#i love that he gave his everything in all the lines he made up

[gucciwins]

A Family of Three Grows

A/N: Thank you to the lovely Nonnie who brought back inspiration for this story I wrote in 2020 and last gave an update in 2022. Who knew 2024 would be the year I brought it back. This was fun to write and go back to this family's dynamics. Hope you enjoy, my sweet friends 💜

Word count: 3234

Adore You / Three Time / Leather and Lace / Family / Ask

+

Harry loved his family. 

Y/N and Atticus were everything to him and when Y/N broke the news their family was going to be growing, he was over the moon. It’s something they talked about but never rushed because they had Atticus, their sweet angel who would not stop growing. 

Atticus was the smartest boy. He was the top of his class and loved to read chapter books with Y/N. Each night, they would read a chapter and discuss their thoughts over breakfast in the morning. Harry’s input was asking questions so he could stay in the loop. Harry still remembered a summer day where he went to run errands, leaving them at home reading in bed and came to find them cuddled with ten books laid on their bed. He knew his son valued this time with the woman he called Mum. 

Life had treated them well. Y/N was writing, going to the studio when Atticus was at school. Harry adhered to the schedule and was open to working extra hours. Y/N and Harry were the perfect team. She helped create the entirety of Harry’s house. It was an album he felt captured their life in their own way. The grammy’s that year were a pleasant bonus to round out the amazing year they had. 

Y/N and Harry were in the studio today while Atticus was at school. Harry was in no rush to push out a fourth album. He enjoyed being in the studio with Y/N. It made him fall in love with her all over again. The ideas she brought were something he didn’t take for granted.

Y/N was sitting at the piano wearing her favorite oversized Ferrari sweater. The girl clung to her worn-out shirt, despite its tears. Not that he would ever make her. He had his fair share of tattered shirts in his closet. 

She was beautiful. How lucky he was to have her as his partner for the past five years. Their family is everything he dreamed of when he was a young boy. Without looking, she called for him to sit beside her on the bench. He did so without a second thought. 

“I wrote a song–well, it’s unfinished,” she tells him as she plays the soothing lullaby she wrote for Atticus when he was six years old and was having a hard time sleeping through the night. It’s something she played repeatedly until Atty would fall asleep. 

“Can I hear it?” 

Y/N shifts. She seemed reluctant to reveal it to him. 

“Well, it might not be any good,” she defends, and she pulls her notebook. 

Harry frowns. Y/N being insecure in the studio is unheard of unless it’s something she’s been holding in her chest for a long time and is finally letting it out. She passes him the notebook. There’s a picture holding the place she wants him to read. One look at her is all the encouragement he needs to open up the book and read the first words: For Atty.

He reads line by line and by the time he reaches the last words, there are tears fighting to fall from his eyes. Y/N wrote a song for their song. It’s a rough draft, and he knows she wants him to help her finish it. 

“Atticus knows how much we love him–how much I love him. But I want him to hear this song and know that my love isn’t something that will ever go away. If anything, it’ll only get stronger.” She tells Harry. 

It takes everything in him to not break down because he never expected to be loved this much in life. He expected to be content, but this was beyond anything he could ever dream of. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s not even–” 

Harry stops her, reaching for her hand. He brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her hand. “It’s amazing. You wrote a song for our boy. Sure it’s not finished, but you wrote those lyrics calling our sun the light of our life. The reason the world turns. I have never been able to put into words how much he means to me, but you did it.” 

“I love you,” Y/N reminds him.

“Love you, too. So fucking much.” 

“Will you sing it?” Y/N asks. Those beautiful eyes are staring at him and there is no way he can tell her no.

After so many years together, Harry understands how Y/N writes songs. He can see the melody written out. It’s something that frustrates Tyler because he doesn’t pick up on her cues. Harry tells him not to sweat it, it’s something only they have. Something they have as the perfect pair. 

Y/N plays the melody on the piano as Harry sings the lyrics. The longer he sings, the more he feels his throat close up and by the final lyrics, he’s got tears streaming down his face. “I don’t think I can sing it without crying.” 

She laughs. “You’ll have to try. I want us to record it for Atty. Maybe get it on a record for him.” 

Harry gives her a long kiss. “That sounds like the best idea.” 

Y/N and Harry spent the rest of the day in the studio, knowing Atticus was with Anne for the day allowed them the extra time to be in the studio. By the time dinner rolled around, Harry had ordered them food from her favorite Chinese food restaurant. Y/N reminded him three times not to forget her spring rolls. Over dinner, they discussed the song and how they might want to surprise Atticus. Y/N made him promise not to tell him until they could have it produced by their good friend, Tyler. It would take some time, but it would be worth it. 

Y/N had a last surprise for Harry. They were back to sitting side by side on the piano bench when she passed him her notebook again. “There is one last surprise,” Y/N tells him. She flips the notebook a few more pages. There is a paper. He thinks nothing of it until Y/N turns it around for him.

A sonogram. 

It’s a black photo with a small gray blob in the center. Harry isn’t sure what to think. It can’t be true. Can it?

He squints, picking up the paper, and in the corner has Y/N’s hyphenated name.

“Baby, is this?” He gets out.

“What is it?”

“Are we–are you?” Harry lifts his head to meet her eyes that are brimming with tears. “Are you pregnant?” 

Y/N lets out a joyous laugh, one that finds a place deep in his heart. “Yeah,” she confirms. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” 

“Oh, my goodness.” Harry looks back down at the sonogram. He wants to know everything, but all he can do is cry. Y/N stands up from the bench to move closer to him. Harry turns his body, resting his head on her stomach, Y/N settles her hands on his shoulder. She lets one run through his hair as he takes in the news that they are going to be giving Atticus a sibling. Something he would ask for constantly. They were making a dream come true. 

“Hi, little pea. I’m your Daddy.” 

Harry pulls away from Y/N when he hears a loud sob. “I’m sorry,” Y/N apologies for startling him. “That was–I don’t even know how to explain it, but fuck, you’re so amazing.” 

He drags Y/N to sit in his lap. Harry holds her close, rocking her back and forth, kissing her neck, whispering, I love you. This is something they talked about endlessly. Atticus was their boy. They had always said their family was perfect. Whether they added to their family or not, they are happy, but getting this addition into their life felt right. 

Y/N isn’t sure how much time passes, but she is ready to go home and be with Atticus. As they’re packing up, Y/N steps towards Harry, knowing he might be upset with the only downside to the news of her pregnancy. “H, we can’t tell anyone. Not Atticus. Not even Anne.” 

“But love, how do you expect me to resist?” 

Y/N’s smile is sincere. She knows he wants to scream it from the rooftops. “It’s early,” she stresses. “I want us to make sure everything is okay. That we make it past this first trimester. I know that’s asking a lot for you.”

Harry shakes his head. “Not at all, Lovie. I understand. Your health and the babies are important. I respect that.”

She gives him a kiss. “Thank you.” 

“Let’s get home to our sweet boy.” 

They leave the studio with their hearts full. 

+

It’s been three months and Y/N’s doctor gave them the all clear. Their sweet bub is growing at a good rate and Y/N is doing spectacular. No morning sickness, no weird food cravings (yet) and is glowing. Harry was excited because that meant it was time for them to share the news with their family, but most importantly, to Atticus. 

Harry spent the day getting the surprise ready. The vinyl was in a special box ready to be opened and then played. They’d be doing that first, then give Atticus the news. While Harry ran around getting everything perfect, Y/N laid in the hammock in their backyard with Atticus. They each had a book in hand. Atticus at 9 was reading the Percy Jackson series, something Y/N was excited about because they were some of her favorite books when she was growing up. Now she got to see her son experience everything she did at his age. It helped that she could answer questions he had, without spoilers, of course. 

Y/N set her book down, running her hand through Atticus’ brown locks similar to Harry’s. She knew he’d made a great older brother. She also feared he’d think she’d loved him less with a baby around, which was far from the truth. Atticus was hers, he was her baby boy and nothing or no one could take that from her. Harry likes to joke and say Atticus is her twin instead of his because he takes after her. Atticus has all of Harry’s looks but is everything her child for he has her love of reading. He loves the ocean and could spend hours in there with them. Atty was charismatic and had everyone’s attention as soon as he walked into a room. He exuded confidence and skillfully commanded attention with his voice. Y/N liked to say he picked up on both of their traits, but Harry assured her Atticus was a piece of her. It never failed to make her cry. 

“I love you Atticus.” Y/N told him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

Atticus bookmarked the page he was on. “I love you too, Mum.” 

Y/N wanted to blurt out the news to Atticus, but knew Harry would be upset she did it without him, so she held it in. 

“Forever going to be my sweet boy?” Y/N asks. 

“Course. Going to take care of you all my life,” Atticus promises. 

Y/N smiles. A very Harry answer. “Much appreciated. I think your dad has got you covered.”

Atticus shrugs, “two of us looking out for you isn’t bad.” 

“Glad I’m in safe hands.” 

Atticus goes back to reading but Y/N stays lost in thought, waiting for Harry to announce his arrival. It isn’t much longer when Harry rushes through the backyard, box in hand. Y/N sits up, eager to give it to her son, but Atticus doesn’t seem concerned about his reading. 

“Hi bud, got you something?” Harry shakes the box softly. 

“Two pages left,” Atticus mumbles. 

Harry frowns. “This is your fault.” He points at Y/N.

Y/N gasps. “Please, who bought him an entire library?”

“Again you,” he defends. 

“Technically, your money.”

“Our money,” Harry corrects. 

Atticus is entranced in his reading and Harry uses the time to steal a kiss from Y/N. They refrain from anything too much for Atticus’ sake, but he never minds seeing them give a bit of affection. 

“Chapter done,” Atticus shouts. “Gimme. Gimmie.” He makes grabby hands, but Harry shakes his head, telling him they had to head inside. 

Y/N holds onto Harry’s arm as Atticus rushes inside to the piano room. It’s his favorite room in their Malibu home. The view is perfect. You can see the tides rolling in, one landing on top of another. The sounds perfect to lull someone to sleep. 

Harry sits next to Atticus while Y/N kneels in front of him, her hands pressed together under her chin as she watches him tear the paper. Y/N remembers doing that as a child and knows her mother was a saint for the patience she had. Y/N is close to ripping it herself, but when she sees the brown box, she settles down for a single moment.

Atticus pulls out the record. It’s in a sleeve with a beautiful print of Y/N, Harry and Atticus running through the sand a few months back. Anne had taken it and it became their favorite picture as a family. Harry

thought it would be the perfect fit, and it was. On the top of the cover it read “Atticus’ Song”. His small hands ran over the words as he sounded it out. 

“Is this us?” 

Y/N stroked his cheek. “Yeah, bubs. It’s for you.” 

“Can you play it?” Atticus asks Y/N. 

Harry knew Y/N was nervous. Hell, he was too. There was no worse critic than an honest nine-year-old. As Y/N placed the record on the player, Atticus fiddled with the string of the bracelet he made the other day with Harry. They all had a similar one on their wrist, Atticus having made Y/N’s matching them. Y/N walked back, squeezing next to Harry. Atticus closed his eyes to focus on the opening notes of the song. He was just like Harry, a true critic and admirer of all music. This time was no different. 

The song was slow and had the melody of a lullaby. Harry’s voice welcomed them into the song, with Y/N’s joining him in the chorus. Y/N saw Atticus’ lip twitch during her solo and she couldn’t help but squeeze Harry’s arm. The song ran its course, and they waited patiently for his thoughts. 

“Nice. It was really nice.” 

Y/N let out a deep breath she was holding. Atticus cries, and Y/N panics as she swoops him into her lap before Harry can even move. She holds him tight to her chest as she meets Harry’s worried stare.

“Darling, my darling boy. I got you. I always have you.” Y/N whispers, brushing his hair back, trying her best to soothe him. Y/N rocks him back and forth, letting him get out all his emotions. 

Atticus pulls back, his sniffles the only sound in the room. “Promise I like it.” 

Harry laughs. “Tears would say otherwise, bud.” 

“It–I–I” Atticus isn’t sure how to explain what he felt. “Can we play it every day?” 

Y/N presses a kiss to his temple. “Anything for you.” 

“You wrote it Mumma?” 

Harry scoffs in defense. “What if I did? Huh?” 

Atticus giggles. “Okay, Dad.” 

Harry pouts. Y/N is the stronger song writer, there is no fighting it. “Fine, she wrote most of it.” 

“We did it together,” Y/N answers. 

“It’s my new favorite.” Atticus declares proudly. 

“Good. That’s good. We do have one last surprise.” Harry is eager to share the news.

He stands up and goes for the frame they put the sonogram in for Atticus to keep in his room. While Harry steps out, Y/N settles Atticus in the middle of the sofa for Harry to sit next to him. Honestly, she wants to record this moment but decides it’s better to keep it private between them. Harry comes back with his dimples on display and Atticus is quick to be suspicious. 

“Now close your eyes,” Harry orders. 

Atticus looks weary but does as he’s told. Harry places the frame in his hands and when Atticus opens his eyes, he is looking at their most recent sonogram. It’s clear there is a baby in the middle with its head and body. Atticus would be quick to put it together, but even if he didn’t, the frame reading “Best Brother” would be a dead giveaway. Atticus’ jaw drops at the news. His eyes were not leaving Y/N’s as if he was waiting for them to say “just kidding” because he had waited a long time for this moment. There was a baby in his mum’s stomach. He was going to be an older brother. 

“Is that why you’re always snacking?” Is the first thing Atticus says. 

“Atticus,” Harry shouts playfully. Harry spares a glance at Y/N, unsure how she will react. She’s been a weeping mess, even if she denies it’s the pregnancy hormones. Instead, she surprises him by laughing. It’s a full belly laugh that makes her tear up. 

It is true Y/N had been snacking recently, always something in her hand from a mandarin to banana chips. Harry had stocked up on different snacks on his weekly run to Tesco. He was sure Y/N had almost finished them, but he didn’t mind making all the extra runs out. Anything for his wife. 

“How long do I have to wait to meet them?” Atticus asks when Y/N’s laughter has died down.

Y/N places her hand over her stomach. She hasn’t popped yet, but her doctor told her it would happen soon. Harry had taken photos every day, so she had seen the difference. “About six months to go, Atty.” 

His eyes widened. “Too long.” 

Harry laughs, pushing back Atticus’ growing curls. “Trust me, I know. But we’ve got an important job during this time.”

Y/N smacks Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have a job, baby. We want you to keep being you. You can talk to us about the baby, about anything.” 

“Can they hear me?” Is his follow up question. 

“Mmm, you can talk to them all you like. Your Daddy certainly likes to do so.” 

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “Thought you liked it.” 

Y/N gives Harry a kiss. “I love it. One of my favorite parts of the day.”

“Okay. Can I do it now?” Atticus asks. 

Harry nods and gestures for him to settle on the couch with Y/N. He sits on Y/N’s lap while Harry is quick to try to move him, wanting him to be careful with her. Y/N simply pulls him closer, and it reminds him of how perfect of a mother Y/N already is. 

He joins his family on the couch, all snuggled close, while they listen to Atticus talk to his sibling. It’s one of the best days of Harry’s life and he can’t wait to make more memories in a few months’ time. For now, he will enjoy these special moments. 

[k0juki]

You and Mafia Max having a night out in the Netherlands.

Mafia!Max Verstappen

Carneval night

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

More Mafia!Max posts here!

A/n: The time-line is before they broke up.

Wc: 624

---

You were only a few months in the Netherlands, so Max thought that it would be fun to show you around Amsterdam.

At first you were here just because of your father, but after some time and meeting some new people, including Max, you decided to stay here, with him.

Amsterdam has become more than just a temporary stop—now it's your home, filled with love and adventure. You fell in love with him, and he did the same.

"I heard there's a street festival here." Max suggested and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Live music, delicious food stalls, and carnival games. I thought you would like it."

"That doesn't sound so bad." You teased him, but he can't say he doesn't like it, because he does like it.

As you stroll through the vibrant streets of Amsterdam, the festive atmosphere fills you with excitement. You really liked this place, because it wasn't anything like back home in London.

"Oh, look Max, they have these big stuffed animals here!" You pointed out and made your way to that booth with Max right beside you.

"Who do I have to shoot to get that donkey?" You asked and took that heavy gun. Max and the stall holder laughed. "I mean it."

"Yeah, she's not joking." Max grined and gave warning look to that guy. It was sign that nor Max or you were joking. You really wanted that stupit stuffed animal.

"I'm sure you do young lady, the rules are simple, you have to shoot down the cans. That's all." He explained, as he moved aside, you pointed the gun at cans and shot. Completely missed. It was harder than you expected.

At first, Max was just wheezing, so you didn't mind him much, but after some time... "That was amazing love, you have to teach me." He laughted and clapped his hands.

"Oh, ha ha...I'm just warming up." You adjusted the gun and shot. Missed again.

That couldn't be right, the gun was just too heavy. And what was worse, Max's laugh starts to piss you off. Did he want to die? You were sure he did. You said nothing and just gave him a long side eye. If look could kill, Max would be instantly dead.

"Someone is asking for trouble." You whispered and shot the last shoot. Nothing.

You put the gun down and turned to Max with both hands on your hips. "You wanna try it, Emilian?"

That shut him up, because everyone that was close to Max and you knew that you normally didn't call Max Emilian. More like Max, Maxi or love. You were really pissed off.

But he didn't waste any second and took the gun the moment it was reloaded and perfectly shot three times, all cans fell down.

Max looked at you with a smug face and put down the gun. You just crossed your arms as that stallholder cherished and congratulated Max, he just laughed a little and said, "I will take that donkey."

As Max handed you that stuffed animal, he leaned his head down and kissed your cheek. "For a pretty lady, one big donkey."

You thanked Max and took his hand in yours, everything was forgiven. And then you started dragging him to another interesting place you saw.

But you didn't notice how Max turned back to the stallholder and how they exchanged a long glances of knowing, he knew who Max was, so even if Max didn't shoot right after you, he would give you that stuffed donkey himself.

His life was worth more than some plush.

"What do you say we look for next?" Max asked and put his arm back around you. Even though you were completely clueless, but still happy.

---

🫶

[crazylittlejester]

Warriors always woke up first. That was how it worked. He said it was his military training. Time just stared at him and tried to convince him to sleep closer to Sky.

This morning, Warriors woke up to Time and Wild talking over the campfire. Wild made sense. He had last watch. Time, not too much. Warriors hoped Time wasn't having sleeping issues again. He checked before he went to sleep and the moon was waxing, not full.

He was still mulling over that when Time approached him with a cup of coffee. "Good morning," Time greeted him. He handed it to Warriors, and to Warriors's shame, everything else fell away as he greedily reached for the nectar of the Goddesses.

If there was an issue with Time, Warriors would just keep an eye on him. Hopefully, it was something small.

By lunchtime, Warriors determined it wasn't just Time.

Breakfast was a sweet spiced porridge Warriors loved. At the time, he didn't question his luck. A delicious breakfast and coffee? He was happy.

Wind stuck close to him all day. He kept grabbing Warriors's hand and asking for stories about sisters when he wasn't sharing stories about his own. Warriors didn't have to fight to keep him in line once.

Hyrule gifted him orange flowers and acorns.

Legend kept his teasing concerningly light-hearted.

Sky found feathers and tucked them in Warriors's hair.

Twilight randomly hugged him during a small walking break. Warriors began to fear that he was dying and no one had told him.

Four gave him a book and told him that he noticed Warriors kept rereading his material. Gave him. A book. Voluntarily surrendered a book.

Maybe they had destroyed some of his stuff and was sweetening him up before admitting it. Warriors feared what they broke to have them do all of this.

When Time announced they were stopping for lunch and Wild announced he was going to make creamy heart soup, one of Warriors' favorite meals, Warriors feared the worst. Something had to have shown on his face, for Time tugged him into a quick side hug and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Happy Mother's Day, Link."

They could have been burning all of his belongings right then and Warriors wouldn't have noticed. He was too busy hiding his face in his hands, unsure if he was going to smile or cry.

- mom warriors anon

TEARS IN MY FUCKING EYES RIGHT NOW ANON I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH. He’s the group mom, they all know it, he’s their mom

OUGHH this is so sweet i cant get over it 😭

happy mothers day LU Wars, we thank you for your service 🫡

[dark-frosted-heart]

When the Holy Beast Falls - Azel

An “If you were lovers” story. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

If Prince Azel and I were lovers…

Sometimes the Living God of Tanzanite would visit the befriended nation Benitoite.

On those occasions, he’d always have me go with him.

I’d never hear something cute like “I’ll miss you” from the two-faced god who apparently brought me along just to push me around.

But I know his true intentions.

--

Emma: Prince Azel, I’m back. 

Azel: You’re late.

Emma: I brought everything you asked me to buy since you can’t go into town, so please forgive me.

Azel: That’s not the issue.

Prince Azel, who waited by the entrance, took the packages from me.

However, it didn’t seem like he was considering the packages and studied me.

Emma: …Are you hurt?

Azel: You can see I’m not.

Emma: Then what is it?

Azel: You’ve kept me waiting because you’ve been having fun in town.

Emma: H-how did you know? Is this God’s power— 

Azel: It’s all over your face.

(I guess I was grinning)

At my honest confession, Prince Azel pinched my cheek.

Azel: You got some nerve. I’ve been waiting for you to come back—

Emma: You’ve been waiting? For me?

Azel: …Don’t get the wrong idea. I asked you to get something for me.

Emma: That’s too bad. I thought if you were waiting for me, I’d rush back the next time.

Azel: Hurry back even if I’m not waiting. That’s a debtor’s responsibility. I’ll add this late fee to your debt.

Emma: Is that okay? The more debt you add, the more you won’t be able to let me go.

Azel: …You’re getting defiant.

(You’re so awkward, truly)

With a grim look on his face, Prince Azel turned his back on me and placed items he had me get on the table.

He went to check its contents, but his hand immediately stopped.

Azel: Emma…What is this?

Emma: It’s cute, isn’t it? I made a stop along the way to buy it.

Prince Azel held Benitoite’s popular “Living God doll” in his trembling hands.

It was a small doll in Prince Azel’s likeness that was said to bring many blessings, including luck with money, love, health, etc.

(It took me a while to buy it since there as a line)

Before he could throw it against the wall, I snatched the doll from Prince Azel’s hands and held it dearly.

Emma: I bought this separately from the money you gave me. I’m not giving it to you.

Azel: Get rid of things that aren’t wanted or needed.

Emma: I refuse. He’s cute, isn’t he?

Azel: Cute?! I think you mean repulsive.

I moved the doll out of Prince Azel’s reach as he tried to steal it back and stepped away from him.

Emma: Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.

Azel: No one’s telling you to take care of it. I'm telling you to throw it away.

Emma: Throw away my beloved Prince Azel? I could never.

Azel [polite]: …I see, I see. Even with the real God present, you chose the doll and casted me aside. How cruel…This is a slight toward God. This blasphemy deserves divine punishment.

(Ah—)

Prince Azel deliberately covered his face with his hands and began sobbing.

I knew it was a trap, but it hurt my conscience to ignore him.

Emma: That’s not it. However, with this doll, I can be with Prince Azel even when I’m out running errands. It’s my way of showing how much I love you.

The instant I approached the god to butter him up, Prince Azel stopped his crocodile tears, took the doll from me, and tossed it into some corner of the room. 

Emma: Ah! That’s cruel—Mn?!

My eyes widened when he stopped my protest with a kiss.

Azel: Who’s the cruel one here? Cheater.

Emma: …Even though it’s a puppet of you.

Azel: If you want my blessings so much, I’ll give it to you. You’ll have to deal with it.

A large hand grabbed my chin and our lips met again.

The kisses of a holy, unrelated god were always so greedy, greedily exploring deep inside that it made you feel like you were going to fall.

(Why is every kiss so lewd…)

Even when I nipped his lip to tell him he was going too far, the two-faced god didn’t stop and instead started tickling my ear.

Emma: Mm…Mmm!

Azel: Don’t need the doll anymore? That’s wonderful.

Emma: Wro…ah

The fingers that were tickling my ear slid down my neck and under the collar of my blouse.

I hastily grabbed the hand that was going to defile me and looked into his mysterious, starry eyes.

Emma: I can’t return to my room anymore, can I?

Azel [polite]: A message from God. You should not be alone tonight for there are bad omens.

Emma: …A lot of good things happened in town though?

Azel [polite]: It will happen, and it will surely be a misfortune.

Emma: Specifically…

Azel [polite]: Divination is an ambiguous thing. You won’t know until it happens.

Emma: Then let’s test out if Prince Azel’s divination is really correct.

Azel: Why would you do that? Are you stupid?

He cupped my cheeks and squished them.

Emma: Because lately, you’ve been saying the same thing. That when I’m alone, misfortune, bad luck, or a disaster will happen to me… So I thought I’d try it out just once.

Azel: Being fearless isn’t good. God’s words are absolute, so you must heed His warnings.

Emma: I get it Prince Azel. You just really want us to be together, don’t you?

Azel: ……I didn’t say that.

(You’re so easy to read)

Azel: I don’t care if you’re here or not. I prefer being alone.

Emma: Then— 

When I tried to shake his hands off and turn away, he hugged me tight.

Azel: You don’t believe in God’s good will?

Emma: You just need to be honest and say that you want me with you.

Azel: Aren’t you the one that wants to be with me?

Emma: If I’m the only one that wants this, then I’ll only bother you so I’ll head back to my room—

Azel: Try to go back if you can.

(Ugh…He’s so strong that I can’t shake him off!)

Even after saying all this, Prince Azel still won’t admit it.

But when I turned to look at him, we kissed for a short moment.

Azel: Ah…

It seemed like he didn’t mean to and his brows furrowed.

(He never wants to admit it, but…)

Emma: You truly do love me, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don’t be so conceited.

A blush spread across his grim face.

(...God’s blessing was real)

(Because it’s possible to make Prince Azel look like this)

With a dramatic sigh, Prince Azel rested his forehead on my shoulder.

Azel: What am I even doing?

Emma: It's love.

Azel: No. I’m in no way in love with you. Damn it…

(There’s still a long way to go, but I’ll definitely get it out of him one day)

(An “I love you” from Prince Azel)

[seungsuki]

groceries - sunday restock with your boyfriend (f!reader)

warning: none

note: i manage to sneak in bachira hehe.. wonder why?

sundays are nagi seishiro’s favourite day. just relaxing and being lazy was something the 190 cm striker loved. top that off, you would baby him and take care of him so he would be well rested for the brutal training monday would force on him

but today wasn’t his favourite sunday 

seishiro spent his day trailing behind you like a lost duckling. it was a nice afternoon and you thought today was the perfect day to restock on groceries. that’s how you both ended up in the bustling supermarket near your place. you pushed the trolley along the isles while nagi in his true nature, clung onto you like his life depended on it. 

his head rested on your shoulder as his arms wrapped securely around your waist forming a somewhat comfortable back hug. you swore seishiro purposely made sure his warm breaths were extra slow to annoy you but you weren’t gonna let him win. you had to restock groceries today or else both of you would be too busy to find any day. 

“do we really need to waste time buying food?”, seishiro spoke as the both of you navigated through the shelves of cereal 

“yes we do- oh found it!”, you smiled as you retreated something you searched far and wide 

“a cereal box..? that was something you wasted so much time on?”, seishiro asked confused

“it’s not just a cereal! it’s a collab with txt!!”, you groaned remembering how terrible seishiro is with names 

“nevermind we’re almost done and then we’ll go home you big baby”

you chuckled when you heard a small ‘yay’ from the laid-back koala you called your boyfriend. he even gave you a small kiss on the neck to celebrate his so-called victory. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a small affectionately sigh. you placed the cereal into the cart and strolled away. moving from aisles you’d either have seishiro acting like a cringe teen making fun of the brand names or seishiro mumbling in your ear about how terrible his team was to him (they don’t let him sleep during breaks). 

while you love nagi seishiro with all of your heart, it was these moments that made you want to question just how much of a hassle life was for him. you wonder sometimes.. if you had never asked him out, would he still be alive? yeah he had reo and all but you can’t help but wonder if seishiro had some sort of issues in the past 

you shook your head trying to forget the negative thoughts clouding your head. this was a topic you’d definitely bring up for another day. 

“angel, can we get ice cream too?”, seishiro suddenly added as he watched you pick up the nuggets packet 

“ice cream? yeah sure sure.. anything you want sei”, 

after checking everything in your cart, both of you lined up to pay for your groceries. you recalled a story to seishiro about your university friends trying to force you into acting. your friend dramatically added about how the theatre club was in danger, forcing you to skip your volleyball club practice.

seishiro hums to your story, even though he looks like he doesn’t care, you best believe that he loves gossip. he picked this from reo, another guy who was always hungry for gossip, even if he doesn’t know that person at all. finally, after what seems like eternity, it was your turn 

“good afternoon! hope you guys fin- nagi? no way! whatcha doing here?”, the yellow highlights haired cashier asked 

“bachira.. why are you a cashier?”, seishiro asked puzzled as he frees himself from you 

“oh i picked up a part time job to help my mama. who’s she? hey it’s nice to meet you! i’m bachira!”, bachira introduced himself as he started to scan the products

“i’m [name]... you’re seishiro’s friend?”, you asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod from bachira 

“i didn’t know you had friends other than reo”, you asked again but to the snowy bangs boy 

“i’m trying”, seishrio replied with a shrug 

bachira chatted away with you while preparing your bill. he even added his ‘bff discount’ for the both of you which made you laugh at his antics. waving him goodbye, seishiro and you left the store. it made you feel happy, knowing that sei made friends at blue lock.

it’s not like you hated reo or anything. if anything, you were thankful at how he was always with your lazy genius but you wanted seishiro to branch out. hearing from bachria about his new friends gave you a sense of relief that he had other people to count on 

“you look funny”, sei spoke trying to read your mind 

“i’m just happy”, you said adding a small smile 

“what is there to be happy about? i’m so sad i had to leave my warm bed for this”, seishiro groaned 

“i’m happy you have so many friends. you have so many people who care about you!”, you countered 

“i should be careful! they might steal you from me”, you jokingly added, nudging the soccer player 

“what’s there to worry about? you’re prettier than them”, sei bluntly said making you go red 

“h-hey! don’t just go around saying that!”, you nervously laughed away the butterflies that erupted 

“i'd rather be with my pretty girl than sit with those idiots. it’s a hassle”, sei sighed nearly dropping the bag he was holding 

“...”

“...”

“let’s just go home and i’ll give you some ice cream with extra sprinkles” 

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

[justarandombrit]

Okay well as you may know from looking at my blog for five seconds, I saw the matinee for Starkid Innit. During the interval and after the show I wrote down some notes. I tried to get them in chronological order but my memory is dogshit and I definitely missed some stuff, I hope you appreciate it though.

Outside:

. EVERYONE SUNG GRANGER DANGER

. IT WAS SO GOOD (except for the high note lmao)

. EVERYONE SUNG DAYS OF SUMMER

. EVERYONE A SMALL GROUP OF PEOPLE SUNG GOIN' BACK TO HOGWARTS

Act 1:

. The Nightmare Time sting punched me in the face

. The shout-out to the confused parents

. BRIAN + MEREDITH IN TGWDLM IS EVERYTHING TO ME

. High School Is Killing Me, Literal Monster and Nerdy Prudes Must Die all got mashed together!

. Corey!Richie is my Roman Empire

. Jaime in NPMD….

. Jaime had a different line to PJ’s original in Literal Monster. I couldn't hear half of it but it was different

. JEFF!MAX

. THE AUDIENCE SINGING RICHIE'S PART!!!!!! I'M NOT A LOSERRRRRRR

. TOGETHER!!!!!

. OUR DOORS ARE OPEN

. Jaime singing Sami/Harry ABOUT HER DOG (Nori)

. The audience whipping out the phone cameras

. CLARK SINGING I WAS GAVE ME SUCH INTENSE CHILLS

. Joey finally giving the white, male side characters attention

. Joey changing “I know I'm not a star” to “I know I'm not Clark”

. He pointed the mic at the audience for the “DEFINITELY NOT!”

. Joey mistimed his jump 😔😔

. Genuinely his best performance of Sidekick yet

. Joey making fun of Brian for not getting a big solo

. Brian kept pretending to beat him up, it was brilliant

. Not Over Yet is definitely Brian's song, shut up

. Brian accidentally singing the same verse twice (How does he always mess this song up?!?!?)

. My mum took a photo during the “EVIL PLAAAAANSSSS” bit and it was right when Brian was choking Joey

. “So look alive and don't forget”

“FORGET WHAT?”

. FEAST OR FAMINE

. Rogues Are We still goes so hard

. Rogues Medley without Kick It Up A Notch is weird, but Kick It Up A Notch without Dylan would definitely be weirder

Intermission:

. Ice cream :D

Act 2:

. Starting with We Got Work To Do is so iconic

. THERE'S BEEN A CHANGE IN THE CLIMATE, SOMETHING'S IN THE AIR, WE FEEL THE HEAT, NO NEED TO DEFINE IT, WE DON'T REALLY CARE

. MEREDITH REQUESTED BACK ON TOP!!!!!!!! AND IT WAS SO GOOOOD!!!!!!!

. Joey shouted “Draco, get on the floor!” at Lauren

. ALL THE UNDERRATED SONGS

. I love how it was hyped up like it was going to be Boy Toy, and then just straight up wasn't lmaooo

. Brian finally got the slow, sexy Hideous Creatures (Take that, Nick Lang!)

. Okay I'm trying to remember the order of the underrated songs they did

. Hideous Creatures (Lauren)

. Pays To Be an Animal (Corey) (He didn't sit in the spotlight and someone yelled “TO THE LEFT, COREY”)

. Get In My Mouth (Jeff) (He fully sprawled out on the stage it was hilarious)

. Land of the Dicks (Jaime)

. Hermione Can't Draw (Meredith) (She sung it so well I briefly didn't recognise the song)

. THEY MANAGED TO WORK IN LUPIN / BRIAN CAN'T SING YESSSS

. I genuinely cannot remember what Brian sung

. Gotta Find His Dick (Joey, and eventually everyone)

. The entire “Oh you wanna know where I got my shirt?” bit

. Brian, Jaime and Joey got it from Primark, Meredith got it from “Primed-mrak”, Lauren’s was a family heirloom, Corey got it from Gucci and Jeff got it from America, from Pri-mart (He made the guy on the drums do a baddum tsh)

. COREY SINGING SHOW STOPPIN' NUMBER. OH MY GOD. (The entire crowd joined in, also, Jeff and Jaime as Steve and Stu)

. Everyone cheering so loud when Joey and Lauren came on stage, and them claiming we had no idea what they were going to sing, and it was actually a completely new song (it was Granger Danger obviously)

. And them continuing to claim it was new throughout the song

. As I expected, I almost cried during Not Alone. Also apparently Darren thought it was going to be a big hit??? And just begrudgingly let them use it for A Very Potter Musical

. Super Friends!

. So sad Jeff’s mic was so quiet for “I WANNA BE A MODERN DANCER”

. THEY SUNG WANNABE BY THE SPICE GIRLS

. The fakeout of everyone leaving stage, then the band coming back on and playing the start of Goin' Back To Hogwarts

. “Darren's not here”

“I'LL DO IT”

. THE AUDIENCE DID THE FIRST PART OF GOIN' BACK TO HOGWARTS ALL BY OURSELVES

. JEFF DID DYLAN'S PART (but he didn't do “All of you to [city name] :( )

. Jeff pointed at various parts of the audience for “Welcome hotties, nerds and tools!” and then whispered “I'm so sorry” immediately after

. Singing (/ shouting) Goin' Back To Hogwarts along with hundreds of other Starkid fans was so exhilarating, I loved it and I almost cried (also I'm gonna be so hoarse tomorrow)

[nervoussagittarius]

bikers backpack

matt sturniolo x biker!reader

summary: where matt’s girlfriend is a biker and at first matt is scared for her until he realizes it’s actually an attractive hobby, request

warnings: fluff, a little angst, language

“matt! guess what!” you exclaimed as you ran into his room. unbeknownst to him you had just bought your second motorcycle. your dream to own a kawasaki ninja bike had finally come true. you’d been saving up money from different odd jobs you’d done to be able to afford it.

“i finally bought my 4- stroke, six speed, metallic gray ninja 650.” you could’ve almost cried with excitement. matt knew this day was coming. he knew your love for bikes and as much as it made him anxious he couldn’t help but feel that twinge in his heart everytime you got this excited around him. in the two years you guys had been dating your hobby had only gone on in one of them.

your fascination for motorcycles steamed from the long line of harley riders you had in your family. growing up around the vehicles only made you want to learn to drive them more. on your 18th birthday you went out and got your motorcycle license it wasn’t until a year later that you got your first bike. it was a beat up motorcycle with over sixty thousand miles that you bought off of facebook marketplace, but it was your baby. you rode it everywhere and took such good care of it.

matt on the other hand hated the fact that you drove motorcycles. he was supportive in everything you did, as you were for him, but this was the one thing he couldn’t get behind. he was always a so worried about you because of how dangerous it can be. he barely liked being in a car. the idea of being on a bike with an engine made him sick.

matt looked up at you hesitantly. he didn’t want to make you upset, but he couldn’t find it in himself to jump for joy at your words like you did. “that’s cool, y/n. i’m happy for you.” his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes and you could feel the coldness in his words. you didn’t want to have another fight about the fact that you liked riding bikes, but you also didn’t want to feel like you couldn’t share your accomplishments or things you enjoy with your boyfriend. “can you at least pretend to care?” you questioned harshly. your words caught him off guard.

“i don’t care? really?” his tone changed. you could tell your words hurt him, but neither of you were ones to back down from a conversation like this. matt continued, “i care that 72 out of 10,000 motorcyclists experience a crash. i care that 80% of motorcycle accidents result in injuries or death. i care that california has the second highest number of motorcycle fatalities. i care about what matters so sorry if your upset that i’m not thrilled about your new purchase.”

choosing not to argue with him you simply backed out of his room and left his house. you felt like matt didn’t trust you. you knew the statistics but you were always so careful. you wore a helmet and protective gear. you never rode by yourself, you always had at least one other biker with you. you took all the necessary precautions so you didn’t know why matt wouldn’t listen to you about this. you would give him a chance to cool off and maybe bring the topic back up at a later time. you wanted him to know how you felt but maybe it was better to do it at a time where you both were more level headed.

later that night, after having a conversation with chris about how it’s your life and not his, matt felt like he owed you an apology. both you and chris were right. he was focusing on the wrong things. all he wanted was for you to be happy but him being negative wasn’t going to help you achieve that. matt made his way over to your house ready to talk, but as he pulled down your street he couldn’t help but notice you in your driveway ready to leave on your new motorcycle.

pulling up next to you, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to the sight in front of him. you were always beautiful, but for some reason his body gave him a different response to seeing you next to your bike. “what are you doing here?” you questioned as matt got out of his car, your voice barely above a whisper. “i came to apologize. i was wrong to get upset like that. i should’ve been more supportive because i know how much you enjoy this kind of stuff. so i’m sorry.” his words meant a lot to you. you had been feeling extremely discouraged since you left his house so you needed to hear this.

before you could even respond matt threw out, “also, i want to go on a ride with you.” to say you were shocked would be a complete understatement. “you want to go on a ride?” “yep.” you looked at him in denial. “a ride on a motorcycle?” he just responded with a nod and a smile.

“are you sure because you really don’t have to. i really appreciate your apology, but i don’t want you to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable or anxious.” you quickly said.

“no i want to, sweetheart. i think some exposure therapy would be good for me, and to be completely honest you look so good right now, you could probably get me to do anything you wanted.” he sent you a wink as he came over and put his hands on your waist. matt tilted his head down slightly so you guys were eye level before pressing his lips to yours.

you never thought you’d see the day where matthew sturniolo was putting on a helmet and was willingly getting on a motorcycle. not that you were complaining though. you put your helmet and gloves on, “are you 100% sure you want to do this?” you asked. matt flipped the visor of his helmet down and gently bonked his head against yours. “get on baby let’s go.” he said pulling you hand.

and with that you sat in front of him with his arms wrapped around you, and you went off on your memorized path to where you planned to meet up with some of your friends that also ride. it was safe to say that after the first couple minutes matt enjoyed himself. he took notice to you attention to the world around you, which he appreciated, and he was happy to know more about the hobby you loved so much. matt was now your personal backpack

an: this is shorter then normal but i haven’t written in a couple weeks so i need to get back into it. i thought this was cute though and i hope y’all enjoy

taglist: @maryx2xx @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt @luvr4miya @hpyjw @unbruisable @watercolorskyy @elliewrites1 @rheaasturn @slxt4matt @mmay4ever @aurizp

[bumblesimagines]

i made breakfast.

let me just grab my things and i'll get out of here.

Love Quinn

i made breakfast.

let me just grab my things and i'll get out of here.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

The scent of pancakes drifting through the air filled your nose and reminded your stomach that you'd skipped dinner the night before, a gnawing feeling immediately blossoming in your stomach as your hazy, sleep-riddled mind began envisioning breakfast. Your mouth watered and you sighed, forcing your heavy eyes to open. You must've left a window open-

You blinked and blinked again and blinked one last time for good measure. You stared at the large, wall-length windows that gave a view of a neighborhood straight out of a magazine, a view you certainly never got when you looked out your shabby bedroom window and out onto the bustling, noisy streets of LA. You scrambled up, feeling the soft velvety sheets press against your palms as you took in the bedroom bigger than your apartment. 

"Jesus..." You whispered, running your hand over the covers that definitely were worth more than your rent. Everything about the bed felt cozy. The size of it, the soft mattress your body sunk into, the cool pillows that kept coaxing you into slumber, the warm covers. You'd be half tempted to go back to sleep if it weren't for the worry that replaced the hunger in your stomach. Who owned the bed to begin with? Certainly not any of your friends or exes, unless one of them secretly had a fuckton of money they kept hidden away for unknown reasons. 

The sleepy fog lifted from your brain, clearing away sluggish thoughts and any remaining exhaustion lingering in your body.

With a groan, you lowered the phone from your ear and pressed the bright red button, shaking your head as you made your way back to your friends. "No luck," You sighed, shoving the phone in your back pocket and picking up the dripping beer bottle. A chorus of sighs and quiet mutters followed, your friends exchanging looks and eye rolls. "Delilah's probably standing in front of a board full of pictures and little notes right now with her phone on Do Not Disturb."

"Or," Tessa began with a giggle, half her body leaning into her girlfriend's side. "She's totally getting railed by that cop. What was his name? Devin?"

"David." George corrected her with a snicker, earning a glare from you. He raised his hands in mock surrender, more snickers escaping him. "What? We all know he's been trying to get with her since you two broke up. At least he had the decency to wait, (Y/N)." 

Swallowing down the beer, you shook your head. "I don't want to hear about Delilah or David or her ditching us for whatever reason. She always does this." You sighed, pressing your lips against the rim of the bottle and dropping your eyes onto the bar. A shimmer of disappointment swam with the bitterness, almost morphing into regret before Tessa leaned over, her vanilla-scented perfume invading your nostrils. 

"Well," She purred. "There's a pretty brunette at the end of the bar whose been eyeing you since you walked in here. She's real pretty. I bet a little chat, some drinks here and there, and you'll forget all about Delilah by the end of the night, hm? Why don't you give it a shot?" You turned your head and sure enough, right at the end of the bar sat a vaguely familiar brunette with her eyes locked on you. 

Oh, God, the pretty brunette. You squeezed your eyes shut and wracked your name for a name. Hope? Faith? Verity? Something along those lines, one of those names hippies or real rich people gave their nightmare children. You remembered her eyes, vibrant and an almost grayish blue that sparkled brightly with pure glee under the dim bar lighting. Her hair was brown, dark at the roots but lightened toward the end, her let-down strands framing her face just right. She'd been so eager to talk to you, to even listen. The second you sat beside her on that barstool, her attention never left you for more than a second. Damn. A pretty good score, if you had to be honest.

"Hey, you're awake! Good morning." A sweet voice greeted you, and there she was, standing in the doorway. She smiled widely, the bracelet wrapped around her wrist jingling with each step she took into the room. Even it looked expensive. 

"Morning," You cleared your throat and eyed your neatly folded clothes on the chair by the vanity mirror. Better save your ego then take a sugar-coated blow. "Let me just grab my things and I'll get out of here." You told her, getting up from the far too comfortable bed and making a beeline for your clothes. You grabbed your shirt, and then a hand enveloped yours. 

"It's alright, (Y/N). No worries, I promise." She smiled, her fingers curling around yours. "Please, use the bathroom if you need to. I put a spare toothbrush in there for you. You could take one of the robes and shower if you feel like it. I made breakfast for us. I wasn't sure what you'd like so I made pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon."

"Oh, uhm..." You could certainly get used to her lifestyle. "That's... kind of you." 

"Of course." She placed her other hand on your shoulder and leaned in, pressing her lips against your cheek. "I don't know if you remember but I'm Love. Love Quinn."

[venileix]

𝜗𝜚 .Orange Jumpsuit

PAIRING: AJ x F!reader SYNOPSIS: AJ comes home with the jumpsuit tied around his waist, and with his tank top exposing his tattoos and muscles, you find yourself more attracted to him than ever before. WARNINGS: sexual content, oral (giving), Aj's crippling praise and ever so slight degradation kinks NOTES: MDNI!

⋆𝜗𝜚˚｡⋆

You knew AJ was stressed out about this job. They never did another job this fast after an old one, but he promised himself he'd go all in on this so he wouldn't have to get involved in that life for a long time.

You knew that even though he loved the thrill of a job, he was nervous about the lack of overall planning for this one.

Aj always made sure you were flown out of town with friends during his jobs, scared about anything happening to you, but with how sudden this opportunity arose, he had to settle on practically barricading you inside his apartment.

The two of you had been married for just over a year now, and he promised this was his last job.

As the sky grew darker, the abrupt sound of the lock of the door twisting brought your attention away from the dinner you were preparing.

As the door opened, you relaxed at the beeps of the alarm passcode being entered, knowing it was your husband.

Cutting the strawberries for the desert, you felt arms wrap around your waist, "What are you making?"

You gently place the knife down on the cutting board, twisting your body around in your husband's arms to face him.

"Your favorite," You grin, dragging your hands up his exposed arms to rest on his shoulders, "How is everything coming along?"

"All is going according to plan, don’t worry your pretty little head about any of that.” He only ever tells you the basic details of these jobs, not wanting to worry you about his safety.

Aj grinned reassuringly as he looked at the unconvinced look in your eyes. He knew you were concerned for how stressed out he's been lately, and he was starting to feel bad for making you worry.

"You're lucky you're hot," You roll your eyes at your husband playfully before trailing your eyes down his body.

He had that orange jumpsuit they were using as a disguise tied around his waist, exposing his white tank top and tattoos that lined his arms.

He stayed quiet, allowing you to bring your hands up to his hair, pushing some strands back as he looked down at you.

While you didn't mind his obsession over hats, you had always loved when he didn't wear them, so you can mess with his hair.

You brought your hands back down to his shoulders, fingers gently tracing his bicep where he had your name in cursive.

He got it the day before your wedding, surprising you with it on your wedding night. Needless to say, you gave him a nice surprise in return that night.

You can feel Aj's muscles flex under your touch, making you teasingly smirk as you slowly look back up to meet his eyes.

The moment your eyes meet his, his lips are on yours, and the hands that were wrapped around your waist pushed your hips into the counter.

You let him take the lead, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper. Aj's hands find their way to your thighs, pulling your body closer to him, if that was even possible.

"Jump," His breath is hot against your lips, making your eyes flutter open, revealing his smug grin as he stared down at you through eyes heavy with desire.

The hands wrapped around the back of your thighs aided you as you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Aj pulled the two of you away from the kitchen, carrying you towards the plush couch in your living room.

Your usual cooking playlist played softly from the large TV on the wall, filling the air with soothing music.

He takes a seat in the middle of the couch, keeping you in his lap.

"I really like getting to see your tattoos like this," You stare down at Aj, watching him smirk at you admitting to your unhidden attraction to his body.

"I would hope so," his fingers rub circles at your hips, "You did half of them."

You subtly rock your hips forward, teasing the man under you as you press against him, "Well I think I made you look pretty damn hot."

He laughs at your words, gripping at your hips to continue making you grind down against him.

"It's all thanks to you, sweetheart." You giggle at his words, bringing your head down, placing soft kisses against his jaw, leading down his neck towards his collar bone.

He let out heavy breaths at the feeling of your lips on his skin mixed with the feeling of your cunt rocking against him.

You slowly pull away, looking at the beautiful man below you through half lidded eyes, a seductive smirk on your lips, "You seem pretty stressed out."

Aj's eyes follow your movements as you slowly lift yourself from his lap, moving his hands away from you as you now stand in front of him.

"Maybe I should help you with that," You can see his jaw clench as you lower yourself to your knees.

He was at a loss for words as you slowly untie the orange coveralls at his hips, pulling them down to reveal his black boxers.

"Look at this," You giggle at the sight of the wet spot on his boxers that showed his evident excitement, "So fucking desperate for me."

Your words were almost enough to make him lose his cool right then and there, but then, as you placed your palm against his bulge, he melted back into the couch, stuttering whatever he was about to say.

"So pathetic; you're so hard for me," You move your palm away from him, moving to pull down the waistband of his boxers, letting him spring free.

"You're so fucking beautiful, sweethear-" He cuts himself off abruptly with a moan as your lips wrap around his tip.

You suck gently, using your tongue to trace his slit, loving the sounds of his moans and whines.

"You're doing so amazing, darling," His voice is hoarse from the pleasure and the sight of you between his legs.

With the praise, you take more of him into your mouth, moaning at the way his tip hits the back of your throat as you feel his hand tangle itself in your hair.

"That's right," His grip on your hair tightens as you hollow out your cheeks around him, "Just like that, baby."

It was adorable to you how easily you can cause his undoing, how easy it was to make him melt in your hands.

You speed up your movements as you bob your head up and down, changing the pressure of your cheeks around him as you moved.

"Oh, baby," He's practically whimpering as he tugs at your hair, "Please don't stop, I'm so close."

It was like music to your ears, his begging tone making you want to never stop pleasing him.

In just a few more seconds, you feel his tip hit the back of your throat again, releasing his warm seed into your mouth, moaning as he feels your throat constrict with its natural instinct to swallow.

He panted as he pulled your mouth off of him, eyes staring down at you with the most loving look you've ever seen from anyone but him.

"So pretty with my cum down your throat." You both smirk at each other as you wipe your lips.

[psfortune]

Not over yet - (2)

pairing: stalkerexbf!jungkook x female!reader

@ what was leah listening to? : Boyfriend - Ariana Grande

⋆ summary. what do you do if your being stalked? call the police obviously. if you don't and something happens…you cant blame anyone.

⋆ warnings . 18+ mdni… dark/psychotic!jungkook, kidnapping, jungkook expressing his feelings, crying, kissing, angst. lmk if i miss any <3

-

༉‧₊˚.this work is pure fiction. no acts performed in this are linked to the charecters that partake in the story line. please refrain from reading if uncomfortable ༉‧₊˚.

' You're mine forever remember? And i'm yours ' Jungkook said in a ridiculously calm tone.

' that's bullshit. I'm not yours and to be frank i'm happy without you being mine. let. me go.' you stared deep into his piercing glare ' please... '

' no. why can't you just love me y/n? love me like i love you. ' he said almost pleading.

' You don't love me, so what's the point!? ' you said hysterically.

Then everything froze. You froze. Jungkook tilted his head, a psychotic grin stretching across his pale face.

' Don't love.........you? ' he laughed maniacally and grasped your chin forcing you to look at him.

Then he kissed you

It wasn't sweet or passionate, like you're past kisses shared. It was hard, possessive and to your utmost disgust it was alluring. You couldn't help it.

When his hand gripped your nape and his lips devoured yours, you broke and slowly kissed him back, not even trying to keep up.

To your utmost annoyance Jungkook smirked into the kiss, almost impressed you had given in to him.

It was like you were under a spell. One that made you forget all the past troubles between you two. If it was a spell it was a bad one. The illusion lasted a matter of minutes before you pulled away the situation slapping you hard in the face.

' Jungkook I didn't mean to don- ' He cut you off placing a finger to your lips.

' No need to be so cold love. ' he gave you a smug look ' Get some sleep '

' Miss, you need to eat! ' another maid hissed 'You'll be sick otherwise'

You wondered how Jungkook had managed to hire maids. Since the last time you had seen him he hadn't been necessarily the richest person you knew. And after a prison sentence? How had he built himself up from that of all things?

' Do you really care? ' you queried ' Or are you just doing it because ' Master Jeon ' told you to '

The maid looked offended and slammed the plate down onto the stool next to you and stomped out.

A seamstress attempted to make her way in but was stopped

' You shouldn't even bother with her ' the angry maid whispered.

The seamstress eyed her up and down, smiled at you and bundled her equipment through the door, not giving the maid another second of her time.

You smiled back at her ' Why all the dresses? ' you questioned

' Why they're for you of course!! For tonight ? ' she exclaimed, peering at you through her oval-shaped glasses. ' Why you're a beauty aren't you? It will be hard to decide which dress will suit you i suppose '

You blushed ' Thank you.....but what is happening tonight may i ask miss... '

' Oh just call me Sylvia madam, ' she said ' The dresses are for your dinner today with Master Jeon of course ' she pulled out a pale pink dress that looked fit for a princess out of the pile ' Why don't you try this on first? '

You entered the dining room in your extravagant gown. It was your first time being out of your ' room '. It would've been the perfect opportunity to escape....if you weren't being escorted to a room, a floor away by a group of scowling maid. Nice company, not. But you did get to at least see one floor of your prison. It was exquisite. The opposite of your dingy room. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the towering ceiling, beautiful, dainty paintings were all over the walls.

The dining room was even better. A colossal room full of gold flecks everywhere, a huge chandelier placed directly in the center of the ceiling. It was ethereal.

One thing ruined it though

Jungkook sat at one end of the extensive dining table. His presence shattered the beauty of the room. There he sat, back-straight in his perfectly ironed black suit and tie and black dress pants. He was out of place. You fit in, if you did say so yourself, your white and gold dress blended in perfectly. Was this purposeful? No, you had chosen this yourself, and you shook away the thoughts and stared at Jungkook.

' Why did you want to have dinner with me ?' you said abruptly

' Don't you look gorgeous darling. ' he ignored your question, annoying you.

' I said. Why did you want to have dinner with me?! ' you seethed.

' Is it so wrong to want to have dinner with my girlfriend? ' he said calmly

' I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND ' you shouted

' Calm down, sweetheart. ' his tone still calm. ' Why don't you sit down? Cook made sure he fit you needs, no peaches i promise '

he remembers...

You'd always hated peaches. You weren't allergic, you'd just never liked them? It suprised you that he still remembered, but you weren't about to show it.

You sat down all the way on the other side of the table, making a show of sitting down. Of course, Jungkook wouldn't let that happen.

He stood up and strutted over to you. He grabbed you wrist and dragged you over to his seat. You let it happen. There's no point wasting energy on this.

You tried to sit down on the seat next to him at least.

But no that wasn't even good enough for Jungkook.

He pulled you onto his lap in one swift move, wrapping his arms around you waist as you squirmed.

' Stop moving love '

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You (AU)

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: What if the fall of the Ministry didn’t interrupt the wedding? For @pearlsofme

A/N: A fun smutty little AU for Before I Knew You based off this conversation, taking place during Part Five. A big thank you to the anon who started it off and to Riele for encouraging me always 💕 Sorry it’s not an official update!

Warnings: 18+, smut, unedited, AU. Minors DNI.

It was several dances later when your legs begged for a break. Muriel seemed distracted far on the opposite side of the tent, talking the ear off some poor soul she'd cornered, but Bill guided you along a longer route around the dance floor to avoid falling into her line of sight. Hagrid's drunken voice had fallen silent, though his snores echoed nearly as loud as the music. Everyone had decided to take a break from dancing. Luna had joined the table, leaving only a single vacant seat.

Fred smiled up at you with glazed over eyes. He pushed his chair back and patted his lap. "Need a seat, love?"

Bill’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Don’t be gross,” Ginny chastised.

He swirled his wand over his head. “I was just offering to summon a chair,” he said, as one nearly crashed against your legs. “What did you think I meant?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on Luna.

Bill dragged you and the chair to the other side of the table. Charlie said something as you sat between him and his older brother, but considering it was in a language you didn’t speak you couldn’t understand what. Bill, however, could and replied equally incomprehensibly. You listened to the back and forth until Bill seemed to end the conversation. He didn’t sound happy.

“Everything alright?”

He nodded, thumb dragging across the back of the hand he still held. “Fred’s never been great at holding his liquor. Or his tongue.”

“Oh,” is all you add. There’s a lot worse innuendos he’s made sober, but you don’t think Bill would want to hear that at the moment. “What language was that?”

“Arabic.”

He continued to hold your hand as he explained how he’d ended up learning Arabic while working in Egypt. Charlie had learned it from some coworkers in Romania. He butt in to add that he’d learned a total of six languages while in Romania. Seven if you counted reading a dragon’s body language.

It’s easy to talk to Bill. Easy to smile and laugh. Easy to lean into him. Easy to let his hold on your hand become a hold on your thigh.

You blinked and the party appeared nearly over. Half the guests gone, the other half milling about subdued either by fatigue or a large quantity of liquor. The older women scooped up the centerpieces. Charlie had gone off somewhere. Ginny had gravitated towards a disguised Harry. The twins had been tasked with helping get Hagrid back to the tent he’d set up the night before, something that was taking far longer than they’d planned.

The happy couple stopped at the table to say their final goodbye. Bill’s hand didn’t move despite the raised brow Tonks gave him. You felt the heat on your face when she left you with a wink.

“You alright?” he asked, thumb drawing circles on your thigh.

“Yeah, just,” you swallowed hard, trying not to waver in your resolve, “everyone might be back soon. Think we oughta call it a night and head up to bed.”

His hand retreated immediately. “Right, yeah, right, of course.”

God, how bad at this were you? “Together?” It sounded more like a question than the statement you’d meant to make it.

“Together?”

His echoing of the question made your embarrassment far worse. Had you misread it all? “I mean—only if you—I thought—” You floundered. His laugh made you want to bury your head in sand.

“Take a breath, love.” His voice dropped as he leaned in closer, hand back on your thigh rising  up. “I want nothing more than to head up…together.” His breath stuttered when your legs widened on instinct. “Head on up, yeah? I, uh, need a minute.” With a final squeeze, his hand retreated and he sat back. The large bulge in his pants had your mind reeling.

The trek back to the Burrow was short. You were nearly to the door when you were thwarted.

“There you are dear!” Molly seemed to appear from nowhere. Trapped, you stood there and listened as she went on and on and on about the wedding. How grateful she had been for your help, how nice you looked into your dress, how kind it was of you to keep Bill company, how happy Remus seemed. “I didn’t think keeping the party would be a good idea, but Bill insisted. He’s such a good boy, so caring. I know he was hurting and he still put on a smile for his friends.”

Your stomach sank.

“For the best it was, I suppose. Tonks looked wonderful, didn’t she?”

“Beautiful,” Bill confirmed from behind you. You’d been standing there too long. His hand found the small of your back, fingers spread wide. “Thought you were off to bed?”

“Oh, dear I’m sorry!” Molly intoned. “Didn’t mean to keep you from bed. Go, go,” she waved you off, “Bill be a dear and make sure she gets to bed. Godric knows your brothers would try to pull one of their tricks. Why they can’t be more gentlemanly like you and Charlie...”

Bill didn’t need further instruction. He pushed you forward, through the door, and up the steps. Out of earshot, he let out a laugh. “She’s worried about the wrong brothers.” His hand slipped down your back and patted your ass. It stayed there until you reached your door. It was already slightly open. He pushed it open to reveal Charlie passed out on your bed with his shoes still on, hanging over the edge. With a flick of Bill’s wand, the lights extinguished, the curtains pulled closed, and the blanket slid around the sleeping man.

“Guess it’s my room then.”

You barely covered your mouth in time to tamp down a squeal as he lifted you and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You’d have to remember to add inhuman strength to the list of side effects of non-lunar werewolf scratches. “Bill,” you hissed, clinging to his back while he climbed the stairs, “someone could see.”

The door opened with a creak. “Should be more worried about them hearing us.” He let you down when the door closed, but he didn’t let you go far. Back pressed against the door, you’re forced to turn your head up to look at him. Something in your expression made his smile pause. “You sure you want this?”

Your hand rested on his chest. “Yeah. You?” Beneath your touch, you felt the conformation ease the tightness in his chest.

“Since the moment I saw you.” He let his hold find your waist. “In the dress,” is added as an afterthought. He crushed you with a kiss, leaving you incapable of more thought. He’s demanding, rough. Experienced in a way you aren’t. Your hands trembled. “Too much?” he asked, pulling away.

You gripped his jacket and tugged him back. “No.”

A hand ran up your leg, discarded your wand, and continued beneath your skirt. He hummed his appreciation against your lips when his fingers found the drenched fabric. "So wet." The tip of his finger traced along the hem and pushed under the fabric. You whined, head knocked against the wood, eyes closed, as his finger slid across your clit. "Bill..."

"Say it again." His finger pressed hard little circles.

“Bill.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his free hand working the front of his pants. He pushed them down, letting his cock free. The weight bounced against your stomach.

Your head snapped down.

“Like what you see?”

Cillian hadn’t seemed small at the time, but comparatively, “It’s bigger than I’m used to.”

Bill chuckled and kissed you. “Sure know how to feed a guy’s ego, don’t you?” The same hand found its way to your ass and lifted you with ease. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

You did, hooking your ankles behind his back.

The hand between your legs departed. He used it to guide himself along your slit. “So fucking wet.”With a roll of his hips, his cock pushed its way in. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. Slowly, he sunk deeper. The stretch burned pleasantly. When he found resistance, his hands found your hip and tilted them to let his cock reach deeper.

You couldn't stop the cry that tore from your lips.

"Shhh." He kissed the corner of your mouth, his hips setting a rhythm. "Don't want the whole house to hear, do you?"

You buried your head in his neck. The pace was steady, each thrust deep and slow. You couldn’t keep completely quiet. Not when you felt his cock rubbing along every inch. He wasn't much better. His groans vibrated in his chest and rumbled against your head.

"You feel so good," he mumbled. "Better than I imagined. Fucking perfect." He shifted, snaking one arm under you to keep you up and the other slipping back between you. His fingers found your clit again.

"You feel so good," he mumbled. "Better than I imagined. Fucking perfect." He shifted, snaking one arm under you to keep you up and the other slipping back between you. His fingers found your clit again.

"Bill," you breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Close, love?"

You nod, eyes squeezed shut, legs squeezing tighter around him.

"Need to feel you cum. Can you do that for me? Cum all over my cock?"

Your response was another moan of his name.

“That’s it, love, just like that.”

Your body willingly obliged, clinging breathlessly  to him as you came undone. A low groan tore from his throat as you spasmed around him. He slowed to a stop as you came down from the peak.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Do you need a minute or?”

“I’m good,” you managed to say. He was still hard, rocking into you with more patience than you could have mustered. You pulsed around him, causing him his pace to falter for a moment.

Air swirled around you. Your back met the bed. Bill hovered above you, cock still inside, hands planted on either side of your head. “I’m trying to last, love, but if you keep squeezing me like that…”

A wicked grin pulled at your lips. “Like this?”

His eyes shut with a growl. “Brat.”

You did it again.

His hips slammed forward, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand gathered your wrists and pinned them above your head. The other wrapped around a leg and lifted it for a better angle. Gone were the gentle, slow strokes. Each thrust was sharp and unrestrained.

He found your clit again. His kiss swallowed your cry of his name. Pleasure coursed through you again. The unexpected intensity had your toes curling, eyes squeezing shut, back arching off. Your name came out of him like a prayer. He pulsed and his pace stuttered as warmth coated inside.

Bill collapsed beside you, breathless. Sweat clung to his hair and the raised edges of his scars. His suit was ruffled.

Your freed hands reached to pull down the dress that had gathered around your waist.

“Let me,” he said, sitting up to pull the hem back into place. He took an extra moment to slide your knickers back too. His hands trailed down your legs and slipped off your heels. He threw them on to the floor, his own shoes following a moment later. He stood to pull up his boxers and strip away the rest of his clothes. “Here,” he offered, holding out a shirt he pulled from a drawer. “It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scooted off the bed and reached for the zipper on the dress, but it was out of reach. Bill laughed, standing from where he'd recovered your discarded wand, and came to help. “I should shower,” you said, feeling his release beginning to pool in your knickers.

“Would I be crossing the line if I asked you not to?” You looked at him over your shoulder as he dragged the zipper down. “You smell like me.” He tugged the dress, letting it fall to the floor. “I like that.”

You couldn’t find the right words to respond so you just nodded. With the shirt on, he pulled you back into bed. Unsatisfied, his arm slung around your waist and dragged you flush against him. “Good night, love.”

You’d wake up early and shower then. If anyone saw you leaving the room, you could blame it on Charlie being in your bed. Bill had been nice enough to lend something more comfortable than a dress to sleep in. It would be fine to sleep here in his arms. No one would find out. Maybe it could happen again when Charlie leaves. If Bill wanted it to happen again, that is.

You shut your eyes and nuzzled against him. “Good night, Bill.”

—

You woke with a start, a loud banging rattling your bones and making you jump.

“Oy! Wakey-wa—aaat the fuck?

Part Six

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofrian @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23 @queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @manzanosstuff @hungrhay @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie @pancakefancake

[kijosakka]

TD Alenoah AU, where Noah came from a messed up family like Alejandro did... When Noah was a kid, Noah's parents became divorced and Noah's mother took the sisters, while leaving Noah with his ambitious father (because the mother grew to resent anything male)... Noah's father wanted to take advantage of the fact that Noah was a genius to make Noah a scientist or something and get rich off of him... Noah's father pressured Noah to study hard all the time, to go to a great college and earn the love of his father... The father would sometimes even make Noah stay up late at night studying until Noah knows everything perfectly (which is why present teen Noah gets tired so easily)...

When Noah was finished with elementary school, his Aunt (from his mother's side) and Uncle came to visit Noah and they were horrified at how his father was treating him... Noah's father got thrown in jail and Noah's mother refuses to take care of him, so Noah was taken in by his aunt and uncle; they became Noah's true family... The aunt and uncle were very loving and kind and patient with Noah, which Noah is very grateful for... Noah's little cousins look up to Noah and idolize him, while in return Noah cares about them deeply... His cousins are currently 10 and 12 years old girls; they're chaotic, love sports and love having adventures in nature; Izzy and Eva remind Noah of his dear cousins...

Noah had NEVER told anyone this before, not even Owen, because Noah is ashamed of his past... But Noah eventually decides to tell Alejandro (who he was friends with for a super long time at that point), when Alejandro first told Noah about how horrible his family was... When Alejandro heard what Noah went though, he gave Noah a hug! 💔❤️💖

i do think exploring how noah would not only interact with alejandro in this scenario but how it shapes him outside of his canon characterization could be really interesting here.

because, and please take this with a grain of salt i’ve been patiently waiting to take my ap psych class for months and still haven’t been able to, in-universe at least, noahs general Behaviors are kinda just. there?

granted this is narratively because he’s a comic relief character but my point here is that he’s just kinda an asshole. that’s just how he Is. but here it would make more sense for that to be more of a defense mechanism than a facet of personality — leading into how this hypothetical noah would socialize.

^ sticking in a parallel here to alejandro’s family dynamic (the made-up one. in my head.), there might be a general. lack. of it.

i can imagine what with such a heavy push to focus only on academics, noah ended up missing out on having friends and further than that, potentially believing it as normal for a good while; and while he’d come to learn (pre-td) that wasn’t the case, i’d imagine TD would be the first time that notion is ever confronted head-on.

head-on beyond family, of course, imagining that when everything is said and done and he’s under custody of other family he’s rightfully touchy about the subject and prefers to not confront the issue at all — and of course the potential here for noah to lean hard into academics as a kind of escapism since he really didn’t grow up with much else.

not to say he doesn’t have any growth at all, because i can definitely see burnout hitting noah like a semi around his highschool years (not to mention chronic sleep deprivation and years of ignoring bodily cues).

so say his grades slip, and despite being in a better environment he is still terrified of punishment; he’s, for lack of a better term, really fucking stressed out. and through that, some well meaning family member brings up the idea of total drama (seeing as in-universe it’s implied it was more in-line with a talent show and all the contestants believed it would take place on a 5-star resort), and,, to be honest i can see it as possible that noah would read into it as 'we don't want you here' and accept out of reprimand.

circling back around -- total drama is the first proper thing to confront his lack of socialization; while i am a tragic fan of the 'noah got himself eliminated on purpose' theory, i do think it would make more sense here for him to have genuinely not known. Zero Social Skills.

(^ and is furthermore an example of how his childhood shaped him -- he doesn't think he needs to be good at socializing because he's academically smart and that should be enough. that's always been what he's pushed towards, and the standards are logically lower here -- he'd been taught that's all that mattered and while he's learned since then that is objectively false, this is the first time he's being forced to face it.)

anyway i'd imagine he finds eva, izzy, and owen all easiest to socialize himself with because of all their specific personality traits and how there really are no faux pas he's in fear of making (and ofc the parallels he sees with certain cousins and his friends).

post-tdi but especially post-action i think would be when noah also moves on to confronting those issues with his family specifically (bringing up things like his major stresses with academics), leading to him being pulled out of school entirely and doing self-paced online coursework,,, and of course now giving him time to Get A Job.

world tour,, ngl going full au here i do think it would work better if alejandro and noah left off WT as genuinely just friends -- what with the familial traumas and potentially rather heavy themes, i think it'd work better overall for their dynamic to literally just be friends for a while and have it develop into something more later.

also just as a concept i think it would be funny for alejandro and noah, once learning about each others terrible families and being deeper into the healing process themselves to just make the worst fucking jokes ever. most inopportune. izzy laughs along while eva and owen are quite concerned (sticking alejandro into team escope + owen here btw. put that Guy in That Group)

[introvertpluviophile]

Ryan Gosling’s improved lines vs what made the final cut 🤣

credits to owner: @mr.mcmuffinm4n (instagram)

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“You’ve fallen for them, haven’t you?” Price asked, following Simon’s line of sight, his eyes landing on your figure.

Your laughter filled the air, causing a smile to form on both the men’s lips. They’d been watching you for the last few minutes, casually joking about with Soap.

Simon was quiet as his mind filled with thoughts of you. The way you always smiled at him, even in the worst of times. The way you laughed so care free, a laugh that could cure any ailment Simon could possibly have. The way you cared for him, more than he’d ever had someone care for him in his life.

Prices eyes drifted back toward Simon, a small smile dancing on his lips. “It warms an old man’s heart you know.”

Simon looked over at his captain, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s that?”

“I’ve known you for how many years, Simon?” Price rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he held Simon’s gaze. “Never once have I seen you smile the way you do around them. You deserve to be happy, son.”

Simon let Price’s words sink in, the prospect of being with you in that way was not entirely unwelcome for Simon. But he was scared. Simon was such a broken mess of a man that he truly believed nothing could piece him back together.

Price stood, drawing Simon’s attention back to him, and clasped Simon’s shoulder firmly. “Don’t let that thick skull of yours prevent you from being happy. Take it from someone who knows.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon found you again later that day, his palms sweaty from his nerves. “Hey, you got a sec?”

You looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of you, the warm smile lining your lips as you looked at Simon had his knees nearly buckling. “Of course.”

Any confidence Simon had walking in there, was now gone as he stared down at you. Your E/C eyes melting his insides as he struggled to formulate the words he’d just practiced earlier.

“I..” Damnit! What was wrong with him? He was Simon fucking Riley for god sakes. He was supposed to be fearless. Yet here he was rendered a stuttering mess in front of you. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft giggle, causing Simon’s insides to warm. “Is everything okay, Si?”

Your nickname for him always had Simons brain in a fog, and it certainly wasn’t helping his case in this moment. “Yeah, yeah I just uh..”

You patiently watched as Simon struggled to form the words, your smile never faltering as his eyes drifted toward your lips.

“Are you free later?” He finally asked, his words coming out rushed.

“Is there a training?” You pondered, your mind flicking through the upcoming training schedule. “I wasn’t made-.”

“No.” Simon interjected. “It’s uh.. it’d just be you and I. There’s this pub I like to go to by base.”

Simon didn’t think it possible, but your smile widened even more, taking up the entire lower half of your face. “Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Riley?”

His cheeks burned crimson as your teasing, his belly doing flip flops as he gave you a curt nod. “Affirmative.”

“I would love that.” You said, as you stood to your feet. “It’s about damn time you asked me.”

Simon smiled brighter and wider than he’d ever had in his life, his mind now swirling with thoughts of the perfect first date. For the first time in a long time, Simon Riley was excited.

Maybe something could piece together his broken self after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: please excuse my multiple Simon fluff pieces. Ya girl has to heal🥹

[justporo]

So you'll see tomorrow

A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.

Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice

~~~

So this was it.

This is how they would all die.

There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…

Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.

“Staeve.”

He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.

It scared him.

“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”

Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.

“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.

“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”

Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.

He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.

Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.

But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.

The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.

And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.

He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.

“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”

Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.

Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.

There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.

“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”

Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.

Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.

Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.

One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.

The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.

When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.

“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.

Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.

Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.

[nexusnyx]

miss sunshine

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k] summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought. 📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.

read on ao3 | masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.

When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.

Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.

Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."

Fuck.

Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

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