhausting. She had given up. Now, she finds everything tedious and dull.
Until she found his journal.
Sept. 4 XXXX
She looks so beautiful today.
I wonder if thatâs her perfume, or maybe thatâs her natural scent.
I wonder if her skin is usually warm or cold.
I want to touch her.
Y/N Nott.
Sept. 7 XXXX
She laughed with some guy.
I hate her.
Sheâs too oblivious around men.
But sheâs too cute. I could never hate her.
Y/N Nott.
Sept. 8 XXXX
She looks so peaceful when she reads.
Haha! She accidentally fell asleep for a bit.
I love her so much.
Y/N Nott.
Sept. 11 XXXX
That guy came up to her again.
Fuck him.
She looks annoyed.
Oh, she ignored him.
Good girl.
Y/N Nott.
Y/N gasped and shut the journal. Goosebumps were all over her arms, her breath was shaky. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and there was this tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Itâs as if lightning shot through her, awakening every nerve in her body. After months of feeling down and exhausted, she felt truly alive.
But Y/N tried to shake off her conflicting feelings. Despite it seeming like the sweet ramblings of a boy with a crush, some were greatly disturbing. Who could have written this?
She had found the black leather journal left on a windowsill in a hall rarely passed. She looked around, thinking the owner was nearby, but no one was in sight.
Y/N then flipped through the journal. Pages and pages were all about her with each ending off with âY/N Nott.â
âNott?â Y/Nâs eyebrows furrowed, wondering why it sounded so familiar. âTheodore Nott?âÂ
Y/N shook her head. She refused to believe that this journal was from Theo, one of the most notorious Slytherin boys of her year. Heâs always so quiet and emotionless. The only interaction she had with him was from a few years ago, but it was so insignificant that it could barely be considered a real interaction.
âThereâs no way that he could have written this,â she thought. 'But I canât leave this here. If anybody else sees this, they would think I wrote this about myself.â
After much deliberation, Y/N stuffed the journal in her school bag and headed for her dorm where she spent the rest of the night reading each entry.
***
The next day, Y/N woke up in a daze. With three hours of sleep, Y/N got through only half of the journal. There were many, many entries with the earliest dating back to two years ago, each entry became increasingly obsessive.
Throughout the day, Y/N felt foggy and her face was a bit flushed. She would only snap out of her daze when she became aware of Theoâs presence.
Theo was in all of her classes and he sat only a few seats away from her. Y/N never thought of it much before, but now, she found it strange considering she only has one or two classes with her friends.
During class, she would keep her head down and slightly tilt her head so she could take a peek at Theo. He looked the same as always - emotionless and cold. Could someone like him write such strange and emotional entries?
Y/N considered talking to Theo to see if the journal was his. Maybe test him by asking if he lost something recently. But she was unsure if she wanted to confirm it. She didnât know if she could face the ownerâs strong, overwhelming feelings. And she was somewhat scared of what could happen next.
A few days had passed, and Y/N was becoming worried that the owner YYwill soon approach her. But she couldnât let go of the journal yet. She was a madman obsessed. In many of the entries, the owner of the journal would describe what Y/N wore. What she ate for breakfast. Who she talked to. Some entries seemed like sweet love poems while some showed stalker tendencies.
Y/N was conflicted. She knows how deranged and disillusioned the owner was. She was scared, yes, but she also felt excited. As she continued to read, all his strange ramblings were starting to sound sweet. She didnât know if she should be creeped out or flattered.Â
But Y/N knew that her time with the journal needed to end. She knew the owner was looking for their journal. She would sometimes feel goosebumps on her back as if someone was staring at her. When this happened, she would hurriedly leave the room. She thought of placing it back where she found it, but she needed to finish reading the journal first.
So, one night, Y/N went to the back of the library and made sure no one was around. She sat on the oak chair and took the journal from her bag. She then flipped to the first page. The ink was a bit smudged and the paper was a bit worn, but it had the same neat handwriting that she became familiar with.
Dec. 3 XXXX
Went to Hogsmeade today, but I left the boys.Â
I didnât feel like socializing today.
Headed to Hogâs Head to read for a bit.
I assumed no one would be there, but I was wrong.
That quiet girl Y/N was there. She was reading, too.
Whatever, Iâm sitting far anyways.
Dec. 4 XXXX
How come Iâve never talked to her before?
She is so beautiful. So sweet.
What book was she reading?
Iâll have to find it in the library when sheâs done with it.
Does she know who I am?
I should talk to her.
No, I donât want her to be creeped out.
Iâll find a better way to talk to her.
I think Iâm falling for her.
Y/N L/N Nott.
Y/N was incredibly confused. What happened that could have caused such a big change? She doesnât even remember going to Hogâs Head, much less what she did that day.
Y/N furrowed her brows as she thought hard about her trips to Hogsmeade in the last two years. âI have been to the Hogâs Head before⊠but I donât remember anything spe-
âSo, you had it.â
A dark, low voice spoke behind her. Y/N jumped in her seat, goosebumps all over her skin. Just by their voice, Y/N felt shivers run through her back and that tingling sensation in her stomach.
But Y/N couldnât move. She was frozen, too anxious to turn around and confront him. But she knew who it was. His voice was one she knows all too well.
Suddenly, Y/N felt his warm body lightly pressed on her back. He was now standing behind her. He then slightly bent over her as he flipped through the pages of his journal.
âHere,â he said as he stopped to a certain page. âRead this.â
Confused, Y/N slowly looked up, only to be met with a smiling Theo.
âCome on. Read it for me. Please.â
Y/N reluctantly nodded. âFebruary 14 XXXX. Some boys left candy on her table. Bunch of idiots. I threw it all away. I wanted her to only have mine. Itâs mint chocolate, her favorite. I know everything that she likes. I-Iâm the only one who can treat her rightâŠâ Y/N trailed off, unsure if she should say the next part.
âContinue.â
âS-sheâs mine. I love her so much. Sheâll see that one day. Y/N Nott.â Y/Nâs breath was shaky and her mind was becoming a bit foggy. She knew this situation wasnât normal. Heâs too calm. Too scary. But for some reason, she was filled with anticipation.Â
âYou were the one who gave me the mint chocolate?â Y/N asked, looking back up at Theo.
He nodded.
âAnd⊠you wrote this journal?â
He smiled.Â
âI was searching everywhere for the journal. My name isnât on it, so I wasnât worried about getting caught. But⊠I didnât want any more attention on you,â Theo said as took the seat next to her. âBut then you started acting strange. You would get nervous around me. It was so cute.â He chuckled and the tingling sensation in Y/Nâs stomach grew more prominent.
âIâm glad you found it,â Theo said as he gently took Y/Nâs hand. âNow you know how much I love you. How much I think about you.â
Y/Nâs mind was going haywire. She didnât know what to think or what to say. Goosebumps were still all over her skin, but she could only focus on his sweet words and warm hands.Â
âY/NâŠâ he trailed as he leaned closer to her. He placed her palm on his chest, purposely trying to make her feel his heartbeat. It was racing fast. âI couldnât ask you on Valentines, but⊠will you be mine?â
When Y/N read through his journal, she knew he was dangerous. His feelings were too strong, too overwhelming. He was obsessive and possessive. She was anxious about what would happen if she reciprocated.
But as she looked at Theoâs handsome face with her palm on his broad chest, she felt seen and alive. His love, his sincerity - itïżœïżœïżœs hard to believe itâs all real. And itâs too intoxicating to deny.
âY-yes. I want to be yours."
*** bonus: hogâs head interaction ***
December 3, XXXX
âWelcome!â The shopkeeper of Hogâs Head yelled as he filled up a cup of juice from behind the counter.
Theo scrapped the snow off his shoes before entering, unwrapping the scarf around his neck. âBlack coffee, please,â Theo said before walking to the table farthest from the other customer.
Theo then rummages through his bag, taking out a book and his new leather journal. He received it from a teacher who recommended writing entries of gratitude or special moments. After putting it off for months, he finally set a goal for himself to write the first entry today.
As Theo wrote his first entry, the shopkeeper placed the black coffee on the table. He then went back to refill the other customerâs cup. Theo took a sip and observed the small figure of the other customer. She looked familiar.Â
The other customer looked up from her book to thank the shopkeeper. She set her book down and slightly stretched her back before taking a sip of her juice. She looks around the building before spotting Theo. She jumped a little, startled to see someone else there. She was too caught up in her book to notice her surroundings. She quickly composed herself before giving him a warm smile. She then turned back around and continued with her book.
In that short moment, Theo was hooked. When she smiled, something within him suddenly clicked. As if he was now complete. Something within him changed, his desires growing and morphing.Â
âY/N⊠what was her last name again? Ah, L/N. Y/N L/N. No⊠Y/N Nott.â
***
a/n: i do not condone stalking or extreme possessiveness. this is entirely unrealistic and fiction. however, it is nice to imagine that a handsome man is so in love with you that he's obsessed lol. i also named this "pure heart" for irony because he views his feelings as pure, but is it really?? also, for those into smut, you can definitely imagine this leading to an s x m dynamic, so it makes the title even more funny lol. anywho, hope you enjoyed it!
here is part two for more <3
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kageyama who has a crush on you :(
involves : pre time skip , fluff , implied shorter reader, can be read gn!
kageyama tobio loves consistency, he loves the familiar fabric of a volleyball against his finger tips, he loves waking up everyday at 5:00 to run for a half hour before getting ready for school. he loves having the same breakfast everyday, he found comfort in consistency, itâs been that way since he was young. itâs not something he ever wants to change.
kageyama tobio is so infatuated with you and he doesnât even realise it for the longest time. not even when he commutes to school with you every morning, even though itâs inconvenient to take the bus to your house first. heâll be outside your door at 6:30 everyday, heâd rather be late for volleyball practice than not be in your presence for at least an hour in the morning light.
kageyama tobioâs favourite season is winter, he likes watching the snow fall on chilly days and he thinks that the cold air is refreshing against his skin during his morning runs, but most of all, he likes seeing you wrapped up in a woollen coat as you tightly grasp your warm cup, searching for the smallest amount of warmth as you sip on your lightly caffeinated drink to help you adjust to the morning dew.
kageyama tobio who only realised his feelings were a bit more than platonic when sugawara vaguely suggested it, âwhoâs that person youâre always with?â the older boy asks as he folds extra towels, âoh y/n?, theyâre my friend from junior highâ kageyama explains,. âtheyâre pretty, arenât they?â sugawara asks, intending to tease him a bit, but kageyama continues expressionless, âi mean i guess. i remember one time we took the bus together and it was the morning, so the sun hit their face nicely and their eyes were this amber colour iâve never seen before. iâve felt differently about their appearance since thenâ and sugawara was literally like âwtf boyâ and explained to him what romantic feelings were đ
kageyama tobio who shares his wired earplugs with you, standing close to you the both of you listen to some random j-soft rock song he thinks heâs niche for listening to, but heâs really not. heâs comforted when you press your shoulders up against each others so that the bud doesnât come out.
kageyama tobioâs first time ever initiating something physical with you was when he gently laid his head on your shoulder in the privacy of his room, seeking comfort after a devastating lost from all your friends from junior high, he was a bit embarrassed from the way his heart squeezed when you wrapped your arms around his back and whispered in his ears that heâd be okay.
kageyama tobio who was surprised when you texted him and said not to pick you up today since you were a bit sickly, and he was a bit grouchy and tight because it messed up his schedule (he was worried for you and didnât like it when you were sick). but you were even more surprised when you hear his deep voice vibrate through your room, âare you awake?â he whispers, you respond with a nod and he sighs in response.
kageyama tobio who sits nearby you, making sure to keep you on your bed as he gently places a cold towel on your forehead, making you swallow different medicines after feeding you okayu that his mother made earlier that day, he scolds you for being careless and getting sick like this.
kageyama tobio who was told by his whole volleyball team that the best way to ask someone out is proudly and with a big confession, and he was literally about to do that until that night his mother advised him to be intimate and personal while confessing, which is how he ended up in the kitchen tempering chocolate all night.
ây/n!â he says, rushing into your classroom, panting heavily so he could find you right before lunch started, your classmates were confused as he drags you right out the room and nearby the tree where you eat with him everyday.
âis something wrong?â you ask curiously, squeezing his hand as you watched him pant
âno, no.. itâs not thatâ he muttered, his face bright red. âlet me just..â he rummages through his bag. you bite down on your lip as you try not to smile, it was endearing watching him like this.
he took a deep breath and gently placed a clear cellophane bag with a white ribbon tying it neatly together in your hands, it was filled with a couple pink and red heart shaped chocolates, causing you to flush and look up at him expectantly.
âi really like you y/n, can i be your boyfriend?â
you spent the bus home leaning on his shoulder as you quietly shared your sweets with him.
kageyama tobio whose life changed slightly everyday when you started dating officially. he liked how youâd cling onto his arm when you were cold, or every morning when he greeted you with a kiss youâd look up at him flushed with your bottom lip tucked under your teeth. he liked the small, intimate changes which occurred after he confessed to you.
tobio kageyama loved consistency, but he loved you just that much more.
extra !
you're still wearing your blazer and wishing your friends goodbye as you cried, it was the end of high school after all. when the time's right, tobio's pulling you away from your friends, taking you to the tree where he confessed to you three years ago,
"y/n" he mumbles into your ear as he holds you tight, basking in the last moments of high school love he'd have with you.
"tobio, is something wrong?" you ask, gently pushing his raven hair out of his face as he looks down at you.
"no.." he rummages through his pocket, opening your hand with his fingers and slipping his small , second black blazer button into your palm, he encloses them with his own.
"i got selected for the japan national team" he mumbles as if it was nothing, causing you gasp,
"really tobio that's so exci-" he smiles into your skin, cutting you off.
"come to tokyo with me, we can start our life there"
! please consider liking, reblogging or following if you enjoyed :3
guys writing is so scratching my head but its lowk fun - why do i get so nerovus posting uhh
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a guide to dating in twenty first century
you met a kind stranger at a bar, next day you ended up on his couch, on your first dateâŠ
warnings: implied age gap, hints of abusive relationships (not by joel or reader), hint of dom!joel, no outbreak, usage of pet name(baby), lots of alcohol consumption, can be considered as dubcon but consent is asked and given, mention of food, swearing, talking about marriage, smut (18+), fingering (f receiving), reader is afab and able bodied, she has some hair.
a/n: here it is folks, my first joel miller fic. please give comments/reblogs if you like it.
part i: the âfirstâ date
The song had just started when you entered the garden side of the bar. A rock classic filling the place, still laudable through all the chattering.
Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find your friends. Just before you took out your phone to text, you saw a familiar back of the head turning towards you.Â
âHey!â Maggie raised her hand, she looked gigglier than usual. You have already told them to start without you so her being tipsy was understandable. You started walking towards their table, âYouâre late!â She protested as you got in the earshot.
You pulled the only empty chair they reserved for you and hung your bag at the back. You greeted the rest of the table with a smile and a simple nod before sitting down. All of the girls already ordered their drinks, and half way down finishing the snacks.
âAnd you donât wear a tiara or a bride sash!â You half-protested as you turned towards her. Acting like you were just a few minutes late, not like it took you extra half an hour to get ready mentally.
âNot my thing.â You chuckled, raised your hand in the air for a waiter to see you. Thinking you were ready to start drinking and catch up with the girls.
â
The first half of the night was good. You fake-smiled and joined the conversations about when is the best time to have a baby, and best place to have a honeymoon. All thanks to your little helper in a glass. As you were about to finish your second one, you felt like you reached your quota about non ending monogamy speeches.  Â
A girl turned towards you. She was a colleague of Maggie and you only saw her before once at some New Years party. Jen something? Or was it Jess? You were sure it started with J.
She asked as she leant towards you. âSo? Who is going to be your plus one?âÂ
There it was, the question you waited for all night long. You were the maid of honor, also the only single girl in the table. Of course people were going to ask why you had no plus one.Â
âNoone.â You explained in one word, playing with the straw inside your glass.
âOh, really? Are you sure? You can't just go alone! If you want I can set you up with-â Maggie intertwined the conversation, placing her elbows on the table and her chin inside her palms. As she did, all the girls stopped talking again and all turned their heads to you.
âShe is not interested Alice. Iâve even told her the only other person who is coming alone is my grandma, and thatâs just because sheâs a widow.â
âWell you never know. Maybe sheâll find her next true love from the groomâs side.â Maggie rolled her eyes as the rest of the table chuckled at your joke, returning to talk about what they were talking about before. Before Alice, not Jess nor Jen, could ask you something you put your hands on the table.
âOkay, I need to hit the ladies room first. Then we can talk about why I need to find a guy ASAP.â You said as you raised yourself from your seat.
The ladies room was occupied so you had to wait in line with another girl who seemed too drunk to stand on her own. Playing with her fingers, rocking back and forth in her place. "Do you have weed, or something like that?"
You pressed your lips together and shook your head. "No, sorry." The girl huffed and crossed her arms on her chest.
The door opened and the girl in front of you threw herself inside, not even waiting for the other girl to step out properly. You two shared a look, âWhat is her problem?â
You sighed as you got all alone resting your head on the wall to take a breath. You hated when people became all invested in your love life, or the lack of your love life in better words.Â
You spent almost a year to recover from your shitty break up by going on even shittier dates, then you simply gave up. Not like you had too many admirers, since your life was usually spent between work and home.
As you were looking down, somebodyâs shoes came into your point of view. The tips of the dark leather boots were pointing on the tips of your high heeled sandals.
âHi.â You raised your head when you realized he was talking to you.
He was clearly older than you. Salt and pepper hair and a patchy beard and mustache. He seemed cute, and somehow it felt like you could trust him. Like he was over with his bullshitting phase which every guy on your age was into.
He dressed nicely, an old pair of jeans and a dark colored shirt tight enough to hint he was built. Broad shoulders and thick biceps, large colloused handsâŠ
âHi?â You spoke sooner than you preferred. Sound just one octave higher than it usuallt was.
âUhm, I donât wanna seem weird but I noticed ya and heard ya were single so Iââ You smiled at the southern accent, it fit him nicely.Â
âI donât want to step over a line, and sorry again if this seems too brave⊠May I have your phone number?âÂ
Here it isâŠ
âOh, wellâŠâ You spoke, eyes going between the still occupied ladies room door and the table of your friends.
He raised his hands in the air, taking a step back. Pressing his lips together as he slowly gave you a nod. âI understand completely.â
You felt like someone stabbed you on your chest when your eyes found him back. He looked like a small puppy who got kicked.
What is the worst thing that could happen? You probably gone over many shitty scenarios already.
âWait-â You said as you looked at the door again. The girl was taking forever and sure she would not come out anytime soon.
He stopped, raising his eyebrows. Eyes sparkling with a little piece of hope, and you could not find the strength to break his heart in yourself.
âIâd be happy to give my phone number.â He smiled, taking out his phone from his back pocket, opening his keypad before giving it to you.
You quickly tapped your number and called yourself. Your phone buzzed inside your back pocket. As you took it out, its screen was screen flashing with an unsaved number, âDone.â
âIâm Joel, by the way.â
âHi Joel.â And you gave him your name, the first time it sounded so natural to hear it from someone else.
Like she took it as a que, the girl finally stepped out leaving the light switched on. Joel pointed to the door with his chin, before taking a step back again. âIâll text you.â He said before leaving.
When you made it back to your table, your drink was gone and so were some of the girls including the girl whose name starts with J. And you just felt a relief that she would not ask you anymore questions about your dating life.
âI thought you left.â Maggie said, finishing her fourth glass.Â
âThe girl before me took forever.â You explained as you put on your purse, preparing to leave with the rest of the gang. You scanned the room, hoping maybe you would see Joel somewhere in the corner. But all you saw was a guy eyeing you up and down, courtesy of wearing a skirt in the 21st century.Â
âDo you want me to call you a cab as well?â You turned to Maggie, shaking your head.
âNo. I will take the subway. Itâs cheaper. I spent a good amount back there, my credit card deserves a break.â She chuckled as she gave you a kiss goodbye.
On your way back you saved Joelâs number in your contacts. Joel.
Plain and simple, because he was the first Joel you knew.
He hadnât texted you by the time you made it to your place. You tried your best to not overthink it. Calling it a lucky shot if he remembered to text you the next morning, and focus on anything but him.
You put your phone back on your nightstand after checking it for the 1000th time. Hating for yourself how you always ended up as the person who waits.
On next day at 13:42 your phone buzzed with a message.
After spending the night wondering when he would text you back and trying to distract yourself from wonderingâŠ
Hi, itâs Joel Miller from last night. I got your number as you were waiting on line at Opheliaâs ladies room.
You smiled at the formality of the text message. It was probably better than âwasssupppâ the guys around your age sent you.
You quickly started typing a reply. He was still online, you felt that was your lucky shot. Hoping would not wait for 12 hours again for a reply.
Even if he did, you would just give up and throw your phone out the window.
hi joel
You felt a weight was over your chest when you saw typing⊠under his name. You didnât realize you were holding your breath until you saw his message.
How are you? Any signs of hangover?
just tired from last night.
we left the place at 2:24 AM.
Thatâs bad. I assumed you would leave later than us, so I didnât want to text you in the morning and disturb you.
The us seemed more important to you than focusing on the fact that he only texted late because he cared.
Because he thought you could be tired, and he just did not want to disturb you late at nightâ
us?
Yeah, throw your senses out the window⊠Ask it awayâŠ
I was with my brother last night.
You felt shame because of your doubts. What would he say, his wife?
I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me tonight?
Iâm a nice cook :)
sure :)
is 19:30 good?
Yes it is. Iâm sending you my location.
I can also send an Uber to pick you up.
no itâs fine. you donât live far.
At exactly 19:33 you rang the doorbell. You fixed your top as you waited for him. It was cute and see through enough for a first date. Youâve also taken your pants showing your ass like a masterpiece from dry cleaners.
Lucky guyâŠ
You didnât tell Maggie or someone else that you were going on a date because you didnât want them spiral this into something bigger than it was.
You felt the inside of your palms getting wetter. Your heartbeat sped up as each second he did not open the door.
Should you go back? Maybe you coâ
He opened the door before you could gather your thoughts. Smiling when his eyes found you, leaning his head towards the door. âHi.â He did not look nervous like you, he looked like it was just a Saturday night for him.
âHi.â You said smiling back, and joined your hands in front of you. Feeling the muscles on your back relax as he opened the door wider for you and stepped inside.
âWelcome. Sorry it took me awhile to open the door, I was waiting for water to boil.â He explained as he closed the door and turned towards you.
You took a better look at the place once you were inside. It did not have much, seemed like he only purchased the necessary stuff. He did not have posters or painting decorating his walls like yours did, or a large bookshelf filled with books.
âYou have a nice place.â You said as you followed his guide to kitchen.
He turned on his heels, looking at you. He was wearing a dark Pink Floyd tshirt and blue jeans. You could see his biceps peeking out from the sleeves. His hair was nicely done, beard was trimmed. He looked even better than you remembered.
âOh thanks, Iâve just moved in here actually, wanted to be closer tâ city.â He said as he pulled your chair for you to sit. âDinner will be around half an hour, do you want to have something to drink first?â
âSure.â You said as you sat on the bar stool, watching him to come back with beers. When he closed the fridge door you noticed the only photo placed on it. The magnet was just some dark circle, and your fridge was decorated with cute and funny ones.
On the photo Joel was next to some guy and had his arm placed on his shoulder. The guy had a longer, combed back hair but shared Joel's love for mustaches.
They were both wearing black tux, and had a buttonhole. The guyâs was larger than Joelâs, so you thought it was probably from a wedding.
âWho is that?â You asked as you pointed on the photo. He looked over his shoulder.
âThatâs Tommy, my little brother. Itâs from his wedding day. 'was a few years ago.â He explained casually, taking a sip from his beer. âI was the bestman.â
âMy friend is getting married in two weeks as well, Iâm the maid of honor. We were having bacholerrette party the other night.â You felt a twist on your stomach as you spoke. A pressure on your shoulder getting heavier as you spoke. You tried your best not to frown, as you remembered what your ex told you.
Youâre overwhelming, all your problems and your whines⊠All you do is talk talk talkâ
âA few weeks later you may have one on your fridge with your friend as well.â You smiled at the thought. Not like there was a space left on your fridge for one more photo.
âYeah I suppose. I hope we both look good in the photo as you guys do.â
âHire a professional. Thatâs the secret. You cannot tell we were both hammered, thanks to the guy.â He admitted and you both laughed at that. You felt lighter as he joked and asked you questions. The knots in your stomach getting untwisted as he spoke. You weren't sure if it was because of beer or his interest even in the most mundane things you told him, but you felt lighter. âAre you excited for the wedding?â
âNot really, theyâve been dating for years. I was wondering when he would ask, rather than if he would ask.â He nodded, checking the food in the pot and he raised himself to stir it.
You gulped when you saw his flexing muscles underneath his tshirt. Your fingers played with the rim of bottle, watching him prepare the plates and his thick arms and long fingers move.
âTommy was nervous as hell when he proposed. Maybe same thing happened with him as well.â
âYeah maybe. The idea of marriage can be scary.â
âYou think so?â
You are not the kind of girl suitable for marriage.
âYes, but I also know you do not get scarred that much when you know you are married with the right person.â You were not sure if you were saying this to him or yourself.
âWell, you havenât seen my brother at the end of the aisle but he is one of a kind guy. But Maria was relaxed, so you might be right.â He said as he came back with two plates of food.
âIt looks delicious.â
âTold ya I was a nice cook. Letâs dig in.â
â
The most of the dinner was spent with questions about your jobs and family. Nothing too personal, nothing to make you nervous. Although you had beer for that. The screeching voice of your ex had stopped echoing in your head.
Now you were sitting on his couch, drinking and going over your funny stories to one another.
His knees were touching yours, his hands was close to your thigh, but he was not directly touching you. His left handâs pinky were barely grazing your upper thigh.
âSo the stripper you hired took wallets of three guys from the party and nobody blamed you?â
âWell, I got the number from a guy at work. If anybody were to be blamed, then it would be him. Plus, Iâm not someone who loses all his senses when a girl in underwear sits on my lap.â
âYou are not?â
âNawh baby, Iâm not a teenager anymore. I can focus when a pretty girl is on ma lap.â You raised your eyebrows, chuckling at his confession.
Baby.
You could definitely go with being called baby.
You wetted your lips as his pinky brushed your thigh, you had to restrain yourself from opening your legs.
âReally? Thatâs good for you then, we donât want your wallet to be stolen as well.â
He shook his head, his fingers brushing over your thighs. When you turned your gaze at him your heart skipped a beat.
He looked amazing in the dimmed lights of the room. You got closer to him, wondering what would be his next move.
âWant me to show you?â He whispered and you nodded. A bit quicker than youâd preferâŠ
He gently pressed his lips on yours. Waiting for a response as his lips lingered on yours. You kissed him back, leaning your body closer to his.
The kiss was slow; he didnât push his tongue into your mouth right away. Something you were glad he didnât.
His hands stood on his sides, allowing you to set the pace. You bit down on his lower lip, slowly, signaling him to open his mouth. He grunted, clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from touching you. Opening his mouth to push his tongue inside yours, sucking your tongue.
You could taste the bitter taste of the beer, but didnât mind. Sure same could apply for you as well. Your hands placed on his cheeks, his stubble digging inside your palms.
He slowly placed his hands on your waist, guiding you on his lap. When you were settled, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. A small whimper left your lips, when you felt him getting harder under you.
His other hand moved south, palm following the shape of your ass. Your one hand moved further down, feeling his muscles fletch inside his tshirt.
âYouâre good.â You admitted as you broke the kiss for air. His hands still on your body, caressing you. He rested his head on the back of the couch.
ââWant me to show ya things Iâm better at?â His tone was smug. You nodded quickly, letting your body make decisions for you.
He pulled you back to his torso, kissing you rougher than before. His hand was now in front of your jeans, cupping you. You moaned when he pressed his fingers onto tight denim.
A few seconds later you were lying down on the couch with him between your legs and your jeans were already left your body.
His palms were rough as they moved across your legs, moving towards your upper thighs then your panties. âMay I?â He said between kisses, waiting for your approval.
You nodded, but he only hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties. âWords baby, use your words.â You felt yourself getting wetter when he called you by that nickname again.
âYes, please.â
âThatâs my girl.â He said as he quickly pecked your lips, sliding off your underwear. His fingers traced your lips, gathering your slick. âFuck, I didnât expect you to be this wet baby.â He whispered on your lips.
You felt the heat rising through your cheeks but before you could hide your face Joel already pushed a finger inside you. âOh!â You moaned loudly, he raised your leg and hooked it on his shoulder.
âIâd love to hear your voice baby. Letâs see if you can be louder.â He said as he started moving his finger rapidly. Hitting your sweet spot with the pad of his finger at each stroke.
Your toes curled and you felt your stomach got tighten with his movements. âHmph J-Joel!â You held onto his upper arm for support. His lips on your neck, kissing and nibbling. Before giving you a chance to get used to first one, he pushed his second finger inside you. Your grasp on his arm got tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks.
You could feel yourself drip onto his palm, hearing the slick noises as his fingers moved inside you. âI-Iâm cl-close.â You admitted, feeling your walls close around his fingers.
âYeah baby?â He said as he slowed down to look at you, brushing off to hair strands on your face. You nodded, biting down on your lower lip. âLet go for me, okay? Come on.â He said as he got back to his old pace, scissoring his fingers.
When your orgasm hit you, you raised your head to kiss him. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. He gladly surrendered to your kiss, his hand placed on your cheek as he deepened the kiss.
Slowly pulling his fingers as your breaths slowed down. His hand moved to the hem of your top. You felt your heart shrunk on your chest. You placed your hand on top of his, shaking your head.
He pulled his hand back like it just touched fire. Muttering an apology as you raised yourself. âIâm so sorry.â You said, reaching for your underwear and pants to quickly put them on.
âItâs getting late, I should get going.â You explained as you checked the time on your phone.
10:34 PM.
After ten is late right?
He nodded quickly. âLet me drop you off.â He said as he got up from the couch. You noticed his boner once he stood back on his feet. Pressing your lips together to stop your cunt from throbbing at the sight.
You were leaving the guy who gave you a body wrecking orgasm with a huge, thick bonerâŠ
âWe both drank. I think it is better for me to call an Uber.â
âYou are right.â He slurred his words, walking over to you. âLet me walk you out then. I can join you as you wait.â
âYou donât have to.â
âI want to.â You dropped your shoulders, seeing the guilt all over his face. You nodded, allowing him to walk with you.
You took out your phone to call for an Uber. Sighing with relief when you saw your driver was close to you.
âSo that was⊠good?â You raised your head back to him. Putting your phone back inside your bag. Guilt and tension were all over his face.
âI really had a nice time. I have this thing in the morning and we drank and itâsââ He put his hands in the air. Stopping your mumbling.
âYou donât have to explain anything to me.â He said, smiling down at you. âIâll call you then, for next time?â
âYeah thatâd be great.â You answered, eyes going back and forth between him and the road.
Shifting on your feet from one foot to other. His hands were in his pockets. Resting his body on the metal gate, casually checking you up and down.
When you saw your car coming you gave him a small goodbye hug, wrapping your arms around his waist. âI had a great time. Thanks for everything.â You explained again, trying your best to assure him he had done nothing wrong.
âAnytime. Text me once you get back, alright?â
âSure.â You said as you walked over to your car, looking over your shoulder before you got in. He waved you slightly, you smiled back and he mouthed the words âBe safe.â
Once he was out of your sight, you relaxed on your seat. Let go of the breath you were holding since you put back on your jeans.
Your fingers were rubbing your temples. As you quickly recapped the night.
You ended up on a guyâs lap again on the first date. You even went to his place and let him finger you. At least you did not let him fuck you with his seemingly huge cock. That showed self-improvementâŠ
And lastly, you turned down the guy who was the nicest guy you have met.
You knew you kissed your chance to a second date goodbye as the Uber turned around the corner to your street.
[part ii]
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Good Luck, Babe! (NSFW)
Larissa Weems x fem!reader
A/N: I know, I know. Iâve got series waiting for an update blah blah blah. But when something sparks your inspiration, you just got to get to work!! This oneâs - obviously - inspired by the Chappell Roan song. This is full on ANGST, HURT NOT COMFORT, youâve been warned! One shot, no second chapter to fix it all. We love the pain. Hope youâll enjoy my darlings and donât forget to like and reblog if you do!! <3
Larissa had been startled awake by a sudden loud noise, her heart pounding in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom she shared with the banshee that slept next to her.
Not a literal one - although that might have been a better choice, Larissa thought as she turned her head towards the man sheâd been sharing a bed with for over a decade and nearly two. Ha, there it was again. That loud snoring that kept her awake for nights on end. A banshee, thatâs what he sounded like.
She sat up, carefully swinging her legs on the side of the bed and trying her best not to wake him up - somehow the snoring was still more bearable than his incessant yapping when he was awake.
Larissa took a deep breath, rubbing her hands on her face as she contemplated what to do with the rest of her night. She had a little over four hours left of sleep before her alarm would go off, signifying the beginning of her working day. She brushed her fingers through her silver hair, holding back a whine when some of it got stuck in her wedding ring.
Oh bitter irony, she thought as she pulled away to inspect the golden ring on her left hand.
The banshee snored again, pulling Larissa out of her thoughts and nearly making her consider squeezing a pillow on her husbandâs face. Instead, she quietly got out of bed, throwing a silky robe on her silkier shoulders and tying it close as a shiver ran down her spine.
Things could have been so different.
As her hand brushed down the wooden handrails of the main stairs, Larissa couldnât help but reminisce about her younger days. She thought of Nevermore when she was only a student there and not in charge of it. The Poe cup, the RaveâN, the feeling of soft hands on her skin. Larissa stopped dead in her tracks. She could have sworn that she had felt it, right there in the middle of the staircase, the ghost of soft hands on her midriff. She took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs on the tip of her toes, still not wanting to wake up the banshee that rested upstairs.
Turning the light on as she made her way to the kitchen, Larissa walked straight to the sink and knelt to access the cupboard below it. She didnât even look at the bottles, grabbing the first one that met her hand and pulling it out of the cupboard. It would be a good one anyway, her darling husband always made sure of it. Grand wine, grand house (that she had been against buying), grand life, grand wife. The thought left a bitter taste in Larissaâs mouth and she hurried to open the bottle, eager to replace the bitterness of a wasted life with the bitter taste of an aged Chianti.
As she sipped on her freshly poured wine, Larissaâs mind transported her back to a night twenty years ago.
âTheyâll catch us!â Larissa half-whispered as her hand squeezed yours.
âEveryoneâs at the RaveâN, they wonât even notice weâre gone. Come on, even if they did, Nevermoreâs brightest student and its biggest weirdo? No one would speculate that weâre together. Theyâll think that you went to bed early, as a bright student should, and that Iâm hiding in some dark corner all alone like a loser.â You joked, pushing the door to your room open.
âIâm not Nevermoreâs brightest student, Morticia is,â Larissa said, her crimson-painted lips falling in a soft pout.
âHa, so nothing about me not being a weirdo or a loser?â You feigned being hurt before letting out a chuckle. âMorticia doesnât have half of your intelligence nor a quarter of your beauty. Sheâs got a big pair of tits, thatâs all.â You shrugged, closing the door behind you.
Something churned inside Larissaâs stomach, the early stirrings of jealousy making her face grow hot at the mere thought of you finding Morticia somewhat attractive.
âKiss me,â she demanded.
âWait, Iâve got something-âYou didnât have time to finish your sentence as Larissa's lips crashed against yours, bruising and demanding.
Larissa opened her mouth and you quickly followed, allowing her to thrust her tongue against yours in a dance you two had been rehearsing for months. Her lips moved down your chin and up your jaw, leaving a trail of red marks that youâd have to scrub at in the morning.
âRiss-â you whined when she nipped at the thin skin of your neck, gently pulling away from her. âWait, wait-â
Larissa reluctantly let go of you, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb and clearing her throat.
âI want to take my time,â you explained. âWe always do this so quickly, most of the time I canât even get you fully naked. Letâs take our time, everyone will be busy downstairs for another couple of hours.â
Larissa pushed a small smile and nodded. She sat down on your bed and watched as you pulled something from underneath it.
âHow on earth did you get that?!â She squealed, nearly ripping the green bottle from your hand.
âBorrowed it from the kitchen,â you shrugged.
âYou know that borrowing means youâll give it back at some point, right?â Larissa mumbled as she read the tag on the bottle.
âYeah, whatever. Iâll buy some cheap bottle from the supermarket downtown and put it back in the kitchen.â
Larissa let out a snorting laugh and shook her head.
âDo you even know how much this is worth?â She said, gesturing with the bottle in her hand.
âNow donât be rude,â you raised an eyebrow. âYouâre the one that comes from a rich family, not me.â
âShut up and pour us a glass, if you have anything to open the bottle with!â Larissa pouted. You knew she hated being reminded that she came from money, but it simply was the truth.
âWho do you take me for, a rookie?â You huffed as you opened your bedside table only to pull out a bottle opener and wave it victoriously in Larissaâs face, making her laugh.
What happened next was a little blurry in Larissaâs mind. She remembered sharing the wine, drinking straight from the bottle as you laughed about everything and nothing. She remembered spilling wine on the awfully expensive gown her father had bought her for the RaveâN, and then soft hands helping her out of it. Her head between your thighs, yours between hers. She remembered falling asleep in your arms and waking up still in your arms the next morning. And that had been the breaking point for Larissa. Her parents would never agree to this, to her having this sort of feelings for women, for you. She had to nip this in the bud before it went too far. And so she did.
Larissa made sure to avoid you like the plague after that night, going as far as becoming friends with Morticia Frump and her clique even though she knew how much you disliked them. And then came Henry. He wasnât Larissaâs type, obviously. But he would please her parents and so she let him court her until they officially became a thing. Then everything had gone so fast, her final year at Nevermore, the graduation, Henry proposing.
âLarissa!â You ran after her inside Nevermore after witnessing Henryâs proposal in the yard. What a dick move, proposing right after she had graduated. Nice way to steal her spotlight.
Larissa spun on her heels, fidgeting with the new ring that felt unfamiliar on her left hand.
âWhat do you want?â She sighed, trying her best to keep her eyes off of you.
âYou canât do that,â you said, shaking your head. âYou canât marry him, you donât even love him! Larissa, pleaseâŠâ
âPlease what?â Larissa snapped. âWhat did you think? That this fling we had would turn into more than it was? Donât be ridiculous.â
You swallowed your pain, refusing to let your heart burst at the seam.
âWhen you wake up next to him in a decade or two,â you said, fighting against the lump in your throat. âAnd youâll realise that youâre nothing more than his wife, youâll think of me. Youâll think of everything we shared all of those years ago.â
It was Larissaâs turn to swallow thickly as she took in your words. Marrying him meant security, a normal life. But it also meant losing her freedom, Larissa knew that.
âSay something,â you pleaded, hoping that it would be enough for your ex-lover to change her mind.
âIâm sorry,â she simply replied, holding her head high as she always did in any situation - good or bad. âYou knew this would come to an end.â She added before giving a small nod and walking past you, the sound of her kitten heels echoing down the corridor.
She hadnât seen you since. You hadnât replied to the wedding invite she had sent. She had hoped youâd show up, sheâd hoped to prove to you that she had made the right choice. That she was happy in the life she had picked for herself. That she had moved on. But she hadnât really moved on, had she? Drinking herself half-blind almost two decades after sheâd last seen you. Maybe you had moved on. Surely you had.
When Larissa was pulled back to reality, to the empty kitchen and the emptier glass of wine in her hand, tears had started running down her cheeks which she hastily wiped away.
She had thought about reaching out more times than she would ever admit. But she never dared. Not when she had found your Facebook and you seemed so happy with that woman on your profile picture. She would never dare reach out to you for she knew that you would tell her what you always did whenever she had to deal with the consequences of her actions.
I told you so, Larissa. You know I hate to say it but I told you so.
And Larissa wished, she wished she had listened to you. She wished she could go back in time and she wished she could forget you.
But Larissa knew - she would have to stop the world to stop the feeling.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
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stray kids soulmate aus | s. changbin <3
a/n: finally posting the next skz soulmate au !! i loved writing for sweet baby angel changbin :,,,-) i'm really in my skz feels these days, so hopefully i can write more soulmate aus soon <333 pics not mine~
content:Â fluff, soulmate au |Â wc:Â 1.6k |Â warnings:Â none! |Â pairing:Â soulmate!changbin x gn!reader |Â requests:Â open
âĄÂ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin âĄ
every month, you send a package to your soulmate, knowing only your names before you meet.
ËÊâĄÉË
âchangbin?â chan called from outside the bedroom, âare you ready yet?â
changbin, half-dressed and digging through his closet, answered, âalmost!â
chan peeked his head inside, tilting it in confusion, âis something wrong?â
âit doesnât fit.â
âwhat doesnât fit?â
âthe new shirt i ordered. i couldâve sworn i ordered it in my usual sizeâŠugh!â
âoh that sucks, butâŠcanât you just wear another shirt?â
changbin groaned, âyeah, sure, i can. the whole point was to wear that shirt today.â
hyunjin appeared in the doorway, âdo you need help picking out an outfit?â
chan explained the vague situation to hyunjin, and, during that time, changbin settled for a plain black t-shirt and denim jacket that matched his jeans. the car arrived to pick them up, so, with a final loud groan, changbin grabbed his favorite necklace from his dresser and headed out for the day.
ËÊâĄÉË
as soon as you opened your eyes, you checked your phone to confirm todayâs date. earlier that month, your soulmate, whom you only knew as âchangbin,â sent you a custom t-shirt in the mail. when you unfolded the shirt, a cute handwritten note slipped out, telling you that it needed to be worn on a specific date because iâll be wearing one just like it. itâll be a long workday for me, so knowing that weâre matching will give me the strength to do well! please take a picture, so, one day, i can see how cute you look~~ thank you for being my good luck charm, my love <3
rolling out of bed, you smiled. you had never heard changbinâs voice, but you imagined he always had a bright tone. his messages were always so sweet. even if he sent you a glamorous gift, you cherished the handwritten note more than anything.Â
with your outfit completed, photo taken, and your mood at an all-time high, you decided to make the most of your day off. hoping the soulmate airwaves connected you, you thought letâs have a good day today, changbin! iâm rooting for you! as you stepped out your front door.
ËÊâĄÉË Â
âall right,â chan sighed, stretching his arms, âi say we move onto the next track, yeah?â
jisung agreed, so changbin checked to see which song they needed to record next, âletâs seeâŠah, itâs jisungâs song, âvolcanoâŠââ changbinâs tone dropped, but he spoke again quickly, âwhoâs up first?â
changbin made a mental note to apologize to jisung later. it wasnât jisungâs fault that they were recording the song he wrote about his soulmate on the one day when changbin ruined his attempt to have a cute moment with his soulmate. chan, sensing the shift in changbinâs energy, suggested they take a break. even the members who werenât in a sour mood enthusiastically agreed, all shuffling out of the studio for some fresh air. Â
âchangbin-hyung!â felix chirped, âwant to walk with me? i could use some company!â
changbin couldnât resist the smile that formed on his face. even in his worst mood, felixâs sunshine demeanor would win him over. as they walked, they chatted about the new animation felix was obsessed with, with felix re-enacting the most interesting parts. changbinâs shoulders relaxed, and he was grateful that the evening air and felixâs voice were so healing. standing at the edge of a slightly crowded street, changbin thought that maybe the bad day was behind him.
âwhatâs been on your mind today?â felix asked.
âitâs going to sound so stupid.â
felix shook his head, âno way! if it upset you, then itâs not stupid.â
âokay,â changbin sighed, âtoday, i was supposed to wear this one shirt, but i guess i didnât pay attention and ordered it in the wrong size. normally that wouldnât be a big deal, but i sent y/n the same shirt. we were supposed to be matching todayâŠkind of like a good luck charm.â
felix frowned, âiâm sorry. it never feels good when a plan doesnât work out, especially an exciting one!â felix paused, and then grinned as brightly as he could, âyouâre wearing the necklace y/n got you though! youâve been doing great in the studio today, so that must be working like a lucky charm, right?â
âyeah, probably. itâs justâŠâ changbin frowned, âhearing jisungâs song made me feel even worse. iâm so happy jisung met his person, but i canât help that iâm jealous. i see how much better he feels on his bad days after he talks to his partner, and it hurts to know that i can only talk to y/n once a month through handwritten notes. itâs beautiful, and i love every word they share, but on days like today, it feels like itâs not enoughâŠâ
changbinâs voice trailed off, turning his head toward the opposite side of the street. maybe people-watching strangers could counteract the tears forming in his eyes.
felix rubbed changbinâs shoulder, âitâs okay to feel sad. i know youâll meet y/n when the time is right, but that doesnât make it any better in the present moment. maybe you can write out your monthly message to them tonight, if that would help?â
felix glanced over at changbin when he didnât hear a reply after a minute or so, âchangbin? are you with me?â
changbin stared down the street, captivated by someone wearing the exact shirt he was supposed to be wearing today. though his heart was racing, he doubted it was real. he had to be imagining it since he was thinking about you all day, right?
your eyes searched the crowd in front of you, as you were unable to shake the feeling that someone was looking right at you. you slowed your steps, scanning every face to find one you recognized. you were about to give up, but then a familiar necklace caught your eye. everything stopped when you met the gaze of the person wearing it.Â
it felt too good to be true. how could you just run into your soulmate on a random evening, in an area youâd only been to once or twice before? besides, he wasnât wearing the same shirt as you, which he had planned. but that necklace looked exactly like the one you gifted changbin for his birthday. even as you doubted yourself, looking at the man in front of you gave you the feeling that he was the one you had been searching for all along.
you waved at him and asked, âchangbin?â
you knew you were correct the second he started giggling and jumping up and down. you laughed, every cell inside you bursting with joy because there he is!
âchangbin? whatâre youâŠâ felix followed changbinâs gaze, âoh my god! is that y/n?â
felix deciphered a yes!!! amidst all of changbinâs excited noises, so he nudged changbin, âstop waving and go say âhelloâ!â
changbin bounded towards you, unable to stop his smile from growing bigger and bigger as the distance between you two finally disappeared.
ây/n! iâm so sorry iâm not wearing the shirt! i messed up and ordered the wrong size!â
you giggled at the pout that formed on his face, despite the look of pure joy in his eyes, âitâs okay, changbin! you look cute! besides, that would explain why this one isnât in my usual size.â
âreally?â changbin felt relieved, âso i didnât mess up as badly as i thought?â
âno, not at all,â you shook your head, overwhelmed by the cuteness of changbin, your soulmate, âi can switch with youâsince you must have mine in your closetâso we can match next time!â
changbin shook his head, âno way. you look way too cute in that for me to give you a different one.â
âshould we share it then?â you joked.
âwhy shouldnât we? weâre sharing the rest of our lives, arenât we?â
you felt heat rush to your face at his words, bringing yet another giggle to changbinâs lips. you heard someone call his name with the news that they had to leave in a few minutes, which prompted changbin to get your contact information. the smile never left his face, even when he started to say goodbye. in his mind, nothing was more exciting than the fact that tonight, he could finally ask you how was your day, my love?
âiâll talk to you later then, yeah?â you beamed.
âyes, please! iâm so sorry i have to leave right now, but i promise iâll make it up to you.â
âi do not doubt that, changbin.â
you waved, watching him walk in the direction he came from. after a few steps, he turned around to look at you again.
âwhatâre you smiling so much for?â you giggled.
âi guess you really are my good luck charm today, y/n.â
you felt butterflies swarm inside you as your laughs mixed, filling the crowded street with pure joy and endless possibilities.
ËÊâĄÉË
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Live in Five
Reporter Reader x Cameraman Kyle Garrick | Ao3
MDNI | NSFW | cw: sexism, almost car wreck, driving in blizzard, PiV sex, fingering, afab reader, consent checks, unprotected sex, barely edited
Word Count: 4.9k
Summary: After your boss sends you and your cameraman out into a blizzard you find yourselves stuck in the snow in your news van. With no signal and no way to get the van out, the two of you have nowhere to go for the night. You have to entertain yourselves one way or another.
A/N: Y'all thank @mareiasereia for sending this ask that reminded me of this idea.
You sigh, looking down at your feet for the time being. As long as you can until youâre forced to stare into the sun behind the silhouetted camera. Cold wind bites at your cheeks, nearly seeping through the thick wool of your trench coat. You hate these winter outdoor broadcasts - canât ever quite get used to the weather despite doing them for years now. It takes all your concentration to keep your teeth from chattering while you speak.
âHowâs my hair?â You ask, squinting as you try to meet Kyleâs eye where he works on setting up his camera.
âJust perf- oh!â He jogs forward, gently tucking what you assume to be a stray piece back. âPerfect. As always.â
You roll your eyes, cheeks warming. He always manages to get you flustered, even after years of working together. Youâd think youâd get used to it - the way his dark eyes focus in and the slight grit to his voice. Instead it infects you - pools at the base of your spine and gnaws at your concentration.
Kyle whistles at you, holding up a three.
You nod, adjusting your stance and clearing your throat.
Two.
One.
âThanks, John.â You grin, meeting the cameraâs âeyeâ. âThe downtown winter festival is well underway. Everyone seems to be enjoying the festivities-â
You go through the normal song and dance. Kyle follows as you move closer to the wooden, painted entrance to the park for the vent. Itâs nice this year, actually. The city sprung for a real artist to craft something interesting. Though, nothing will top that one time they let the local elementary school decorate it. It isnât anything special, this story. Just the usual yearly coverage of the usual winter activities. Youâve done the festival for the past three winters - the first just after the station hired you. If it werenât for the icy air on your cheeks you might enjoy it more.
Kyle cuts, lowering his camera and you sigh in relief. Even after all this time your cheeks still hurt from smiling for so many minutes straight while talking. At least you didnât stutter at all. Or slip. You almost wiped out last year. That clip became more popular among the highschoolers than you might have liked.
âGreat job, luv.â Kyle grins, giving you a supportive thumbs up.
You snort. âThanks.â
âItâs so cold.â Kyle sighs as he packs up his camera carefully into itâs case. His hands are always so delicate. âIâm thinkinâ a coffee stop on the way back?â
You hum and glance at your watch. âI suppose it wouldnât hurt.â
âAlways so serious.â
âOne of us has to be.â
âThink youâre mixinâ me up with Johnny, luv.â
âOh, right.â You snicker.
The station you work for is small. Local. Buried in the back woods, covering a single populated town and the surrounding rural counties. Most of the news pertains to weather for the sake of farming, or livestock related accidents. The occasional violence makes its way onto the main, evening segment but generally it isnât anything that canât be covered in an article. Thatâs the other half of your job - updating articles and writing short columns about recent events. Itâs not glamourous, but itâs still journalism. Plus, picking up the extra work boosts your pay and vacation time enough to make the job a little more worth it.
You watch from the side while John and Kate prepare for the serious evening news. The big, main anchors of the station. They might as well walk on water around here. Not that they act like it. Theyâre actually quite kind. Kateâs suits are always smart and often brightly colored. Her hair is always quaffed and you pray that your skin looks that good at her age. John⊠well, everybody loves John. Hard not to with that warm smile and those wide set shoulders.
âCan you drop these at my desk, sweetheart?â Philip pulls you from your daze. He smirks down at you in that twisted, snake-like way while holding out a file. âSince youâre headed that way.â
You frown. âIâm not your-â
âThanks a lot.â He drops the papers, the last of your coffee sloshing as you just manage to catch them. Philip is easily the most insufferable asshole in this place. You curse the day you volunteered to move cubicles because it would put you closer to the tech guys. To Kyle. Now youâre sharing a wall with the human embodiment of liquid shit.
Itâs not just him, really. Most of the men here donât see you as anything important. Too young, too new to hold any weight around the station. The pretty, soft girl that does feel good, soft stories. A petting zoo. Some fluffy little thing for them to caress and coo at. You glance back at Kate. The men donât mess with Kate. What does she do so differently?
Itâs not that you mind doing fluff stories. Those are fine. You enjoy them, even. Youâd rather spend your time talking about kids selling lemonade to fund their future college (still dystopian) or some dog that managed to save itâs owners life (still cool as hell.) You just wish they took you seriously. That you werenât treated as lesser for it. Lesser for not wanting to be subjected to violent accidents and crimes that make your gut churn.
So, you do what you usually do when you want to slam your head through a wall, disappear into the tech room. After messily throwing the file on Philipâs desk, of course.
âAlright, darlinâ?â Kyle leans back in his chair as you push through the door into the designated âbat cave.â
You nod silently, glaring at your feet as you flop down into the open editing bay. Itâs nice in here. Calm. Separated from the main office. You feel like you can actually breathe in here.
âThereâs my bonnie lass!â Johnny appears from the supply closet with his usual ear to ear grin. You donât miss the extra pinkness of his lips - or the way Simon follows him out.
You glance over at Kyle who has turned back to his editing. You watch his hands as they move, his eyes locked in on the screen before him. Are you the only person in the world that follows rules? That does as theyâre told? How come everyone else gets to break them?
Itâs Friday. A massive blizzard blew in seemingly out of nowhere halfway through the work day. Your meteorologist practically scrambled to figure out what to report on and how long it might last. Roach, they call him, on account of that time he survived getting picked up and thrown by a tornado. Most people mutter about leaving early, some preemptively grabbing their coats. A few snuck out the back nearly an hour ago when the weather first started. You opted to hunker down and get some work done, considering the universe blessed you with a lack of Philip for the day.
The harsh utterance of your name has you snapping up, back straight and eyes wide. âMr. Shepherd! Uh, how can I help you?â
The station owner steps into your cubicle, face as taught and stern as ever. He isnât the one that hired you but part of your onboarding included a brief meeting with him. You hated every second - an inexplicable pressure building in your chest the entire fifteen minutes. Itâs back now.
âThere was a massive wreck on the highway. Fifteen cars, apparently.â Shepherd says. âI want you at the hospital giving updates for the site. Take your camera man, too.â
You blink up at him dumbly for a moment. âSir, I donât- In this weather? Itâs a blizzard out there! Weâd just be in the way-â
âItâs not a request.â Shepherd snaps, staring down at you with that bored, icy gaze that makes you desperately wish he had hair you could rip out. You know you have to, though. Youâve seen him fire people more important than you over lesser infractions.
âO-okay.â You murmur, hands balled into fists. Partially from anger, partially to keep them from visibly shaking. It isnât right. It isnât right that heâs putting you in this kind of unnecessary danger. Kyle, either. Oh, KyleâŠ
You drag your feet as you head to the tech room, heart dropping into your gut as you see him packing up and pulling on his thick bomber coat. Probably assumed youâd get to leave early, too. You should get to leave early. You should have ducked out an hour ago like the others. Why do you always follow the fucking rules?
âHey, angel.â Kyle grins, smile dropping as soon as his eye meets yours. âWhatâs up?â
âShepherd wants us to go to the hospital.â You swallow roughly to keep your voice from cracking. âWants us to cover some big car wreck from there.â
âThaâs so far from here!â Johnny gasps from his perch at the editing bay. âHe cannae expect ye tae go out like this.â
âHe can, apparently.â You mutter, staring at your feet. You want to say no. You want to give him an earful - to really lay into him about his sexist, careless attitude. Yâknow, girlboss stuff or whatever. Whatever Kate would probably do. She wouldnât take this laying down, belly up. Instead your hands shake and your eyes sting with frustrated tears. You canât breathe right. Itâs wrong. This is wrong. Itâs wrong and you canât do anything about it without losing your job at the only station in town.
âHey.â You jump as Kyleâs hand strokes down your arm - gentle and warm. Grounding. âItâs alright. The vans got chains on the tires. Weâll take a backroad and see how far we can get. If we have to turn back, Iâll take the heat.â
You snap your head up to meet his gaze. âKyle-â
âItâs fine.â He smiles reassuringly. âCâmon, go get your coat.â
âO-okayâŠâ
You stay quiet at you load into the van. Guilt gnaws at your chest while you do the same to your inner cheek. The idea that youâve put Kyle in danger just because youâre too weak to argue with your boss makes you feel weak. Pathetic. Youâre pathetic. Neither of you talk much as you drive, opting to keep the radio low so Kyle can concentrate on the road. Itâs just as bad as it seemed. You can barely see to the end of the headlights - the sun having already nearly set - everything else pitch black while the snow glints in the light. Itâs falling sideways. You can feel the truck sway every so often from a massive gust of wind. At least no one else is on the road.
You wish you didnât feel like crying so badly.
Thereâs a loud cracking sound somewhere. You canât tell from what direction - unsure if it was even real. You canât hear much of anything over the howling wind and snow beating against the van.
âDid you-â Youâre cut off as a massive trunk appears in front of you, crashing down onto the street.
Kyle gasps. You screech, the van whipping off road and he redirects away. A strong arm braces itself over your chest to keep you steady as you careen off the road. You screw your eyes shut tightly, bracing for a likely impact. Between the snow and the darkness you canât tell what direction youâre facing when the van finally lurches to a stop in the icy mud. A loud grunt escapes you as your seatbelt locks against your sternum.
Several beats of quiet pass between you. Both of you panting, trying to clear your heads and take in what just happened. The moment breaks when Kyle drops his arm, hand resting on your thigh. You donât think anything of it past a comforting gesture - there isnât any room in your brain for anything else as you blink slow. It feels good, though. Grounding. It slows your heart and evens your breathing.
âScary, huh?â Kyle chuckles nervously, still staring forward out the windshield.
You canât help but giggle back, nervous energy making your hands shake. âUh-huh. You okay?â
âYeah.â He finally turns to look at you. âYou?â
You nod quietly.
âAlright.â He grunts. âLetâs see about getting out of here.â
The moment he hits the gas to reverse you both know youâre in trouble. The tires spin, whirring loudly along to the wind outside. The van doesnât budge an inch. Youâre stuck on the side of a random backroad, in the middle of a blizzard, with a felled tree in your path, all alone.
Kyle pulls out his phone, tapping around. He sighs loudly, resting his head back on the car seat headrest. âNo signal out here. Fuckinâ hell.â
Youâre well and truly stranded.
Your shoulders start shaking and you bend forward, curling in on yourself. You bury your face in your hands, hot tears swelling in your eyes. âKyle, Iâm so sorryâŠâ
âOh, angel-â
âI couldâve gotten you killed! I couldâve - all because I couldnât - Itâd be all my fault!â You sob.
Kyleâs hand comes to rest on your upper back, rubbing in gentle circles. âLove- itâs okay. Weâre okay. Hey, look at me.â
You shake your head. How could you? How fucking could you? Pathetic.
He takes your wrist, peeling your hands away from your face. âLook. At. Me.â
You sit up slowly, still hiccupping, though no longer sobbing like before. Something about his touch, his hands on you, just feels right. The world feels right. Grounded.
âItâs not your fault. Shepherdâs an arse. He shouldnât have put us in this position. He knew you couldnât say no. Thatâs the only reason he asked.â Thereâs a snarl at the edges of his voice. Something bitter - wrong sounding in his sweet voice. He glances over at the dash. âWeâve got plenty of gas. The battery is basically new. Weâll be fine for the night. Roach said it should be over by morning and theyâll figure out we didnât make it back.â
You sniffle, nodding weakly and undoing your seat belt to breathe properly. Your chest still hurts. âIâm sorryâŠâ
âHere.â After rooting around in the glove box, Kyle comes up with a small pack of tissues. You reach for it, but he makes no move to hand them over. Instead, he takes one out. Cupping your jaw in one hand and slowly, gently, patting around your eyes to fix up the mess you made. Like he always does.
âIâm sorry.â You murmur.
âNo more sorries.â He shakes his head.
Kyle shuts the high beams off, leaving the regular lights on just in case someone drives by. Not that anyone will. This road is underpopulated even during the best summer days. Neither of you speak for a long while. You keep glancing over at Kyle out of the corner of your eye. Heâs thinking about something - you can tell by the pinch in his brow and the pull in the corner of his mouth. He looks so pretty in the moonlight. The contours of his face softened by the low light, eyes nearly pitch black besides a pinprick of light.
âHow are your moms?â You blurt.
He chuckles. âGood. Think theyâre on a cruise right now.â
âIâm jealous.â You snort, looking out the window at the ice.
âFacts.â
You lapse back into quiet, emotionally and physically drained - he probably feels the same. Neither of you quite able to muster your usual, easy banter. A slimy little part of you is glad that Kyle came with you - even if is did put him in unnecessary danger. You donât think you would have handled this situation well on your own. Adrenaline makes your hands shake, your heart still pounding in your chest.
âWant tâ fuck?â Kyle breaks the silence suddenly, head leaned on his hand and elbow on the window seal.
You sputter out an awkward laugh. Heâs joking right? Heâs just fucking with you because heâs bored. âDonât mess with me, itâs not nice.â
âNot messinâ.â
You slowly meet his eye. Even in the dark with only the moonlight and the glow of the electric buttons in the back of the van you can see the seriousness of his expression. The unwavering way his eyes rake over you. He means it.
You shrink away, bashful now. âKyle-â
âYou canât deny that thereâs something here.â He gestures between you. âI know you feel it. That night at the pub-â
âWe were drunk.â
âWe were honest.â He shrugs. âBesides, what better way to pass the time and keep warm?â
You stare at him, eyes searching his face for some other meaning. Some secondary, malicious intent. Itâs not there, of course. Kyle simply isnât like that. Those dark eyes meet yours honestly. You glance down at his hand laying on the arm rest. Itâs been so long since you've been held; touched. Youâre coworkers, though. Close knit professionals. A team. What if moving forward ruins your dynamic? What if you lose him? It would be wrong, wouldnât it? A total HR violation.
Then again⊠why should you always follow the rules?
Fuck it. âOkay.â
âCâmere.â Kyle smiles and reaches over to pull you by your waist and you follow.
Itâs too easy, almost, to let yourself go over the armrests and right across his lap. It takes a moment with your wide hips and thick thighs to get comfortable straddling him. At least the van seats are big. You hover over him slightly, leaning your weight on the hand holding the armrest.
He clicks his tongue, the hands on your waist pressing down. âOn me, love. Want tâ feel you.â
How could you ever deny that? You sigh softly, letting your weight fall into his thighs. Kyle hums appreciatively. The hands on your waist begin to knead down over your hips. You arenât quite sure what to do - what the social protocol is for this situation. Your hands find a resting point on his shoulders, so strong and firm under your touch.
You donât have to worry for long. Not when he leans up to you, the hands on your hips arching you into him, âKiss me?â
You nod, for some reason, before pressing your lips to his. It remains chaste, at first. Little pecks and presses as you feel each other out. His lips are soft, moving so naturally against yours you nearly miss when his tongue swipes across your lower lip. You gasp, giving him just enough room to make his move forward. Suddenly, youâre collapsing into each other. He tastes like his usual morning coffee - sharply sweet caramel. Your hand finds itâs way to the back of his head, one of the hands on your hip scrapes down to grip your thigh.
The moment only breaks when he leans you back too far, sounding off the van horn into the empty night. You both stop, looking at each other for a beat before giggling.
You gasp as the hand on your thigh suddenly disappears under your skirt - your laugh breaking off into a gasp as he cups your pussy through your tights and underwear. His nail catches on the thin fabric. A promise if whatâs to come.
âYou and these fuckinâ skirtsâŠeven in the middle of winterâŠâ Kyle murmurs, breath warm against your ear. âDâyou have any idea how good you look? Prancing around for my camera, huh?â
âKyleâŠâ A shiver runs down your spine.
âItâs just for me, isnât it?â He chuckles, big hands running up your thighs to the bend of your hips. âIâve seen you with the other guys. Not nearly as excited. Lackinâ that little pep in your step.â
He lightly smacks your ass for emphasis. You squeak - face so hot you almost want to get out of the van and bury it in the snow. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit and you canât help but whine quietly. His other hand travels up, pushing at your sweater. His hand catches your bralette as he moves, hiking both up over your chest. A gasp rattles in your throat as he catches a nipple between his teeth, your hands tightly fisting his shirt while you let him explore.
A tearing sound echoes through the van. You canât complain - itâs not like these were your nice tights anyway. Kyle drags his finger along your lips through your underwear. Heâs teasing, eyes locked on your face as he waits for you to react. You just sigh each time his fingers glide over your clit ever so slightly until they stop, catching the hem of your underwear and pushing them to the side.
Kyle pauses, looking up at you. âMay I?â
You huff. âYou better.â
He grins up at you from ear to ear, pressing his lips to yours once again as he drags his fingers between your folds. A low, gravelly hum rumbles in his chest. âSo wet already⊠all this for me?â
The reply gets caught in your throat - cutting off into a moan as he circles your clit with the pads of his fingers. His middle finger circles your entrance, eyes never leaving your face as he gauges your reaction. Youâre sure you look ridiculous - face hot and utter disheveled. He seems to like it, though, quietly moaning with you as he presses one digit inside. You tip your head to the side, matching his slow pace until he adds another. They reach so much deeper than yours ever can, lightly prodding until he finds what he was looking for.
âFuck-!â You gasp, whole body shuddering.
âThere she is.â Kyle murmurs, almost to himself more than you.
âKyyy-!â You whine, rocking back and forth on his hand, desperate for any friction on your clit.
âThassit, take what yâneed, babygirl.â He sighs, catching your nipple between his teeth. âBe good and cum on my fingers.â
It doesnât take much. A few more bounces of your hips just as his fingers curl even further into that spot that leaves you seeing stars. You keen loudly, face buried in the crook of his neck as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You slow to a stop, breathing heavy. Your skin feels electric, body practically humming happily. A pathetic sigh pushes past your lips as Kyle removes his hand.
He slowly brings his fingers to his mouth, groaning as he licks them clean. âTaste just as pretty as you look, love.â
You whine back dumbly, mind and body still coming down from your first orgasm in a long, long time. Well, with a partner at least. Fuck, if Kyle doesnât know what heâs doing. Your find yourself clumsily pawing at his shirt, suddenly desperate to get to see him properly. He just chuckles, pulling it over his head and tossing it toward the passenger seat.
Kyle leans the seat back. It doesnât go far, just enough to give you some extra room to maneuver. Your hands drag over corded muscle just under a layer of soft. You run your fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest. He lets you take your time, lets you feel him out until youâre satisfied and leaning down for another kiss.
âYâwant to keep going?â He murmurs against your lips. âNo pressure.â
You nod vigorously, the hands you braced on his chest gliding down toward his belt. âDo you?â
âFuck yes.â He sighs, hips bucking up into your hand - telling you to get a move on.
You donât, brain to cottony to care much as you take your time with his leather belt. His breath hitches when you palm him through his trousers - the size of him registering somewhere in the back of your mind. You clumsily undo his trousers, hands shaking in anticipation. He lifts his hips just enough to help you pull his pants and boxers partially down his thighs.
Kyle sighs as his cock springs free, eyes still fixed on you as you take him in. Your eyes widen - raking over the length of hum to the perfectly groomed curls at the base. Heâs what you imagine an artist would carve - curve and veins too perfect. Another shiver runs down your spine.
âPrettyâŠâ The word falls from your lips before you can stop it. You cover your mouth, embarrassment forcing you to look away. Kyle just laughs, reaching up to pulls your face back to him.
âI know.â
You suck your teeth. âArrogant man, you are.â
âJust self aware.â He shrugs, smirking up at you.
You roll your eyes, raising your hand to lick a long, wet stripe over your palm and fingers. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, giving him a long, slow stroke from root to tip. Kyle groans, hips bucking up into your touch. You wish you could reach down to wrap your lips around it - let him rest warm and heavy on your tongue. Another time, perhaps.
You meet his gaze as you position yourself over him. A brief moment to let either of you end it here. To stay on this side of the boundary. To leave things as they were - for the most part, at least. Neither of you take it.
The hands on your hips help guide you down. Slowly, an inch at a time. Without any extra lube thereâs a slight burn to the stretch just on this side of too much. You moan, low and quiet as you finally rest at the base of his cock. He sighs out a moan as you lean your weight on him again - fully sheathed inside you. You peek your eyes open to look down at him. His dark eyes have locked onto where youâre connected, the hands on your hips grip so tight you wonder if theyâll leave bruises. Kyleâs jaw is set as he breathes long and deep.
âA-alright?â You gasp out.
âFeel so fuckinâ good around me, doll.â He grunts through grit teeth. âChrist.â
You tilt your head to watch his reaction while you tentatively roll your hips. Those pretty lashes flutter and Kyle tips his head back, groaning.
A newfound confidence overtakes you. âFeels that good, huh?â
He nods with another low groan as you begin to roll your hips at a rhythm. A slow grind down onto each other. Lazy. Youâre both tired after that adrenaline spike earlier, and your legs still feel loose and jelly after already cumming once. He fills you so perfectly, though. His warm hands drag over your skin, leaving an electric feel in their path. His teeth nips at your neck, mouthing along your jaw. Heâs everywhere - all consuming.
âKyle-â You whine, cheek pressing to his temple.
âYeah, baby?â He moans back. âCâmon - shite -say my name again.â
âPlease, Kyle, f-fu-â Your words trail off into nothing. Just unintelligible chants that you think are supposed to be his name. You canât tell anymore, to enraptured in the feeling of your bodies moving against each other.
Kyleâs hand drifts up your back to cup the base of your neck, pulling you down until your foreheads press together. Your eyes may be screwed shut, but you can feel his on you - boring through to the very core of you. He shifts under you, just slightly, suddenly forcing a startled, keening sound out of you as he thrusts up into you with his newfound footing. The pace becomes desperate as you both careen toward the edge.
âOh, fuck!â You whine, nails biting into his shoulder and the fabric to the seat beside his head.
âGonna cum again?â He pants against your lips. âI can feel it - pretty little cuntâs clenching around me like a fuckinâ vice.â
You nod sloppily, only managing a choked, âY-yea-â
âTogether?â
âMmhmm!â
You cling to each other, eyes screwed shut. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling the high pitched whine that tears through your throat as you climax. Kyle moans in your ear, hands digging into your skin so hard theyâll surely leave bruises in their wake as he spills inside you. You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath - his cum dripping from you as he slips out. You sigh, far too content to just stay here with your face buried in the crook of his neck. Warm and comfortable. It feels right - laying in his arms.
âHey.â Kyle pats your hip, pointing behind you. âWe did the Titanic thing.â
You glance at the fogged up windows and laugh.
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into the night || k.mg
Pairing: mingyu x gn!reader
Summary: and along came your knight in gray sweats. aka in which you and mingyu take baby steps into something new
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, reader wears makeup
Word Count: 1.8k
a/n: inspired by true events, aka last weekend when i walked home alone through hongdae drunk off my ass and took photo booth pictures. whole time i was wishing for a mingyu
main masterlist || taglist
when mingyu walked into a convenience store in the backstreets of hongdae after fighting his way past various promoters vying for his attention, he felt his heart settle at the sight of you. sat at a table by the window, your head was settled on your arms and a half empty vitamin drink and an empty water bottle sat in front of you. the small crumbs of seaweed in your vicinity assured him that you at least took his advice and had a snack.
he pulled out his phone to take a quick picture, something to tease you about later, before finally walking to your resting figure. he squatted down as he gently shook you awake, a grin spreading across his face when he finally got to see your eyes mirroring his. it took you a second to process what was happening, and mingyu tried to suppress a chuckle as recognition finally spread through your features.
âmingyu,â you exclaimed with a giddy smile. now that you had lifted your head a bit, he could see the pink hue of your cheeks, an effect from your drinking. âyou came to get me.â you reached out with your hand, sloppily pressing it against his cheek as if to check if he was real.
he gently pulled your hand away and held it in his, sighing in relief when you didnât pull it away. âalways,â he breathed out. his heart raced once again.
if he was honest (and a little drunk), he probably wouldâve told you right then that he was in love with you; that heâd always be at your beck and call even on a crowded saturday in his least favorite part of seoul. but even if he knew you wouldnât remember it in the morning, he kept his feelings to himself. instead, he rubbed small circles on your hand.
âyou smell like pizza,â you remarked with your eyes half lidded and words slurred.
âI was making a late night snack,â he chuckled. that part was true, but he left out that he couldnât sleep because he kept anxiously waiting for you to text him that you were home safe or, even better, for him to come get you. when you finally did, he pulled out his pizza from the oven, slipped on his favorite pair of sweatpants, grabbed an extra hoodie for you and miraculously caught the bus as it pulled at the stop.
âbut the night is so young,â you frowned at him.
âitâs literally 3 in the morning,â mingyu corrected you.
âoh my god, the bus,â you suddenly panicked and shot up, drawing attention from the cashier who sat on her phone at the counter, before mingyu stopped you and shushed you.
âwe can walk to my place, okay?â he reached out to slowly help you stand up. he reached for the vitamin drink and handed it to you, encouraging you to finish it. âdonât want you fighting off a headache tomorrow.â
you nodded and downed the rest of it, grimacing at the taste of medicine it left behind. mingyu offered you the hoodie and cleaned up your trash as you pulled it on. âit smells like you,â you smiled at him as you brought the sleeve to your face.
âlike 3 am pizza?â mingyu chuckled. he offered his elbow out to you to grab for stability as you wobbled towards the exit.
âno,â you shook your head with a smile. âit smells like happiness.â
mingyu chewed his lip, the urge to tell you that you were his happiness coming up stronger than ever. sometimes he wondered if you said things like that just to play with his heart. he bit back his words and helped you step down onto the loud and crowded street.
he pulled you along as he fought his way through the crowds and away from the club street of hongdae. he finally felt himself relax when he heard a street busker singing a cover of an ed sheeran song drown out the pumping bass of the bars and clubs behind you. he looked towards you when you pulled at his sleeve, pulling him to stand with you so you could watch the busker sing.
mingyu could hear you mutter the lyrics under your breath, the timing slurred with alcohol, but the tone of your voice clear and melodious in his heart. before he could think too hard, he moved your hand that was in his elbow to his shoulder and took your other hand in his. he began to dance around with you to the soft music, taking care not to move too fast.
you smiled at him, and for a second, your eyes looked clearer than they had been, as if the haze of alcohol slipped away long enough to reveal something to you. âmingyuâŠâ you breathed out his name with a tone he couldnât quite place. you opened your mouth to continue, but the song ended and the sound of applause drew you back into the haze.
mingyu pressed a hand against his heart. before leading you away again. however this time, you slipped your hand into his, rather than the crook of his arm. he knew you were looking at him but he hoped you couldnât see the way he was blushing at the way your fingers intertwined with his.
âdid your friends make it home?â he asked, still looking ahead. you had finally made it to the bright led clock that made him laugh every time he passed it. you had asked him once what the clock was counting down to, not realizing that the numbers were going up. mingyu never let it go. but the clock meant that you were halfway to his place already and he decided to slow down, to give you time to sober up in the cool breeze (and to hold your hand).
âyeah,â you replied. âthey texted me a little bit before you got to me.â your words were a little less slurred now, more intentional, and mingyu takes it as a good sign.
âwere you waiting long?â he asked. maybe he shouldâve just left the pizza to burn after allâŠ
you shook your head no before replying. âi waited for a bit before texting you,â you answered.
mingyu looked at you with a raised eyebrow. âwhy? i couldâve gotten here sooner.â
âi wanted to sober up a bit before you found me,â you shrugged. the lilt of your sentence suggested you had something more to say but chose not to. mingyu chose not to pry. not yet, anyway, and simply nodded.
âyou wanna do a photo booth?â mingyu suggested, tilting his head towards one that was relatively empty. you grinned at him and allowed him to lead you in. you picked accessories for each other, mingyu gently placed a fish bread hat on your head and you reached to put a chicken headband on his.
inside the booth, you and mingyu quickly ran through a few of your go-to favorites. a peace sign, a heart made with your hands together, the usual. around the fifth shot, mingyu quickly prompted you to get on his back and you barely made it with a laugh before the timer went off. the next frame, you put bunny ears on his head, but the next⊠you bent down to kiss his cheek. the last frame was just mingyu staring at you with the dopiest smile.
after selecting four shots, two normal ones, and the last two, your stolen kiss and mingyuâs dopey smile, mingyu turned to look at you as the photos printed out.
your eyes were twinkling under the fluorescents of the room. âyou kissed me,â mingyu stated, still looking at you with wide eyes.
âi did,â you replied nonchalantly. âon the cheek.â
âwhy?â mingyu asked.
âbecause i want to be sober when i kiss you on the lips,â you stated matter-of-factly.
âI-â mingyu didnât know how to respond. you smiled at him gently before reaching past him to grab the two printed copies. usually, heâd have some witty remark, some covert flirtation, but you managed to render him speechless.
when you finally left the studio, you reached once again for mingyuâs hand. he could tell from the way you began to walk a little straighter that you were definitely sobered up enough to remember tonightâs events tomorrow. mingyu chewed on his lip once again. youâd remember kissing him, and now youâd remember reaching for his hand too.
the rest of the walk back to mingyuâs was much quieter now that you were at the end of the main road. the sound of bass and buskers alike now a distant echo. all that was left were the faint glows of neon signs, a slight breeze, and you and mingyu, two friends whoâd taken a step into new territory.
inside mingyuâs house, the smell of pizza was strong and he kicked himself for not opting to light a candle or open a window. âsorry for the pizza smell,â he began to apologize before you cut him off with a laugh.
âcan i have a slice?â you simply asked. mingyu nodded before grabbing a plate and handing you a slice. it wasnât warm anymore, but you didnât mind. mingyu disappeared into his room to pull out a set of his pajamas that you liked to wear at his place and grabbed a few face wipes to clean your face with. he sat down beside you and in between bites, pressed the wipes against your face, and smiled at how your eyes fluttered shut at the cooling sensation.
he took his time and was gentle with you, making sure to remove any traces of oil or makeup on your face, taking care around your nose where you had always hated having breakouts. this wasnât the first time heâd had to clean your face after a night out, but he really didnât mind if it meant you woke up with one less thing to worry about.
once you finished your pizza, he handed you the pajamas and led you to the bathroom to change. meanwhile, he opened his linen closet to find an extra blanket for him to use on the couch. it was right when he pulled out his favorite one that you stepped out and mingyu blushed at the sight of you in his clothes. it was a sight he could get used to.
âwhatcha doing?â you asked.
âiâll take the couch tonight,â he explained. he wanted to sleep beside you, but he can feel in the air that something had changed. you knew it too.
âiââ you began before mingyu cut you off, not giving you the chance to argue with him.
âtomorrow,â he started, reaching for your hand. âtomorrow you can ask me to stay with you, and i will and i will any night after that. but tonight, iâll take the couch.â
he hoped you could read the promise and the plea in his voice. he knew youâd remember tonight, but he also wanted you to be sure that he was what you wanted. heâd waited years to tell you how he felt, and he could wait one more night.
âgood night then, gyu.â you smiled at him softly.
âsweet dreams,â he replied and left you with one last kiss against your temple.
taglist: @yksthings @alonelystarfish @celestialchans @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @jespecially @iamawkwardandshy
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