#girlie is stunning and she's not even aware

[caitlynmeow]

I'm sorry but Cassandra has no business having these long thick lashes. Like, ma'am, are you aware how hot you are??? Hello????

[raspberrybesitos]

Tear You Apart | joel miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist

Summary: Joel hates Halloween, but he loves you. You drag him to your best friends’ Halloween party, who are dying to meet the older man that’s making their friend so happy. However, a side of him you’ve never seen before is unleashed after both your boundaries are pushed; and Joel reminds you who you belong to.

Word count: ~10k (jesus christ this got away from me)

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Warnings: no outbreak AU, established relationship, age gap (reader is mid/late 20s, Joel is late 40s), possessive!Joel, (soft)dom!Joel, jealous!Joel if you squint, some angst (man harasses reader), Joel uses violence to defend your honor, semi-public sex (they fuck at a party in the guest room), oral (f and m receiving), thigh riding, mirror sex, squirting, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), Joel calls reader a slut once, biting, some nipple play, creampie, cum eating, some fluff, Joel is dressed as a vampire, lil bit of OOC Joel, reader is female and has hair Joel can pull but has no physical descriptions, NO USE OF Y/N

A/N: Graphic is for aesthetic purposes only and does not depict reader, she is completely faceless and a reader insert through and through. Loosely based on Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

It's here! I hope y'all enjoy, I had so much fun with this one!

Special thanks to @nostalxgic @gracieheartsspedro @undrthelights @jenispunk and @mandoisapunk for listening to me scream about this for weeks. I love u girlies <333

Stunning graphic by @nostalxgic

Divider by @saradika

“It’ll be so much fun, babe, I promise! Jas and Matt have been dying to meet you too,” you tell Joel about the Halloween party your best friends are throwing. They’ve been dying to meet him, curious about the man who’s made their friend so happy the past 8 months. 

You’re perched atop the counter, feet swaying as you keep him company while he works.

Joel’s crouched down on his knees, fixing the leaking faucet in your apartment that you’ve been complaining about for a week now. “I don’t know, darlin’, y’know ‘m no good at socializin’ ‘n stuff. ‘N why’re they so excited to meet an old man like me?” Joel grunts as he works under the sink. 

“Because, an old man like you makes me really happy and they just want to meet the reason for my new ‘glow’ they like to call it.” 

With one last grunt, he tightens the pipes and rises to his feet. “So you think ‘m old?” He huffs, brows furrowed, sweat beading down his temple. “What would you do if I said yes?” You tease, as you bite back a smile.

“Then I’ll jus’ have t’ show you what this old man’s capable of,” he says as he leans down to nibble at your neck. You yelp at the feeling, dissipating into laughter. You can feel him smirk against your skin. “That reminds me! I’ve already picked out our costumes,” you say, wrapping your arms around his back, tilting your head back to grant him more access as he litters kisses along your neck and collarbone.

“Oh yeah? ‘N what are we gonna be?” “Vampires. I’ve already got the fangs and a cape for you. I think it’s very fitting, considering what you’re doing right now,” you giggle, his patchy beard scratching your skin.

“Ain’t vampires like a hundred years old?” Joel lifts his head, meeting your gaze. “Even more fitting!” You press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, hopping off the counter. He pulls you back by the waist before you can leave. “Watch it, darlin’,” playfully warning you.

“I’m kidding, baby,” you reassure him, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his temple. “Mm,” he grunts as he playfully smacks your ass. He leans down to press one more kiss to your lips - a soft, gentle one. You leave to order dinner for the two of you. 

“Oh, and Joel?” “Yes, baby?” “I’m fully aware of what you’re capable of. You can show me after dinner, after you try your costume on,” you tell him before exiting the kitchen. He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

The shit he does for you.

“I feel silly, darlin’,” Joel mumbles as you finish applying the fake blood on his chin. “It’s a Halloween party, Joel! Everyone there will be wearing costumes, no need to feel silly,” you tell him as you adjust the collar on his cape and smooth out his white button up. His chest is slightly exposed, a few buttons undone. 

“And for what it’s worth, I think you look really sexy. You’re really working those fangs.” You swear you see him blush as he shyly chuckles, the fangs peeking through his smile.

“You seen yourself, darlin’? Sexiest fuckin’ vampire ever. Jus’ wanna lay you out and eat ya for hours,” he says pulling you flush against his chest. His hands roam up and down your body, you’re adorned in a black mini dress and lacy black stockings. Fake blood dripping from your red and black painted lips and matching subtle fangs.

“Joel Miller! You kiss your mother with that mouth?!” You playfully smack his chest, flustered by his statement. “Nope, jus’ you, baby,” he laughs, nose nudging yours as he kisses you. You smile as you melt into the kiss, his arms, him.

You breathlessly pull away from him. “No more of that, or else we’re never gonna leave,” you say as you wipe the smudged fake blood and your lipstick from his lips. “I ain’t got a problem with that, honey.”

The bass is booming so loud you can feel the vibrations of the music from outside the house. There’s small crowds scattered throughout on the lawn smoking weed and cigarettes, the smell permeating the damp evening air. 

The two of you walk up the porch, fingers laced in each others’. Joel holds a 12 pack of beers in his free hand, a bottle of tequila in yours.

You hear your name called from behind you near the porch, whipping your head around the see who is trying to get your attention. You spot a man in a devil costume, gasping as realization hits you.

“Oh my god, Matt! Hi! Jas said you had to work, so I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be here, how are you?!” Matt, your friend Jas’ - Jasmine - boyfriend and your good friend, engulfs you in an awkward hug as you continue to hold Joel’s hand.

“Of course I’m here! Wouldn’t miss meeting the famous Joel Miller,” he lightheartedly laughs. Your hand still in Joel’s, you pull back and bring Joel forward. “Joel, this is my friend and Jasmine’s boyfriend, Matt. Matt, this is my boyfriend, Joel,” you gesture in between them. 

Joel lets go of your hand and extends it out to Matt. “Nice to meet ya, Matt,” he says politely. “Back at you, man. Jas never stops talking about how happy you make her, so it’s nice to have a face to the name,” Matt says as he firmly shakes Joel’s hand.

“Didn’t know I was a household name,” Joel jokes as he reaches for your hand again. Matt laughs and you bite back a smile. 

“Yeah, you’re a popular subject in this house. Let’s head inside, Jas has been waiting for you two to show up,” Matt says as he opens the front door to lead you two into the party.

It’s loud in the house. Bottles, cans, neon shot glasses, and red solo cups are littered all over the house. Caution tape and cotton cobwebs are draped on the walls as jack-o-lanterns are scattered throughout the living room. The color-changing lights flash throughout the room. People are clumped in groups, dressed in varying costumes, dancing and conversing over the music.

You can sense Joel’s shift in his mood, feeling his nerves and you squeeze his hand to reassure him that everything’s good. He looks down at you and gives you a soft smile. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“Jas! Your special guest has arrived!” Matt shouts over the music as you three walk into the kitchen. Jasmine whips around at lightning speed, her angel wings bumping into the people surrounding her. She lets out an excited scream. 

“You came!” She drops the cups she was holding on the counter and lunges at you, giving you a bone-crushing hug. “Of course I did! I wouldn’t miss the party of the year!” You let go of Joel’s hand and wrap your arms under her wings. 

She gasps as she pulls back. “And I see you’ve brought the special someone! Hi, I’m Jas, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Joel!” She reaches out to hug Joel. He shifts a little, caught off guard by the hug, but adjusts to it immediately.

“Nice to finally meet you too, Jasmine. She talks about ya all the time, I know you two are thick as thieves,” he says while returning the hug with a smile. You can sense his relief.

“Oh, please call me Jas. And I could say the same about you! She never shuts up about you. I kept asking her ‘when am I finally gonna meet this mysterious Joel you keep talking about’ and it only took her eight months to introduce me,” she turns to you as she emphasizes her words.

“Pardon me, Jas. I was part of the stallin’. Just nervous to be around a younger crowd ‘n also want t’ make a good impression. I know ya mean a lot to her,” Joel tells Jas.

Jas softens at his words, her lips curling upside down with her hands pressed to her heart. “No need to be nervous! I like you already, Joel,” she says with a toothy grin. She turns to you again. “You were right, he’s as sweet as pie,” a rush of embarrassment floods your body, shyly smiling at her words. 

“Oh, and you brought more alcohol?! Such a Southern gentleman! Thank you so much, you two,” Jas giddily exclaims as she takes sight of the bottle of tequila and 12 pack from you and Joel.

“‘Course, what kinda guests would we be showing up empty-handed?” Joel asks, handing the alcohol over to Jas. She and Matt place the beer in one of many coolers and the bottle at the make-shift bar on the counter.

“Good ones,” Jas says, disappointment lacing her tone. “Mostly everyone showed up empty-handed, so we appreciate this so much. Thank you again! Now, let’s get you two some drinks!”

Jas pours the four of you some shots and passes them around. “To new beginnings and a great night!” Jas shouts as she raises her glass in the air. “Cheers!” The three of you say, copying her actions. You toss back the tequila, immediately chasing it with a lime wedge, grimacing at the burn.

“Was smooth,” Joel says, completely unfazed by the taste and sensation. He chuckles at your reaction and pulls you into his side. His large hand rests on your waist, toying with the hem of your dress. You look up at him, giddy like a schoolgirl as you try to keep your composure under his touch, feeling electrified as he shows you off and claims you as his.

“If you don’t mind, could I steal you away for a bit? I wanna get to know you a bit more, if you don’t mind, brother,” Matt asks Joel while glancing in between the two of you. “No fair, babe! I wanted to interrogate him first,” Jas huffs while she mixes cocktails for you and her. 

You and Joel laugh, his coming out a bit more uneasy than he intended. “Sure, man, I don’t mind. I promise to answer all your questions,” Joel says, letting go of your waist.

Jas hands you a red solo cup filled with something and Joel is about to be whisked away by Matt, but not before he leans down to press a swift kiss to your lips, careful not to ruin your makeup or his fake blood.

“He seems like a keeper,” Jas says smugly as the men walk away and the two of you sip your drinks. “You haven’t stopped smiling at him since you got here. You got it bad, babe.” You choke on your drink, a mix of embarrassment and disgust as the taste of the drink settles on your tongue.

“What the fuck did you even make?!” Jas laughs, “Your favorite! Rum and diet coke with a twist, but I might’ve put in a little more rum than diet coke.” You wince, but go back for another sip. Joel is driving so you could enjoy yourself, so why not?

“But in all seriousness,” Jas yells over the music while leading you two into the hallway away from the bustling kitchen. “You’re the happiest you’ve ever been and that’s all I want for you. I’m assuming he’s treating you right… right?”

You soften at her sentiment. “Yeah, babe, he treats me right. And I am happy, like beyond happy. He’s amazing, and you know I don’t just say that about any man so easily” you joke, the two of you giggling over your drinks.

“So the two of you have been together for what, 8 months now? I’m glad you could finally join us, and I hope you don’t take that the wrong way. Jas and I’ve just been so impatient waiting to meet you ‘cause she never stops talking about you,” Matt says while taking a sip of his beer, Joel mirroring him as they stand on opposing sides of the foyer. 

“Yeah, 8 months now. ‘N no, no hard feelin’s, man. We just both wanted t’ be sure about each other before introducing each other to people. She told me you and Jas have been together for 4 years, so ‘m assumin’ ya know about her past experiences if Jas has told ya anythin’,” Joel says while taking another swig of his beer. 

“Yeah, I know about ‘em all. Saw her go through some rough shit with her last ex. She’s been through hell and any friend of Jas is a friend of mine. I hope you get what I’m trying to say,” Matt says. 

Joel nods in understanding. “Yeah, I do, man, don’t worry. ‘S a big reason why it’s taken me so long to come around, so I get where you’re comin’ from,” Joel tells Matt as he nudges him with his elbow. “And what’s the other reason, if you don’t mind me asking?” Matt awaits Joel's answer

“Ain’t it obvious? ‘M fuckin’ twice y’alls age,” Joel says, brows furrowed in confusion with a smirk on his face. “Ah, that, man? We’re all grown! And she’s got a mind of her own, she can make her own decisions. That shit don’t matter, man! Were you that nervous to meet us?” 

Joel laughs gratefully. “Hell yeah, I was! I was worried we wouldn’t have anythin’ t’ talk about. Sometimes, she makes references ‘n I don’t understand what the hell she’s sayin’, but ‘m real glad that don’t matter to any of ya,” he says, raising his bottle to Matt. “Yeah, man, that don’t matter, as long as she’s happy! Which she seems to be,” Matt says. “Hope she is,” Joel mutters, the two of them clinking bottles together.

“It looks like they’re getting along! That’s a good sign. Matt normally isn’t open to meeting any of your dates, especially after Christian. He was a complete asshole, but I’m glad things are better for you now, babe. Seriously,” Jas tells you, the two of you huddled together on the loveseat, sipping your 5th rum and diet cokes.

You’re definitely feeling the effects of them now, your head feels warm and fuzzy along with the rest of your body. “Joel was so nervous to come tonight, Jas - more nervous than me. His age obviously doesn’t bother me, but does it bother you? Be honest,” you ask her, nervously fiddling with your nearly empty cup.��

“No, babe, not at all. And you should know this! You know I’ll always support you as long as you're happy. You weren’t happy with any of those assholes from the past, which is why I wasn’t supportive of your relationships with them,” she says.

You shift in the loveseat, casting your gaze towards the floor. “But, I support you now,” she quickly adds, placing her hand on top of yours, forcing your eyes to meet hers. “I support this. He’s good for you, I can tell. And I think you’re good for him too.” You both smile at each other. This time, you lunge at her, pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” you say into her ear, embracing her for a moment. The two of you pull away.

“Matt needs to hurry up so I can talk to Joel, he’s hogging him,” she says as she rises from the loveseat. “I’m gonna get a refill, want one?” She asks, holding her hand out to you.

“I’m good for right now, I think I’m already drunk, so I’m gonna slow down for a bit. I’m gonna go find Joel though, I wanna dance!” You tell her, rising from the loveseat with her hand in yours. 

“You think he’ll dance with you? Don’t get me wrong, I love that he makes you happy, but he doesn’t seem like the dancing type.” “Babe, he’s already wearing a costume and came with me. I think he’ll do just about anything I ask of him,” a smug smile plastering your face. Wobbly from the liquor, you carefully make your way towards Joel and Matt.

“Hey, baby,” you slur, interrupting their conversation as you clutch Joel’s strong forearm to gain some sort of balance. “Woah, you good there, babydoll?” Joel asks, catching you as you struggle to stand still. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just drank a lot without moving, so I’m feeling it. I hope you two had a nice talk because I’m about to steal him away. Sorry, Matt,” you shrug.

Matt has a shit eating grin on his face. “No worries… babydoll,” he barks out a laugh. You feel warm, and not just because of the alcohol. Heat radiates all throughout your body, your stomach flipping at Joel’s affection and Matt’s teasing. Joel playfully swats Matt on the shoulder. “Watch it, man.” Matt doubles over at Joel’s lame attempt to warn him. Joel feels his face heat up with embarrassment. Matt takes great joy in seeing the two of you flustered.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Matt says while putting his hands up in surrender, leaving you two alone in the hallway. The first time the two of you’ve had a moment to yourselves since arriving. You look up at him, chin resting against his thick bicep. He looks down, his eyes hazy with a mixture of love and lust. 

“Hi, baby,” he says while pressing a kiss to your head, beer bottle now placed on a decorative wooden table. “You and Matt getting along? Seems like it.” “Yeah, he’s a cool guy. Real protective of you.” He wraps his free arm around your waist, maneuvering the both of you so that your chests are pressed together. “Well, Jas is like my sister and he’s been with her for years, so he’s kind of like a brother to me in a way. Both of them just want me to be happy.”

He takes in your words, rubbing small circles on your lower back. “Are you happy, babydoll?” He seems to know the answer, but you can feel his confidence waver. You scoff in disbelief, that you can’t help but mess with him. “That’s a crazy question, Joel. Of course I’m not happy, I actually can’t stand you. I only keep you around to fix stuff for me.” Joel rolls his eyes and smirks. 

“Mmm, is that so, darlin’?” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your neck, sucking on that spot near your collarbone. You throw your head back into a fit of giggles. “I’m just joking, Joel. Of course I’m happy, baby. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” He hums into your neck, lightly kissing the spot before lifting his head. “Me too. I love you, darlin’,” he says, meeting your eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. “I love you too, baby.”

You tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips, completely melting into his embrace. He moves one hand from your waist to cup your cheek, pulling you in closer. Both of you sighing into the kiss, relishing in your solitude.

“How much do you love me, Joel?” You breathlessly ask when you pull away. He quirks his brow. “More than anythin’, baby… why?” He can’t help but feel curious as he sees a smirk make its way onto your face. “You love me enough to dance with me?” 

Dancing has never been his scene, socializing has never been his thing, but you’re everything.

Your fangs peek through as you bite your bottom lip awaiting his answer. He sighs, “‘Course I do, darlin’. Y’know I’d do anythin’ for ya, also can never say no to ya. I showed up to this party in a goddamn vampire costume, didn’t I?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, going in for another kiss. Joel moves his hand down your ass and squeezes it, eliciting a yelp from you and breaking the kiss.

“Joel!” You scold him, no trace of malice in your voice. He just laughs, letting go of your waist and taking your hand in his. His empty beer bottle now perched on the table in the foyer, along with many others as the two of you make your way to the makeshift dance floor in the living room.

The color changing lights flash to the beat of the music. You feel the floor vibrate beneath your boots. You can’t hide the smile on your face. Joel is a little awkward at first, unsure of what to do with his hands and in general. You guide him, taking his hands in yours and place them on your waist. You rhythmically grind your hips against his to the beat of the music. 

He’s a bit stiff. “Loosen up, babe! We’ve danced together before, I know you can dance!” You shout in his ear over the blaring music. “We’ve only danced in private, darlin’, not with an audience!” You playfully roll your eyes. “Babe, everyone here is either drunk, high, or both! No one cares!” His hesitation meets his eyes, but he powers through.

Joel grabs your hips and turns you around, your ass now grinding against his clothed hard-on to the beat. You smile and throw your head back in a fit of laughter, your hand reaching around to caress the back of his head. You both sway to the beat, sweating from the alcohol and the amount of people in the house.

The song transitions into the next and you turn around in Joel’s grasp. “I’m gonna go get another drink, do you want another beer?” You shout into his ear, holding onto his wide shoulders for balance. “Sure. Thanks, baby! I’m gonna see if I can find Matt again,” he shouts back. You lean up to press a quick peck to his lips before beelining to the kitchen.

The music is still loud, but not nearly as loud as it is in the living room. The paper thin entry door to the kitchen only somewhat drowns it out. There’s only a handful of people lingering in the corner of the kitchen and near the bar.

You politely make your way to the bar, excusing yourself as you shimmy between the group. You grab a red solo cup and make yourself another rum and diet coke with a twist, opting to keep mixing liquors to a minimum.

You make your way to find Joel, cocktail in hand, when you realize you forgot his beer. Spinning around, you turn back to grab him one from the cooler. You rise to leave and bump into someone as you try to make your way back to the hallway, your drink sloshing over the side a bit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You look up and see who you’ve bumped into - a younger man, around Matt’s age, dressed as a pirate. He’s nowhere near as tall as Joel, shorter and slimmer too.

“No worries, sexy. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask,” he slurs out. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. You nervously chuckle, going to leave until your only exit is blocked by him. “Hey, where ya goin’?” He asks, offended at your attempt to leave. You tense as you feel your body go into fight or flight mode. 

“I’m so sorry for bumping into you, I didn’t see you when I turned around. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say as you try to move around him. He continues to block the door. “Aw, don’t leave, baby! Is it ‘cause I didn’t say sorry back?” You give him a tight lipped smile, still struggling to get away. 

“Sorry for bumping into you,” he sighs. “I didn’t realize I was that close to ya while you were bent over showing me that pretty little ass digging in the cooler.” A flash of heat washes over you, rage surging through your body. You try to size him up, swallowing down the fear, and assert yourself.

“Could you move please? I’d just like to get back to the party,” you sternly, but kindly ask him, despite him being undeserving of your kindness. He moves closer, backing you into the counter, caging you. “You here with anybody?” “Yes, my boyfriend. Now please, move,” you try to duck underneath him, but he grabs you by the waist.

“Wait, that old dude?! You serious?! I saw you two dancing, but I thought that was a joke. Come on, baby, you can do better than that old man, especially when I’m right here,” he shouts. Panic settles in as you struggle to escape his grasp.

The kitchen door swings open with Matt and Joel in tow, but unbeknownst to you with your view still blocked by this creep. “Hey, the hell’s goin’ on here?” Joel barks. The creep whips his body around and laughs. “Oh, so you’re the boyfriend. Thought she was fuckin’ with me when she told me she was here with you.” 

Joel steps forward, chest heaving as he sizes up the man harassing you. “Hey, cool it, Joel. And you, Anthony, get the fuck out of here, you’re not even supposed to be here,” Matt shouts, intervening. With his back turned, you manage to escape Anthony’s grasp and you in and rush into Joel’s arms.

“You alright, baby? What happened?” Joel asks as he crushes you into his embrace, cupping your face in his hands. As you’re about to answer, Anthony cuts you off with a scoff while walking towards you two. “Nothing fucking happened! That bitch was fucking rude, she tried to leave while I was still talking to her!”

You see something you’ve never seen before flash in Joel’s eyes before he turns to Anthony - something protective, angry, primal. He fiercely places you behind him, blocking you from Anthony. “The fuck did you just call her?!” Joel’s voice booms over the music as he shoves Anthony into the kitchen island. Shoving Anthony again, Joel yells, "the fuck did you do to her?!"

“Hey, what the fuck, man?! I didn’t do shit! She’s the one who’s being fucking dramatic! All I asked was for a drink and a dance!” Seething, you find the courage to stick up for yourself.

“You know damn well that’s now what happened, you fucking jerkoff! You fucking grabbed me after I rejected your ass and tried to leave!” You shout from behind Joel. All three men are looking at you, along with the small crowd in the kitchen. 

Joel shoves him again and shouts, “You fuckin’ touchin’ my girl?! The fuck’s wrong with you?!” Anthony shoves him back. “Fuck you, man! I didn’t even know she was your girl!” Joel grabs him by the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t fuckin’ matter if she’s my girl or not, you don’t go puttin’ your fuckin’ hands on women after they said no,” Joel snarls. Matt tries to pry Joel off Anthony, but it’s no use. Joel’s got a death grip on Anthony’s collar.

“Let me go, you fucking psycho. Go stick your limp dick in your whore’s loose fucking pussy!” It all happens so fast that you don’t see it, but you hear it - a resounding crunch. Anthony groans as his nose gushes blood and Matt finally yanks Joel off him. “The fuck’s wrong with you?! You fucking broke my nose! All for that bitch over there?!” Anthony quite literally spits as blood dribbles onto his lips.

Joel grabs Anthony by the collar again and shoves him to the ground, following suit to pin him down. Anthony tries to swing at Joel and misses. Joel delivers one sickening punch after another to Anthony’s face.

You stand frozen in shock as Joel delivers another punch to Anthony’s face, his lip busted open, eyes bruising. It’s wrong, you know it’s wrong, but something about Joel defending you sends a rush through your body and a burning sensation to your core. None of your past partners have ever stood up for you before. Not even when you were openly harassed in front of them.

Seeing this angry, feral side of Joel has you all riled up for an entirely different reason now. You know you should stop him, but your feet are glued to the floor, unable to move and intervene.

Matt rushes to stop the fight before it escalates even more as Anthony lay there helpless on the floor, no match for the older, broader man. “Joel! Joel! Enough, man! I think he got the message,” Matt shouts over the commotion of the fight and the music, wrestling Joel off Anthony.

Jas runs in through the door at the sound of Matt yelling. She wiggles her way through the crowd that’s gathered to see the fight to your side, pulling you back from the scene. You hadn’t realized how close they'd gotten to you while fighting. She cradles you in her arms, screaming Matt’s name.

That pulls you out of your trance. Shuddering out of Jas’ grasp, you rush to the thrashing trio. “Joel!” You scream at the top of your lungs. Joel is about to deliver another punch when he hears you.

He snaps his head around and meets your gaze. You silently plead with your eyes to stop. You glance at Anthony as Joel rises to his feet. He lay on the floor groaning in pain, but that doesn’t stop Matt from forcefully getting him up and shoving him out the door.

Joel strides to you, gripping your face in his now battered hands. The two of you breathlessly lock eyes. You can hear Jas clearing out the crowd that’s gathered in the kitchen, but it sounds muffled, all your focus being on Joel.

“What the hell happened?!” Jas screeches while cleaning up the floor, a few cups and bottles were scattered on the floor in the midst of the fight, if you can even call it a fight. A few specks of blood stain the floor and that gets your attention. You grab a random rag on the counter and swiftly wipe it up as Jas continues picking things up off the floor.

“‘M sorry, Jas. Was my fault, not hers. Guy was just a prick,” Joel quietly says, guilt and shame evident in his voice. You quickly shake your head. “It wasn't your fault, Joel. That guy, Anthony, was harassing me when I came to get a drink for me and Joel. He blocked the door so I couldn’t leave. Then he grabbed me by the waist and caged me in between him and the counter and well... you can guess what happened next,” you explain to Jas, quick to justify Joel’s actions.

“Anthony?! What the hell was he doing here?! He wasn’t invited, we made that very clear to him,” Jas screeches. You and Joel give each other the same confused look. “Why wasn’t he invited, babe?” You ask Jas. 

“Because he was trying to make a pass at another friend of ours the last time we hung out. He didn’t get his ass beat, but we did tell him he wasn’t invited tonight. I’m gonna fucking kill him and whoever he came with,” she explains, exasperated and angry.

“Well now I don’t feel so bad for beating the shit out of him,” Joel mutters, a humorless chuckle escapes him. “Oh, Joel, don’t feel bad. If anything, I’m sorry that he got past us. This could’ve been prevented had Matt and I been more vigilant,” Jas says, tears pricking her eyes. 

“Hey. No one is to blame, but him. This is all on him, no one else. Am I clear?” You say, but both of them stay silent. “I’m okay, guys. I promise,” you firmly state.

Matt barges into the kitchen, frantically rushing to Jas’ side. “I’m so sorry he got past me, I told him last time to watch himself and that he wasn’t invi-,” 

“Matt, stop,” you cut him off. “I was just telling Joel and Jas that it’s no one’s fault, but his. I’m okay, guys. I promise. Beating yourselves up isn’t gonna change what happened. I’m just grateful that you guys walked in when you did,” you tell them. 

Joel huffs again. You reach for his uninjured hand. “Hey. You did good. You saved me. I’m okay, baby,” you say with a reassuring squeeze to his hand and a gentle smile on your face. Joel’s lips slightly quirk up at your expression. You glance down at his other hand and clear your throat. 

“Let’s get some ice on that. You could’ve broken it, we need to clean you up,” you tell Joel, gently inspecting his battered hand. “It ain’t broken ‘n you don’t gotta do all that, baby. No need to fuss over my dumbass. I did this to myself,” Joel groans.

“Oh! Let me get you something to ice that with,” Jas says, completely ignoring what Joel said and walks to the freezer to pull out a bag of frozen vegetables.

“There’s also a first aid kit in the guest room bathroom, if you two want to freshen up in there. I understand if you two want to leave, but the space is there… if you want,” she sheepishly says. You gratefully take the make-shift ice pack she hands you and squeeze her hand in the process.

“Thank you, babe. We’ll take you up on that,” you tell her, grabbing Joel’s hand to lead him out of the kitchen. Matt and Jas follow suit. “Upstairs, down the hall, last door on the left. Take your time,” Matt says, glancing between you and Joel, clapping a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

He and Joel nod at each other. Matt looks at you, concern lacing his features as his brows knit together. You give him a sheepish smile, an unspoken “I’m okay.” He gives you the same nod, and gestures towards the stairs.

You and Joel make your way upstairs and to the guest room. Joel follows in behind you, shutting and locking the door behind you.

The music is still loud, but slightly muffled now, the need to yell gone. You pad into the bathroom to get the first aid under the sink, returning to the bedroom. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands. 

“Hey,” you say, placing the first aid kit down next to him. His head snaps up and you can see the guilt in his eyes. “‘M so sorry, darlin’. I just got so fuckin’ mad. Mad that that fuckin’ prick was gonna hurt ya and mad at myself for not bein’ there sooner. Shouldn’t’ve let ya go in there alone,” he quietly says, voice barely above a whisper.

You push his legs apart a bit, making room for yourself on his lap to straddle him. You cup his face in your hands. “Hey, no. None of that, okay? I’m okay, baby. I promise. Like I said downstairs, the only person at fault here is that asshole. No one could’ve known he was gonna try anything, let alone be here. You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do. Besides, you stopped him before he really tried anything,” gently caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

He stays quiet for a moment. “‘M still sorry, darlin’. Your friends probably think ‘m some crazy fuckin’ old man.” “Joel, stop. You heard them yourself, they’re grateful you stopped him. And for the love of god, stop saying you’re old! You’re not even 50.” 

You pull his head into your chest, his head pressed against your heart, basking in the silence. You pull away to press a kiss to his forehead before reaching for the first aid kit.

“Now, give me your hand. You need to ice it,” you say, reaching your hand out for his. He begrudgingly groans, slapping his large hand into yours. “I said you ain’t gotta do all that, baby. It’s fine.” “Joel Miller, stop arguing with me.” “Or what, darlin’?” You smirk, “or else, I’m not gonna suck your dick later.” His eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“‘N why’re you gonna suck my dick later? Hmm?” You unravel a piece of gauze as he ices his hand, rummaging through the first aid kit for some alcohol wipes and medical tape.

“I mean, you defended my honor. I gotta pay you back somehow, don’t I?” You tease, grinding against his clothed cock while cutting a piece of tape. He grunts at the friction. You reach for his hand, he mindlessly places it in yours with his mind preoccupied now.

“You liked me punching that guy for you, didn't you, babydoll?” Joel whispers. Your brows quirk up, smizing at him, "what would you say if I did?” He chuckles.

“I’d say you’re a dirty girl.” You pause, making eye contact with him, the muffled music vibrating the walls. Warmth blooms in your belly, traveling straight to your cunt. Your hands are shaky as you remove the makeshift ice pack from his hand and wipe his hand with an alcohol wipe. He doesn’t even wince at the sting, solely focused on you. 

You clear your throat, the energy in the room shifting. “Then I guess that makes me your dirty girl,” you whisper, teasingly grinding against him again while trying to secure the gauze with medical tape. Joel growls at your words, and snatches the supplies from your hands and tosses them on the ground.

“Get on your knees,” he rasps. Your eyes go wide. “But I wasn’t d-,” you’re cut off, and suddenly your lips brush against Joel’s as he pulls you in by your hair with his battered hand. “Get on your fuckin’ knees, baby girl,” Joel says, rising to his feet and gently lifting you off his lap.

A wave of arousal pools in between your thighs. You scramble to position yourself, your dress flashing your cleavage in the process. You settle in front of his clothed cock, a visible bulge poking through the fabric of his black dress pants.

“Show me how dirty you are, baby girl. Go on, don’t get all shy on me now,” he says, eyes blown wide and black with lust. You glide your hands up his hips and grip the waistband of his pants, slowly dragging them down to reveal his twitching cock, trapped in his underwear. 

Teasingly cupping his heavy, hard length in your hands, Joel groans as you slowly pull down his briefs to pool around his ankles along with his pants.

His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric, red and throbbing. Your mouth waters at the sight. “Get to it, pretty girl, or else ‘m not cumming in that pretty pussy later,” Joel taunts. 

You grab his length in one hand, the weight of it making your head spin. Stroking him as you teasingly kiss along the vein that runs up his cock, making your way to the head. You run your thumb over the tip and Joel hisses at the sensation. You take only the tip in your mouth, lightly sucking on it.

“Stop fuckin’ teasin’, babydoll,” Joel growls, tugging at your hair to make you look up at him. You bat your lashes at him before diving in. Hollowing out your cheeks, you take him in slowly. He’s so big, you always have to take your time when you suck him off. 

You only make it halfway down his cock before you’re gagging around him. Joel groans at the noise and the way your throat constricts around him. “Too big for you, princess?” He taunts.

“Mmm mm,” you hum, looking up at him with tears welling in your eyes. You pull back a bit, leaving a messy trail of spit on his throbbing cock. Catching your breath, you make your way down him again.

“Fuck, baby, your mouth always feels so goddamn good,” Joel grunts. You hum at his praise, the vibrations cause him to twitch in your mouth. Bracing yourself once more and steadying your breath, you bob your head.

“So fuckin’ wet ‘n warm, baby, my good fuckin’ slut suckin’ my cock so well, fuck,” Joel groans, his words going straight to your cunt, clenching around nothing.

Moaning, you slurp around him with spit dripping all over your chin and his cock, your lipstick and mascara smeared. You breathe through your nose as you take him all the way, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Joel moans loudly as you hum with tears streaming down your face as you deepthroat him. “Oh, good fuckin’ girl, my perfect fuckin’ girl,” Sucking up and down on his thick, long cock, you make your way to the base once more. Your nose nudged in his wiry bush, you cup his balls in your hand and toy with them. 

Joel involuntarily bucks his hips, pushing himself further down your throat. You gag around him once more, sending more tears running down your face and even more spit collecting around him and on your chin.

“Fuck! Stop, come here, baby,” Joel hisses, yanking you off him by your hair. You gasp for air as a string of spit and precum dribble from your lips, makeup completely ruined. You whine as he lifts you off your feet, desperately seeking his cock anyway you can have it.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, still need to cum in that pretty pussy,” he says, kicking his pants off his ankles while settling you on his lap, facing him again. He crashes his lips onto yours, finally after what feels like hours of not kissing him. The kiss is sloppy and ferocious, teeth clashing together, the taste of him mixed into it. Joel hungrily sucks your tongue into his mouth and swallows your moans.

He lifts the hem of your dress and pushes your lacy thong to the side, his fingers ghosting over your glistening folds. “Suckin’ my cock got you that wet, babydoll? Hm?” Nodding, you whimper as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking your slick off them. He groans at the taste of you as you whine. 

“Joel,” you whine, pouting at him. “So needy, baby. Later, sweet girl,” he chuckles as he holds your hips in place and bounces you on his thigh. You cry out at the friction it creates. “Right now, I want ya to ride me like this, baby girl. Think ya can do that for me? Huh, pretty girl?”

You whimper at his words. He bounces you on his lap again, causing you to whine again. "I asked you a question," he growls. “Yes, Joel,” you hiccup. “Good girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to your chest. You slowly grind against him, your slick coating his bare thigh. The relief you’ve been seeking feels euphoric, your thong rubbing against your swollen clit with each thrust on his strong, sturdy thigh.

You grind faster against him, holding onto his broad shoulders to balance yourself. “Take what ya need, babydoll,” Joel rasps as he yanks down the front of your dress and matching lacy bra, exposing your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, your back arching into him. You let out a high-pitched moan, a new wave of slick running down your cunt and onto his thigh. 

It’s slippery as you grind against him, your thrusts growing sloppy. Joel sucks your other nipple into his mouth, kneading your other breast with his bruised hand. He bites down, tugging on your nipple. Your eyes fly open, gasping as he smirks into your chest. 

“Joel,” is all you manage to stutter out. He bounces you on his leg as you continuously grind on him. He groans at the sight of your breasts bouncing in his face. It’s all too much, panting as you clench around nothing as you continue to relentlessly grind your aching clit against his thigh. 

“Come on, babydoll. Know you’re close, let go for me,” he says as he litters kisses all along your exposed chest. His words send you over the edge, endless moans streaming out of you as you cum all over his lap. “That’s it, babydoll. Atta girl,” he mutters as you twitch in his lap. Your breath stutters as you come down from your high.

He crashes his lips into yours, capturing them in another hungry kiss. He moans into your mouth while gathering you in his arms before tossing you on the bed. You squeal, landing on your back. Your tits bounce in the process, the both of you realizing you’re both still clothed.

“You like this dress, babydoll?” Joel asks, hovering over you, his lips ghosting over yours. “Mmhmm,” you respond, sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I’ll buy you another one,” he says, ripping the thin black dress down the middle. You gasp, shocked at his ferality. 

“Joel! What’s gotten into you tonight?” You squeak as he shucks off his costume. “Tonight reminded me I could lose ya at any moment,” he mumbles hovering over you once more. You pause, frowning at his words. “You’re never gonna lose me, Joel.” He doesn’t respond, instead he silently litters kisses on your chest.

“Joel, were you jealous?” You ask, brows knitted together. He sighs, “No… just hated seein' that prick so close to ya. Hated the way he treated ya and I fuckin' hated the way these boys here kept lookin' at ya when we came in.” You twirl the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“What way, Joel? And you know I don't care about any of those boys.” He presses another kiss to your jaw. You can sense the shift in his mood - that he’s still in his head about the situation. “I know, baby, I know, but I do. These fuckin’ boys ain’t got no respect for you and are always jumpin’ on ya the minute I walk away,” Joel rambles.

“Do you trust me, Joel?” You ask, cupping his face in your hands to meet his gaze. “With my life, baby. It’s them, I don’t trust. Seein’ that prick with his hands on ya… just saw fuckin’ red. Shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like them,” he mutters, tearing his gaze from yours.

“I know, Joel, but shit happens. I promise you, I’m okay, baby. At least I’ve got a big, strong man to protect me. He did a pretty good job tonight,” you playfully hum, eliciting a breathy laugh out of him. “Yeah, you think he did good?” He asks, going along with your bit. “Mhmm, seeing him fuck up that guy for me was so sexy. I knew I had to have him,” you say, biting back a toothy grin.

“He’s a lucky man, darlin’.” You smirk, playfully teasing him, “actually, I think I’m the luckiest. He’s great at eating pussy, I wish he was doing that right now. He promised me more earlier.”

Joel’s brows quirk. “Careful now, baby. You know what happens when you act like a brat now, don’t you, darlin’?” “Mhmm, that’s why I’m acting like one,” you giggle. He growls as he pulls back from you, unhooking your bra and yanking your thong and stockings down in one swift motion.

He trails kisses up and down your body, sinking his teeth into that spot right below your ear, eliciting a soft moan from you. “You’re gonna get it now, little girl,” he rasps, sending a shiver down your spine.

Nipping at your neck and pressing a kiss to your chin, he snakes his battered hand down your body, landing on your sex. He spreads your lips and gathers your slick on his fingers, sucking them into his mouth once more. “My favorite fuckin’ meal in the world, I gotta have a taste, baby,” he hums. 

He swiftly crouches on his knees at the edge of the bed. You yelp as he drags you down with him to position himself in front of your pussy. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him take in the sight of your weeping cunt. His eyes are black, blown wide with lust. You feel heady, panting as the world becomes muffled just like the music playing outside the room. 

Anticipation blooms in your belly as Joel presses kisses to your inner thighs and works his way up to your pussy. One kiss to your lips has you throwing your head back, moaning. Joel continues to kiss your lips and avoid your clit. Not quite giving it the attention you’re looking for. You buck your hips up into his face, seeking relief.

He pushes them back down, pinning you to the bed with his uninjured hand. “Uh uh, none of that. I’m gonna give ya what ya want, baby girl, just gotta be patient. C’mon, be a good girl for me, sweetheart,” he says between your thighs. You moan, mindlessly nodding at his words.

A soft smack is pressed to your hips. “C’mon, baby girl, lemme hear you. Use your words. Ya gonna be a good girl for me?” You lift yourself up again, eyes hooded as you look at Joel. “Yes, Joel. Gonna be your good girl,” you whine.

“Atta girl,” he rasps. No warning, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips and onto your clit. Your eyes fly open, “Joel,” you gasp. He hums as he slowly flicks your clit with his tongue. The relief is intoxicating. He laps at the new wave of slick dripping from your pussy, moaning into you. Him getting off on eating you out makes you even wetter.

He licks through folds, gathering more of your juices on his tongue. “Feels s-so, so good, baby,” you stutter. He moves to fuck his tongue in and out of you, moaning at the way you clench at the tip of his tongue as a high-pitched moan escapes you. “M-more, Joel, more!” You yelp, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

You gasp as he presses two thick fingers onto your pulsating clit, flicking it relentlessly as he fucks his tongue into your sopping core. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, Joel, fuck right there, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, eyes squeezed shut. 

He groans into you, your words sending a bead of precum leaking down his cock - the vibration sends you tumbling over the edge. He laps at your cum like a starved man, wasting no drop as you ride out your orgasm.

You barely have time to register what’s happening while you come down from your high as Joel manhandles you off the mattress and into his arms again. 

“Turn around,” Joel snarls, gripping you by the waist as he lifts you off him, helping you reposition yourself in his lap, his angry cock brushing against your slit. 

You both hiss at the contact, your back pressed against his chest now. You rut your hips into Joel’s seeking relief. Joel tightly grasps your hips. “Did I say you could move?” His voice is husky in your ear, it sends a shockwave to your aching core.

You still. “Good girl.” You whimper at his praise. Joel brings a hand around and brushes two fingers against your lips. You suck them into your mouth. 

“Mmm, such a good girl, baby. Doing what you’re supposed to without me asking,” he says. You hum around them, hollowing out your cheeks. 

Joel pulls them out and you whine at the loss of contact, your frustration growing. A gasp escapes you when he swiftly presses his warm, wet fingers against your throbbing clit. 

You moan loudly, involuntarily wriggling in his grasp. He presses a smack to your thigh. “Stop moving, little girl.” 

Mustering all your strength to stay still, you sit atop him. His leaking, swollen head dribbling precum onto your ass as you settle in his lap, his fingers still pressed against your aching clit. “F-feels so g-good, baby,” you huff, breathless from the stimulation.

“Mmmm, yeah, pretty girl?” Joel hums. “Uh-huh,” is all you manage to say. Joel moves his fingers from your clit down to your soaked folds. “If you be good and stay still for me, baby, I'll fill you up. ‘S that what this pretty pussy needs, huh? My pretty pussy need my fingers?” You throw your head back against his chest, “yes, Joel. N-need your f-fingers,” you gasp.

Mustering all the strength in your being, you sit as still as you possibly can, awaiting your reward. Joel resumes flicking your clit as he snakes his other hand down to your dripping hole and teasingly prods his thick fingers at your entrance. “Think you’ve been a good girl, baby? Think you deserve my fingers?” He taunts, swirling circles just outside where you need him most. 

“Yes, Joel, please, I need them, baby, need you,” you beg, huffing all in one breath, completely flustered from his teasing. “Such a good girl, I don’t even gotta ask you to beg,” he smirks.

He shoves two thick fingers in your aching core, gasping as he fills you up. He fucks them in and out of you, curling them with each stroke as he lightly brushes your g-spot from the angle. He has you seeing stars.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant, gasping for air as he brings you closer to your orgasm. Suddenly, he pulls them out of you and his other hand leaves your clit. Tears well in your eyes, you grow frustrated from being edged. Without warning, Joel lifts you up and settles you on his angry, throbbing cock, leaking with precum everywhere.

You gasp as his thick, leaking cock enters you in one swift motion, filling you to the brim. “Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight.” You whimper at the delicious sting of the stretch, never fully getting used to his size no matter how many times you’ve fucked.

You slowly lift yourself off his cock to adjust to his size only for Joel to slam you back down, eliciting a scream from you. Your vision goes fuzzy for a second before coming to your senses.

The pain from the sting morphs into pleasure as you begin to bounce up and down on his cock at an eager pace. Moaning with your head thrown back against his sweaty bare chest, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Atta girl, babydoll. Fuck look at you. You look so fuckin’ sexy, look at yourself. Open your eyes and look at how well you take my cock, baby,” he rasps, roughly grabbing your face in his battered hand to lift your head up to face the mirror in front of the bed.

Your eyes flutter open, looking into the mirror at where Joel pumps in and out of your cunt. The wet squelch and the sight of him fucking into you has you clenching around him.

Joel moans in your ear as you squeeze him, spurring you on to keep bouncing. He brings a hand to your chest and cups your breast, aggressively pinching your nipple. 

You wail at the sensation and throw your head back, wrapping your arm around his neck to tug at the hairs at the nape. He sucks on the column of your neck, biting hard into your sensitive flesh as he toys with your nipples.

Sloppily grinding on his cock, you begin to lose your strength. “Joel, please,” you plead. “Come on, babydoll. Know ya can do better than that if you’re gonna beg for it. You did it earlier,” Joel taunts as he pulls your hair to reveal more of your neck to him, a bruise blossoming. 

“Please, Joel. N-need more. Need you to, hah, need you to fuck me, please! Please fuck me, baby,” you sob, desperate tears falling down your face. “That’s better,” he rasps.

He takes over, relentlessly fucking up into you. “Fuck, Joel,” keening as he destroys your cervix. The angle has him so deliciously deep, your third orgasm quickly approaching. 

“Fuck, baby, y’look so goddamn pretty bouncin’ on my cock. ‘S like you were made f’me.” He snakes a hand over your tummy, pressing down on it.

You gasp sharply at the pressure. The tight hold on your stomach and the way he’s crashing into your g-spot is too much. Your bodies stuck together with cum and sweat. 

Speechless at the newfound pressure, your vision is spotty with stars, eyes rolling back so hard you go cross-eyed, a writhing mess in his vice grip. His large, calloused hands roaming your body.

“Fucked you so dumb, your fuckin’ eyes are crossed. ‘S matter, baby? Cat got your tongue? You were begging just a minute ago for more,” Joel says, smug as his nose nudges the back of your head as he nibbles on your earlobe. You mumble incoherently through your moans as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

An unfamiliar pressure rises in your belly, only feeling this sensation with Joel once while he went down on you in the beginning of your relationship. You try to muster the strength to keep your eyes open, but the pressure is overwhelming. 

You’re squeezing Joel in a vice grip. “Fuck, baby! Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, you’re close. I can feel it,” he grunts, ruthlessly bucking his hips up into yours. The pressure burns white hot as he hits your g-spot with every stroke. The coil in your belly snaps, your cunt gushing all over Joel with no warning, wailing through your climax.

Joel groans in pleasure, smug and proud of himself for making you squirt. “Oh good girl, good fuckin’ girl, baby,” he drawls while fucking you through the high of your orgasm. Him following close behind, his pace growing sloppy. You can feel him twitch against your fluttering walls.

“Fill me up, Joel,” you gasp, still riding out the waves of your orgasm. “Yeah, you want my cum, baby? Look at me ‘n tell me whose pussy this is. Then, I’ll fill you up,” he taunts.

“Yours, Joel. It’s all yours. I’m yours, baby,” you slur, struggling to keep your eyes open as you watch him in the mirror. “What was that last part, sweetheart? Didn’t catch that. Who do you belong to, pretty girl?” He smirks, fighting off his own release until you say what he wants to hear.

“You, Joel,” you whine, the overstimulation setting in. “Say it again,” he growls. “You, baby, you!” You shout, and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge. He shoots his warm load into you, coating your aching walls. There’s so much, it’s leaking out onto your thighs mixing with your own release. 

Joel’s breath stutters as he comes down from his high and sees how big of a mess the two of you made. His cum leaks out of you, mixing with your slick and dribbling into the puddle of your release beneath you. He reaches in between your thighs and gathers cum on his fingers. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” he says huskily in your ear. He brushes his fingers against your lips. You welcome them into your mouth, too fucked out to protest. You moan at the taste of the two of you as you suck the cum clean off his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out, turning your head to face him. He crashes his lips into yours in a heady kiss. Your head spins as he groans into your mouth, letting him taste the tangy, salty mixture of the two of you. You pull apart for air, the sound of muffled rock music and panting fills the air.

Your gaze meets Joel’s, a shy chuckle escaping you. “We made a huge mess,” you giggle. Joel goes beet red and breaks out into a toothy grin. “We did. ‘M sorry about your dress, darlin’. Promise I’ll buy ya another one.” You playfully roll your eyes. “It’s okay, Joel. I’m just trying to figure out how I’m gonna get out of here with no clothes,” you tell him. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through. You can wear my button-up, I’ve got a work shirt in the car, darlin’,” he offers while pressing a kiss to your shoulder before lifting you off him. You both hiss at the loss. Joel sets you down on the bed, padding to the bathroom rummaging in the cabinets for something.

He returns with a damp washcloth, wiping up the mess you two made off your lower half. You hiss at the sensation when he cleans up your used cunt. “Sorry, honey,” he says while carefully cleaning you up. “It’s okay." He cleans you up in silence, padding to the bathroom to discard the washcloth while you lay back on the bed.

He joins you in bed, sighing as he settles in next to you. You wrap your arms around his middle as he rests his arm behind your neck, rubbing small circles on your arm with his finger.

"What are we gonna tell Jas?" You ask. He whips his head to look at you, the two of you staring at each other for a moment. You two burst into a fit of laughter.

"We'll figure it out together, darlin'. Like we always do," he sighs.

You stare up at him, eyes glazed over, "like we always do."

taglist: @pedrospartner @littlegrungegirlaf @morallyinept @pedrodascal @party-hearses @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @lizzie-cakes @harriedandharassed

thank y’all sm for reading! 🫶🏼

[tosxa-h]

No Such Roses I See In Her Cheeks

cont. | @nagareboshiko

Truly there was nothing more fulfilling than the sweet smell of fresh blood. When the rich iron soaks your lungs and you are aware of what you already knew, you were the stronger of the two. Perhaps three... By Celestia, there could be an army. But Ajax knew that he was stronger than the rest... Most.

A trip to the Chasm hadn't been on the cards but given his position within the Harbingers and how they saw him, who was he to refuse when they so kindly asked him to learn a little more about this unknown scope of land? This grand canyon connecting one mass of land to another? What dangers and treasures might lurk there? Fatui had already been dispatched but their investigations long seemed dry and yielded little to nothing of much intrigue. But That Blonde Girl. The one you met in Liyue. My dear traveller had seemed interested in the area for one reason or another. She'd wiped out a fair few of those stationed there. And so word travelled fast. Delight was certainly the word that could describe Childe's feelings to the Chasm Request.

Delighted he certainly was. Travel was swift, he was eager to see Liyue once again but he was fast through the town before he got to the Chasm. Their pathetic idea of security was almost too tempting to strike down, but he decided against it to finding his one way in. And after speaking to what little of the Skirmishers were left he took in the darkness and delights that the Chasm had to offer. Eerily, it reminded him of something from long ago.

As he continued deeper into the rocky formations his boredom only grew. Nothing to fight, nothing to kill. It must have been at least a few hours and he was getting itchy.

"People were going in and not coming out huh?" He grumbled under his breath, disappointed in the lack of life. Just when he thought he should go back to the surface and get rid of all this energy, the sweet familiar clang of metal rang in his ears, echoes of grunts and bodys hitting the cold floor complimented one another. He moved before his mind could think, running down the unfamiliar paths until his eyes caught the Traveller surrounded by mounds of bodies. He didnt have the time to appreciate how stunning she looked in that moment as his dual blade appeared in his hands and he swiftly made work of two Hilichurls at once.

The fray died down, fresh blood on his shoes and sleeve. Childe whipped of the blood from his blades and allowed them to disappear into thin air. "Hey Girly-" There was a groan from the floor, a Hilichurl still breathing despite the wounds. Tartaglia stomped on his head, feeling the bones crack under his heel. It's fingers twitched before it slumped like the flesh and bones it was.

Childe reached forward, tentatively wiping the blood from her cheeks. He noted the way she flinched, but she did little else after and continued to rub the red away from her light skin. Like sanguine and snow. What a sight.

He chuckled and pulled away. "Worse? Saying you had it all under control before I came along?" She was more than capable and he respected her greatly. "Why are you even down here to begin with? Surely cant be to kill off these things?"

[the-archiveology]

Don't Worry Darling~

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if everything you believed to be true was only an illusion? Your perfect, gorgeous and sexy British husband who you love and adore was actually NOT your real husband? You and your fellow housewife friends living the perfect housewife life starts to make you wonder if life is TOO perfect, and the perfect neighborhood you live in does not actually exist? And no matter how much you try to leave home and convince everyone of the things you see, there will always be someone who'll think you're lying or convince you that it was probably just you hallucinating? Don't Worry Darling is a psychological thriller that's literally about searching for the truth with a cast so attractive that sometimes I'd get distracted from the plot, and as a former Harry Styles girlie when One Direction first came out, many feelings were felt.

In this world with different beliefs, it makes sense for particular people to have beliefs that do not align with each other as there are religions, belief in crystals, witchcraft and even different traditions done to bring good luck or even a healthy love life! like the belief of eating 12 grapes under the table on New Years. In Don't Worry Darling, Florence Pugh who plays "Alice" was made to believe that her husband, Harry Styles who plays "Jack" is a hardworking man who, just like every other perfect husband in the perfect neighborhood, had to work out in the lab in the desert where all the husbands worked hard for their lovely perfect wives. Alice was made to believe this lie until she had found herself wandering out in the desert which is where she slowly starts to uncover the truth. The truth can only be true until something more is uncovered.

One of Alice's closest friends in the neighborhood has two loving bright children. Near the end of the movie when Alice was on the run from those who wish to correct her to make her forget her findings and to stop her from escaping, her friend warns her to run away. Alice was stunned as it was revealed that this friend was always aware of the lies that were being fed to everyone who lived in the neighborhood. Alice begged her friend to leave with her but she refused because this was the only way she could be with her who had passed on in the real world, since it's the only thing she ever wants. This just shows that it makes sense to believe in something to make someone happier and more secure.

Given the artificial and mind-twisting movie, it is quite difficult to determine the facts in it. However, there were few instances that could be cited as facts. One of them is when Alice successfully left the Victory project. In the ending, you could hear a gasp as the title and credits show which could portray that Alice has woken up in her actual reality in which she is strapped to her bed with no means of getting out and her dead husband lying beside her. Although, I cannot guarantee that this is an actual fact, it is an observation of what I saw in the ending since it is open-ended. Another fact that could be drawn in Don’t Worry Darling is that participants in the Victory Project do not age. This can be confirmed to one of Alice’s neighbors who was always pregnant and can be speculated that she knows about the Victory Project. Another observation I’ve seen is the exploding streetlights in Victory. This usually happens when Alice learns the actual truth and starts to connect the dots with other women and letting them know without any communication. Thus, it could mean that the program/simulation is starting to break or women are starting to know what is really happening. 

Don't Worry Darling still leaves me with unresolved questions that I wish they would answer. It really tested my perspective whether or not everything that Alice's experiences was an illusion or not, no one knows, which I find more intriguing and drives me to dig more about the movie. Just because the life you're experiencing is glamorous and like a dream, doesn't mean that it is actually what you are perceiving. Who knows maybe the life we're experiencing is all part of a simulation that we can't wake up to.

[pleasingforharry]

Cindy Kimberly

-

yourinstagram

liked by yourbff, y/nfan1, and 624,465 others

yourinstagram smiling in the picture

view all 29,864 comments

y/nfan1 how does one look so stunning ????

yourbff you make me happy, now marry me already

yourinstagram ofc baby ;)

y/nfan2 i never liked a post so fast omggg

harryfan1 ive never been so jealous of harry

-

harrystyles

liked by annetwist, yourinstagram, and 2,296,392 others

harrystyles Art.

view all 129,437 comments

harryfan1 this just called me single in 100 different languages

y/nfan1 shes mine harold

yourinstagram i sense the ‘art’ is the painting

harrystyles Oh wow, I didn’t even see that back there.

harryfan2 crying and throwing up everywhere

yourbff stop posting my gf like shes yours 

-

yourinstagram

liked by y/nfan1, harrystyles, and 902,483 others

yourinstagram hot dog, hot diggity dog

view all 48,274 comments

harryfan1 omg i love this so much ahahaha

y/nfan1 y/n... whos dog is that?

yourinstagram stolen

harrystyles His name is Charles.

yourinstagram i thought we agreed on douglas

harryfan2 saved and sobbing

-

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, yourbff, and 1,761,745 others

harrystyles Distracted all night.

view all 365,022 comments

yourinstagram three applications of lipstick later...

harryfan1 HELP???

y/nfan1 i need to go on a date with y/n immediately

yourinstagram when and where?

harryfan2 she wins

-

yourinstagram

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2, and 703,859 others

yourinstagram damn bro, who got you smilin like that?

view all 84,183 comments

harrystyles My girlfriend. Have you seen how pretty she is?

yourinstagram meh, my boyfriend is prettier

harryfan1 i just want to eat him respectfully

harryfan2 cutieee

y/nfan1 jealous of harry ngl

-

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryfan1, and 4,178,172 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Raleigh, NC.

view all 430,704 comments

harryfan1 our king

harryfan2 i was there omggg

yourinstagram still sweating from all the dancing 

y/nfan1 girlie you were dancing like no one was looking haha

y/nfan2 ayo your girlfriend stole your show

harrystyles Indeed.

yourinstagram we love a self aware king

-

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbff, and 942,947 others

yourinstagram concert was alright ig

view all 53,284 comments

yourbff had so much fun w you bby

yourinstagram same, let’s do it again sometime :)

harrystyles Stalker.

yourinstagram damn you could’ve at least said i was hot

harrystyles Hot stalker.

y/nfan1 i love her, i love him omg

harryfan1 my parents

yourinstagram my child

-

[songmingisthighs]

[19.06] mafia!hongjoong × reader

⇀ you were interested in hongjoong, a notorious leader of a very successful mafia organization. sadly he didn't see you that way. if only he knew the true you before making a rash judgement

⇁ tw : mafia life, angst, mentions of black market activities, death, violence, dark stuff. read at your own risk.

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author’s imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

The door to Hongjoong's office opened and in walked his right hand, with a teasing smirk on his face. Hongjoong looked up from the paperwork on his desk and looked up to the man with a raised eyebrow, "what are you smirking at?" he questioned.

Seonghwa nodded his head towards the door, "there's someone here for you," he said whilst holding onto his laughter. Hongjoong shifted his gaze from his friend to the door and then back to him again, "who?" "your girlfriend," Seonghwa teased.

Before Hongjoong could throw anything at him, though, Seonghwa had run off, laughing heartily.

Not long after, you came into his office with a wide smile. As per usual, you were dressed to impress, head to toe with a black and white vintage channel mini skirt and blazer, adorned with a channel necklace and earrings. As you walked in, Wooyoung, one of Hongjoong's trusted men, looked at your passing figure with mouth hanging low and a starstruck look on his face. But you didn't care, you only had eyes for Hongjoong.

It has been roughly five months since you started dropping into Hongjoong's office. Your dad, an equally highly successful head of the mafia from where you're from, wanted you to get married to expand his business and make more allies. He gave you several options but you were immediately intrigued by Hongjoong, one of the mafia heads he made a partnership with by providing him with weapons. The comprehensive file your dad gave you did Hongjoong no justice so you decided to get to know him for real.

Unluckily, Hongjoong is very secretive and protective of himself and his family (re: his brothers; his most trusted men in the mafia). He had been betrayed so many times before and his thirst for revenge both became his strength and downfall. While he managed to build a highly acclaimed mafia organization at such a young age, he closed off everyone who he deemed not worthy of his attention even after only seeing them for less than five minutes.

Sadly, that included you. You weren't the only one who got a comprehensive file on the other, he too had one of you. A straight-A student from Wharton with hobbies consisting of horseback riding and charity? He wondered whether you were preparing to take over your dad's mafia or to steal the Crown of England and be its ruler.

Hongjoong tried his best to hold in a groan of annoyance but even so, some still escaped him and you heard it. Though you were used to it so you just ignored him.

"Hi, Joong," you grinned widely at him, walking in and putting a medium-sized box of cake on his desk after closing his door. "Don't call me Joong," he grumbled.

In all honesty, your bubblegum personality sickened him. He knows for a fact that no one is that happy-go-lucky and excited and has rainbows shooting out of their asses 24/7. So there has to be something you were hiding from him.

You only chuckled at his response, "You're a sourpuss, you know that? You're gonna have wrinkles before you hit thirty if you keep frowning all the time like that," you said as you focused yourself on opening the cake box.

Inside it was the cake you made for him. All the times you visited him, you never made him something from scratch. You were trained to be the head of a mafia organization one day, not in the kitchen. So that cake was the very first thing you made and you were beyond proud of yourself.

"Look," Hongjoong exhaled sharply, starting to get annoyed even before you did anything, "You came at a bad time, I need to get a hundred thousand things done before tonight, in case you didn't realize, my organization is-" "in the brink of war with Stray Kids, I know, I've read the reports," you simply said, hands moving to cut the cake in front of you to hand to him.

"I have connections with the leader's soft spot, the foreigner one, I can make a deal that would help your case if you would jus-"

"NO!!!!" he yelled out, slamming his hands onto his desk, startling you so much that you accidentally dropped your knife and stepped back a little.

Maybe it was the stress of having to deal with things alone, or maybe it's just him finally snapping from overthinking about you, but one thing's for sure is that he had had enough. He needed to put you in your place.

"You may be your daddy's little princess back home, all dressed in white and pink and lace, showered with Channels, Tiffanys and your hoity-toity prestigious Wharton degree. But here, you're nothing, got me? You understood nothing about having to work your ass off to get the recognition and rewards you deserve, you had your daddy behind you this whole time and that's very convenient for you. But don't come here and act like you know shit, okay? Our worlds are different, you came from a cotton candy palace, I came from the ditch, your opinion means less than shit to me," he spat out so quickly, he didn't realize that your expression changed to something that he had never seen before.

Your eyes were blank and glazed, lips slightly quivering and chest heaving.

Hongjoong thought that he had really put you in your place and he was about to celebrate the fact that he might finally drove you away when you opened your mouth.

"Cotton candy palace? Not understanding having to work my ass off?" you choked out.

At first, Hongjoong thought you were gonna cry. But a sadistic, maniacal laugh resonated in the room from where you were doubled over, holding onto your stomach.

It was Hongjoong's turn to be stunned into silence.

"Oh my god, I thought you were smarter than that," you muttered as you calmed down, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes, "you think that this is who I am?" you asked with a raised eyebrow at him.

Hongjoong was confused about whether or not he should speak. It was the first time anyone had ever stunned Hongjoong and Hongjoong didn't know what to do.

"I was born from a girl who was en route to be sold in a human trafficking ring, I came out premature and was about to be sold to a satanic cult as their sacrifice but my 'dad' 'rescued' me. I was stored in a facility with thirty other children, we were trained to be assassins since before we could walk, brainwashed with ideals that ruined our brains. One by one, each year some of us were taken out if we show a lack of improvement or no promise," as you talked, you took off your earrings and necklace and put them on Hongjoong's desk.

While you ran a hand through your messy hair, you stared into him deeply, "I was seven when I first killed someone, my last competition. She was two years older than me and she was sold by her parents for coke money, or as the warden told us. We were reminded every day of how worthless we are so we wouldn't rebel and escape. But even in despair, I wanted something more. That's where daddy came in. He was impressed with me and he took me in as his daughter, telling people one of his whores were pregnant with me to assure my legitimacy. I was schooled in my own private red room. I had to fight for my right as a human being, I made deals with my dad to be able to go out with bodyguard escorts for only an hour every month,"

Hongjoong's eyes followed your hands that gripped onto the edge of your skirt, "did your little binder wrote that I went on my first official mission when I was just twelve? My dad cut the ballet lesson that I trade in for 120 hours of combat training short to gear me up, put me in a room of adult men and sent me off to plant an active bomb in 5 minutes in an air vent of the headquarters of his rival, crazy, right?" you chuckled humorlessly whilst ripping your skirt off to reveal your black shorts inside, a knife and a gun holstered on your thighs were revealed, making Hongjoond's eyes widened.

He never would have imagined someone like you to carry weapons under your very girly outfit. Or to even have such a traumatizing backstory.

"My whole appearance is compensation for my very dark upbringing, I wanted to hide it all. My dad told me I was stupid, that I belonged in the dark, dark world. But when I went to Wharton, I tried to change myself. I thought that I might be able to be the person I wanna be by marrying someone my dad approved so I don't have to take over wholly, I could just be the voice by the side, lending my skills and help the organization indirectly,"

You looked down at your heels clad feet for a second, letting your toes point and moving them from left to right to see what it looks like.

At this point, Hongjoong felt bad for having blown up at you. You had only wanted to spend time with him and even if he didn't want to see you, he could've said it nicely. Hongjoong never felt like this before, it was very weird for him.

He was about to walk over to you when you suddenly took your heels off in a flash and threw them both at Hongjoong so hard that it embedded deep into the wall on either side of his face.

Your usual smile was replaced with a frown, the eyes that usually twinkled showed nothing but darkness. He barely recognized you and he was on edge about it.

"You made your standing with me perfectly clear, Kim Hongjoong, while my dad is one to stop things before they become an issue, I like to see how things unravel," you smirked at him.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, not being able to process anything.

"It means that your partnership with my dad is off, good luck finding a new weapons supplier," you spat out before turning around to leave the room, leaving traces of yourself behind at his office.

Hongjoong wanted to call after you, try to make things better somehow. But his head still couldn't even wrap around the shocking information you had just revealed.

Not long after you left, Yeosang came in but stopped at the door, scanning the room that was littered with remnants of you. "What the fuck happened here? Did a hooker tried to kill you!?" he asked, still confused at the situation.

When Yeosang looked up, he saw Hongjoong in a way he had never seen him before.

Nervous.

"I-I- I think I just forged a war between us and the largest mafia weapons manufacturer on the eastern hemisphere," he uttered out.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Happiness is Everything (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This wasn’t requested; I needed to give my boy some love, and a strong bond with Hvitserk. It’s nothing but a silly comfort fic.

@geekandbooknerd​ - Thank you for beta reading this for me 💖

@zuxiezendler​ - Thank you 😉🌸 (and you know why)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Ivar doesn't want any more set-ups. Hvitserk’s stubborn girlfriend disagrees.

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst due to Ivar’s temper and insecurities; an obvious lack of plot; lack of creativity; fluff+++.

Words: 2575

Stifling a hiss of pain, Ivar flops down on the couch, leaning his crutch against its armrest. 

 "Here." Hvitserk joins him, handing him a beer before gulping a long sip of his. "So, brother," Hvitserk's face is slightly crumpled as he looks at him, "There's a last-minute change." 

 With a tight-lipped expression on his face, Ivar frowns. He hates last-minute changes with a passion. "What are you talking about, Hvitserk?" He asks curtly while massaging his right thigh absently. 

 "Thora will be with us tonight." Hvitserk shrugs, his discomfort obvious. 

 "Okay." Ivar tilts his head, confused. Every Thursday night, he and his brother spend the night together. Usually at Hvitserk’s place, eating frozen pizzas – a lot of them, Hvitserk being Hvitserk. Most of the time, Thora, who enjoys spending time with her friends, leaves them alone. Sometimes she stays home though, and honestly, it's fine. The truth is, he likes Thora. She's smart and funny, and uncomplicated. Sure, he didn't warm to her right away. It took time. But now, it's okay. He probably won't say it out loud, but yeah, he likes her.

 "So…" Raising a brow, Ivar takes a sip of his beer, "It's no big deal." As Hvitserk keeps silent, Ivar scrutinizes him. His brother is clearly nervous and not at ease at all. Ivar slowly licks his lips. "What are you not telling me, brother?" He knows he's right when Hvitserk lowers his gaze.

 "Well…" Hvitserk clears his throat, "She won't be alone."

A wide-eyed look on his face, Ivar snarls, pursing his lips. "What does that mean, Hvitserk?" The icy cold tone of his voice matches his hard stare, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. 

 Hvitserk winces, "You know what it means, brother," before taking a seat in the armchair across from Ivar, the small coffee table between them suddenly highly appreciated. One can never be too careful when facing Ivar's anger. 

 "Are you fucking kidding me?" Clenching his jaw, Ivar bangs his fist on the table, and Hvitserk immediately leans forward, catching his brother's beer just before it falls down. 

 "I'm not, Ivar. Listen, I'm sorry but Tho–"

 Ivar cuts him off, running nervously his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it! Remember the fiasco with Thora's cousin? And then with her colleague? What was her name? Livia? Lisa? See, she didn’t even stay long enough for me to remember. Anyway, I thought I was pretty clear after that, wasn't I? Maybe you and your girlfriend should go and check your hearing, what do you think, hm, brother?" His voice dripping with sarcasm, Ivar gives Hvitserk dagger eyes, his pointer finger tapping the side of his head. "No more set-ups. That's what I said, right? Sounds pretty clear, huh? Do I need to tell it again, brother? Look at my mouth, I wouldn't want you to miss it this time,” He points to his lips then in a sarcastic manner, “No. More. Set-ups. No. More. Blind. Dates." Bottom lip quivering, Ivar, who's boiling mad, struggles to hold back his anger.

 "I know, brother…" Hvitserk swallows, rubbing his hand over his face, "but you know Thora means well, don't you? I briefly met Y/N once and honestly, she seemed nice enough. Plus, Thora's not really setting you up. We'll be together, the four of us, here, just eating pizza, it hardly counts as a date, don't you think?"

 Disgruntled, Ivar heaves an exasperated sigh, his nostrils flaring. "Stop playing dumb, Hvit, and don't tell me you've never heard of double dates!" He stares at his brother, his pupils dilated, shading his eyes darker blue. "Anyway, it doesn't matter." As he reaches for his crutch, a scowl on his face, Hvitserk stands up, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

 "Isn't that obvious?" Ivar mocks him while adjusting his legs in front of him. "I'm leaving!" Shifting his butt forward, he laces his left arm through the metal loop of his crutch, places his right hand on the coffee table, and then slowly hauls himself to his feet, grunting and swearing under his breath. He has a false start, where it seems he's going to fall right back onto the couch, but Hvitserk catches him skilfully, gripping his upper right arm. As soon as he's sure his baby brother has found his balance, Hvitserk releases his arm and Ivar gives him a tight, thank-you smile. 

 Hvitserk barely nods, as if nothing happened. And gosh, Ivar may be mad at him about this stupid set-up-non-set-up thing, but right now he's feeling mostly grateful. His brother not making a big deal out of his struggles never fails to amaze him.

With any other of his brothers, it wouldn't have been the same. 

Bjorn would have looked at him as if he were an utter failure, and then maybe helped him – out of pity, Ivar is sure of that – but not without paternally patting him on the shoulder; or even worse, on the head. The thought makes him cringe and he shakes his head, chasing it away. Bjorn is no longer around anyway, busy traveling around the world with his fourth wife. Or maybe it's the fifth? Ivar lost count a long time ago. 

 Sigurd would have kicked his crutch out from under him while Ubbe would have forced him to sit down, hovering beside him for far too long, afraid he would slip or stumble, or break a bone. Between Ubbe and Sigurd, between plague and cholera, Ivar is honestly not sure which one is better. Or worse. After all, it's all a matter of perspective. 

 Fortunately, Hvitserk – his favourite brother, and it is no coincidence – never treats him differently; never belittles him; never mothers nor smothers him. With him, Ivar feels like he's normal.

 Gratefulness flooding his mind, a pang of guilt suddenly hits him. He knows that if he leaves, he will put his brother in a difficult position. Though his resolve remains unshaken, Ivar puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, and when he speaks again, it's in a softer voice. "Listen, brother, just tell them I cancelled because I wasn't feeling well, okay?"

 Technically speaking, it's not even a lie. Today has been what his beloved mother would have called a 'bad leg day'. The pain coursing through his lower limbs worse and the muscles stiffer than usual, his right leg barely moving due to its swollen joints, he had taken a double dose of painkillers earlier, regrettably with little to no effect.

 "Well, brother," Looking out of the window, Hvitserk grimaces, an uneasy grin on the corner of his lips, "I'm afraid it's too late." 

 As if on cue, the door busts open and a girly chuckle can be heard. Ivar clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the handle of his crutch. As you and Thora take off your coats and shoes in the doorway, Hvitserk mutters, his mouth on his brother's ear, "Behave Ivar, please. For my sake." 

 Ivar snorts, exhaling deeply. "I'll try." He closes his eyes and, shaking his head, he mumbles, fighting a lump in his throat. "It's… It's not that easy. Fuck Hvitserk, you don't even know…I wish I wasn’t so angry all the time. I… I might have been happy." His voice, barely a whisper at this point, cracks at the end, and he hates himself for that.  

 Astounded, Hvitserk isn't even sure he heard right. There's no time left to ask Ivar to repeat himself though, so he somewhat haphazardly decides to comfort him, nevertheless. "You'll get there, brother." He eventually breathes, still stunned by his brother's unexpected admission.

  "We're coming!!" Unaware of the tension in the room, Thora shouts enthusiastically before crossing it in two long strides. All smiles, she joins the brothers, winking at her lover and squeezing his hand, and gives Ivar a peck on the cheek followed by a wholehearted hug. She then steps away, gesturing toward you as Hvitserk wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Ivar, this is Y/N."

 Reluctantly, Ivar looks in your direction and the moment he sets his eyes on you, his breath catches in his throat and he knows he's screwed. Already smitten. Gods, you're glowing and insanely beautiful. He barely hears Thora's next words. "And Y/N, this is Ivar, Hvitserk's little brother."

 A beaming smile on your face, you wave at him before taking two shy steps forward. "Hello, Ivar." Even your voice is wonderful, sweet, and silky, and he can't help but smile back at you, annoyed with himself for being so weak. 

 Even if he can see the sparkle in your eyes as you look at him, even if your smile is devastating, he knows better. 

 It won't last. It can't.

 For now, standing tall in his brother's living room, he's aware you surely find him attractive. With no false modesty, Ivar knows about his good looks, his huge blue eyes his greatest asset. Of course, you must have noticed the crutch, but the crutch per se is barely a turn-off. You can't see his titanium leg braces, which he stubbornly wears under his pants, even if they often bruise the thin and delicate skin of his calves. You can't see his crippling pain, his struggles. You can't see his distorted bones and his hideous legs. You can't see how disabled, how crippled he really is. But he knows that as soon as he takes a step, you'll get a small glimpse, and then the sparkle will leave your eyes, replaced at best by polite indifference, at worst by pity and disgust. 

 Yet, there's nowhere to hide from the inevitable. So, he decisively closes the gap between you and him, leaning heavily on his crutch, dragging his useless right leg behind him, and eventually standing right in front of you, he extends his hand. "Nice to meet you." His gaze never leaves your face, Ivar awaiting for you to avert your eyes, but you surprisingly don't. And as you reach out and offer him a firm handshake, your smile never falters, the sparkle still dancing in your eyes. 

 *** One year later ***

 You stir and turn toward him, your hand searching and finding his chest, and then lay your head on his shoulder. Groggy with sleep, you just mumble his name, eyes still closed, before letting out a content sigh and Ivar can't help but smile; you're so adorable.  

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, he draws you closer, running his fingers along your back and pressing his lips to your head. Rewarded by kisses in the crook of his neck, his free hand settles on your hip, your skin warm and smooth under his fingertips. "Hi," he greets you and buries his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

 "Hi." You eventually mumble with a raspy voice, now peppering light kisses all over his broad torso. "What were you doing, my love?" Your eyes flutter open and, propping yourself up on your elbow, your other hand flat on his chest, you offer him a warm smile. There's so much love in your eyes, it takes his breath away. 

 "I was remembering." Ivar smiles fondly at you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth. "Do you know what day it is?" He asks, gently kissing your knuckles one after the other. 

 "How could I have forgotten?" You scoot even closer, your breast against his chest, your mouth barely an inch from his. "Today is the anniversary of the day we met, my love. That's what you were thinking about?"

 Ivar nods before laying you down on the bed tenderly. He then sits up, running his hands through his hair. "I remember as though it were yesterday, you know? I still can't believe you didn't run away." Sitting behind him, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, trapping him in your embrace, in your love. "You stayed…", his voice trembles as he gestures to his legs, hidden under the sheets, "… you stayed in spite of… of them…" He swallows loudly and your heart aches.

 Resting your head on his left shoulder, you shake your head. "No, my love, I didn’t stay in spite of your legs, but because of them." 

 Ivar is looking downward but as soon as the words escape your lips, he snaps his head to the side, a frown flitting across his face, and gives you a confused and slightly upset look. "What do you… What do you mean?" He stammers, suddenly tense.

 Shifting in the bed, you carefully straddle him, tilting his chin with a curled finger and forcing him to meet your gaze. "Don't get me wrong, Ivar. I'm not especially attracted to your legs. It's not some kind of weird fetish. I stayed because of what is in here." You put your finger on his forehead, and then over his heart. "And here. But your legs made you who you are. And you're different. A good kind of different. You don't think like other men. That's what I love the most about you. You're unpredictable; you always surprise me. You wouldn't have been who you are without your legs." A gentle hand sliding under the sheets, your fingers graze his scarred skin. "With two working legs, who knows what you would have been. You probably would have been a presumptuous womanizer like Bjorn. Or you might have been as boring as Ubbe; as careless as Hvitserk; as annoying as Sigurd. You are who you are, infuriating, smart, and stubborn, and, I must say, breathtakingly handsome, and I love you exactly the way you are." 

 Ivar just looks at you for a long time, a small smile playing on his lips. Raising his right hand, he cups your face. "Never stop telling me you love me, Y/N. Please..." You never saw him so willingly vulnerable before, and it breaks your heart – you never want him to doubt himself – as much as it fills you with joy – he trusts you enough to share his insecurities with you. 

 You answer him without missing a beat. "I won't. I love you more than my own life. I love you bigger than the sky and its stars, I love you to the moon and back. I love you like I never thought I could. Loving you is a blessing, a precious gift, the meaning of my life. I love you and only you, Ivar Lothbrok."

 Blinking a few times, Ivar heaves a shuddering breath. Tears come to his bright blue eyes and the expression on his face is unreadable; fragile and strong all at once. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. Staring into space, he seems lost.

 Stroking his cheek, you bring him back to the here and now, back to you, kissing his earlobe, his jaw, his neck, before returning briefly to his mouth. "What is it, Ivar?"

 Your lover shrugs, "Nothing, really," and pulls you closer, his hands on your back, his breath on your face, his manly scent enticing you. "Or more accurately…", he whispers in your ear, "… Nothing, yet everything." 

 Not understanding what he's getting at, you keep quiet, just staring at him, confusion obvious in your eyes. He then offers you a mind-blowing smile, and your heart nearly jumps out through your mouth at his next words. 

 "I may be happy. Actually, I think I am."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​ @pieces-by-me​

[thebadboyfanclub]

The Dream (Geralt x Reader)

Do I have other requests I need to write? Yes, however if I didn’t get this off my system I can’t focus on anything else, so here it goes. Enjoy!

T.W This is my interpretation of nymphs, I don’t want to hear if it’s accurate or not.

Being a Naiads nymph meant to be in tune with nature and water, maintain the peace and harmony with the river, protect it and worship it like it deserved and anyone would pity the man that harmed the rivers and lakes that are protected by them. However the ones that respected it meant that they would in the nymphs good graces, to drink of the water of the naiads river meant to be inspired, madmen, barbs and prophets had told a plethora of stories about the enchanting delicate nymphs.

(Y/n) loved her place in this world, her sisters and the other creatures lived a peaceful life, yet something was missing. A lot of them had witnessed some couples that found sanctuary near the water and had seen them intertwine and let the fiery passion take over them, oh to be in love and worshipped.

“Geralt you might be all indestructible and all but your blood is staining roach”

The lively barb joked loudly enough for the nymphs' to hear. Without even discussing it they all took cover and hid as quickly as they possibly could, of course the humans were aware of the nymphs existence, nonetheless the cruel ones have been known to try and kidnap or harass them.

Geralt was feeling the pain from the wound get more and more intense and it was just his luck that he had just ran out of healing potions, he did not expect that vicious creature to be such a fighter. Dawn was slowly approaching and was hot on their trail, they wouldn’t make it to the next village before dark and thieves could be waiting for them.

“Fine, we stop here”

“Excellent, at least we can wash on the water”

“Don’t even go near, naiads are guarding the water”

“Naiads? What is that?”

“Nymphs fool”

“Nymphs?! Oh it must be my birthday, I heard they are the most beautiful of creatures”

The childlike Jaskier claimed happily, as Geralt got down from his horse and neatly tied it on the tree he wished to have never showed kindness to the annoyingly optimist barb that was calling the nymphs and was taking off his shoes to jump in the crystal clear river. Geralt was just on time to grab him from the collar mid air and pull him back to ground, Jaskier misstopping and falling down on his back with a thud.

“What was that for?”

“You fool, you have to ask them permission and let them show themselves or else they will drown you”

“That’s not very nice of them now isn’t it?”

“Don’t make me throw you in the water Barb”

As nightfall completely took over (y/n) watched them from afar, hiding behind the bushes and half of her face out of it to take a good look at the two men, specifically the white hair muscular man. She could smell his blood, he was severely wounded and tired, her little heart was starting to beat faster every time he spoke with that deep voice

“Sister, get back here, they could be dangerous”

“He respected our river sister, he respects us”

“He is a witcher, he kills creatures”

“Harmful creatures, he protects us from dangerous beasts”

“Don’t tell me you have gotten interested in a mutant”

Her blond hair sister questioned  (y/n). Her sisters were all aware of her desire to fall in love, to be like the couples, she had the chance to marry demi gods yet she raised her nose to them and denied herself, she wanted nothing to do with those stuck up pesky little men.

“He is hurt”

“He will survive it’s what they do... fine, stay here and watch”

And that’s what she did, stayed and watched them slowly drift off to blissful slumber. That is when she got the brilliant idea, she would help him, heal him, he had respected her grounds, saved his mortal friend from punishment, he deserved her help. 

She approached them silently and swiftly through the other side of the river, her breath getting uneven the closer she got to him, he looked so handsome from afar, he was even more perfect when she got next to him. His hand was over his wound on his stomach, a nasty deep slice that looked like it had just stopped bleeding not even moments ago, his face was not peaceful, his brows were furrowed and he would let a groin from time to time, even at his sleep the cut was torturing him

As she gently took his hand off the wound she placed hers over it, feeling the power run through her delicate fingers and to his body.

“Who are-”

“Shhhh, I’m not here to harm you, I mean no harm”

Her voice was like sweet honey to his ears, you can imagine his surprise when he felt a hand to his body and opened his eyes to meet an ethereal creature, her hair fell so effortlessly in her face, yet her eyes pierced his soul, those hues that showed such kindness and purity that lived in her, her sweet smile that made those perfectly shaped lips of hers curl could be the source of the sweetest nectar anyone in this world would ever taste. Her skin glistered under the moonlight, she was an angel sent for him in his dream.

“Rest witcher, you are safe here”

She couldn’t resist anymore, her hand almost acted on its own when she reached to caress his cheek with the back of her fingers, slowly and gently. His hot skin made hers crave more than just a once in a lifetime touch, his flesh was like drug to hers. 

He went to speak when they heard Jaskier start shuffling, a big chance of him waking up startled her. She quickly turned to Geralt and placed a kiss on his Forehead, it could be the last time she ever saw him she had to let him off with some sort of intimacy.

“Goodnight”

“No wait”

Before he could even move the girl was gone, vanished from thin air and leaving him high and dry, he groaned as he let his head touch the ground once again. It was even a minute before he went back to sleep, wondering what was that creature that had helped him and swooned him with just one look.

-

“IT’S A MIRACLE”

Geralt woke up by the defeating voice of the barb. As he opened his eyes a few strands of sunlight hit him in the face, he was almost ready to feel the great pain in his abdomen when he realized the pain never came. 

“Geralt I have to give it to you, I wasn’t sure if you could heal that time of wound. Look at you! All cleaned up and ready to go”

“What?”

As he sat up he took a look at his stomach, the tear in his clothes was there, yet no scar, no blood, like it was never there. He was healed, just like the girl in his dream said

“You know I was scared, you were talking in your sleep”

“I did?”

“Yes, in a... girly way. You almost fooled me I thought we had company, yet when I woke it was just you”

“The dream”

“What dream now?”

“I saw a girl, an angel"

All that was heard was the laugh of Jaskier, he had grown tired of being the only one that talked about a lady and being met with the dissapointed look of his witcher friend Geralt.

(Y/n) on the other side of the river felt her heart stop when she heard him call her an angel, of course the nymphs were known for their beauty, she had heard compliments that would make any woman blush over the years, still it was different when it came from him. It meant something to her when it came from him

"An angel, you were hallucinating Geralt? Well I don't blame you, that cut was nasty so it probably took all your might to heal it"

"Or just a thank you to your healer"

That sweet voice. Geralt turned his head immediately when he heard it, it was her, the girl that he saw at night, the angel in his dream, she was now in broad daylight approaching him. Jaskier that was standing was now seated, completely stunned by the awfully gorgeous woman that was quickly coming to them.

As she rose from the river Geralt and Jaskier felt her immaculate presence and their eyes fell almost simultaneously to her body, she was covered by a piece of see through white dress, that barely covered what was necessary. Her body was as perfect as the rest of her, it was like a woman out of a painting came to life, as her hair fell in front of her breasts, teasing them.

"Holly.... They weren't lying"

"excuse me?"

"the prophets, the songs, nymphs are really"

"you haven't seen a nymph before?"

She questioned. Her voice was more melodic than anything any bard- especially Jaskier- had ever sung. She stood in front of this men, so graciously that she made them feel uncomfortable by just being around her.

"no no I have not. I'm Jaskier"

"oh yes, the eager barb that wanted to jump in."

It was the first time Geralt had ever seen Jaskier blush, he was thankful of that blush because it made the girl laugh, her laugh was also like the best of music, she was a fairytale to look and be around to.

"It's alright dear, my sisters will allow you to go in. Right sisters?"

As she said that, the men saw other girls letting themselves out of their spots, one by one came closer and some of them giggling at the baffled man.

"this is.... Exquisite, excuse me dear"

As he kissed her hand he was gone in a bling of an eye and in a few seconds you heard the splash he made when his body hit the water.

Geralt had just gotten on his feet, no doubt the other nymphs were pretty as well, gorgeous as one would say, yet he was mesmerized by the one standing in front of him. She was looking over at the river, her profile was all he could see when he made a few steps to come near her

"I thought you were a dream"

"I didn't want to wake you... Geralt"

He had never been more excited to hear his name come out of someone's mouth. The gruff, cold man was now swooning over a female he had only seen once in his life.

"Thank you for healing me"

"you respected us, it was the least we could do"

"is that the only reason?"

She turned to look at him, she wasn't that much shorter than him. If he could be certain no one was watching he would had gotten her on his horse and hit the road with her, what has gotten into him? Just one look from those... Diamond like eyes and he was ready to leave with her. As he kept looking at her he felt a smile forming in his lips, his usual stiff characteristics had soften, all because of her

"Such pretty eyes"

She whispered to him. It was the first time he had received a compliment for his eyes, the color of his eyes was a sign on what he was, of what he did.

"what's your name?"

"(y/n)"

She introduced herself as she made a step, filling the small space between them. As he felt her skin against his clothes he tried to not show any type of emotion, he was enchanted by her. She once again reached and caressed his face, her skin felt so soft against his, making him relax and enjoy it.

"I've never met someone like you Geralt"

"A witcher?"

"A noble witcher, you are so rare"

Part two

[chocoholicannanymous]

Gonna Come True (Glee)

AN: This is a follow-up to There's a Miracle Due which was written for the Glee Twistfest, “What if Mercedes & Kurt got Maria & Tony?” back in 2014 (yikes). I had the storyline for this already back then (hello, all of three lines in a document), it's just taken me until now to actually write it. 

For @krummavisur who wanted it.

Thanks to @elledelajoie for looking it over .

The title is taken from “Something Coming”, West Side Story.

Oh, and I am not trying to follow any kind of canon time-line. Just, go with it.

Gonna Come True

Kurt throws himself into preparing for West Side Story with an energy that makes Mercedes envious. She understands though – he doesn't feel like he got the role honestly, which is bullshit, but. He still thinks he needs to prove himself. In her eyes he did so during his audition, and it's everyone else who needs to prove themselves to him, but he doesn't see it that way. Years of Lima bullshit stops him from seeing it.

He doesn't drop out of the race for senior class president though, not even when he's complaining about balancing that with Tony and school and Blaine. She asks him why and gets an answer she should have expected.

“At first this was about getting at least something on my resume. But that's not it any longer. I'm running as a reminder that bullying is a problem at this school, and that something needs to be done. If I win – and I don't expect to, not here – then I have a shot at making the administration do something. If I lose I still raise awareness. Every time I speak about my agenda I force the people listening to remember that bullying is an issue, that bullying kills, and that it is not okay.

“That's worth losing a little sleep.”

Mercedes's heart swells at hearing her boo speak so passionately about it, and it breaks as she hears an angry Santana tell Brittany that she should run against Kurt.

Kurt who is currently pulling down unicorn posters around the school while pushing back tears.

She waits until Brittany walks away before cornering Santana.

“We need to talk. What you just told Brit? That's a shit thing to do.”

Santana starts to argue, all fire, and under other circumstances Mercedes would admire her willingness to go to bat for her girl, but not now.

“No. Don't you dare. Do you know why Kurt is so upset over those posters? It's because to him they represent everything that he's been bullied over. And that? Has a lot to do with you. You have been sitting in the choir room for two years, mocking him for what he likes and for who he is.

“So here we are. Him running on an anti-bullying platform, and your girlfriend plastering the school with posters reminding him of exactly that bullying. Do I really need to explain to you why it is that when Kurt looks at those posters he doesn't see Brit's intentions, her meaning – he sees your bullying.”

Mercedes sees her words are hitting home, even if Santana is putting up a good front.

“Oh, and Santana? When you mock Kurt for being gay it makes you a hypocrite. But when you mock him for being 'girly'? It's even worse. Because when you say that there's something wrong with being like a girl, you're implying that there's something wrong with being a girl. And I'm not okay with that.

“Now, you are going to go back to Brit and tell her exactly what happened here, and you're going to make sure that she forgets all about running against him. He's had enough of his so-called friends doing that, I'd think.

“I'm not saying this – any of this – to be mean. I'm trying to be a good friend, to Kurt and to you. But make no mistake. You ruin this for Kurt? I'll ruin you.”

Mercedes might not be popular like a cheerleader, but she's got friends and she's got contacts outside of school. Her threat's not an empty one, and Santana knows it.

Her phone's ringing. There's something hitting her window, and her phone's ringing. At half past eleven on a school night.

Whoever it is, Mercedes is going to cut them.

Except it's Kurt, and he's not looking right.

As she lets him in through the back-door Mercedes notices the wrinkled clothes and the mussed hair that doesn't fit with a night of dancing. More making out, but Kurt doesn't have that well-kissed look. Plus, he's pale and shaky.

Something's wrong.

It takes her a long time to coax the story out of him, about Blaine trying to rape him. Except when she says that Kurt denies it, vehemently.

“Are you serious right now? Are you defending him? No! Okay? No. Hell no even.

“Look, if I showed up at your place and told you Shane had pulled me into the backseat of a car, had tried to get my clothes off and wouldn't stop touching me even though I said no, what would you tell me? Would you tell me it was okay because we're dating? That he's allowed to do that because I'm in love with him and he treats me good the rest of the time? Would you tell me to suck it up and forgive him?

“Would you explain away that and tell me that if he won't respect my 'no' the solution is to say 'yes' instead?”

Kurt's even paler now, his eyes blown and unfocused. He doesn't say anything though. Instead he just whimpers and rushes out to the bathroom.

When he comes back he's regained some color. He still looks like shit though. Mercedes pulls out some comfortable clothes that were bought for her brother, but got conscripted as backup for unplanned Kurt-visits, and leaves him to change while she gets them some chamomile tea.

Later, as the lights are out and they're curled up together, trying to get what rest they can Kurt whispers: “I'm going to have to break up with him, aren't I?”

She holds him as he cries himself to sleep.

The next day Kurt pretends like nothing's happened. He doesn't want to rock the boat before the West Side Story premiere, he says, or deal with the bitchfit Rachel would throw. “I'll do it after the final performance on Sunday” he promises, and Mercedes doesn't have it in her to push him. Not with the memory of his tears so fresh.

Dress rehearsal that night goes well, right up to the point where Artie comes to talk to them after. They need more fire, more passion, he claims and then proceeds to tell them that they should hurry up and have sex before their first show so they can portray lovers more believably. Oh, he doesn't put it quite like that, but it's pretty obvious that's what he means.

Mercedes is stunned at first, and then furious. She's surprised that Kurt's not ripping into him, with everything, and oh. Hell no.

“Are you telling me to have sex to improve the show you're directing? Really? How about you get some classes or something, to improve your part? You know, instead of sexually harassing me.”

Artie sputters out what's probably meant as a denial, but she just talks right over him.

“If you as much as breathe about this again, to anyone, I will report you. And then my mama will go have a talk with your parents about how they've failed at raising you to be a decent human being.

“Do you get me?”

He nods quickly, mumbles something and makes a hasty retreat. Just as he goes out the door Kurt's voice rings out, cold.

“And to think I remember a boy who grieved that his first time wasn't romantic enough. I wonder what he would think of you now.”

Artie doesn't say anything, or slow down, but he slumps a little in his chair as the barb hits home. Mercedes shifts her attention to Kurt and sees pale skin, rigid posture and shaky hands. He's thinking the same thing she is.

“Boo...”

“No, 'Cedes, please. Let's not speculate about whether or not he had that speech with the others first. I can't, not now.”

So she lets it go. For now.

Mercedes is on stage for the opening show Friday night along with Kurt. Not in the spotlight, sure, but still there. She can't help but compare Rachel and Blaine's performance with what she and Kurt can do, and they come up short. Tomorrow night, she thinks. Tomorrow night we're going to show them how it's really done.

She says as much to Kurt as they leave together and he laughs, the first sign of happiness she's heard from him in two days. The laughter dies out soon as he spots a bunch of well-dressed boys waiting outside. She recognizes a few from Kurt's time at Dalton, but not all of them. She'd think it nice of them to come see their friends perform, except judging from Kurt's reaction they're not an entirely welcome sight.

He still greets them politely, smiling that small “company smile” she doesn't like while asking if they remember Mercedes.

“And this,” he says with strained, icy politeness, “is Sebastian Smythe, this year's new transfer to Dalton.”

This then is the reason they're not welcome. Still, she follows Kurt's example and pulls out church manners.

Apparently the boys have been given tickets by Blaine, the tall new boy explains, before trying to needle Kurt.

“So, Officer Krupke? How did that feel, such a...manly role?”

Ouch.

“Oh, you know, it's not about the role, it's what you put into it. And it makes for an interesting contrast to tomorrow and playing Tony. ”

Everyone quiets at that and the mood gets slightly uncomfortable. Trent is about to break the silence, but Sebastian talks right over him.

“Right. Well, we'll have to withhold judgment until after of course, but I'd say you'll have a hard time measuring up to Blaine. And you,” he turns to Mercedes, “are you also playing another role tomorrow? This one's Maria perhaps?”

She nods without explaining, and then listens as the boys stumble over excuses about not knowing exactly who'll be there tomorrow, but “We're sure you'll do great, Kurt!”

Once they're out of sight Kurt sags a little.

“He didn't tell them. He went to Dalton to tell them about the show, and give them tickets, and he didn't tell them I was in it. Didn't tell them I was also playing Tony. They tried to cover it up, but... They were my friends too, and he didn't tell them.”

She loops an arm around his waist and snuggles close.

He deserves so much better.

There's a group of Dalton boys there next evening again, making Kurt smile and Blaine startle. Some are from the evening before, including the sharp Sebastian, some are new. They all applaud enthusiastically, and wait so they can congratulate Kurt on his performance. Mercedes pays extra attention to Sebastian, for some reason, but all he says is “not bad”. It sounds genuine though, and so is Kurt's smile as he nods and thanks the other boy.

Mercedes knows they did better than “not bad”. They were awesome together. She doesn't need to hear it from this reluctant boy though. She's got a better source.

They skip the cast party. Kurt's not eager to be with Blaine, especially since there might be alcohol involved, and Mercedes prefers celebrating with her boyfriend who has been a rock. There's a small sting as Kurt walks away alone, but it slips away as she accepts Shane's flowers and kiss and walks out on his arm.

The next morning Mercedes shows up at the Hummel-Hudson house almost uncomfortably early. She drags a still sleep-tussled Kurt to the dining table and spreads out the Gazette in front of him. It's already open to the right page and she sees exactly when Kurt realizes what she's got.

“You read that, I'll fix breakfast.”

She's brought coffee from home along with juice and fresh croissants from the bakery a block away and a small carton of strawberries. It's a luxury, but it's a well-deserved one. It's the work of no time to put it all out along with cups and plates, and as she does that she hears Kurt's voice rise, reading select paragraphs out loud.

“Rachel Berry's 'Maria' is technically perfect, with the singer hitting every note. Sadly that excellence does not extend to the rest of her performance. Ms Berry fails to provide personality and emotion, and simply put she lacks the ability to bring Maria to life.”

He stops, shakes his head and looks at her.

“Ehm, ouch?”

Yes.

“Blaine Anderson as Tony does not help. Where a better singer and actor could shore up his counterpart Anderson falls flat. 'Flat' is in fact the word that comes to mind most often when seeing and listening to him performing. Anderson fails to hit the notes in several of the songs, and often resorts to what must be described as screaming instead of singing. He lacks the range needed to play Tony, and obviously also the training needed to make up for his shortcomings.

“On the acting side it's equally flat. Anderson's body language and facial expressions are mostly too subtle – or possibly non-existent – to come across from the stage, making it like watching a cardboard cut-out most of the time. On the other hand, when he does come across it's much too exaggerated, making his Tony look like a caricature. (I find myself looking at the playbill to see if this is meant to be a comedic take on this epic show. It's not.)

“Holy shit, 'Cedes!”

Yessssss.

“Finally, the dancing. Here, Anderson does better – most of the time. He clearly favors certain parts of the choreography, and there he does very well. In other parts it is obvious that Anderson lacks either the desire or the ability to perform according to choreography. This shows, as other cast members – including Ms Berry's Maria – often have to adjust their own moves to accommodate Anderson, either because he takes up too much space or because he simply isn't where he is supposed to be.

“Towards the end of the show Anderson also shows a surprising lack of stamina, and almost literally falls flat as he stumbles through some of the steps.

“The rest of the cast...”

Kurt's voice peters off, and he looks at her, stunned. Mercedes only smiles, satisfied.

“You should read on. Really.”

Kurt looks at her with skepticism, but does as she says. She knows exactly when he hits the part she wanted him to see, because he looks up at her, wide-eyed and slightly stunned.

“After this the pair playing Maria and Tony during Saturday's performance – as well as today's matinée – is a pleasant surprise. Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel bring our lovers to life in a way that looks more like a professional setup than a high school play. Not only are they both talented singers, but they also manage to communicate the story to the audience and play off each other in a way that lifts the entire show.

“It is noticeable, having seen both sets of performers that like Anderson Jones has some difficulty with the choreography. However the adjustments made to cater to her limitations in no way come off as a lesser version of what Berry performs, and does in fact make her look better than Anderson's attempt at a more complex choreography. Meanwhile Hummel needs no such adjustments and manages to pair vocals with dancing in a truly impressive manner.

“Hummel's vocals could take up an article of its own, and so this reporter will just note that it comes as no surprise that Hummel is pursuing schooling and later a career in performing arts. We are looking forward to seeing him on stage on many more occasions.”

Kurt drops the paper and blinks like an owl.

“Am I dreaming? Did an actual reporter not only attend a West Side Story performance at McKinley to write about it in the Gazette, but they actually went twice?”

“Yeah boo.”

“And they actually wrote that we did better than Rachel and Blaine?”

“Yeah, they did. And they were right, you know. You did so much better than Blaine that he should be embarrassed.”

Kurt blushes a little, then pulls a grimace.

“What?”

“I was just thinking... I've been wondering if breaking up with Blaine over what happened was an overreaction, because...” He meets her eye, and looks away. “Anyway, I'm reading this and instead of being happy for me – for us – I can't help but think that Blaine's going to go ballistic. And that waiting for the show to be over probably wasn't that great of an idea. He's going to expect me to listen to him whine about this.”

Mercedes isn't surprised to hear that Kurt's been considering forgiving his boyfriend. A bit disappointed, sure, but not surprised. He always was more loyal than people deserved. She is surprised that he's being that clear-sighted about Blaine though. That's good. That means he's probably going to follow through.

As if cued Kurt's phone starts buzzing and they both look at the screen. Blaine. Mercedes makes an unhappy face. Kurt... Kurt looks upset and rejects the call before turning the sound off.

“Boo?”

“I am not going to ruin my afterglow by listening to him complain about how no one appreciates him. Not when I'm already going to break up with him. Just, no.

“Instead I'm going to enjoy this lovely breakfast with my gorgeous leading lady, and then I'm going to read that article again and gloat. Oh, and then I'm going out to get myself a couple of extra copies as proof that even in Lima people can see our talent.

“I don't know how you did it, but you, my dear, pulled off a miracle.”

And she has, hasn't she? Not by making someone see and recognize Kurt's talent, though, but by making him smile, wide and open.

That's her miracle, right there.

~ The End ~

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who’ve shown interest!! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51 @what-the-fuckaroni @masquejj

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat�� “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you. Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting… tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing, mentioned homophobia w/c: 3.6k

tagging list:  @angrylittleriri​ @chims-kookies​ @gooseyhouse @kiyokoscunchie​ @unhappyraspberry​ @elianetsantana​ 

a/n: welcome to the THIRD chapter of the fic! i hope you’re all doing well since i’ve last posted. I genuinely apologize for the delay! a few personal things kinda popped up, and it kinda derailed the process of posting this fic, but at least we’re here now!  this is a bit longer compared to the other chapters, but i hope you all enjoy! please ignore any grammar mistakes, i proof read this to the best of my ability and it’s currently 5 in the morning :’) 

see you all next week for the final chapter.  p.s. I do have a smol surprise, so stay tuned for next week! 

back to master list

<< life as she’s known it | life as they’ll know it >>

Kenma had always been aware of the common misconception people had of him, and the lack of interest they had to confirm it: that he had the inability to express his thoughts and feelings let alone identify it. 

In a way, he did find it rather difficult to open up. Being bullied as a child silenced him into the dreading assumption that anyone who was kind to him or showed any interest in him were only doing so just to mess with him. 

It took Kuroo quite a lot when he first met Kenma. He bent his little body over and under, jumping through hoops like a show pony just to get Kenma to even blink his way. And though all that effort strained him, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you he’d do it all again if he could. 

But it wasn’t a question of whether or not Kenma could identify what he was feeling and thoroughly express it. He had the right words, all of which were hanging off the tip of his tongue. He just didn’t know how to say it without sounding insensitive or heartless. 

So as he stares at Yuki twirling in a dress you found digging through one of your old childhood clothes, his lips run dry. His words tuck behind the swell of his heart because though Yuki does indeed look like the cutest child he’s ever seen, his thoughts are full of concern, worried about what people say to a little boy showing up in a jean overall dress with purple and yellow flowers embroidered at the hem. 

His eyes gape onto the sight before him, flickering over to Eiji when he hears him clear his throat. He seems just as troubled, quieter than usual while he watches over his brother. Not a single trace of amusement is seen in Eiji’s face. He doesn’t seem happy at all, and it phases Kenma; he’s usually stoic if not smiling in the presence of Yuki. 

Yuki continues to giggle himself, gripping onto the material of his dress to have it flow in the air. He looks up to meet your eyes, oblivious to the two boys muddled in their own distress. 

“I’m sorry, Yuki-chan,” You huff, smiling down to the little boy running circles in the middle of the living room. “If I had known the preschool was gonna accept you so soon, I would’ve brought you to the mall...But this should be fine for now, right? Is this okay with you, Yuki-chan?” 

Yuki disregards your apology, holding up your old frog raincoat as he beams at his “new” found clothes. 

“Plus, these don’t look so old, and it doesn’t look too girly, don’t you think?” You turn to Kenma who spares you nothing more than a nod. You follow his gaze and find it etched into the embroidered hem. 

It doesn’t pass off as boy clothes, he thinks, letting your words breeze past him. 

Kenma isn’t shy with breaking gender norms; he’s worn a few skirts and dresses himself, all that are still sitting in his closet to be worn again. His qualms aren’t with Yuki wearing a dress, but the treatment he’s expected to get when he shows up to his first day of school. He’ll be bullied into the same silence Kenma faced, and he’ll amount to nothing more than rubble beneath their judgement. 

They say times are changing, so the people must be too, right? But there’s a persistent constricting feeling building up in his chest as if it comes as a warning sign. And the fact that Eiji looks just as uneasy as himself hints that maybe Yuki should change out of something less...worrisome. 

“Mmm, Yuki,” Kenma clears his throat, trying to subside the build up of his uneasiness, “maybe you should wear something else…?” Yuki’s smile falters at his words as confusion colors away his joy. “I think you should wear the pants with the little frog shirt you picked out instead.” 

He doesn’t mean for his words to come out bitter and cold, and the momentum of his panic leaves a lump in his throat he isn’t too sure he’ll be able to swallow if he keeps his silence. 

Yuki looks up to him, blinking away at his words with glistening eyes. “I don’t look pretty?” Yuki’s voice comes out small--smaller than his fingers and toes. Smaller than his ability to comprehend where Kenma’s truly coming from. “You don’t like it, Kenma-san..?”

Oh no, he thinks to himself. Panic rises from his stomach and climbs up to his chest; a tightness in his throat soon follows when Yuki begins to blubber, telling him how mean he’s being. I didn’t mean to make him--

“Kozume.” You chide, looking at him quizzically. He meets your eyes and he instantly freezes up, thinking you, too, have come to misunderstand him. “What are you doing? Do something.” 

But he can’t. If he opens his mouth, he’ll only sound meaner than before, and he’d rather not add any more confusion or any more pain to the little boy. 

“Say something,” You push, glaring at him. “Kozume.” 

His throat goes dry as well as his lips, and when he finally does gain enough courage, Eiji takes a step forward beating him to the punch. “Yuki, I think it’s better you just wear pants. Dresses are for girls, and you shouldn’t be wearing this kind of stuff.” 

Your eyes widen and so does Kenma’s. Eiji’s is stern and clear in contrast to all the other times he’s spoken since he’s arrived. You watch as he kneels to meet Yuki’s eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder before running it up to his cheek to wipe away his tears. 

“There might be some problems if you wear a dress to school, Yuki-chan. And didn’t we promise each other we wouldn’t cause them any trouble for Oba-san and Kenma-san while we’re here?” Eiji’s voice is a lot soft, yet his words are still firm. Yuki quietly submits to his brother, hanging his head low as he continues to cry. 

You stand there both stunned. 

You want to speak up, but you’re still unsure of your place; who you are and what you can say. So you stand there with Kenma tightlipped at your side with tension hanging above your heads, watching as Yuki quietly sniffles to himself as he hugs the pile of clothes he’s picked and carries it into their shared bedroom. 

Needless to say, everyone goes to bed tucked beneath the covers of their guilt. 

                                                                                   ❁ ❁ ❁

Quiet mornings with a steaming cup at hand while treading lightly through the endless sea of emails in his iPad brought Kenma an odd sense of peace, and he looked forward to it every morning. But much to Kenma’s dismay, the apartment is too quiet and the coffee bitter; the chill in the atmosphere is unsettling as he falls into deep thought. 

He thinks back to the events of last night; Yuki’s crying face, your contorted look of confusion, and Eiji’s words. It all comes pouring down on him like a bucket of cold water. 

Not even his coffee can spare him from the chill down his spine. 

He mentally kicks himself, thinking of all the other ways he could’ve said it better. How he could’ve prevented him from breaking Yuki’s little heart and avoided your cold shoulder as you left in a hurry to take the kids to their schools. 

Kenma sucks in a breath as the stinging spreads across his chest. The weight of his cup grows heavy and he shifts his grip to a more comfortable hold. Nothing about the morning is comforting, and it leaves Kenma in distress, the feeling spilling into his work as he continues about his day. 

He can barely read a single line of an email let alone write one; his senses aren’t as sharp as he struggles to smoothen his hand-eye coordination during gaming; and he catches himself zoning out in the middle of his online meetings, barely humming responses to questions he pretends to hear. 

Kenma wonders how Yuki’s doing, and what he could do to apologize and gain his trust back. Maybe he’ll get some strawberry milk on the way to fetch him, or buy the little duck umbrella he caught him eyeing at the convenience store. 

Kenma isn’t good with words if one were to ask him to be gentle and kind. He’s blunt and straight to the point, and it took him more than just a while to get used to softening the blow of his words and how he delivers them. 

And now, as he muddles in his misery does he ingrain those habits deeper into thought until it becomes muscle memory to his lips. 

He’s only then pulled from his squabbles when the doorbells rings throughout the apartment. His feet drag him to the door as his mutters in his resentment. What in the hell could be here--

“You’re shitting me.” Kenma grimaces at  the sight of the cheeky grin plastered across his best friend’s face as he opens the door; his hair tousled to the side and his usual business attire unkempt.  “What the hell do you want?” 

Kuroo pouts, pretending to be wounded by the bitter greeting as he holds a hand to his heart. “Is that how you greet an old friend?” 

“Not now, Kuroo-san.” Despite the bite in his words and his half-hearted attempt to shut the door, Kuroo welcomes himself in, kicking his shoes to the side before trailing behind him. 

“I miss your calls,” Kuroo teases, eyes wandering about the apartment, “you don’t even text me back anymore.” 

“I don’t have the time.” Kenma grits as he pinches the bridge of his nose. A drunken, dizzying feeling whirling in his head; probably because of all the coffee he’s downed and the little water he’s consumed. “Whatever it is you’re here to pester me with, please save it for another time and leave.” 

“Why? Stay at home daddy roles keeping you occupied?” The cushion of the couch bends beneath Kuroo’s weight as he leisurely raises his feet to the coffee table, arms relaxing over to the arm rest. “I wasn’t so surprised when you became a CEO, but this--fatherhood was something I’d imagined you’d do much later...” 

Irritation seeps through Kenma’s skin in the form of tense muscles and a clenched jaw as Kuroo continues on to pass cheap jokes and badgers him. He swipes a bottle warm from the fridge before joining Kuroo on the other side of the couch, kicking his foot off the table on the way. 

“You’re so cold to me.” Kuroo whines, ruffling Kenma’s pudding head hair, earning a disapproving tsk. “Seriously, how’s it someone like you skips the step to marriage and dives straight to having kids? I’m a bit hurt. I had to hear it from Shoyo. Like, seriously? Shoyo? I thought I was your best friend?” 

“Self-proclaimed.” He corrects, unbothered by Kuroo’s sore expression as he untwists the cap from the bottle before chugging the water down in one breath. “Will you leave now?” 

“Why are you so keen to push me out?” Kuroo lifts himself off the warmth of the cushions, moving closer to his evidently troubled friend as he picks off the seal from the plastic bottle. “Kenma, are you okay? Kyanma?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose once again, Kenma shakes his head as he leans his head back. Kuroo tilts his head, watching as his friend unravels in his pain; manifesting both metaphorically and physically. 

“I’ve said something mean to a little boy and he didn’t even deserve it.” Kenma fiddles the empty bottle, tossing it to the side before anxiously fiddling with his fingers. 

“What happened?” 

A deep and heavy sigh escapes him, “He was wearing a dress and I told him he shouldn’t. A-And, And it’s not like I didn’t want him to. I don’t mind it all, but people are mean and the thought that he might face the same kind of treatment I did--Kuroo-san, I don’t want that.”

“You only meant well,” Kuroo places his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, rubbing circles against the material of his old Nekoma sweater. “Though, you could’ve said it better--” 

“You know damn well I’m not good at that!” Kenma spits, cutting him off. 

“But the point is, you meant well!” He reiterates. “Might’ve come across as a lil douche-y, but the intentions were there. But I think you of all people know that no matter what, there’ll always be someone mean. And I don’t think you can shield him from that. Maybe temporarily, but not forever.” 

“I don’t want that kind of pain for him!” Kenma abruptly stands from his place, frustration tingling at his fingertips as it spreads throughout the rest of his body. “He’s so small, Kuroo-san. You should’ve seen him. I said one thing and it already looked like he was gonna break. What happens when he hears words worse than mine? What’ll I do then? What can I do for him?” 

Sniffling. It is the sound that follows after Kenma’s voice breaks and causes Kuroo to raise his brows. At first he thinks his ears have tricked him, but when he finds tears pooling down to his chin as he collapses back onto his seat. 

And it is at this moment, after all the time that has passed, has he seen him break.  

“I-I don’t know how to do any of this. I’m so confused.” Kenma babbles on, stumbling on his own words and choking in between his sobs. And all Kuroo can offer is a soft, rhythmic pat on his back to try and calm him down.

“I’ve been doing some reading about how to understand children or how to raise one, but it's so different. There’s all these theories and guidelines, but no one tells you that you forget everything you read the second they appear in front of you…” 

Kenma holds his head in his trembling hands, crying even harder. All the while he wonders what the child version of him would think if saw him as fragile as the fallen leaves that’d crunch beneath his feet. He’d wonder if he had known the stress he’d fall prey to, would he have continued? 

But as the image of you bleed through his worries, he’s more than sure of his answer. 

Yes. 

Yes, I would. 

Over and over again in one breath. 

“You will be to that child what you needed when you were bullied.” Kuroo’s words are steady, matched with an endearing smile to comfort Kenma’s crying as he meets his glistening gaze. “You needed someone to reassure you that all you heard were nothing but lies, so you do that for him.” 

“Ah, my dear friend, have you not heard of the phrase ‘It takes a village to raise a child’?” Kenma merely blinks at him quizzically as Kuroo snakes an arm around him to bring him close. “What I’m tryna say is: stop acting like you don’t have me, and Shoyo, and the rest of your friends who’re just within your reach. No one ever said it was only just going to be the two of you.” 

Kenma swallows thickly, nodding in agreement as he wipes away the snot dripping from the tip of his nose. He says his thanks that’s quieter than a whisper, it comes airy and a bit croaky from crying. 

The words of his best friend doesn’t immediately fill his heart with peace, but it does lift a little weight from his shoulders. It does give him the sense of security he’s been searching for. And all Kenma wants to do now is apologize to Yuki-- 

“Speaking of,” Kuroo clears his throat, wandering his eyes around the expanse of the apartment. “Where are the kids…?” 

“Oh, shit.” 

                                                           ❁ ❁ ❁

Kuroo and Kenma’s feet click clack against the pavement as they run down to Yuki’s preschool. The cool afternoon air winds past the pair; Kenma’s chest is heaving in pain while Kuroo barely breaks a sweat. 

“I can’t believe you forgot the child!” Kuroo shouts behind him, laughing at Kenma struggling to catch up. “How could you forget a child?” 

“I was pretty preoccupied today!” Kenma countered between ragged breaths. “If your ass didn’t show up I would’ve remembered!” 

“Not with all that crying!”

“Don’t you dare bring that up ever!” 

Kuroo’s hyena laugh carries two blocks over. Head turn as the two continue to bicker all the way down until they arrive at the preschool. Children clamoring before the gate, mingling with their parents and Kenma’s hooded gaze sweeps through the crowd to find a familiar tousled head of hair. 

“What’s he look like?” Kuroo towers over Kenma and the children, squinting his eyes and looking around as if he’s got any clue. 

“He, uh, he should be wearing jeans and a frog shir--” Kenma’s attention is pulled from a string of voices singing praises to find Yuki proudly twirling in his embroidered dress, basking in their compliment. 

It becomes clear to Kenma you dire need to leave the house immediately was because of this. Because you were being coy.

But Yuki’s joy is short-lived, locking eyes with Kenma huffing for air after all the running. But to the young boy gaping up at him, it looks as if he’s ready to yell. So he stops his twirling, his smile slipping away as the rest of the kids’ turn to face him. 

Yuki straightens himself, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he carefully walks towards Kenma with his head hung low. Kuroo elbows his side and nearly knocks out the little air he has left. 

He swipes his tongue across his lips before he speaks, But before he can even utter a sound, his train of thought is pulled from him once again. 

“Disgusting.” An abrasive, disembodied voice grimaces. Not a single care if they’re heard. 

“Why the hell is he wearing a dress?” Says another. 

“Honestly, this generation…” 

“Boy’s aren’t supposed to be wearing dresses.” 

The chattering picks up and soon all the parents are ogling at Yuki who can hear them all so clearly, and Kenma notices him shrinking into his froggy raincoat, trying to hide from their judgemental stares. 

This, Kenma thinks. This is exactly what I mean. 

Kenma is not an emotional person, and not once did he ever raise his voice or act on what he was feeling without thinking it over. And as much as he’d like to throw his hands and cause a scene, he remembers Kuroo’s advice. 

“Who’s child is this?” One of the mothers questions. “Who does this child belong to?” 

“He belongs to me, Miss.” Kenma rasps, taking Yuki’s hand in his before turning to the woman. “I am the guardian and this is my child.” 

“And you allow your child to wear a dress?” 

“Yes.” He answers, finding the footing in his confidence to talk back to a woman who can easily tower over him if she steps closer. “Yes, and what does that have to do with you?” 

“Have you no shame?” She glares at him in disgust, sighing. “He’s a boy! Boy’s shouldn’t be wearing dresses! It’s for girls! What kind of message are you trying to teach him?”

 “And what about you, Miss? Are you proud to show your kid and all these other young minds that its okay to be a bigot? That it’s okay to be uneducated?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Then beg.” Kenma spits, his cat eyes burning holes into the mother’s skin. He’s completely unphased by the growing whispers exchanged between the parents. Kuroo watches proudly in the background, quietly cheering him on. “Skirts were worn by both men and women during the prehistoric times, and biologically speaking, it makes more sense if men were to wear skirts. They only stopped because people as close minded and uneducated as you feared femininity.” 

“So I should ask you the same question, Miss: have you no shame? Telling a small child he’s disgusting because we wanted to wear something that made him happy and comfortable. Is he hurting you?” 

The woman’s lips fall to an ‘o’ as she’s at a loss for words, and Kenma relishes in his growing confidence, bending down to Yuki to pick him up and rest him onto his hip. 

“You have no right to talk to my child that way.” Kenma clears his throat, taking a step back as he maintains eye contact with all the parents at sight. “Let me make this very clear: should you feel the need to take my place as his guardian and try to speak for me, I suggest you don’t.” 

Kenma let’s his words linger in the air and begins to walk away, Kuroo slipping through the sea of parents to walk alongside him. 

A smirk slips across his lips, looking down to Yuki clinging his around Kenma’s neck. 

“Wow,” Kuroo breathes, amusement lacing in his tone. “I didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“Oh my god, I never wanna do that again.” Kenma twitches the cringe out from his body before pressing Yuki closer to him. “I hate talking to people.” 

“But you did a very good job, I’m actually super proud.” 

“Shut up,” Kenma mutters, locking his eyes onto the pavement ahead of him. 

He’s still shocked, unable to believe what had just transpired. He hated the feeling of everyone’s eyes fixed on him, and how quiet it was when he spoke. He hated having to speak up. 

But if had to do it again, he would. 

He’d do it again and again in one breath. 

[drawlfoy]

Mirror, Mirror Finale P.2

masterlist  request guidelines

pairing: draco x ravenclaw reader

request: yes very highly requested lol

summary: despite never speaking before, y/n has a big crush on draco malfoy, a particularly broody and obnoxious slytherin. what will happen when they finally have to start associating? and what if they run into a certain mirror that shows you what you truly desire?

warnings: cursing!

a/n: so ik i said this was gonna be out later this week but i love you guys too much! here it is...the final part of mirror, mirror! it’s weird to finally finish a series like this but ohhhh boy here we are

taglist: @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @the-wiener-soldierrrrr @sugarbby99 @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop

word count: 2.1k

“About time you got off your arse.”

“Hello to you too, Rena,” Y/N sighed as she dropped her satchel on her bed. Her roommate watched, bemused, as she began to unpack her things. 

“How are you?” she asked, her voice noticeably softer. “I really missed you. We were all worried sick, you know.”

Y/N snorted, tossing her wrinkled robes on the bed and making a mental note to spell them neat later. “I do know. Madame Pomfrey was going to kill me for how many times she had to tell you to leave me and let me rest.” 

Rena’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Y/N. “I missed you too.”

The two sat in silence for a bit as the cold afternoon breeze wafted into their room, carrying the smell of fresh snow in. 

“So, anything exciting happen? Did anyone tell you anything….interesting?”

“No.” Y/N was about to turn back to her work before she caught the mischievous expression on Rena’s face. “What? Why?”

“Nothing,” she sang. “I’m just wondering. I have to catch up with my best friend, you know. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been the whole of four days.”

“It’s been forever,” she restated, jumping up and spinning Y/N around (who couldn’t help but allow a slow grin to spread across her face). 

“I was going crazy in there.” Y/N’s voice was considerably more serious. “I never told you, but--” she chose to ignore the look of anticipation written all over Rena’s face, “--Malfoy talked to me. And he was so nice to me, it was we--”

“That COWARD!” 

The outburst started Y/N, who dropped her things on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry? Rena, what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” said Rena, her tone dutiful and mournful. “It’s not my place. Anyways, what did that loser do?”

“Er,” began Y/N, “I don’t know how much of it was real or if it was because I was on pain potion, but he and I--I don’t know, flirted? There was a lot of banter, and before he knew it he pulled me off the ground--”

“You were on the ground?”

“--he pulled me off the ground and picked the gravel out of my palms.” Y/N swallowed as she recounted the instance. She’d never seen him look so soft before. “He said he had something he wanted to tell me, and his voice got all strange.”

“And then?” 

“And then Madame Pomfrey came to yell at me and basically--oh god, Rena, she basically told him that I dreamt of him!”

Rena snorted with laughter. “Shit, dude. I don’t think you should worry, though. You’d think any bloke with half a brain would’ve figured out that you were obsessed with him by now.”

“Shut up.” Y/N’s face was hot. “Anyways, I haven’t seen him since. I’d prefer if we could stop talking about this.”

“Sure, sure.” She took in a breath. “Wait, what about rounds? Don’t you still have to see him?”

“No. Flitwick told me I’m off. At least until next month.” If she sped through the thought, it didn’t hurt as much.

“Ending of a chapter, huh? How are you feeling about that?”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Rena, I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? It’s over.”

If her words carried any deeper meaning to Rena, she didn’t show it. “Lighten up, girly. Maybe it’s not.”

“All I’ve done is make a fool of myself,” lamented Y/N, throwing her empty satchel in the closet and collapsing onto her bed. “I’m just going to go back to what everything was before. This hasn’t changed anything. Now, Rena, I have a Potions exam to study for.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

~

Her interactions with Draco were few and far between in the following weeks. Sometimes she caught a few glimpses of a pale blonde head of hair as she walked down the halls to her classes, but nothing concrete, nothing even close to the amount of interaction they had while she was still bound to her rounds. 

It was certainly a punch in the gut--after all, she did spend a good portion of her academic career thirsting over him--but the sensible part of her knew that this was for the better. Her schoolwork became her top priority again, just like it had been the years before she was assigned to be his partner.

So, given this pattern of communication, it was fair to say that Y/N was completely and utterly flabbergasted when she saw Draco waiting by the entry of her common room at 11pm one night.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she shifted the books in her satchel to be secured over her shoulder.

“Yes, actually,” he said smoothly, not tripping over his words in the slightest. “I have rounds tonight.”

“I’m aware.” She hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding the way that it was.

“And I’m out of Wide-eye potion.” 

“That really sucks,” Y/N said as she held up her hand on the door of the common room, uttering the riddle’s answer under her breath before she stepped in. 

“Wait!” His voice turned her around--it was pleading, almost desperate. “I have an exam tomorrow. No one in Slytherin has any. Snape would kick my arse for waking him up now. I know you have some left over since you never finished the rounds, and I--I understand if you don’t want to but it doesn’t have a very good shelf life anyways and I was hoping you’d...that you’d be alright with giving it to me.”

She paused, completely stunned. The most hopeful part of her wondered if he had made this up, but she squelched this with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Fine. Come with me, you must be freezing outside.” 

Y/N wasn’t wrong--the weather had taken a turn in the past few days to be bitterly cold--but it wasn’t like she’d object seeing him for any longer. She mentally cursed herself for being so weak-willed.

Draco looked pleasantly surprised at the suggestion and stepped into the common room with her, following her up until she reached the base of the stairs. “I’ll wait here.”

“If you’re comfortable,” she began, “I’d honestly prefer if you came with me. I don’t want to explain to anyone why I let you into our common room unsupervised.”

He looked like his mind was buffering the information for a second, standing with a glazed look in his eyes before he sucked in a breath and became the picture of confidence once again. “Want me in your room that bad?”

Yes.

“You wish.”

He scoffed as they climbed the stairs, Y/N a few steps above him. She thought that if she maintained the space he wouldn’t see how hard she was shaking and wondered where Rena was. Studying with Hermione like she told her she was? She hoped.

Y/N stopped in front of her door at the very end of the hall, decorated with a banner that had their names displayed in glittering bronze letters that moved in the light. “Ok. You can come in with me if you want--it might be a couple minutes since I don’t quite remember where it is.”

He looked amused with himself as she got out her wand and attempted to unlock her door with the specialized charm she and Rena had decided upon. Mortifyingly enough, her hand was too shaky to execute it.

“Hey, hey,” Draco tutted, holding his hand out. It enveloped hers and held her wand still as she muttered the incantation, unlocking the door and swinging it open. 

“Er...thanks,” she said. His hand was still over hers. 

Y/N broke the eye contact to dart through the door to a thankfully dark and empty room--if Rena had seen that, she never would’ve let her hear the end of that--and began rifling through her drawers as Draco shut the door and examined her room.

“You’re flustered,” he noted as she tipped over one of her candlesticks and just barely managed to catch it. “Is everything okay? Trouble in paradise, little Ravenclaw?”

“Like you care.” Y/N shut the desk drawer with an audible BANG. “And don’t call me that. Rowena Ravenclaw is rolling in her grave hearing you infantilize her good name like that.”

Draco laughed from his stance by her door--a sound that she hated to admit that she really missed. “I take back what I said. You certainly sound like yourself.”

Y/N’s fingers finally closed around the last bottle of Wide-Eye, which was quickly tossed to Draco. “Happy now?”

He sent her a strangely weak smile as he slipped the vial into his pocket, no doubt silk lined and expensive. “Sure. So this is goodbye? Actually?”

“I think...I think so.” 

Y/N had moved closer to him so only about a foot stood between them, a distance that felt like a mile from where she stood. 

This is goodbye.

Draco was making a motion to turn around and open the door when Y/N experienced the most severe lapse of judgement in the entirety of her 17 years.

She sprung forward, her fingers curling around the satiny soft fabric of his tie and pulling. Her motion was rough enough that he jolted forward, his eyes wide with surprise as Y/N closed in and pressed her lips to his in a very chaste and ungraceful movement. 

The split second that it took for her to realize the consequences of her actions was enough for her to let go completely and jump away, apologies readily falling out of her mouth in disjointed and clumsy collections. 

“I’m so sorry...Oh my god...I have no idea what got into me...Draco, I--”

Before she could finish, his hands were already cupping her face, his frame bent down the slightest so he could be more level with her. And he was--oh--he was kissing her, actually properly this time, without the tense closed-offness of her first attempt.

When Y/N imagined what it was like to kiss Draco Malfoy, she didn’t imagine him to be so soft. Or warm. Or gentle, or pliant, or whatever other good things he was to her as he snaked her arms around her and held her tight to him.

His kisses turned feverish, almost desperate as he turned her so she was pressed up between him and the wall. Everywhere his hands touched felt charged with electricity and energy, and as his hands traveled up and down her spine she decided that this must be what it’s like to die of happiness. 

“Draco,” she managed in between kisses, pulling away for air for just a moment and sliding back down so her feet touched the floor again. “Can we talk? About this?”

“Thanks,” he responded, his eyes glittering with endearment. “I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw.”

“Shut up.” 

He grinned but made no effort to step away from her, instead choosing to drag his fingers up and down the side of her exposed neck. “What’s there to talk about? I like you, you like me, there’s nothing we need to do to complicate this further.”

“You...you what?”

“Yes, genius, what else did you think I was planning on telling you that day in the courtyard,” Draco said. “I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were over me. That was horribly embarrassing, you know. Had to nurse my ego for weeks before I could garner up the courage to speak to you again.” He stopped to gently press the pad of his thumb into the little dimple she had in her left cheek, smiling uncontrollably as he moved his hand back to cup her face.

“How was I supposed to know that?” argued Y/N. 

“Isn’t this supposed to be the smart house?” he teased. 

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t make me decide I don’t like you anymore.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me?”

“I’m going to scream.”

“Just from kissing me? Wow, I must be good.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I!”

Y/N gazed up at the boy in front of her for a few beats, admiring how the moonlight bounced off the silvery strands of his hair and how his smile reached every corner of his face. 

“I take back what I said,” she told him.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

He smiled again, leaning in close so his lips barely brushed her ear. “No. No, it isn’t.”

[maybankiara]

MY GOD, YOU’RE A SWEET THING

pairing: JJ Maybank x Female!Reader

prompt: “When the sun sets and darkness comes, I only remember your warmth, where the stars wrap around us. I’m going there, I’ll be there”- Highlight by SEVENTEEN (from my song prompt list)

summary: It’s prom night and JJ has a surprise planned for you.

word count: 3.1k

additional: i was listening to hozier while writing this and this ended up being the most emotional fluffy piece i’ve ever written, which was completely the opposite of my initial idea for the prompt (it was supposed to be more about the darkness - ended up being about the stars instead). i highly recommend listening to heavenly day by patty griffin as you read, specifically from the middle onwards (you’ll be able to tell).

written for @kiarasflowr​

requests are open

‘You look amazing,’ your sister says.

  You look at her and feel the smile taking over your entire face; her eyes are gazing at you in awe, her mouth agape, and you never thought you’d be able to get a reaction like this out of her.

  ‘Thank you, Lou.’

  ‘Don’t let it get to your head,’ she replies, spreading across your bed. ‘It’s one day out of thousands.’

  ‘JJ thinks I’m amazing every day.’

  Louise snorts. ‘Believe me, he doesn’t.’

  ‘Scoot, you pest.’

  Despite your words, you cannot help but smile at your little sister. She completely ignores your order and remains seated on your bed, typing away on her phone. You turn around your axis, watching as the fabric of the dress flows with each of your movements.

  You spent months looking for it. Kiara and Sarah helped out as much as they could, but where Sarah was overly girly, Kiara was overly boyish for your taste, and you ended up finding the dress alone, with Lou by your side. The material is light, a faded blue, and it feels as if you aren’t wearing anything at all.

  Louise was the one who helped you out with your hair, managing to get it to look all nice and put in all the right places. You did your own makeup, with Louise helping out every now and then, and you think you look good.

  Like you told Lou, JJ is going to like you no matter what. It doesn’t hurt that you’d like to exceptionally good for a change, too.

  Not long after, the doorbell rings. Even Louise’s face lights up as she realises what time it is. She walks you to the stairs and you hear your dad open the door, even though you asked to be the one to do so.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Lou steps in front of you, unable to shy away from the grin on her face. ‘He’s going to fall on his ass when he sees you.’

  You chuckle, quirking an eyebrow. ‘You think so?’

  ‘Puh-lease. You look like a freaking goddess. Do you think I’m shabby with anything I do?’

  ‘Sure thing, Lou. It’s all you.’

  ‘Damn right it is.’ She leans over the ledge and peeks into the hallway. ‘She’ll be right down!’

  ‘Did you see him?’ you ask.

  ‘Mhm.’

  ‘What does he look like?’

  Lou peeks over the ledge again, then grins. ‘He matched the tie. And the handkerchief. Y/N, stop smiling like that, it’s too much.’

  ‘Oh shut up, Lou!’

  ‘You ready?’

  ‘Don’t make a big fuss out of it.’

  She nods, stepping backwards towards the beginning of the staircase. ‘Duly noted and consciously ignored. Ladies and gentlemen,’ Lou announces, ‘welcome Y/N Y/L/N, and prepare to be amazed. Maybank, if she doesn’t come back in one piece, I’ll cut off your di—’

  ‘Enough,’ you hear your dad say sternly, even if his voice is at the edge of cracking up. There’s another nervous chuckle that you recognise as your boyfriend’s, and your heart flutters in your chest.

  Louise walks down first and you follow right behind. The heels are medium high but it still takes you a bit longer to make your way down, making the whole thing more dramatic than it already is.

  You keep your eyes on the ground and you tell yourself it’s because you don’t want to miss a step – in reality, you know that the moment you look up, the magic will either devour you whole, or dissipate.

  But you do, because you come to the last step, and your eyes lock with JJ’s and—

  If you didn’t believe in magic before, you do now.

  ‘Hi,’ he says, except he stammers it, and you see him struggling to contain himself as a wide smile spreads across his face. ‘You look – Um, you’re stunning.’

  You smile, walk over to him, and kiss him on the cheek. He’s wearing a suit that Kiara’s dad gave him and it looks good on him, making him a little less scrawny than he usually seems. You giggle when you notice that Louise wasn’t kidding when she said he matched his tie and handkerchief with your dress.

  ‘Kie and Pope helped out,’ he mumbles.

  ‘It looks dashingly handsome,’ you say honestly, loving the effect your words have on him. He blushes and he looks away, staring at behind you as you fix his tie. ‘They did a good job.’

  ‘Stop complimenting me. I don’t know how to react.’

  This is where the conversation ends, as your dad steps between the two of you to take photos. Your whole family poses with you and your mom quickly takes over your dad’s place in the pictures. JJ finds it amusing and even though he doesn’t say anything, you can tell he wishes his family could give him this experience, too.

  Instead, you just squeeze his hand and brush through his hair with your fingertips, hoping that he knows that you are his family.

  The rest of the Pogues are waiting for the two of you outside, in John B’s van. Lots of compliments are exchanged and you were right when you thought the whole group would look amazing – both Sarah and Kiara look just as good as you feel, and the boys match the vibe perfectly.

  You sit in the back, with your hand in JJ’s lap as he plays with your fingers. You’re not nervous anymore – it’s impossible to be nervous when you’re with him.

  It’s a good feeling to walk into your gym hall and see it entirely redecorated into a dance venue, littered with balloons and tapestries and tables and chairs and glasses and lots of punch that you are certain has already been spiked. John B takes the lead towards your table, holding Sarah’s hand. The whole group sits down and thankfully, the tables are set for six people, and you know you’re not going to be bothered by anyone else.

  JJ leans into your ear soon after the music begins. ‘Let’s go take pictures.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  He nods.

  ‘I thought you said prom pictures are dumb.’

  ‘Well,’ he says, playing with your fingers again, ‘I decided that they’re not dumb if I want memories of tonight.’

  You grin at him and kiss him quickly, briefly, knowing that in just a few hours, you’d be able to do more than that. ‘You’re a softie.’

  ‘Hush. Don’t let anyone hear you.’

  The two of you chat and laugh as you walk over to the photo booth. Someone on the prom committee decided that having a person taking the photos would be too expensive, so all you’ve got it a shitty photo booth. Somehow, it fits the vibe, too.

  Everything seems about tonight seems to be perfect. You’re just waiting for it to crash.

  You sit down and JJ pulls you into his lap, kissing you fully on the mouth. You don’t have a lot of time so he places a few quick kisses on your neck, before looking up at you. ‘Do you think they have cameras in here?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.’

  ‘It’s America.’ JJ shrugs. ‘They can do whatever they want.’

  You laugh and brush the hair off his forehead, giving it a kiss. ‘I think we’re good.’

  At this, JJ reaches into the pocket of his vest and takes out a small flask. By his devilish grin, you can tell you’re not going to be using that to spike any punches.

  He unwinds the cap and raises it to you. ‘Ladies first.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ You take a swig and feel the whiskey burn in your throat, but you let it simmer. It’s good whiskey – probably the best one you’ve ever had. You don’t want to know where and how JJ got it.

  Once you’ve both had a bit each, you finally take those photos. They’re goofy, mostly, and perfect representations of your relationship with JJ, and you know they’ll be something you’ll cherish for the rest of your life. But then just as you think you’re done, JJ tells you that he wants to take some proper ones.

  ‘Never thought I’d hear you say that,’ you admit.

  JJ shrugs, his eyes glancing to your lips. ‘Never thought I’d attend a prom with you.’

  ‘Sap.’

  ‘Quiet.’

  He puts the coin in the place and holds you close, gazing into your eyes. The flash goes off and you’re expecting him to move, except he doesn’t – he only drops his gaze to your lips and kisses you softly, lips barely brushing against yours.

  The flash goes off again and you hardly notice. JJ leans his forehead against yours, cradling your cheeks with a delicate touch, as if you were something he’s afraid to crush underneath his fingertips.

  The flash goes off for the last time. The sound of the pictures being printed is loud, and you can tell someone is waiting to get into the booth, but all of this could just as easily not be happening.

  The only thing you’re aware of is your face in JJ’s hands, his forehead against yours, his breath fanning your lips lightly, the smell of whiskey prominent.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispers.

  You kiss the words from his mouth.

  Some time later, everyone in your group is quite tipsy. The punch has been spiked, the whiskey has been shared (turns out, all the boys chipped in for the whiskey as a gift to the girls), and the songs have been danced to. It’s easy and it’s natural, and it just feels like a fancy party at the Boneyard.

  It’s one of the best nights of your life.

  You and JJ dance with the rest of the group to most songs, but you sit down for the slow ones. It’s for JJ, mostly, as you know he doesn’t trust in his slow dancing skills enough to do it in front of everybody.

  Whenever he apologises for it, you squeeze his hand and tell him that you’re happy, anyway. It would make the night even better, but it doesn’t make it any less great.

  JJ kisses you, without a fail, every time you give him reassurance. You’re definitely one of the most PDA couples, with John B and Sarah still taking the cake.

  At almost the very end of the night, with some half hour left before the after party at the Boneyard, JJ gets up from his seat, during one of the slow songs.

  ‘C’mon,’ he says, tugging at your hand.

  You get up, fumbling with your dress, your eyebrows furrowed but a smile dancing in the corners of your lips. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Shh.’

  JJ leads you through the hall and out of it, sneaking past the policemen guarding the entrance to the gym hall, and all the way to the inside of the building. You keep wanting to ask questions and he keeps shushing you, a vibrant smile on his face.

  It’s the thrill that’s keeping you both going. You can hear your heart thumping in your chest and the dress flows around your legs as you run as quietly as possible, holding JJ’s hand. You’re laughing with a hand over your mouth, and when he looks at you, the adoration in his eyes almost melts you.

  When you finally come to a halt, it’s right in front of the balcony through the school’s art gallery. JJ fumbles through his pocket with one hand, not letting go of yours.

  ‘JJ—’

  He shushes you again. You press your lips together, feeling both immense excitement and the early bubbles of annoyance with constantly being hushed. You watch as JJ takes a bunch of keys and puts one of them in the key hole, grinning at you devilishly.

  You sigh, shake your head, and give in to the smile that overtakes every other emotion on your face.

  JJ pushes the door open and motions for you to walk in first, which you do. He closes the door behind you, quietly, and rubs his thumb against the palm of your hand.

  The music from the hall is long enough for you to hear it even now; JJ keeps checking his wristwatch, leading you through the gallery.

  ‘What are we doing?’ you whisper. ‘And if you shush me again—’

  He crashes his lips against yours. His hands cradle your neck, thumbs moving along your jaw, and the kiss eases into softness. Your hands instinctively find themselves at his sides, and he steps closer, until there’s no space between you.

  You feels his breath on your lips and both of you are out of breath, even though you shouldn’t be.

  This feels like something more.

  When you look at him, JJ’s eyes are closed.

  ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘Wait,’ he whispers.

  His eyes open and he kisses you again, quickly, before taking your hand again and leading you through the gallery, to the balcony. He unlocks the door and closes it once you’re both out, in the fresh air. You’re surprised that you can hear the music well, as the air carries it in an unusual way – it’s loud but faint in melody, almost as it were sang by nature itself.

  It’s the second time that night that you believe in magic.

  ‘How do you like it?’

  You look at JJ and find him smiling at you, his gaze taking you in. He always looks at you with hunger, but one that’s nothing like the hunger you see in most boys – this is something deeper, a different kind of craving, one that isn’t wanting your body, but your soul, instead.

  You take a step closer and kiss him on the cheek, the way you always do. Your hands cradle his face and your thumb brushes the edges of his lips, your eyes following your finger.

  ‘I love it, J.’

  He smiles and you can almost see him breathe out the tension within him. ‘Good. But that’s not it.’

  ‘It’s not?’

  ‘Nope.’ He steps back and creates space between you, before taking your hands in his. ‘Do you trust me?’

  You consider it. ‘Not really.’

  JJ laughs and twirls you around. ‘Smart girl. I need you to trust me now.’

  ‘Don’t throw me off the roof, please.’

  ‘Y/N’—he tugs you close, breath fanning your lips—‘don’t ruin the mood.’

  You smile. ‘Okay.’

  He doesn’t give you a response, only takes a step back and twirls you to the music again, and soon enough both of you are laughing. You’re struggling to stay on your feet as the heels and alcohol combination isn’t the best, but it makes it all the funnier.

  You’ve done this so many times, yet each time, it feels different; new.

  He twirls you once more and you stumble, ending up with your back pressed against his chest. He wraps his hands around your abdomen and rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying both of you to the rhythm of the song. You find yourself relaxing into his touch, almost as if there’s no other place you belong more.

  This—JJ Maybank—is your home.

  Another song begins to play, a slow one, and you recognise it – it’s a song that you always jokingly said would play at your wedding. It’s also the song that you always associated with JJ – it somehow always played in the key moments between you two.

  You turn around and look him in the eye; he’s smiling, but his eyes are a little scared. ‘Did you set this up?’

  ‘The DJ owed me a favour.’

  You laugh and lean your head against his chest, feeling your shoulders shake. He pulls you even closer and you sway to the rhythm of the song again, only this time it feels…

  It feels different.

  JJ is singing along to the lyrics, whispering them against your ear. He moves his feet, too, reluctantly at first. You glance up at him and find him smiling, looking at you with the same adoration that makes you feel as if the world could not be better.

  He twirls you around, gently, and he holds you as he dances in circles around the balcony, and he sings, and you just see him loving you.

  You don’t know when you start crying, but you are, and his eyes aren’t dry, either. There’s smiles on both your faces and you feel your heart beating, your pals sweating, and you feel more alive than ever before.

  The song finishes and JJ brings you to a halt, still as another song begins. A few strands have fallen out of your hairstyle as you were dancing and he tucks them behind your ears, gently. His touch is gentle and brief, and you find yourself aching for more.

  He looks at you and the only word that comes to your mind is love.

  ‘Every time my life went a little sideways,’ he whispers, ‘you were there to keep me from doing the same. You were the one thing keeping me in place, no matter what shit was going on. I know that in fall, we need to go each our own way, and we’ll see what happens. But I just want you to know – I love you. With my whole heart. And I always will.’

  You pull your lips into your mouth so you wouldn’t sob; there are tears running down your face and you can’t blink them away fast enough. He wipes them away, with the tips of his thumbs, and you’ve never felt more loved.

  ‘I love you,’ you whisper back.

  JJ places a soft kiss on your lips. You expect him to deepen it, but he pulls back. ‘I want you to know that you’re always going to be the person who pulls me out of the darkness, even if you’re not there.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that,’ you say, your voice as shaky as your breath. ‘I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘I know.’ He kisses your forehead and you feel the tears on his lips. ‘I know. What I’m saying is that you’re all I want, Y/N. No one else. And I’m not asking anything from you, but I want you to know that forever with you is the only thing I could ever want.’

  You look up at him and the intensity of his gaze is almost too much to bear. ‘Are you proposing to me?’

  He chuckles, lightly. ‘Not yet. But I will, eventually, if you allow me.’

  ‘Yes,’ you say, quietly. ‘Even if it’s years from now, I will.’

  ‘Good,’ he says, confidently, but you feel him shake when he presses his lips against yours. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose you.’

  You run your fingers through his hair, smiling into the kiss, feeling his warmth. ‘You won’t,’ you promise.

  That night you learn that sometimes real life can be magical, too.

[beccasissy69]

Trans month continued with Chanel Santini, Goddess gave me a story arc of sorts to follow with her that was a lot of fun. It took a while to find the right videos in the right order but it turns out that browsing hot TS porn videos is fun too!

Then was my favorite, Ms Aubrey Kate. I could watch anything of hers and I was using my squirting dildo as I watched. I love how glam and girly she is and her videos are super wide ranging too. She has some really soft and tender ones and then it’s all the way to her taking 8 guys at once 😻😻😻

Then came a big one and it’s where the pictures for this post are from. Goddess had me watching videos from Femout, which, if you’re not aware of them, produces videos from aspiring trans porn stars. I was humping as I watched and it was really hot (I’m going to write more about this but I want to do a separate post about the month as a whole and I’ll go into details about it there). 

Then Goddess gave me a Drag/TS YouTuber to watch. It was a little hard to piece things together because she’s deleted a lot of her videos that others have reposted but she started posting as a teen drag queen, then came out as trans and transitioned while in high school and then got a boob job and then began posting more sexual videos elsewhere. It was stunning to see how much she changed over the 10 or so years she’d been posting, not just the improvements in video quality and appearance but how her personality and makeup grew and changed and how they came across.

Then I was watching sissies, while I was dressed in a tutu and with a little lipstick on. I started with my glass dildo before switching to a “proper” toy near the end. Goddess had me start on Madison Ivory and then go from there. The tutu made things pretty awkward but I love watching sissies who are a little more pro because they obviously adore 🍆 and it shows in their videos. Once you’re at the point where you’re filming your hook ups or making amateur sissy porn you’re in to it enough that you really love it.

Next was a very dangerous one, Goddess had me out of my cage (😮) rubbing and humping while I watched All My Roommates Love and (obviously) I wasn’t to c*m (with dire threats made if I did). It wa quite scary doing it, even leaving aside the number of times the videos told me to c*m, it was so hot and some of the scenarios are just 🔥🔥🔥. I made it almost to the end of part 6 where watersports became involved and I knew anything could break me so I stopped straight away and put my cage back on 😌. Even before then, there were a number of times were part of me was saying to just let go but I really didn’t want to let Goddess down.  

My penultimate task was transensual videos, which left me feeling quite faint. They were as sensual as the name suggests and some of them just made me melt (when she told the guy to look at her and tell her what he saw and he paused and said “the most beautiful woman in the world”...well it was lucky i was already sitting down). 

Finally, I was watching sissy/trans bridal videos which were super but I’l lsave more for my reflections post.

[jjaybank]

Makeover || JJ Maybank Request

[gif credit to @rudypankows]

Request: Anon- ‘Can i perhaps get a JJ Maybank x reader, she’s been part of the pogues since forever and shes kinda boyish, like the way she dresses and acts so other boys have never hit on her or looked twice and its bothered her since cause she wants to be girly but doesnt know where to start. So Kie & Sarah gives her a make over for a Kegger and it leaves the pogues & even the kooks speechless because wow she’s beautiful and JJ doesn’t know how to be himself around her anymore? 😭❤️❤️’ Okay so I’ve changed this a tiny bit I hope that’s okay?? Just because, I don’t think JJ needs someone to dress a certain way in order to fancy them. I hope thats okay!!! xx Warnings: Under-age drinking, tiny bit of jealous JJ Word Count: 1.5K A/N:  It was so nice to write non-angsty JJ for a bit - it’s good for the soul.

------------------------------------------------------------

JJ had always known that you were beautiful.  You always had your hair pulled up in a bun and out of your eyes, and your clothes were more practical than fashionable.  But despite the number of times he’d seen you drenched in sweat from the sun, or emerging, winded from the sea, after being wiped out by a wave, he just knew that there was something about you.  It annoyed him slightly, that other boys barely seemed to show you any attention, and then when they did you were completely oblivious. He’d often catch himself gazing for too long at your sun kissed skin, sparkling with seawater. Or watching the way you scrunched up your nose when you were concentrating. So when he sees you, face made-up and in a bardot sundress, he chokes on his beer.

You were sat in John B’s spare room, face to face with two very insistent girls.  You had protested Kiara and Sarah’s suggestion of a makeover at first.  It didn’t feel very you, but they were stubborn, you’d give them that.  You finally cracked when Sarah stuck out her bottom lip and started packing all her outfits back into her bag at a snail’s pace, shooting you over-the-top sad glances the entire time.

‘Okay, okay – fine.’ You sigh, kind of playing up to how much of an inconvenience they were being.  There was definitely a part of you that was excited by the prospects of embracing your feminine side.   Sarah looked like she’d won the lottery, and tipped her bag up on its end, spilling a variety of thin, slippery, short items of clothing onto the floor.  

The brushes and powders made you sneeze, and Kie accidentally poked the mascara wand into your eye.  You try on every combination of the outfits at least four times, growing more and more reluctant. Until Kie finally helped you settle on a simple yet elegant dress.  You couldn’t remember the last time you wore a dress.  Perhaps your Christening?  Sarah struggled for a while to tame your sea salty hair, and then finally they turn you to look in the mirror.  You audibly gasp.  Every element of yourself is still there; the slightly wild hair, the bruised knees, and wide toothy grin – but it’s all slightly more refined and you look, dare you say it, pretty.   You sat with a drink in hand, waiting for the other two to finish getting ready.  It wasn’t too much longer before all three of you made your way outside to where the boys had been waiting on the hammocks. John B stared a bit as you crossed the yard to them and you suddenly felt absolutely ridiculous.  Sarah and Kie noticed you slowing down, and each grab you by and arm and practically frogmarch you over to your friends. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ Sarah reassured you, ‘you look amazing!’ You give her a weak smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.   ‘Y-you look – you guys look great!’ Pope stuttered as you reach them.   John B tipped his beer towards you all and asked if you could leave for the party now. JJ turned around in his hammock and was about to complain about how long you had all taken, and that was when he choked. The others all pealed with laughter as beer dripped down his front, and he laughed too but not before giving them a reproachful glare.   You felt a bit self-conscious.  What if he thought you looked ludicrous?  Wasn’t the dress a bit short?  You shifted a bit, trying to pull it down as much as possible.  Kie noticed and slapped your wrist sternly.   ‘Stop it, you look awesome.’ She hissed. But JJ couldn’t stop looking at you, and while he always knew you were beautiful, it stunned him to see you embrace it for yourself. ~ You didn’t see the looks you got that night. You were having far too much fun with your friends to take note of the boys who checked you out as you danced past them.  But as you twirled with Kie in the moonlight, beer in hand, JJ did notice.  And additionally, he noticed how annoyed it was making him to see Kooks and Pogues alike obviously ogling at you.  It was as if he hadn’t admired the way the light shone on your bare shoulders, or how your loose hair rippled as you moved.  He was sat on an empty keg, observing the scene before him, occasionally frowning at people who asked him for a drink from the barrel in front of him. He grew increasingly frustrated when an arrogant looking Kook walked up to you and attempted to catch your attention.   He watched, seething, while the guy with his slicked back hair tried to convince you to leave your friend and dance with him instead. You looked confused and shook your head firmly.  It pleased him to see you turn him down.  He didn’t stop watching you, as you and Kie walked over to where he sat.   ‘More beer, Y/N? Wow you really are on a roll tonight’ he flashed you a tight-lipped smile, reaching out to collect your cup.  You obliged, and hugged yourself against the slight chill of the night. ‘Did you see that guy hitting on Y/N’ Kie chirped ‘Yup.’ Said JJ curtly, feigning concentration on the keg.  He couldn’t look you in the eye for fear that he wouldn’t be able to tear his gaze away. You eyed him suspiciously but tried not to think too much of it.  He’d been looking at you strangely all night, and you wished you knew what you’d done to irk him so.

~

The night was almost over before you saw JJ again.  You were speaking to some Pogue guy you had seen around a lot before.  You were sure he had introduced himself, but his name had slipped you mind almost the moment it had left his lips.  He kept touching your arm and trying to move in closer.  He seemed sweet, but he really wasn’t your type.

Speaking of types, you were somewhat relieved to see JJ bobbing towards you through the throng of youths.  

‘Elliot!’ He cried, clapping the boy on the back, oh yeah – that was it. Elliot. ‘There’s a friend of yours looking for you down by the water.  Didn’t catch the name.  Vague looking guy.’ JJ had a huge fake smile slapped on his face as he ushered the boy away from you.  

‘But-. ‘Elliot looked at you, puzzled.

‘Bye, Elliot’ you waved.  JJ saluted at him, as Elliot threw up his arms in defeat.

‘Thank you.’ You laughed, ‘I really don’t know what that was all about.’  You gestured towards the retreating figure of the boy who had been bothering you.

‘I think I might.’ says JJ, gently moving you through the crowd of people and away from the centre of the party.  His fingers were wrapped lightly around your wrist as he guided you.  You were being bumped by elbows and sloshed with beers, and JJ tried to shield you with his arm.

‘What?’ you asked innocently, looking up at him as he finally gets you both out of the writhing mass of teenagers.

He looked down at you in disbelief.

‘You really can’t see it can you?’ he asked.

You were suddenly aware of how close he was. And unlike with the other boy, you felt at home at this proximity with JJ.  He hand was still on your wrist and you felt a strange buzzing sensation from where his fingers made contact with your skin.   He laughed incredulously at how oblivious you were to all of the attention you had been getting.

‘All the people here tonight,’ he gestured to the crowd as he spoke, ‘they’re all just realising how beautiful you are.’

You blushed fiercely, staring sceptically at the mixture of drunken souls moving with the music on the beach.

‘I mean it, Y/N.’ he said, and then he seemed to suddenly realise what he had said, and his face glowed with a rosy hue.

You smiled widely despite yourself.

‘You said I’m beautiful’ you teased, poking at his side.  He rolled his eyes and laughed,

‘Yeah don’t get too used to it.’  He winked at you, pulling you slightly closer.

‘Were you jealous of them?’ You asked suddenly.

‘Of who?’

‘All the other guys.’

He swallowed thickly.  

You looked up at him, swaying slightly from the alcohol you had been drinking like water all night.  

And maybe it was the haze from the beer, or the heated atmosphere of the kegger, but before you knew it you were closing the distance between the two of you.

You stood on your tiptoes to press you lips against his.  And at first it was soft.  His lips tasted of smoke and alcohol.  You weren’t sure if he had momentarily frozen in shock, but suddenly his hand twisted in your hair and his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. You clung onto his shirt.  The kiss was all-consuming.  You could barely hear the sound of the party anymore – it was just you and JJ, surrounded by the thrill of each other.  He tugged slightly on your hair, eliciting an involuntary moan from you.  You felt him smile against you, and you were intoxicated in the delight that was kissing JJ.

He pulled away for a moment, but only to murmur,

‘For the record, I’ve always known that you’re beautiful.’

You grinned.

‘Knew it,’ you said triumphantly, looping your arms around his neck, ‘you were jealous.’ -------------------------- Ah I’m so tired so i hope you liked it!  Please let me know ☺️

My requests are open xx

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 4)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.3K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter note: ready for some smut? :)

Tag-list: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up

Other Parts: See Masterlist

Rafa looked up from the girl he had been charming and sent his friend a mildly annoyed expression before he realised who was standing in front of him.

His expression softened immediately, jaw going a bit lax, mouth slowly spreading widely on his face, eyes softening considerably when they landed on you. Even though you felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze, you couldn't ignore the warm feeling growing in your abdomen as you were under his direct scrutiny. Fuck he looked good.

Without warning, his expression changed completely, and he suddenly looked almost devilish as he without a word abandoned the girl next to him and slowly walked over to you without breaking eye contact. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You were already turned on by him.

"If it isn't Margarita Girl," he said slowly, drawing out every word while running a hand through his hair, flipping the blonde strands to the side.

"Mystery Man," you said charmingly, tilting your head slightly, drawing out your words as well.

He slightly bent backwards while putting a palm to his chest, looking at you with a pained expression, "oh fuck. That accent just does it to me. Goes straight to the heart."

You laughed at him and let him stand up straight before you quietly said, "it's good to see you."

He nodded slightly, "Likewise - would you like to sit down? Have a drink maybe?"

You nodded too, "I'd love to."

Rafa sat down close next to you, his cologne filling your nostrils as he found you a clean highballer glass. Wordlessly, he poured you a mixer with a smirk while you tried to ignore the death glares coming from the girl that he had flirted with before you had stolen away his attention.

"Here you go," he handed you a muddy-looking drink.

"What in the world is this?" you raised an eyebrow as you took in the sceptical-looking drink.

"It's a Mystery Man-special," he said cockily, "try it."

You took a sip, the taste of smoked whiskey completely overpowering anything else he had put into the drink, "yuck! It's horrible!" you whined, sticking out your tongue.

Rafa shot back his head with a laugh, "You're hurting my feelings."

"This is the absolute worst drink I've ever had! Why'd you put in such an overpowering whiskey? It's terrible!"

"This happens to be my favourite drink in the entire world," he shook his head in disbelief, "I knew you were too good to be true - you can go back to your friends now."

"Not until I've made you a Margarita Girl Special," you said and grabbed a couple of bottles from the table in front of you and started mixing him a drink, your years working at a college bar definitely helping you, "this is a Bramble," you handed him the purple cocktail when you were done, "this is practically the most British thing ever."

He looked at the drink with a raised eyebrow, "normally I don't go for fruity-girly cocktails."

"Are you not manly enough to handle a colourful cocktail?" you smirked at him.

"I'll show you exactly how manly I am," Rafa winked at you before forcefully grabbing the drink from your hand. Delicately, he took the straw in between his lips, looking at you all doe-eyed as he started drinking. You laughed at him as his expression changed from theatrical to amazed.

"Good, yeah?" You asked him.

"I'm not much for admitting it but shit, this thing is fucking delicious," he said, smacking his lips a couple of times while eyeing the drink before going in for his second sip, "yeah, this is definitely better than my sad attempt at impressing you. You are hereby hired as bartender for the rest of the evening."

"So I don't have to go back to my friends now?" You teased.

"Oh, I'm not letting you go now."

"I can live with that," you sent him the most charming smile you could muster.

"Well, in that case - I think it's time for you to tell me your real name," he charmed back, leaning a little closer to you.

"I quite like being Margarita Girl. It gives me an edge, don't you think?"

"Trust me; you don't need more edge," he chuckled, "Plus, I hate being Mystery Man if all you think about now is an invisible creep that hides in women's locker rooms. Come on, I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours."

You laughed at him, "I get your point. But I kind of already know that your name is Rafa."

"So you know my nickname," he shrugged.

"It's a nickname?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"What the fuck kind of a name is Rafa?" he chuckled.

"How am I supposed to know?! You have a friend called Diggs for crying out loud!"

"His real name is Daveed", Rafa continued, "- what, you don't have nicknames in England?"

"Of course we do," you laughed, "my friends and I are just not big on giving each other pet names I guess."

He nodded slowly, "Margarita Girl it is then. Your first and most fanciest nickname."

"I'll wear it with pride," you said quietly.

Rafa looked at you with piercing eyes, a smile spreading on his lips, "you really want to keep up the mystery?"

"You have to admit that it retains a certain amount of intrigue."

"I definitely find you intriguing," he admitted while leaning closer, his fingers brushing against the side of your knee. His touch made you fight a shudder all the way up the length of your spine but his next comment was whispered, and made you sure that he was aware of the exact effect he had on you, "I've thought a lot about you," he licked his lips and stared you square in the eyes.

"Why didn't you stop by then?" you said slowly, looking between his lips and his emerald green eyes. You were suddenly having a hard time concentrating on anything else than holding yourself back.

"I couldn't figure out if you wanted me to or not," he furrowed his brows, "I didn't want to overstep. It seemed like a one-time kiss for you."

"I had every intention of it being so," you nodded slowly, "still, I haven't quite been able to get you out of my head."

A small smile erupted on his face, "was it my soft lips? I bet it was. I moisturise them every morning, you know," he joked in almost a whisper, "women just can't seem to get enough of them!"

You rolled your eyes at him, "God, you're obnoxious!"

He chuckled as he started moving his thumb along the edge of your patella all the while he edged his face closer to you, "would you like to kiss them again?" He smirked. His face was mere inches from yours when he suddenly stopped, his eyes scanning your face. Every instinct in you screamed for you to look away from his piercing eyes, but a voice coming from inside your head told you that looking away was exactly what he expected from you, so you held on. He needed the challenge. He wanted it.

"Fuck," he breathed when he realised that you weren't going to back down easily. A certain darkness spread in his eyes as the devilish look from earlier re-emerged on his face, "your confidence is driving me insane," he leaned in and whispered against the shell of your ear, "I can't even begin to describe all the things I've been wanting to do to you."

This time, you couldn't hold back the shudder that spread throughout your body. You wanted to do unspeakable things to him too.

He noticed the shiver and was currently smirking helplessly against your ear. "Listen," he pulled back his face and smacked his lips, "I know it's only a couple of hours after midnight and that your night probably hasn't even begun yet, but do you want to get out of here?" The hand that had nuzzled against your knee was now crawling up the length of your thigh, sending shockwaves throughout your body. You wanted him to continue his wandering hand but not in front of all of his friends. Not here.

"Yeah," you breathed against the sensitive skin on his neck, feeling his jaw tighten as you softly pressed your lips against the stubble that extended a little bit beyond his jawline.

Hand still well-placed on your thigh, he turned to his friends Diggs and whispered something to him. Diggs nodded slightly, sending you a wink as Rafa grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the table, all the while the sour-looking girl was sending you a murderous look.

You and Rafa had barely left your seats before his hands came into contact with your waist, his fingers slowly crawling their way to the front of your dress, while he was kissing your neck and shoulder. He was walking behind you, hands running all over you as you hurried out of the VIP area and towards the exit.

As you half-ran through the club with Rafa's lips practically attached to your neck, you saw Samantha flirting with an older guy at the bar. Her stunned face when she saw you running out the club with Rafa tagging along no more than 15-minutes after she had let you go, was quickly replaced by a genuine grin and a thumb-up as you mouthed 'see you tomorrow' to her.

Rafa only briefly let go of you as he grabbed both of your coats from the coatcheck and followed you out the door, but his hands were on you again as soon as you stepped out of the double doors and into a vacant taxi. He gave the taxi driver an address you had no idea where was located before his hands started running all over your body once more. He pulled you close to him and hungrily kissed your lips all the while his hands were desperately running over your torso. His hands suddenly moved to your back as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned into the kiss, his soft lips moving against you, his tongue slowly caressing yours. His fingers were trailing the zipper down the length of your spine as he softly hummed against you. You enjoyed the sensation of being pressed up against him and welcomed the feeling of him invading all of your senses. The way he was kissing you; hungry and sloppy yet slowly and controlled combined with his wandering hands and small sounds of affection coming from the back of his throat was enough for you to decide that going with him home was the best decision you'd made all year. His slow movements as his tongue caressed yours was pure sex, and you could feel the heat starting at the pit of your stomach, as the warmth spread throughout your limbs. You were so hypnotised that you couldn't help yourself when a soft moan suddenly escaped your lips.

The sound you made had him losing his mind completely, his lips suddenly moving more forcefully against you again while he started panting against you.

Your hand travelled slowly up his thigh as he continued to kiss you hungrily. He shifted around, clearly in discomfort of how tight his pants were getting and he tried to shimmy around to alleviate some of the tension in his crotch to make himself more comfortable. You made a quick decision and moved your hand to pad him through his suit trousers. A tiny "Fuck" escaped his lips as you palmed his rock-hard crotch through several layers of clothing, and you watched him gulp as you found the zipper and slowly pulled it all the way down, giving yourself easier access to the massive erection between his legs. He made a guttural sound as you traced the outline of him, making the heat between your own legs unbearable. He helped you unbuckling his belt and the button above the zipper, so you had full access to his boxer-clad erection.

Still kissing hungrily, your fingers danced around the hem of his fly, moving slowly against him, until you decided that you had teased him enough. When you grabbed the full length of him through his boxers, he hissed at the touch and made a rather loud involuntary sound while he slowly buckled his hips upwards against your hand. You thought you'd never heard or seen anything sexier in your entire life.

Unfortunately, the taxi driver too heard Rafa's involuntary sound and whipped around in his seat. "HEY!" He called out as he realised what you were doing, "not in the cab, pal!" He said sternly.

Rafa cleared his throat, "yeah, sorry bro..." he said and ushered your hand away from his crotch while sending you a pained expression.

You straightened up and kissed his cheek, your hand retreating to a more safe zone on his thigh. He leaned in and pushed your back against the door of the taxi, kissing you slowly and sloppily. He put his hand on your leg as well, slowly starting to rub up the length of your inner thigh.

"Fuck, I can't wait to see that tattoo of yours," he whispered against your ear, "I can't wait to have you naked on top of me, screaming my name."

You made a whimpering sound at the thought of having Rafa slide into you, and you moved against his fingers that were now wrapped tightly around your upper thigh, his thumb brushing slightly against your wet panties every other second.

"Fuck I want you so bad," he groaned before taking your earlobe in his mouth, "this whole anonymous no-names thing that you insist on is turning me the fuck on. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't even remember your own name when I ask for it."

You whimpered once more, imagining Rafa in complete beast mode, roughing you up and taking you forcefully from behind.

"Fuck you look so good coming undone for me," he whispered and licked his lips, "and I'm barely even touching you."

"Touch me," you whimpered against him and felt how his fingers found the outline of your panties while his mouth engulfed your earlobe with a small groan. He was just about to dip inside the lace fabric at your core, when he was interrupted.

"SIR!" The taxi driver called from the front seat.

"WHAT!" Rafa bellowed back in an annoyed tone.

"We're here," the taxi driver said sourly, "are you going to stay all night?"

"Of course not," Rafa mumbled and paid the driver for the ride plus a ridiculously large tip 'to ensure his silence'.

Why, you had no idea.

"Let's go," Rafa came up behind you, urging you towards his front door. He was kissing your neck and pressing his pelvis up against you, making you shiver in anticipation of what lay ahead.

He unlocked the door and lead you inside the beautiful house that he was sharing with Daveed. You took in the space as Rafa continued attacking your neck with his lips, hands running all over the front of your dress. A dim blue light coming from the outside caught your attention.

"Hold up - you have a pool?"

"This is California - everybody's got a pool," he mumbled against your neck, slowly sliding down the zipper on the back of your dress.

"I don't," you said as an idea slowly took form in your brain, "I could go for a swim."

Rafa pulled back his face, "are you insane? It's like 50 degrees outside. Not to mention the fact that Diggs would have my balls for fucking you in the pool."

You turned around and kissed him, "please," you whimpered palming him through his trousers.

"Absolutely not," he groaned against you at the sensation, "next time I'll let you swim for as long as you want, okay?"

You made puppy eyes at him.

"Aw, don't give me that. I can't decide if you look fucking adorable or adorably fuckable," he grinned as he slid your dress over your shoulders, making the fabric pool around your feet.

"Fuckable, I hope," you said slowly as he took a step back to look at you half-naked in front of him.

He took a minute to admire you wearing nothing but your lacy underwear before his lips met yours once more, his hands immediately traveling along your body.

"How the fuck do you look this good," he mumbled as he gave your ass a smack and a squeeze.

"Do that again," you groaned against his lips, a small moan escaping you as his hand smacked you once more.

"Do you like that?" He said darkly as he smacked you a third time.

"Yes," you moaned against his incredibly soft lips. "Bedroom?" You panted against him and noticed how your voice was laced with lust

"Down here," he groaned and lead you to his personal space.

Together you fell on the bed, him hovering above you, still wearing his suit.

"You're wearing too many layers," you said while tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

"Let's do something about that," he said and stood up straight, shaking off his blazer and pulling off his dress shirt even though it wasn't even unbuttoned. You carefully examined his many tattoos as he unbuckled his belt and quickly slid out of his trousers.

When he was wearing only his boxers, he stopped and looked at you, "what?" He grinned.

"You look good," you smiled up at him, "I like your tattoos. Especially that one," you said and pointed to the words written across his pec.

"That one hurt like a motherfucker... Let me see yours," he wriggled his eyebrows at you, "I've been dying to see it!"

You slowly spread your legs apart for him and revealed the small drawing you had etched on your skin.

"You have a fucking hot dog tattooed on your inner thigh?" He laughed, "god, you're such a nerd," he continued, "...but you do continue to surprise me," he knelt down on the floor in front of the bed and kissed your tattoo while he slowly ran his fingers over your lace-covered folds.

A sharp intake of breath from you had him smirking up at you before he hitched two fingers on either side of your panties' waistband. You let him slide the fabric off you before he positioned himself on the floor with his face between your legs. He kissed each of your inner thighs and mumbled in between wet kisses, "you have no idea how much I've been wanting to do this."

"Touch me," you panted as you felt his hot breath on your inner thigh, "please!" You squeezed your arms together to make your breasts really pop.

He grabbed one ankle at a time and positioned your feet so he had easy access to you, "I'm in control of this," he said darkly, his thumb finding its way to your clit, "do you understand?"

"Yes," you panted at the sensation, "you're in complete control."

"Good," he groaned right before he let his tongue slowly run over you.

"Oh fuck," you panted while his tongue moved sloppily against you. Your fingers went to the bottom of his hairline where you started massaging his scalp while he sucked, nibbled, and licked at your core.

Two of his fingers slid inside you while his tongue was performing magic, and you felt his fingers curl inside you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly as you started calling out his name with pleasure.

When your moans became so deep and so frequent that Rafa could hear how you were struggling to come undone, he retracted his tongue and fingers from you, only to be met by a whimper from you. "But I was so close," you groaned.

"I've waited five weeks. You can wait five minutes. Now turn around for me," he said demandingly, and you immediately did as he instructed. You were on all four on his bed, your face pressed slightly into the mattress when you felt his fingers on your clit.

"Oh fuck, Rafa," you cried out as you suddenly felt his tongue running over your folds and dip inside of you. With his right hand circling your clit, his tongue and left hand took it in turns to enter you. His well-placed strokes of action had you a senseless moaning wreck underneath him within a couple of seconds as your inner walls started tightening around his tongue and fingers.

"Don't stop," you moaned into the mattress as he sped up his actions, "please don't stop".

He felt you coming completely undone as you clenched tightly around the set of fingers that were pulsing in and out of you perfectly timed with your moans and shaking legs. You fell to the mattress and turned around, staring up at a panting Rafa with heavy eyelids. He was palming himself through his boxers with a very pained expression as he drank you in. As he motioned to lie down next to you, you noticed how his grey boxers were stained with leaking pre-cum.

He hovered above you for a few seconds, "you look amazing," he sent you his charming smile, edging his face closer to yours before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

He quickly broke off the kiss and sat himself down on the bed next to you, sliding off his boxers in the process. He took your hand in his and guided you on top of him while he was still sitting up straight. His hands went to the back of you where he quickly unhinged your bra. His fingers brushed against your arms as he pushed down the straps leaving you completely naked on top of him.

"Oh fuck," he hissed when the bra dropped to the floor, "you're easily the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he said, looking up at you with lust in his eyes. You ran a hand through his hair as his tongue slowly circled your nipple, his erection twitching against your stomach.

You put your finger under his chin and forced him to look up at you, "I want you inside of me," you whispered.

He nodded eagerly, "I need a condom," he was already out of breath, "Or I'm not going to last long. Not with you being this fucking sexy."

You nodded in agreement, "where?"

"Top drawer," he pointed to his night stand.

You pulled out a silver wrapper and opened it using your teeth. Rafa leant backwards on his elbows and watched as you grabbed him by the root and slid the condom all the way down his length, his head dropping low in the process.

You hoisted yourself up and guided him in the right direction, sliding down on him with a small whimper. A guttural sound escaped his throat when he felt your tightness around him. His hands were caressing your hips as you slowly started moving on top of him without breaking eye contact. He groaned beneath you and started massaging your breasts as you started bouncing faster and faster on top of him, enjoying the sensation of being stretched by him.

"Fuck," he whispered as you threw back your head with a moan. The grip he had around your waist tightened significantly while his expression was becoming more and more pained. He started panting louder and louder in time with your movements which in turn made you slow down the pace completely, sending him a devilish smile in the process.

"Payback time," you laughed down at him.

"Uh uh," he shook his head, "not gonna happen," he easily picked you up and threw you down on the bed next to him, "like I said; I'm in control of this," he whispered darkly as he slid inside you with force, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

"FUCK!" He groaned and went into complete beast-mode, fucking you roughly and holding your hands fixated above your head by pinning your wrists tightly together. The way his hips moved against you had you wishing you could run your nails all over his back and leave small marks of affection on his skin. Being rough-housed like this by such a sexy, handsome man was nothing short of amazing!

"Choke me," you gasped, looking up at him.

"Oh fuck yes," he said as he pressed his hand against your jugular veins right underneath your jaw, constricting the blood flow without influencing the flow of air.

The feeling of his full control over you had you a moaning mess beneath him. He was holding your wrists so tightly with just one hand that you were unable to move your arms even if you wanted to. All this topped with his perfectly moving hips and the sensation of his fingers pressing against your throat had you lose all control, and you felt yourself tighten significantly as you approached your second climax.

The tightness around him, made Rafa's movements more and more mechanical with each passing stroke, and you caught him with his eyes screwed shut completely just before you cried out with your second release of the night. The sight of you coming completely undone topped with the wonderful tightness around him was enough to send him over the edge too and he came inside you with a roar.

He had energy for a few lazy, pallid strokes topped with a couple of slow moans before he pulled out of you and threw himself down on the bed next to you. You were both panting for a couple of seconds until he reached over and kissed you softly, his hands running achingly along your over-sensitive body.

"Amazing," he panted against your skin, "perfect start to the new year."

You couldn't agree more.