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junosmindpalace · 3 months

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GEMINI BIRTHDAY BASH!

🎧 it's so sweet, knowing that you love me.

synopsis: celebrating their birthday...w/ the hq gemini men!

pairing(s): timeskip/present!hajime iwaizumi, koshi sugawara, shoyo hinata

content: references to 2024 dates but doesn't need to be strictly speaking (iwa's is more 2021), food (in suga's and hinata's), very short and brief angst(?), otherwise all fluff and fun!

total wc: 3.6k

a/n: it was my birthday a few days ago (june 17th) and i thought i would celebrate by writing for some gemini characters! i know shoyo is a cusp but i wanted to write him too </3 also this was my first time creating a graphic please be nice i am aware its a little plain </33

HAJIME IWAIZUMI: JUNE 10TH

The clock in your living room reads 11:55 in the evening; Hajime’s birthday is five minutes away.

You both have work in the morning, so you should be in bed sound asleep. Everything has been done as normal; the whole nighttime routine of eating dinner (that you insisted on making) together, showering, brushing your teeth. Except instead of completing the routine by cozying up in bed, you’re cozying up on your living room couch, the light in the kitchen on, and the blue light from the TV keeping your tired eyes in a trance.

Hajime’s arm is lazily outstretched over your shoulders, your fingers intertwined with the hand that dangles beside your head. His other arm is bent sideways on the couch pillow, head against his fist as he watches through bleary eyes the movie in front of him. Though your eyes are trained on the action on the TV, your ears don’t process the mumbling that pairs with it, too engrossed in your low conversation about each others’ day.

“—and Hinata wanted something more to do for himself, so I’ll be reviewing his progress and seeing what I can do. Seriously, the guy is a monster at times. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m really looking at him, with how far he’s come since his high school days.”

“They all seem to be of another caliber now,” you replied somewhat drowsily, yet no less engaged.

“They’re intense, that’s for sure,” he sighs, bringing his head to rest behind the cushion and leaning closer toward your own. “But they’ve always been like that.”

He’s completely unaware of the time and date approaching as he drones quietly about the day he’s had. He notices, on occasion, your glances up at the wall where your clock was located, and thought you were anxious to get to sleep.

“Hey,” he nudges your knee with his own. “you wanna head to bed?”

“Hm? No, no, not yet. Keep talking, I wanna hear.”

Upon your insistence, he obliged reluctantly, resuming his chatter for a little while longer as you hum and nod.

He feels comfortable like this, with your head against his chest, body snuggled close to his side, the low hum of the TV, the dim light. He, for a moment, finds his eyes gently closing unconsciously. You wait for him to continue his explanation at a pause, but are only met with the quietness of the TV. A slight stir prompts Hajime’s eyes to open immediately, and he shifts a little as he takes in your face, peering up at him through small eyes.

“Haji.”

“Mm?”

“You sleeping?”

“M’not.”

You placed a hand on his chest as you turned your body to look at the clock. It now reads 12:04 in the morning. You rub your eyes and reach for the phone on the coffee table in front of you, and when it blinks to life, it blinds you with the time and the new date.

June 10.

“Ugh, put that away,” Hajime groaned as he turned away from the straining light on your phone, lolling his head to the other side against the couch cushion. You quickly slid it back onto the table, and then collapsed again against your boyfriend’s chest, hugging his middle tightly and digging your chin into his chest as you looked up at him with a wide smile.

“Happy birthday, Haji.”

His eyes reopen slightly, and he angles his head toward the clock to view the time for himself: 12:05.

He tucks his chin in so he meets your gaze and the sweet, tired smile on your face, and finds one of his own, tired yet tender, slowly propping up the apples of his cheeks. So that’s why you had been eyeing the clock, all for him and his silly birthday. Of course it would be you who remembers his birthday before he even does. You were sweet and thoughtful in that way.

“So that’s why you wanted to stay up a little longer, huh?” His tone is a faux annoyance for only a moment before his arm around your shoulders curls a little tighter in endearment, and he knocks his forehead against yours, gently and playfully, as you let out a short giggle at the gesture. “Thank you, baby.”

“What do you wish for?”

“To get some rest,” he yawned as he pulled away, going to sit up from the couch.

“Why would you say that? Now it won’t come true!”

Your weight on his lap and arms now thrown around his neck anchored him to the couch. He gives you a deadpan look as a hand finds its way rubbing gently up and down your lower back, while the other slowly snakes itself under your legs.

“Oh, I’ll make it come true.”

You squeal when he sits up and scoops you up in one swift motion, and you throw your head back in quiet laughter as he walks the two of you to your bedroom.

“Haji, you know, it's your birthday. I should be the one carrying you.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. “ It’s my birthday, right? I get to do what I want.”

KOSHI SUGAWARA: JUNE 14TH

Sugawara was dejected when he realized he had to work on his birthday.

As if the universe was taunting him, this year it fell right on a Friday, just one day off from the weekend.

If he were honest, however, it wasn’t too much of a bother. He mentally groaned about it the evening before and morning of, but all in all, his birthday was a fleeting thought in his mind. Work and everyday busyness replaced the thought with lesson plans and mental preparedness to handle a classroom of young children after an exhausting week.

He hoped, at the very least, however, that you would recognize the oddness of the day, do a little something to acknowledge it. Maybe a small cake or a nice breakfast. Maybe a little present. Hell, just a small, intimate murmur of a happy birthday accompanied with a sweet kiss would elevate his heart. Yet every time he looked on at you, you were preoccupied with preparing yourself for work, just as Suga was. No fancy breakfast was prepared, no gift sat on the table by the door, and the only kiss he was able to snag was a hurried one on the cheek as you wished him a good day, and headed out the door and into your car.

So Suga’s birthday was not off to a great start.

But again, it’s only a birthday. He almost feels a little dumb, getting all worked up over it, especially as an adult. So he makes the most out of the day as he always does with his kids and their lively attitudes, plus the wind down time and lack of work reserved for Friday’s brightens his special day from the dejected morning he experienced earlier.

Little did your boyfriend know of the plans you had in store for him.

As humble as Sugawara attempted to be about his birthday, you knew that he liked having it acknowledged. He was appreciative of any and all kind birthday gestures, from simple greetings to thoughtful presents. And you wanted your present for him to be thoughtful. Memorable. Surprising, exciting, and able to convey the sheer amount of affection you hold for him, though you doubted that any gesture could entirely convey such a thing. But your mission this year was to sure try.

You had taken the day off to get everything under way. Pick up a nice cake you ordered a few days before, with Suga’s favorite flavor of icing and batter, along with a neat and heartfelt Happy Birthday written on top in cursive.

Once the cake was tucked away in your fridge, your next stop was a party store. Perhaps you may have overdone it with the decorations, you had thought to yourself when you examined your two (full) shopping bags as you walked back to your car, but there was just so much to choose from, and you were sure Suga would like it all! Banners, balloons of impressive and wacky sizes and shapes, streamers, confetti, party poppers; you couldn’t pass up a single thing, not when you imagined his enthusiasm over each one.

Your final stop was for restocking on foods and drinks. Besides the cake, you bought a couple of bottles of fancy alcohol (the one’s he’ll often eye and make fun of how posh they sound), a couple of his favorite snacks and beverages, and the like.

By the time Suga arrived home from work, he’s exhausted, yet somehow invigorated by the idea of seeing you. He lets himself into the house with his key, letting out a tired I’m home, heart picking up when he spots your shoes neatly organized in the genkan, and joins his own beside them as he pads further into your home toward an alluring smell.

The light is low in your living room. It’s enveloped in a yellow glow compared to the blinding bright white that startles him awake and strains his tired eyes in the morning. The first thing that comes into his line of sight, besides you, already in comfortable clothing with your back turned and managing something on the table in front of you, is a neat and beautiful cake on the coffee table in front of your couch.

Your living room is full of more animated color than usual; batches of balloons occupy the corners and a few are scattered, some hovering aimlessly, on your floor. A Happy Birthday banner hangs from above the threshold into the room. Suga, once the initial shock and surprise wore off and was able to fully comprehend that it was all for him, felt that he may burst into tears.

You hurriedly turned around upon sensing a new presence in the living room, and gasped when it was none other than your boyfriend, briefcase in hand, and staring dumbfounded at you and the sight of your decorated living room.

“Ko! I didn’t expect you to be home this soon!”

“Traffic was sparse.” He managed to get out past the lump in throat, but once he realized how stupid he appeared, he shook his head in an attempt to feign nonchalance. “So! What is, uh…what’s all this?”

Your brows shot up, and you gave him an exasperated smile before walking over to him. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said slyly, wrapping your arms around his neck, with Suga immediately reciprocating with a hand to your back. “I was still setting up some stuff because I was under the impression that I still had some time before you came home.”

“Oh, so you wanted me to get stuck in traffic, is that it?” He teases in a faux annoyed tone, but it’s quickly betrayed by the smile that immediately stretches back over his face.

“In this instance, yes!” You laughed, grinning yourself when he began to pepper kisses all over your neck and face, curling his arm around your waist to keep you secure against him. You laughed breathlessly through the assault, attempting to push away the ticklish sensation. But Suga’s energy had just been replenished fully, and his heart elevated the highest it ever could.

“It’s perfect, all of it. Thank you.” he halts his assault to mutter against your skin through his lovesick smile, and it brings a grin to your own lips as you bring him in for one final kiss on his lips, one he immediately attempts to deepen.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh as you pull away when he whines and chases after your lips. “Now that you’re here, let’s sing!”

He laughs too, letting you drag him further into your living room, abandoning his briefcase by the wall as he sat himself down on your couch, and you came over with the lighter you were previously fiddling with to light the candles on the small cake.

All he could think about as you sang to him enthusiastically was how giddy he felt, and how lucky he was that he was spending his birthday in such a manner with you. And when he blew out his candles, the wish at the forefront of his mind was to spend many more birthdays with you in this manner

(and maybe a new car).

Even as you shooed him into the bathroom to change into more comfortable clothes as you cut yourselves slices to enjoy by the TV, and afterward retreated to bed, he muttered, “I’m still mad that you tricked me, by the way.” as the two of you closed your eyes.

Which earned him a swat to the chest.

SHOYO HINATA: JUNE 21ST

Shoyo absolutely cannot deny the fact that he’s had a great birthday since the moment the sun rose in the sky.

His special day began with an influx of texts and calls from family and friends to wish him a happy birthday, and use the opportunity to catch up with him. Nearly every moment of his morning was taken up by a different phone call that he took as he prepared himself for the training he had that day. When he arrived at the training center, his team immediately pounced on him, greeting him with enthusiastic cheers and a round of singing.

And while he can almost say his birthday was perfect, with all the texts and calls he received and the thoughtful birthday treatment, his one and only regret was the fact that you weren’t there to celebrate with him.

His birthday this year happened to coincide with travel for upcoming tournaments, which unfortunately meant that you wouldn’t be celebrating alongside him in person. But just because you weren’t there in the flesh to hug him tight and sing loudly in his ear, it didn’t prevent you in the slightest from doing whatever you could virtually to make him feel good on his special day.

At least, he had hoped it wouldn’t.

He had picked up your call eagerly on the day of his birthday, and grinned from ear to ear as you sang to him loudly and exaggeratedly. When you finished your song and exchanged all your morning pleasantries, to his absolute dejectment, you had informed Shoyo with a guilty tone that you would be unable to call or text for the majority of the day.

“I’m sorry, Sho, something suddenly came up for work, and I’m going to be swamped. I’ll call you tonight, I promise!”

The disappointment he felt was tremendous, yet he easily covered it up with an understanding nod and reassuring words that he’d stay up to catch your call. It wasn’t like he was really expecting your schedule to be free the entire day so he can call and text whenever. Besides, he was miles away from you; it would be selfish for him to expect that your schedule would be all free for him when his wasn’t.

So Shoyo made the most out of his birthday without you, and there wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t grinning. Enjoying delicious meals, being on the receiving end of all sorts of enthusiasm, excitement and birthday traditions from friends, family, colleagues and fans alike; each kind birthday gesture lifted his heart to Cloud 9.

The day concluded, after practice in the training facility when the sun began to die out in the sky, with Shoyo’s team insisting that they treat him to a celebratory dinner at some nice restaurant with some excellent international cuisine, allowing him to get a small taste of home. And Shoyo’s stomach was starting to churn, and it wasn’t like he was about to pass up a free meal…

The company took cramped spots in a booth inside the restaurant, bringing a few spare chairs to form a full circle around the large, polished wooden table jutting out from the wall. The setting sun meant that there was still some time before the restaurant could anticipate a more busy dining area.

Shoyo was spoiled with trays of meat, bowls of rice, and all sorts of other cuisine that he sampled from the plates of his colleagues. By the time the sun had nearly fully disappeared beneath the horizon, each one of their appetites was satiated, full and content with their meals.

As if Shoyo’s birthday couldn’t get any better so late into the day, it was about to become complete in the most unexpected and perfect way imaginable. Though the team was full, they could spare the appetite for a dessert, the most fitting conclusion for a birthday: because what’s a birthday without a cake?

Shoyo’s team accompanied him home with eager conversation, yet strange occasional whispers among themselves. Perhaps all the celebration was all a little too much?

When they arrived in a large group by his front door, Shoyo took notice of poorly hidden sly smiles and eager eyes from the teammates across from him, exchanging them among themselves as he fiddled with his keys.

He’s the first to step inside the dark room, calling out to nobody in particular an I’m home!, as was routine for him to do. His heart suddenly stops, however, when he hears a voice answer.

“Welcome back!”

His teammates burst out into chuckles and giggles. “Ah, it looks like our dessert is here!” One of them nodded his head toward the living room.

When Shoyo makes his way reluctantly further into his apartment, initially confused, his furrowed brows immediately relax when he turns on the overhead light, and he feels as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs and hitched in his throat.

At first, he thinks that perhaps he’s gotten a little homesick being without you, his special person, on his special day. He’d been thinking of you in intervals at every peak of his day. Surely now his exhaustion is crashing down on him, making him see things?

But your eager grin and short laughter as you took in his shocked expression tells him otherwise. You were here, in the flesh, standing right before him--

He all too suddenly finds himself squeezing you tight in his arms, and you immediately reciprocate with one hand coming around his neck, collective aww’s and teasing ew’s going round at the affectionate sight.

“Hold on there, Shoyo, the cake!”

He quickly steps away when he suddenly feels an object collide gently with his side, and he only partially lets you go as he steps back to look at a box you were holding in your other hand. You grinned at him.

“Surprise!”

He doesn’t dare let go of your hand even when you set the cake down and urge him to take a seat on his couch, taking an electronic candle you had bought on your way to his apartment and placing it at the very center. His entire team begins to sing to him once more as they crowd around him on the couch and around the table, this time with you joining in standing beside him, and his smile feels almost painful with the way it doesn’t falter for a second.

When the song ends, a round of cheers go around the table, and you remove the candle to place it in a napkin. You turn toward each other, and you place a hand on his shoulder as you lean down to give him a kiss on his temple and mumble a more quiet, personal happy birthday.

And just as he was about to lean over to capture your lips in an enthusiastic kiss, let thank you after thank you fall from his lips for such a grand surprise, all for him, you grabbed hold of his head, turned it back toward the cake, and shoved his face right into the center of it.

Gasps and cheers alike went around the table, and the rest of his team laughed at the bold and sudden gesture. He could hear your own soft laughter as his face gradually emerged from the cake, and the shrills and hollers from his teammates grew louder as they took in the sight of the icing and chunks of cake sticking to various sides. They continued to bark out laughter as he wiped the chunks away from his eyes, staring at them on his fingertips before turning toward you, hiding a smile behind your hand as you mouthed over it an I'm sorry.

Shoyo rose silently halfway from his seat, leaned over toward you, and before anyone could properly call on what he was about to do, smeared the cake on his hands onto your own face, and a new wave of audible surprise and amusement went around the table.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“I hear you, Shoyo,” one of his teammates hovered over his seat as he took a large chunk of the cake with his bare hands, and immediately smeared it onto his colleague beside him. “You look better like this, anyway.”

The table erupted into chaos, with the remainder of the unassualted teammates running away from the assault.

“Quick, scatter, before they get us too!”

“Oh, you aren’t escaping that easily!”

Running, breathless laughter, and shrills of alarm rang out in a chaotic symphony throughout the apartment, but amidst the chaos, only you and Shoyo remained by the couch side by side, hunched over laughing at each other’s ruined faces. Despite the ruined cake, the madness in his home, and the icing running down your faces, Shoyo’s heart thrums with love and happiness, and he steps forward to cup your cool cheeks and halt your giggles by capturing your lips in a deep and (literally) sweet kiss.

Now, perhaps, Shoyo could say his birthday was perfect.

return to masterlist.

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deuxcherise · 4 months

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Collar Crimes: Weasel In

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, yandere OC, yandere male, whiny yandere, gender neutral reader, comfort (?), fluff (?), mentions violent action, cute image of stoat for reference A/n: So I watched a video about a stoat, a type of weasel, and oml it's adorable as heck. And vicious. And we can’t deny a cute yandere, can we? Enjoy~ Masterlist | Part 0, Part 1 (you're here!), Part 2

The stoat is a very lovely creature. Quite small, halfway tamable, and very weasel-like. A long-shaped living doll of a creature. However, it is… less cute in its mannerisms. You've seen it, with its tiny form, take down a rabbit twice its size and thickness. You were a child back then when you witnessed this shocking event, and have long since accepted that not all cute things are gentle and innocent.

Perhaps that is why you haven't called the police yet, though you definitely keep your phone on hand. Just in case…

"(Y-Y/n)... I… This is not what it looks like!”

Really? Then what the heck are you looking at?

The very large trash bag he is dragging away in the alleyway next to your apartment has a very suspiciously human shape, with the head, the armed-bound torso, and bound legs. Sure, an idiot could chalk it up to Eris's strange tying technique, but you are no idiot.

Not to mention, the bag is starting to squirm and makes a muffled noise.

“Quiet,” Eris spit before he stomps on the bag so hard you could hear a crack. The bag immediately stills. He then turns to you with a bashful smile, like the kind of smile you’d find on a person who accidentally made a mess in the kitchen because they were trying to make a cake for you.

…..

Yeah, that’s the same exact smile he had when the one time you found him in your kitchen at 3AM, in the middle of baking a cake for your birthday. Sweet as the gesture was, you have never given him a key to your apartment.

You sigh. “Listen, could you please be more…” You gesture to this whole scene with circular motions of both of your hands. “Inconspicuous about your crimes?”

Eris's eyes sparkle. “Of course, my love! I made sure there aren't any cameras or witnesses here to catch me!”

There were many cameras set up by your landlord just a few days ago, as a result of an uptick of crimes in the area recently. Knowing Eris… that landlord wasted quite a sum.

“Actually, the area here is pretty dangerous,” he adds. “You should come live with me!”

“I've said this before, and I'll say it again. No, thank you.”

His pleasant expression falls for a second before he pipes up, “Mm, okay! Then let me install some cameras!”

“No. No, thank you.”

“But (Y/n)! How else am I going to wat–protect you?” he whines, his arms flailing the trash bag like a child throwing a tantrum.

You sigh as you turn around and start walking into your apartment. You ignore his cries for your name, unwilling to deal with people in general after finishing your 9-to-5 customer service job. That's how you found him actually, or rather how he found you. Funny, isn’t it? You don't understand why he's so… obsessed over you to this point.

Why you haven’t taken any real action so far is because he’s been pretty harmless overall–aside from a few kisses on the cheek and head and hand. He really likes planting kisses on you, doesn't he? At least he doesn't kiss you on the lips… as far as you're aware…

Still in your work uniform, you collapse on your couch and take a nap for at least an hour. When you wake up again, you find Eris on top of you, staring intensely at your face with a very blank, doll-like expression. Realizing you're awake, his doll-like face breaks into a smile.

“(Y/n)~” he sweetly calls out to you, like a puppy greeting his owner. It would’ve been cute, but his history of creepy antics pollutes his image.

You don't question how he gets into your apartment without a key anymore. “Get off,” you command.

“Noooo… Don't wannaaaa.”

You sigh. He's being difficult again. You take a hand and push against his shoulder, expecting to push him off your bed as usual. This time, however, he's too solid and stable. Drowziness is keeping you weak.

“Eris…”

“Yes, love?”

“Please get off… you're crushing me.”

“Eh?? No, I'm not!”

He really isn't, bearing his weight on his elbows and knees and not at all on your body. How long has he kept this pose?

Seeing his face about to whine again, you say, “Ugh, fine.” You roll over onto your stomach and close your eyes again.

“(Y/n)? Are you going back to sleep? You haven't had dinner yeeet.”

“.....”

“(Y/nnn).”

“Don't feel like eating.”

“Uh… But (Y/n), you have to take care of your health. Or let me take care of your health.”

“Don't need you to. Leave me alone.”

“Hmphhhhh.”

“.....”

You hear him lower himself down onto your body to wrap his arms around you. His lips trace the back of your neck, much to your discomfort.

“(Y/n),” he whispers.

“.....”

“You're lonely, right?”

“.....”

“I am too, so I know. You don't have to tell me.”

“.....”

“Since we're both alone… I was thinking… we should become a family together… Isn't that a good idea?”

“.....”

“I can wait for you at home… cook for you… do the laundry… take out the trash… take care of our children…”

“I don't want any children,” you murmur.

He gently kisses the back of your head. “Of course, of course. I’m okay if it’s just you and me. Would you like a summer wedding or a winter wedding? Personally, I prefer winter-”

“I'm not… marrying you.”

“Mm… That's okay too! We can… elope, if that's what you want. As long as we're together.”

“I don't… like you that way.”

“Oh… does that mean you like me in other ways?”

What part of–you sigh. “Shut up… trying to sleep…”

You hear him giggle as he hugs you tighter and plants some more kisses on the back of your head. “Okay, okay, my love. I'm just… so happy. Being with you. I really am. I'll make you fall in love with me… some day, (Y/n).”

“Mm hm… Sure…”

“Just need to… get rid of some more… pests… so we can be together… always…”

And the both of you head off to dreamland together on the couch~

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: Seek

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Divorcee! Reader

Summary: You are forced to share your hiding spot with one incorrigible cretin—Joel Miller. But, maybe that’s not so bad.

Word Count: 8,369

Warnings: 18+ Only, Fluff, Comedy, Shameless Smut, Breeding, Pre-Outbreak, Intoxication, Fluff, MINORS DNI!

A/N: a little peek at the night Joel and the Reader first got together. AKA that time Sarah played matchmaker with two grown adults. 😂 enjoy! divider is by @firefly-graphics

“Hello, neighbor.” The low, sultry drawl, makes you swallow tightly. Oh God. You’re glad your hands are stuck wrist deep in the dirt, otherwise they’d be shaking. You take a few tries to school your features into what you hope is a casual smile, and not a grimace of abject panic as you glance over your shoulder at him.

“Hey, Joel.” Your ruggedly handsome neighbor leans against the fence, folding his thickly corded forearms over the pickets. You offer him the sincerest smile you can muster. God his fucking sleeves are rolled up—you fight the urge to ruin it by sinking your teeth into your lower lip. His eyes flick down, and then back up to your face.

“You doin’ some gardenin’?” You don’t know why, but the quirk of his lips makes your stomach knot.

“Y-yeah. W-well, you know. I thought I’d get outside today, since it’s been raining so much.” You say, sticking the spade into the dirt as you turn to face him. You’re acutely aware of the mud on the hem of your yellow sundress now, and you know he must see it too. Goddammit. You feel like every time you talk to him you embarrass yourself—especially now. Nervously and out of habit, you touch your thumb to your ring finger through the gloves, feeling its absence.

Before, at least, you’d had Howard as a buffer, though Joel had never much seemed to like your husband. Ex-husband.

“Mm, yeah. Hopin’ it stays nice, you know Sarah’s birthday’s on Saturday,” He says, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the pickets. “Comin’ up fast.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, nodding with a smile. “I’ll have to bring something over. Wait—she doesn’t do dolls anymore, right? She’s too old for that now.”

“Dolls? Damn kid’s asking me for a phone,” Joel mutters darkly, smoothing a frustrated hand down his face. “A phone.” You can’t help but laugh. “Anyway, I wanted to, you know, let you know you’re invited. Whole neighborhood is, we’ll have games and food. The works.”

“Oh, sure!” You’re not sure why you’re nervous. It’s not a special invitation, it’s open to the entire block. Still, you feel an apprehensive sort of giddiness growing in your tight stomach when he smiles at you encouragingly.

“I’d love to come, I’ll um, I’ll bake something.” You pass your tongue over your lips, and Joel’s eyes follow the movement, lingering before his eyes dart back up to yours. Imagining things. You’re definitely imagining things. You’d have to be—you’re a thirty-something year old divorcee with little to show for it other than the fixer-upper Howard had been glad to leave you. You’re not hot-single-neighbor material.

“That’ll be great.” He fixes you with another boyish smile and you hate the way your stupid stomach tightens when he does. “Sarah loves your apple crumble.” You try to hide your bashful smile behind one of your gardening gloves.

“Joel Miller, you know better than to lie to me over my own fence,” you chide, and he chuckles.

“Yes ma’am I do,” he says, winking at you as the corners of his full lips turn up underneath the mustache. “That’s why I told the truth.” You cluck your tongue at him, and begin gathering your gardening tools into the wide wicker basket you keep them in. You heft them up with a grunt, and he shakes his head.

“Looks heavy. Let me give you a hand.” Before you can protest, he’s jogging around to the spot where your fences meet, and slipping in through the open gate.

“I-I can handle it,” you protest meekly as he holds out one calloused hand, beckoning with his fingers. You step back a little defensively, hesitating. “I carried it all the way out here from the shed by myself.” Joel merely raises an eyebrow and lifts his hand a little higher.

“I know, Sugar. You’re a big girl, you can do it all by yourself,” he says in that filthy smooth baritone. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” Flustered, you let him have the basket, brushing hopelessly at your dress as you follow him to the backyard shed.

“Well, it’s just me, so,” you scurry forward to pull open the door, and you watch him place the basket on the dusty work table. You’re not much of a crafts person, beyond the occasional gardening DIY, so it’s gone mostly unused since Howard moved out.

“I’m real sorry about that, by the way,” Joel says, dusting his hands off on his jeans. The look of pity on his face makes you shift uncomfortably. “But I can’t exactly say that I’m sorry he’s gone.” You laugh. The sound is brittle. Like my marriage was.

“Don’t be.” Joel’s fingers trail across Howard’s old work-bench, leaving lines in the dust as he inspects it.

“Oh, hey,” Joel says, leaning over. He reaches underneath bench and pulls something bright yellow out from underneath it. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters. After a confused second of squinting, you realize it’s a staple-gun. “Knew he never returned this.” Your face burns with embarrassment as you pinch the bridge of your nose. The result, no doubt, of one of Howards many unfinished DIY projects, the ones you always seemed to end up cleaning up and finding space for in the basement.

“God, he’s not even here and Howard’s still embarrassing me,” you say. “I’m sorry, I would have given it back if I’d known.” You watch Joel shake his head.

“That’s not on you. Besides, I’ve got it back now, so. No harm, no foul.” He tucks it into the waistband of his jeans before stepping out of the little shed and closing the door behind him. He smiles at you again, and you swear the only thing keeping you from melting into a puddle of jelly is the force of your will alone.

“You let me know if there’s anything around the house that needs doing. You cleaned your gutters since Howard left?” He asks, and your face burns again as you hurriedly shake your head.

“N-no,” you admit. “But you really—I don’t want to put you to the trouble, Joel.”

“S’no trouble.” He says with a wink, heading for the back gate. “I’ll be by tomorrow. You’ve got a ladder, don’t you, Sugar?”

—

You’re in your pajamas when Joel shows up, bright and early. The sound of the doorbell jolts you up from the kitchen table, where you’d positioned yourself so that you could see the television through the doorway. Watching the morning news rather mindlessly while you had your coffee was your new morning routine, and though it felt a little lonely and empty, it was certainly better than screaming matches with Howard about how inadequate of a wife you were to him, so you relished it.

You realize belatedly that the tie for your robe is upstairs as you’re fumbling with the locks, pulling open the door with an exasperated Hello before you realize exactly who’s on the other side of your front door.

“Howdy, neighbor.” That southern twang—the one you don’t have—is like syrup, each syllable running smoothly into the next as it slides pleasurably into your ears. You’re sure the heat rising in your chest and neck is due to your own embarrassment as you unsuccessfully try to tug the flaps of your robe shut with one hand. It’s definitely not because Joel is looking at me funny.

“J-Joel, I—morning,” you say, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears self consciously as you offer him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t, um. I didn’t know you’d be over so early. I thought you, um. Liked to get a, a late start in the mornings.”

“That’s true,” he says, nodding as he tucks his thumbs into his belt loops. “But I can get up for the important things.” He rocks forward on to the balls of his feet, the leather on his boots creaking. “So, Sugar, where’s that ladder?” You feel warm when he looks at you, so warm you’re surprised steam isn’t whistling out of your ears like a kettle.

“In the, um, in the shed.” You turn to head back into the house, but stop. “Do you need me to—” He meets the glance you shoot him over your shoulder with a stern lift of his brow.

“I got it. You go on and enjoy your coffee, now.” Joel tips his head at you, and then reaches forward to pat you just above your hip. “Go on. Scoot.”

The screen door swings shut behind you as you turn smartly to do as you’re told, and it’s only when you’re two steps into the kitchen that you realize your hip is still warm from where he touched you. You shiver.

Joel’s just friendly.

You repeat that back to yourself dozens of times as you shower, dress, and ready yourself for the day. It’s embarrassing, but you don’t have much to do now that you don’t have Howard to pick up after. Stay-at-home-wife was just another word for nanny to him, and now, five years into your marriage and ten months post divorce, you’re still struggling to find a way to fill your time. You can live off the alimony, sure, but you want something more meaningful to do, even if it doesn’t pay much.

Joel is still up on the roof by the time you come back downstairs, but you aren’t down there long before you hear him tapping at the kitchen window. You unlock the back door, and the sight of Joel leaned up against your doorframe greets you when you open it. He’s busy toeing off his muddy workboots, but he glances up at you with a lopsided smile.

“Mind if I clean off? I’ve got to head to the site after this.”

“Totally, sure, um, you remember where the bathroom is?” You ask, and he nods.

“Down the hall to the right, innit?” He asks over his shoulder, and you nod. His arms and cheek are splattered with the same muck that you assume has been clogging your gutters, and you feel even guiltier knowing he has to head to his actual job after this. Where are my manners? You ask yourself guiltily, hurrying to fetch a glass from the cabinet. You don’t have any food you can offer him, but you go for the peach iced tea in the fridge and pour him a tall glass. He’d come over and done hard work for you, and you hadn’t even offered him something to drink.

Shameful, your grandmother’s shrill voice hisses at you through your memories. Just shameful. No wonder you couldn’t keep a man. With your teeth set into your bottom lip, you head for the hallway, intending to head Joel off before he gets to the front door.

You aren’t expecting to crash headlong into him.

“Shit!” You curse as cold tea splashes against your chest and the glass in your fingers tumbles to the rug. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t get you, did I?” You look guiltily up at Joel and your heart seizes in your chest. He’s shirtless in your hallway, his face and chest damp and his t-shirt balled up in one fist. Logically, you know it’s because he obviously can’t go to work covered in gutter-crap, but you can’t think about that now, not when you’re following the happy trail starting at his belly button all the way down the waistband of his pants and God fucking dammit I’m staring like a creep—

“No, Sugar. All dry,” he laughs, interrupting the rambling chain of your thoughts. “Can’t say the same for you.” He gestures down at your shirt before shrugging into his own. “Was that sweet tea?” Joel asks, a mournful note in his voice.

“Yes—let me get you another glass,” you say quickly, bending over to pick up the fallen glass before you rush back into the kitchen. Clumsy, stupid—you put it carefully in the sink before fetching a fresh cup from the cabinet, and you fill that one too. “Joel, I—oh.” You turn to call him into the kitchen, only to find him right behind you. His smile is slow syrup the way his voice is, and you find yourself feeling like a knock-kneed teenager at the sight of it.

“That for me?” Joel asks, and you nod wordlessly, unable to form words around the hot lump of embarrassment that forms in your throat. “Thank you, Sugar,” he purrs, plucking the glass from your limp fingers. “I was powerful thirsty.” He tips his head back, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob beneath the scruff of his beard as he swallows.

You’re grateful for the refrigerator against your back, because you know you’d slide right down to your tasteful linoleum tiles in a heap without it when he lets out a satisfied moan. He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and then chases the stray droplets with his tongue.

“Should bring a whole pitcher of that by the house when you come by on Saturday. Folks’ll go crazy for it.”

Your brain is still short circuiting from his closeness, the smell of his cologne, the sight of his tanned, perfect chest—so you just nod dumbly, your lips slightly parted as you stare. Closing mouth in three, two, one—

“Uh, um. Yeah. Tea.” Jesus fuck, why is my mouth so dry? You stumble over the words, feeling like there are a hundred glass marbles in your mouth as you try to pronounce them properly. “So, um. Saturday?”

“Saturday.” Joel hands you back the glass, and winks. “Don’t drop it this time.” He pauses in the doorway, tapping his hand against the frame a few times. “And you’ll let me know when I can come by to cut that grass, wontcha, Sugar? Needs mowin’.”

I absolutely will not. “Sure thing. I-I mean, you don’t have to, really—”

“Just bein’ neighborly is all,” he calls over his shoulder as the screen door swings shut behind him. You watch the top of his head go by the kitchen window before you slump against the refrigerator.

“Neighborly.” You mutter in disbelief, pinching the bridge of your nose. You make your way back upstairs to change your shirt—the tea is starting to get sticky against your skin.

—

By the time Saturday rolls around, you’ve almost talked yourself completely out of attending.

You should not be this nervous about am eleven year old’s birthday party, you chastise yourself, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for someone to answer the door. There’s music coming from the backyard, and you can smell food, and the charcoal from the grill. You step back a little as the door opens, and you’re both surprised and relieved to see it isn’t Joel. And you’re glad for it, considering you’ve been studiously avoiding him.

Sarah greets you with a friendly smile, waving you inside. “Mrs. Leeman, hi!” She closes the door behind you. “Thank you for coming! You didn’t have to do that,” she says, gesturing at the covered apple crumble and sealed jug of peach tea in your hands. Sarah moves to take one from you, and you hand over the jug gratefully. “But this is way better than the cake uncle Tommy got. He went to Penny Saver.”

You laugh. “You’re welcome. I wasn’t exactly sure what to get you,” you admit, “but your dad said you’ve been wanting a phone?” You ask, and she rolls her eyes, starting towards the kitchen. You’ve only been here once or twice, to use the bathroom the few times Howard had deigned to take part in any neighborhood festivities. She sets the jug on the table.

“Ugh, yeah. But he says I’m too young.”

You lean in conspiratorially. “Well, how about I join team get Sarah a phone and try to help convince him, huh?” Carefully, you place the crumble on the table. “I’ll pay for your first month.”

Sarah’s eyes brighten. “Really? Yeah, oh my God that might actually work! Thanks, um, Mrs. Leeman. And for the crumble too, I asked special.”

“Just ‘Ms’, now,” you say with a little laugh. Sarah’s smile widens a little, turning up at the corners like she knows something you don’t know. And it isn’t Leeman anymore, either.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry,” she says, and you can tell she’s really trying to pour on the sincerity. She’s good—but she’s not that good. “I forgot you’re single now.” You quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” You answer slowly. “Kind of a weird way to put it, but yes?” You chalk it up to teenage awkwardness, watching amusedly as Sarah plucks the candles out of the admittedly generic cake Tommy bought, and presses them into the crumble instead.

“Everybody’s outside,” she chirps, wiping her hands off on her jeans. “Uncle Tommy, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, my dad,” she adds. “You should totally go say hi.” Casting another suspicious glance at Sarah, you make your way over to the back door. Once your eyes adjust to the bright summer sun, you see that Joel’s backyard is chaos; every kid in the neighborhood is there, along with most of the families in your corner of the cul-de-sac.

You pretend you don’t immediately spot Joel on the grill, his sleeves rolled up as he chats with his brother. You’ve only met Tommy once or twice and only in passing, but you remember him just fine. Your eyes meet, and he leans over, elbowing Joel. He says something too, but you’re too far away to hear it. Joel begins to turn around, and you hurriedly busy yourself at the punch bowl.

God, this is pathetic. You berate yourself as you spoon out punch into a little paper cup. Just say hi, you stupid idiot. You feel stupid and giddy around Joel, like a middle-schooler with her first crush only worse, because you’re two decades past the expiration date on this behavior. Not to mention he’s your neighbor.

And God knows you aren’t the best at reading signals—it had taken you years to realize that your marriage, your relationship, was dead in the water. Joel isn’t interested, he can’t be. At most, you assume he feels a sort of half hearted pity for you. I’m like the one-eyed cat at the shelter.

“Hey there Judy, thanks for comin’.” You hear Joel’s voice behind you, and you tense—He’s coming this way. You chance a glance over your shoulder and swallow audibly. He’s making a beeline right for you. Is it too late to go back inside? You know the thought is futile, it’s most certainly far too late for that.

“Hi, I mean, you know, welcome to the party,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets after an awkward moment of holding them out, almost like he was going to hug you and then thought better of it.

“Yeah, Sarah was…enthusiastic about the cake.” You’re trying to think of a word to describe her weird behavior. “Maybe a little too much,” you laugh a little. Joel shakes his head and mutters something under his breath you can’t quite make out—“damn kid sticking her nose in where it doesn’t—” Before he shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Kid’s a mystery to me sometimes,” he replies with a huff. He squints, like he’s looking for her in the crowd. You follow his line of sight right to Sarah, laughing with her friends.

“She’s a good one.”

“Lord knows,” Joel sighs. “I was raising hell at her age.” He turns back to you. “I’m really glad you could make it.” His smile is so bright you’re forced to look somewhere else, for fear of going weak in the knees.

“N-no problem. I’m, um, I’m happy to get out of the house,” you admit. “I’ve been kind of… I don’t know. Bored? Since Howard left.” You look down at the punch cup in your hands. “Is that weird? I don’t miss him or anything, I just… I guess I never realized how much time he was taking. Wasting.” You shake your head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“No, no, please,” Joel looks at you almost imploringly. “I don’t mind.” He leans against the table behind you. “I’ve been there. Losing yourself is surprisingly easy. It’s the finding yourself after that’s hard.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Listen I—”

“Joel, you wanna serve burnt burgers or what?” Tommy calls from the grill, pointing at the thick smoke curling up from it. Joel curses.

“Dammit, Tommy—I’ll be right back.”

He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, and you swallow back the unexpected disappointment at the interruption. It’s probably a good thing though, you think to yourself as you spy Tricia Gibbins, also newly divorced, eyeing you with a scowl.

You offer her a weak smile in response, before turning back to your drink. Joel’s a hot commodity, and you know you’re not the only single woman in the neighborhood with eyes. Joel has an easy sort of confidence about him, the kind that comes from working with your hands and being good at it. The kind that isn’t unearned.

As Joel averts the crisis at the grill, you mingle. Chatting up the neighbors you haven’t really seen since the divorce. It’s awkward at first, but you get over that quickly enough. It’s oddly comforting, feeling like you’re part of the community at large again, instead of the weird shut-in with the mean husband. Oddly, Joel keeps finding reasons to be close to you, joining in the conversations you’re having as he sidles up next to you, offering to refresh your drink each time you finish it. And when he brings out the crumble from the kitchen—much to Tommy’s chagrin—he thanks you specifically for providing it, and your cheeks heat as you duck your head, embarrassedly enduring the round of applause that follows.

If Gibbins didn’t hate me already, she definitely does now.

You help cut and serve it, trying to ensure each partygoer at least has the option of having a piece. As Sarah wolfs down her piece after blowing out her candles, she and her friends share a conspiratorial look.

“We were thinking of playing a party game, dad,” she says, cocking her head at him. “Kids versus grown-ups.” Joel takes a sip of his beer, cocking his head skeptically.

“And what game would that be, young lady?”

“Manhunt! Come on, dad, please? Everyone really wants to play!” Sarah gestures eagerly at the gaggle of kids behind her, pushing and shoving and giggling nervously as the adults look them over. Sarah rocks excitedly back and forth on her tip-toes as her father debates it. Sarah looks at you imploringly.

“Please? Last game of the night, I promise! You’ll play, won’t you?”

“Ah hell,” Tommy curses, finishing his beer before slinging the empty bottle into the trash-can by the picnic table. “Why not? Used to play this all the time growin’ up.” He casts a nostalgic look at Joel before elbowing Sarah conspiratorially. “Every summer I used to whoop your daddy’s—”

“No lying to the girl on her birthday, Tommy,” Joel replies with a chuckle, and you laugh too. “Fine then. Who all’s playin’?” Hands go up, all across the yard, and Joel nods as he takes stock of them. Howard would have insisted on leaving right about now, your charitable appearance over and done with. But Howard isn’t here to make the decision for you, and you find yourself raising your own hand, too. Perhaps it’s the warm buzz of the beer settling into your stomach making you foolish, but it’s a warm summer evening and you feel… good.

“Ground rules—nobody leaves the block, understand? No hidin’ in strangers yards.” Joel delivers the rules sternly. “

“We were thinking… we’ll seek. Time limit?” Sarah asks, suddenly all business as she leans back to consult her friends, now apparently her war-council.

“Thirty minutes.” Joel replies, holding out his hand. Sarah shakes it exaggeratedly, grinning at him. She holds up two fingers, gesturing between the two of them. “And you’ve got to find everybody to win.”

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” She calls over her shoulder as she jogs toward her friends. “You’re going down!” They’re all clustered around the side of the house, some of them already counting. You’re already thinking of the perfect hiding place, where the rosebushes meet on the left side of your porch—it’s impossible to see from the sidewalk. The participating adults are already splitting up, heading in different directions to try and outlast their children.

Giggling, you hurry back across the street, casting a suspicious glance around before you duck down behind your rosebushes. It’s silly, you know, but… it feels good too. Like you’re actually enjoying yourself instead of pretending to. Howard never would have approved of this—These are children’s games, come on—but he isn’t here, and you don’t need him to. The thought makes you practically giddy; Howard is gone, gone!

And he isn’t coming back.

You lean back against the porch, ducking lower as you hear the sound of approaching voices. As you reach back to steady yourself, your hand brushes against another. You gasp, loudly, and whirl around to see Joel, looking equally surprised. It looks like he’s come around from the opposite side of the house, staying low underneath the roses, just like you. You open your mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger, pointing behind you.

“I heard something! I think one of the grown-ups is hiding over here.” You wait with baited breath to be discovered, but the gangly teenager on the other side of the bush doesn’t come all the way up the porch steps, stopping halfway.

“Whatever, I don’t see anybody. Let’s look by the Simmons’ place!”

The sound of your gravel crunching under sneakers gradually recedes, and you let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were there,” you whisper apologetically, and Joel laughs.

“Well you know. Great minds, and all that.” He scoots closer. “Do you mind? I can risk finding another spot if you do.”

“No, no,” you say, shaking your head. Maybe it’s the beers, making you foolishly confident, but you… want him to stay. “There’s room enough for the two of us.”

“You’re damn right there is,” Joel replies. “Grass is tall enough that we could stand in it.” You pretend to be shocked, raising a cartoonishly offended hand over your heart.

“Oh, is that how it is, Miller?” You ask. “You come over here, barge into my hiding spot, and then insult my grass? I’m pretty sure them’s fighting words, around here at least.” He edges closer, close enough that when he settles down into a sitting position, his thigh presses against yours.

“It’s almost calf high, Sugar,” he says seriously. “That’s dangerous.” You try to look sufficiently scared, and Joel smothers a laugh behind one hand.

“Danger? Here?” You bring a hand to your cheek. “How dangerous are we talking?” He fixes you with a serious look, brows knitting together as he presses his full lips into a tight line.

“Very dangerous. Trip and falls, termites, biting ants—you know. Just to name a few things.” Joel is handsome, not a fact you’re unfamiliar with. But up this close… You can see the beginnings of salt and in his thick black hair, how his warm brown eyes are flecked with gold and green, the cinnamon spice of his breath—Fireball, he was drinking Fireball—

And how soft his lips are when they brush against yours.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to realize that you’re kissing Joel Miller. Later, when you look back, you’ll realize there’s a gap in your memory, a skip, a blank space spanning from the moment his hip pressed against yours until you feel the warmth of his hand on your hip through your jeans. It’s a chaste thing, a simple press of his mouth to yours, but the realization of what’s happening makes you gasp, pulling away. For once, you’re speechless, the nervous ramble that usually accompanies these moments is notoriously absent.

Of course it’s Joel that speaks first.

“I been waitin’ to do that for six months.” He breathes. And then he leans forward, gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, and does it again. You release your death-grip on the latticework beneath the porch, and instead tangle your fingers in Joel’s t-shirt. He mumbles something against your lips that you don’t understand before deepening the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you sigh against him. Joel tastes like cinnamon whiskey, hops, and faintly of tobacco—likely from the cigarette you’d seen him bum from Tommy in secret earlier.

He tastes so good you could cry. Like beer and warm summer evenings, like catching lightning bugs in jars. He tastes exactly like you thought he would.

When you part, you’re both panting, staring wild-eyed at one another as the rest of the world filters back in. Joel lets out a little laugh, resting his forehead against yours. You like how he smells, too, sandalwood and leather.

“Six months is a long time,” you say after a minute, and he laughs. Somehow, you feel both validated and incredibly stupid at the same time. “And here I thought you felt sorry for me.”

“I did, being married to that prick,” he scoffs. “I hung over that fence every other day for six months, and you never thought—?”

“No! I thought, you know, you… really wanted to mow my grass.” You answer defeatedly, and this time Joel’s booms in your ears so loud you fear the children will discover you. You laugh too, and when he pulls you close to kiss you a third time, you lean into it, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as he pulls you practically into his lap. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you card fingers through his thick hair. You’re glad you’re sitting down, because the answering husky moan he releases would have brought you to your knees.

“Dad! Thirty-minutes!” The sound of Sarah’s voice shocks the two of you apart, and you scramble off of Joel, your cheeks burning. You peek through the rose bushes, pulling aside a bud to see Sarah, standing in the middle of the street. You snicker at the sight of her. She and her friends seem to have already rounded up the other adults, and, armed with water-guns, are escorting them back to the party. You can see that Tommy’s wet, and you wonder if he tried to outrun them.

“Time’s up,” she calls. “You guys win!”

“You stay here. I’ll go first.” Joel says with a wink. “I’ll see you back at the party, okay? And we’ll finish this… discussion.” He licks his lips.

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give out on you. You watch as Joel gets a very rules-illegal squirting with Sarah’s supersoaker, and you’re glad he took the bullet for both of you as they head into the backyard. Once you’re sure no one else is really watching, you creep out, brushing stray bits of grass and twigs from your clothes. Your face still feels warm, your lips tingling where Joel’s had met them.

There isn’t much “party” left when you let yourself in through the side gate, people cleaning up with trash bags. You begin helping, clearing the tables of plastic cutlery and paper plates. There isn’t really time to talk, not really. Every time he begins to, something, someone, needs his attention. As you’re tossing bags into the trash bin, Tommy comes up behind you with another load. You hold the lid open for him, and he ducks his head gratefully.

“Thanks. So, you and my brother, huh? Manhunt neighborhood champs.” He grins at you, and you feel your face heat.

“In my defense, it was my hiding spot first.”

“That tracks.” He laughs. ”And I’m not mad, even though you dethroned my cake.”

You grin. “Sorry. I was asked.” It’s easy to see that Tommy and Joel are related, you think as you chat. They have the same easy way of moving, the same slow drawl. You think of the way his lips felt against yours again and your face warms. It had felt so right to do in that moment, but now you can’t help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

“He’s droppin’ Sarah off at her friend’s place,” Tommy says suddenly. “In case you were wonderin’.” His knowing look makes you wish the earth would open right up and swallow you into the resulting abyss. It doesn’t though, and you are forced to shoot Tommy a painfully embarrassed smile instead.

“I, um. Thanks.” You tuck your hands into your pockets to stop their nervous twitching. Somehow, this feels like a higher-stakes interaction than any of the others you’ve ever had with Tommy, and you aren’t sure why.

“No problem.” Tommy dusts his hands off of his jeans. “And he’s… Stupid. My brother. But he means well.”

“I think that makes two of us.”

You finish helping clean up, hanging around the yard awkwardly until Tommy asks you if you want to wait inside. You shake your head. Joel’s probably realized his mistake by now, you think to yourself, shaking your head as you make your way back across the street. Keys in hand, you head up the steps and unlock the door. As it swings open, the blast of a car-horn makes you yelp, jumping as you press yourself against the doorframe.

Joels truck swings haphazardly into your driveway, and he’s half out of it before it even stops. He hops the little gate in front of your porch steps, taking them two at a time as he strides towards you with purpose.

“Sugar.”

“Joel, I—” There are a thousand thoughts, all jumping to reach your mouth first. You want to kiss him again, you want to run inside and hide until he leaves, you really want to kiss him again—

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” Joel says lowly, his fingers sliding through the belt loops on your jeans to tug you close against his chest. “Weren’t finished talkin’.” His mouth is against yours before you can answer, and he gratefully swallows your gasp of surprise as his tongue presses insistently at the seam of your lips. You are aware, on some level, that you’re standing on your porch, in full view of every watchful eye on your end of the street. However, your concern for your reputation is kept well in check by the feel of Joel’s hands passing hungrily over your hips.

His fingers skate up underneath the hem of your t-shirt, and you gasp at the feel of them trailing up your sides and over your belly.

“I-inside,” you say, the word muffled by his lips. You feel the corners of his mouth curl up against your cheek as Joel loops his arms underneath your thighs. You gasp as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you inside. Joel kicks the door shut behind him before pressing you against the wall, fitting the hard planes of his body against the softness of yours. He fits so well in between your thighs, his jean-clad hips slotting against you perfectly.

You want to be ashamed at the way your hips roll into his, your heels digging into the backs of his thighs. His hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back so that he can trail his teeth and tongue down the side of your throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, teeth catching at the shell of your ear as one hand cups your swollen cunt through your jeans. You feel like you’re on fire, heat running underneath your skin, sparking where Joel touches you. Your head is swimming, like you’re drunk on more than just a couple of beers. Your fingers tangle in the short hair at the nape of his neck, and the throaty moan Joel releases makes your pussy clench down hard around nothing.

You drop your feet to the floor as his fingers play at the button of your jeans. He’s breathing heavy, hair askew from your attentions and eyes hungry.

“We can stop if you want to,” he says, his voice strained and husky. “You say stop, we stop.” You can tell he wants to do anything but stop, his thigh wedged between yours, and the half hard weight of his cock throbbing against you through his jeans. But you can also see he means it, that he’ll turn around and walk right back to his truck if you tell him to.

You hesitate, feeling Joel’s steady breaths against your lips as he waits for your decision. This is crazy, you reason. We’ll both regret this, and it’ll be awkward and we’ll never be able to talk to each other again—But what’s crazier is that you know you want him to stay. That you’re willing to risk it.

Maybe you’ll just be crazy for tonight.

“Stay.”

Joel surges, crashing over you like a wave. His hands—God, his hands—are everywhere, tugging up the rumpled hem of your t-shirt to cup your breasts through your bra, wiggling down under the waistband of your jeans to touch whatever skin he can—

“Y’know, Sugar,” Joel’s voice is simmering honey, is burnt sugar—“I don’t think we’re gonna make it upstairs.” You don’t think so either, not with his eager fingers tugging open the button on your jeans. Not to mention that you’re pretty sure that if he stops touching you, you might actually die. You’ve never felt this before, the all encompassing need that drives you to grind down against his proffered thigh, your hands fisting in his shirt.

Definitely not making it to the bed. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue as you feverishly work at the buttons on his shirt. You push them apart to touch his bare skin and he hums with pleasure.

He grunts frustratedly when there isn’t enough room for his huge hands in your tight jeans, tugging at them until they stick fast about halfway down your thighs. He anchors his hands underneath your hips, and you gasp as he hoists you up, taking a few wobbly steps towards the stairs.

He only makes it up three of them before he abandons the effort, setting you down. You let out a little giggle as your ass makes contact with the wood, and Joel sucks his teeth.

“Goddamn house. S’got too many stairs,” he mumbles against the side of your throat. The raspy burn of his beard against your skin is delicious as he trails kisses down your neck until he meets the collar of your shirt. “Take this fuckin’ thing off, Sugar.” Joel’s teeth tug at the fabric. He chuckles lowly when your breath catches. “Or d’you want me to do it for you?” You hurriedly tug your shirt up over your head—with Joel’s eager assistance—and his mouth crashes against yours as before it’s even cleared your hair.

Joel’s cinnamon and whiskey spiced kisses leave heat in their wake as he presses them between your breasts, pulling down the cups of your bra. He releases a pleased hum when your puffy nipples spill lewdly over the lace. The way he grins at the sight of them makes you want to combust, heat creeping up your chest and neck as he pinches them softly between his fingers. You whine, and he clucks his tongue at you, fixing you with a serious look.

“Don’t you rush me, Sugar,” he says, flicking his thumb against your nipple, and he grins when you wriggle. “Haven’t I been patient?” You’re hard pressed to disagree. His heavy lidded eyes go even darker as he laves his tongue across your nipple, and you whimper pathetically when he rolls it between his teeth.

“Yeah,” you pant as Joel taps his very patient fingers against the fleshy curve of your hip. You lift for him, and he hums with approval as he tugs them down your legs and flings them to the floor. “Practically a saint—ah, Joel!” Joel cups your pussy, clapping his hand against the fatty curve of it with a groan.

“If I were a saint, Sugar,” he drawls, pulling your panties tight until the puffy lips of your cunt pop out lewdly around them, “You know I’d never miss a day at this fuckin’ church.” He traces the shape of your swollen clit through the fabric with the rough pad of his thumb. “A-fuckin’-men.” The elastic band snaps against your skin as he pulls them off completely, your panties joining your jeans in an undignified heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Joel delivers a stinging little slap to your thigh that makes you yelp.

“Open.” You do, your cheeks burning as you spread your legs apart and let him see. He cards his fingers through his hair as a low “fuck” falls from his lips. He drags a thick, calloused finger up your slit, swirling the tip through your sopping folds. “Christ, Sugar,” he says, holding up his fingers so that you can see your own slick shining on them. You can’t look away as he lowers his head, his breath puffing across your heated skin. It’s only when he drags his tongue up your slit that your head falls back, and you curse at the ceiling.

“S’right,” he mumbles against your cunt, wrenching your legs further open. “Fuck, you taste good, baby.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you feel him chuckle against you before his tongue finds your clit and you loose a stream of curses and his name—

“Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck, Joel—”

“Say it, Sugar,” his beard rasps deliciously against your inner thighs. “Let ‘em hear my fuckin’ name.”

It’s impossible to think. You’re fairly certain the amount of electricity currently thrumming through you would be enough to light up a whole goddamn city. Your thighs tremble in his grip and you can’t stop the shameful push of your hips against his face. And then you’re cumming with a pitiful little whine, tears gathering in the corners of your wide eyes. Joel pulls away from you slowly, wiping at his glistening mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with dark, lidded eyes.

“Don’t cry yet, Sugar,” he rasps. You can’t help but stare as he looses the buttons on his jeans with nimble fingers. The heavy weight of his cock pushes insistently against the plaid fabric of his briefs before he hooks his thumb under the elastic and tugs it down too. “Oughta wait till the good part, at least.”

Oh my fucking God.

Joel Miller’s cock is thick. Like a fucking coke-can with veins. He palms it with one hand, and your traitorous cunt clenches wetly as you stare. The head is red, angry and leaking, and you find yourself with the sudden urge to swipe your tongue across it and see how he tastes. You can’t stop your eyes from following the movement as he strokes himself slowly, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest.

“Want a taste, Sugar?” He purrs, the accent dripping down every vowel. You don’t have enough working neurons left to lie, and so you nod meekly, licking your lips. “Say aah for me, baby.” You open your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue a little and he groans, balancing one hand on the bannister and the other against the wall as he leans forward. You nurse at his head, wrapping your lips around it as he thrusts slowly. You work your way down his thick, throbbing shaft, stopping when his head taps the back of your throat.

“—gotta be fucking kidding me,” you catch bits and pieces of his mumbled praise, his fingers tangling in your hair as he holds your head still, enjoying the sensation before pulling out. You wipe at the spit on your chin as Joel pumps his cock, squeezing as his head falls back.

“If I wasn’t so determined to make a mess of that pussy, Sugar, I’d let you finish.” Joel sinks down to his knees on the stairs, cupping your chin with sure fingers as he kisses you, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You’re sure that tomorrow, you will find the time to be appalled that you’re here, like this, with your neighbor—

But there is no space in your head for it now.

Now, Joel is settling himself between your thighs, the head of his cock sliding deliciously against you. And then fuck, he’s pushing inside, making your head fuzzy with that blissful, burning stretch.

“G-God,” you whimper, pressing your face against his throat, tugging at the skin there with your teeth as he seats himself all the way inside.

“Sorry, Sugar,” he mumbles the words into your hair, groaning as his heavy balls come to rest against you. “Best you got is me.” Joel draws out, taking all your air with him, before slamming back down, his hips meeting yours with a lewd squelch. You let out a choked gasp as he sinks his cock in to the base, his eyes rolling to half mast. His slow, steady pace is enough to make you see stars while your eyes are open, bright spots tattooing themselves against your retinas.

You don’t notice the hard bite of the wooden stairs into your back and the curve of your ass as you wrap your thighs around Joel’s hips. It feels so good, you’re drowning in it. In Joel. He knots a fist in the curls at the nape of your neck, tugging your head back. You let him, and are rewarded with his teeth and tongue scraping deliciously down the line of your throat.

“Where’ve you been hidin’ this pussy, Sugar?” The words are breathed hotly against the shell of your ear, followed by his teeth. “Why’d you hide her from me?” He punctuates his questions with a hard thrust that makes you bury your fingernails in the meat of his shoulder and sob. “Coulda been givin’ you your dick months ago.”

You’re not paying attention, not really, not when the white hot pleasure building at your core is all you can think about. You whine out an apology, not because you mean it, but because you think it’s what he wants to hear—and at this point, you’d tell him anything just to be able to crest the wave he’s been building inside of you. Fuck and you’re so full—

Every slow, heavy thrust punches the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping and whining as Joel takes you to pieces.

“H-holy shit,” the words stick to your lips and tongue as you struggle to get them out around the moans you keep trying unsuccessfully to swallow. It was never like this with Howard, this dizzying rush of pleasure that leaves you aching for more—begging for more, even if you’re not sure you can take it.

“P-please,” you keen, lifting your hips eagerly to meet his thrusts. “Please!”

“Please what, Sugar?” Joel asks teasingly, before dropping lis lips to yours. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it. “I’d tell you to use your big girl words but I know you can’t right now, can you Sweetheart?”

You cum with a sob, your back arching as you dig your heels into the backs of Joel’s thighs. They buckle, and he sinks down to his knees as you feel his cock throb inside you. Joel curses into your hair, both hands gripping the lip of the stair next to your head hard enough to drive the blood from his knuckles. You lay like that for a minute, panting on the stairs as you luxuriate in the sticky, warm afterglow.

Thank God for the pill.

All you can smell is the piney scent of his aftershave, tucked against his chest like you are. For a moment, you allow yourself to bask in Joel, your face pressed against his sweat-damp skin, the feel of his pulse thrumming beneath your cheek. You don’t know why, but it makes you think of mornings. Of waking up like this, tangled up in each other, of hot coffee and quick goodbyes over rushed breakfasts, of long nights—

“You okay?” Joel asks, leaning away from you. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s wearing a dopey smile underneath his scruffy beard. He cups your cheek, and you blink it all away, squashing those thoughts back down into your subconscious where they belong. He slips from between your thighs, and you pretend you don’t feel something like a suspicious cross between longing and disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You offer him a weak smile as you sit up, wincing. There’s an ache in your back from where you’d been pressed against the stairs, and as Joel tucks himself back into his pants, he grimaces, rubbing his knee. You let out a little embarrassed laugh. “Probably should have tried harder to make it to the bed, though.”

Joel fixes you with a sly smile. “There’s still time.” Your face heats and you sputter.

“I—”

“We can just sleep,” he says, chuckling. “Scout’s honor.”

It feels too natural to lead him upstairs, dodging stray hands as you fish a towel out for him from the hall closet. He starts stripping before you’re even out of the bathroom, and when he holds out a hand to you from the shower, you take it. Joel tugs you against his chest, tucking you beneath his chin underneath the spray.

“I thought you said we could sleep?” You say, peeking up at him through your lashes, a smile playing at the edges of your lips. Joel laughs, nosing along your jawline and pressing wet kisses to the corners of your mouth.

“Well we’re not in bed yet, are we Sugar?”

the end.

for now.

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us imagine #pre-outbreak #boxofbonesfic #Before | After series #fluff #smut

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celticcrossanon · 2 months

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“Theresa Longo Fans has this amusing tea: "A music producer said MM pitched him at a neighborhood charity brunch. "I’m influenced by Alanis Morissette. I could go for that. I’ve always wanted to make an album”- MM allegedly said bashfully.“ The sarcastic side of me thinks the song "Toxic” by Britney Spears is more accurate as a musical influencer for MM than Alanis Morissette.“

Hi Celta! I saw this TLF "tea” and I nearly spit my own tea out in laughter as I read it. Meghan was “bashful”? Not buying it! The same Meghan who, as a bratty child, co-opted her friend’s birthday party and all of the attention, demanding to be called Queen? The same Meghan who had her face plastered on the cover of Vanity Fair, announcing that “she’s just wild about Harry,” thus deliberately outing their relationship to the world? The same Meghan who pushes herself front and center ahead of Harry, Charles, William, Catherine, and anyone else in her way? The same Meghan who never met a microphone she didn’t try to grab and make a word salad speech? THAT bashful Meghan?

Nope, imho that “music producer” anecdote is pure Sussex PR, hinting at one of her next fruitless projects that go nowhere - “Duets with the Duchess.” It’s Disney/Iger/“She does voice-overs” 2.0. No doubt she thinks that she can sing. If Beyoncé, Taylor, and Alanis can do it, she can, too, “right”? This will get her the G/Grammy part of her fantasy EGOT (no talent required). Meghanland must be a magical place to live!

Hi Nonny,

It does sound very unlike Meghan. The only reason I give it any credence is because of the ‘shy’ act she pulled on her first tours after being married? engaged? - the one where she was in grey with her hand over her mouth. It was obviously a very bad imitation of Princess Diana, but it told me that this is something that she would use if she wanted people to like her, so I can see her pulling the same stunt on someone to get them to do as she wanted. Otherwise it is laughable.

If this appeared in an article somewhere than it would absolutely be Sussex manifestation PR. I can’t quite see them using TLF to do that and I haven’t seen the anecdote anywhere else.

I’m sure that Meghan thinks that she is a marvellous singer. As you said, she lives in Meghanland - no reality required.

#submission

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 5 months

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About Sussex Weekend: I read your first rule about no body shaming, especially Meghan.

That is one of the main reasons why I stopped following certain blogs, many of the popular. I could not ges pass the constant bashing about MM's body. If it was not her feet it was her legs, or her torso, or her teeh. You name it, the bashed it. Whenever I mentioned that we were getting on the same low level as the Wales haters, I got told that it was fair. I have bad feet, horrible, due to an injury. Do I deserve being attacked for it? I am also overweight, will that be more important that how treat those near me?

I believe that everytime we stoop to ther low level of bodyshaming someone just because we don´t like that person, we lose whatever moral ground (to put it somehow) we might have to question this person´s actions, or morality or ethics or honesty.

Harry mockes his brother´s baldness, let´s attack his. But, does that not makes us as horrible as H? MM is not the one making fun of someone´s feet, is she?

Sorry for the rambling, but many of the comments for their tour in reference to her clothing was not that it was the wrong kind for the country/event/situation, but how she had no boobs, on no waist or no shape. They were insults, not criticism.

Love your blog, love your brains!

I've always followed the 3 minute rule: If it's something that can be easily fixed in 3 minutes - like fixing a hairstyle, changing clothes, swapping accessories - then it's fair game.

Otherwise you're just being mean because you can. And that's not cool. That's not energy I want here.

But I get it, though. I get that there's an easy anonymity being on social media makes it easier and more comfortable to nitpick, to be judgemental, to be hypercritical. I was like that too, back when I was drinking the royal-watching koolaid. Then one day I realized I'm not like this in real life, so why am I like this online?* That's when I started following the 3 minute rule. If it's something that's easy to fix, let's talk about it. Otherwise, move on.

*That wasn't the actual question. The actual question was 'why was I so obssessed with George being born on my birthday and why am I so angry that didn't happen?' which turned into the 'I'm not like this in real life so why am I like this here' epiphany.

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emmanuellececchi · 5 months

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Happy birthday, lovely! I wrote you a silly little drabble x

“Close your eyes, sweet one.” Joshua commands with a boyish grin, stood outside the door of his study.

“Really?”

“Mm. Your gift lies beyond the door and I don’t want it spoiled right away.”

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks prickle with heat. “You didn’t have to get me anything, I don’t-“

He cuts you off with a kiss – a quick peck on your lips as he’d wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. “None of that. Your Name Day is a worthy celebration, the day the world was blessed with your presence. As the future Duchess of Rosaria, I could declare it an official day of celebration…”

“No!” You’d never been one for attention, but it was something you were slowly getting used to as Joshua’s betrothed. He had set to work rebuilding the Duchy after taking up his birthright as the Archduke, buoyed by the unwavering support of Rosarians wanting to see their home restored to its former glory, but there was still a way to go.

“I thought not,” Joshua squeezes your hip, teasingly. “So, you’ll permit me this instead, my love?”

You give a tentative nod.

“Excellent. Close your eyes.”

You do, feeling somewhat foolish, as Joshua leans around you to open the door.

“Keep them closed until I say.” He takes your hand and leads you forward into a room you know quite well – sometimes it feels the missives the former Phoenix receives are endless. There isn’t much you can do besides provide him company, so you’d often be found sat in a chair, whiling away the hours with a book from the growing shelves of the library, curated under Tomes’ watchful eye.

After walking you into the middle of the room, he drops your hand and you hear the chambers door close, before a warm palm settles on your lower back, shifting you slightly to the right.

“All right, you may open them now.”

You do, blinking a little in the light to find you are facing the large window that overlooked the budding garden below, but there is something new below it. A wide bench has been made to fit perfectly in the alcove, covered in padding and a few cushions thrown atop.

“A reading nook?” You beam, turning to him to find the blonde looking a little bashful.

“Indeed, sweet one. I thought it would be far more comfortable than any of these chairs. Plus, selfishly, it is big enough for two – we will have an excellent view of the night sky from there as well.”

“Can we try it?”

“Of cour-”

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence and yank him forward by his hand, eager to try out the new seating arrangements. Joshua chuckles and climbs up onto the bench, stretching out his long legs and patting the space between them. You do not wait for a second invitation, joining your betrothed and nestling your back upon his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he leans his head down to whisper in your ear.

“In your haste, you seem to have forgotten book.”

You twist slightly and cup his cheek with your hand, pulling him down into a long, lingering kiss.

“I’m sure you can recount me a tale aloud – Founder knows you have read enough.” You tease. “But, really, thank you. I love it - I love you.”

Joshua responds with a kiss of his own. “I love you more, sweet one. Happy Name Day.”

I hope you won't mind me sharing this lovely, thoughtful gift. It may be silly but it made me giggle and smile. And what else to ask for my birthday?

Thank you so much! It is the first time anyone wrote something for me, let alone for my birthday. Just this gesture is touching but the story is just soooooo sweet!

#ghostdogwrites #lovely fic #Joshua x Reader #birthday gift #best moot ever #Emma Personnal

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crystalninjaphoenix · 1 year

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Halloween Birthday Bash

Paranormal Preteens AU: Episode Fifteen

A JSE Fanfic

Eeeee we're getting stakes in the story, guys! And that's all I'll say because I don't want to spoil anything :)c It's Halloween, which means it's Marvin and JJ's birthday. They invite all the others—Chase, Schneep, Jackie, and Stacy—over to their house for a party. And it's not quite what the others expect. Even before things take a sharp turn downhill. And yeah. Happy reading ;)

++++++++++++++++++++

Chase had been to a lot of other kids’ houses before, but they were usually all in the same sort of neighborhood. The suburbs, as Mom told him they were called. Marvin and JJ lived much closer to the center of town, at the end of a street called Riverview Place. The houses here were all tall and narrow, with flat, sloping roofs instead of pointed ones, their walls all connected in rows. It was hard to tell them apart.

“Okay, number 55, here we are,” Mom said, pulling to the side of the road. “Hey, isn’t that Jackie’s car?”

“Mm-hmm.” Chase nodded. “They invited him, too. And Stacy.”

“Ah, right.” Mom smiled. “I’m so glad you guys have met someone new. It’s good to have a girl’s perspective sometimes.”

“It is? On what?” Chase asked, genuinely confused.

“You’ll see.”

Chase turned around to look at Schneep in the backseat, silently asking if he knew what Mom was talking about. But Schneep wasn’t really paying attention. He had his face pressed up to the car window, staring out at the house. “Will there be enough room for all of us inside?” he asked. “It is a... skinny house.”

“This design of house is called a townhouse,” Mom explained. “And I think you’ll be fine.” She parked the car and looked at the boys. “Alright. I’ll pick you up at five, but if you want to leave early, just call me. We can go trick-or-treating afterwards. I managed to convince some of our neighbors to try it out for Henrik’s first real Halloween.”

Schneep smiled wide, excited; Chase had been hyping up Halloween all month. “That is great! So we go back home and put on the costumes?”

“You got it!” Mom said. “Now, do you want me to walk you two up to the door? I’d like to have a brief chat with Marvin and Jameson’s parents.”

“Sure, Mom.” Chase opened the car door. “C’mon, Sch—Henrik!”

“Yes, yes! Ah, will you help with the gifts?”

“Yeah, of course!”

The two of them got the presents from the back seat and practically ran up to the front door, Mom trailing behind them. Chase had been so curious about Marvin and JJ’s house after Marvin had asked the whole friend group to come over for their birthday. And now, seeing how different it was, he was even more curious. It did throw him off a bit. But that happened whenever you visited someone else’s house. Knowing the place where they lived was weird, though not in a bad way. Just in a different way.

Chase rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, it was answered by an old woman, her gray hair cut into a bob. She looked at the boys, blinked, then smiled. “Ah, more of JJ and Marvin’s friends, are ye?” she asked. “And their mam, by t’look of it. Good to meet you.”

“Hi.” Chase waved. “I’m Chase. This is my cousin, Henrik.”

“Ah, of course ye are. They’ve been talkin’ up a storm about when you’d get here.” The woman chuckled. “I’m the boys’ grandmother, I’m in town for the next couple o’months. My name’s Saoirse, but you can call me Granmam Molloy, if you want. Come in, come in. You too, young lady.”

Mom smiled, clearly flattered by being called ‘young lady.’ “Thank you. Are Emma and Robert here or is it just you?”

“They’re here, in the kitchen actin’ the maggot. Go on in t’ere if you want t’talk to them.”

Chase and Schneep walked into the house, finding themselves in a small entrance hall with white and blue wallpaper. A narrow hallway extended forward, made even narrower by the upwards staircase taking up half the space. Chase leaned back against the bannister to let Mom and Granmam pass by.

“What a strange staircase,” Schneep muttered. “Why does the handle curve at the end like that?”

“Huh?” Chase turned back around to look at the bannister he was leaning on. “Oh yeah. That’s weird, I’ve never seen a staircase, uhhhh, bannister do that. It’s blocking off, like, a third of the stairs. Do you have to scootch around it to go up and down?”

“You’re here!”

The two of them turned back around and saw Marvin running down the hallway towards them, skidding to a halt only a foot away. “I thought you weren’t coming!” he said. “I mean, of course you were coming, it sounds dumb when I say it like that, but you’re the last ones here so I was getting worried. You were looking at the stairs of doom, right? I mean, the staircase? Upstairs is just the bedrooms and the bathroom, yeah the only bathroom is on the second floor, it’s weird. Everyone else is in the living room, though! Well, Mam and Dad are in the kitchen, that’s through this doorway here, but what I’m saying is we’re all hanging out down here.”

Chase laughed. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Marvin talking so fast until these past few weeks of unusual silence from him. “Yeah, bro, of course we were coming! I think Mom got lost driving for a while.”

“Dad always says it’s easy to miss the turn onto the street.” Marvin nodded seriously. Then he gasped. “You brought presents!”

“They are from both of us,” Schneep said, lifting up the wrapped box he was holding. Chase had the other one pressed to his chest. “We would have gotten you both one from each of us, but Aunt Jess said this would be fine.”

“It totally is, don’t fucking worry about it!” Marvin turned around. “Well, c’mon!” He headed back down the hallway. Chase and Schneep quickly followed.

Chase’s first impression of the living room was that it was... weirdly nice. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because the place was so clean and tidy. Apart from the presents stacked on the coffee table, there wasn’t a mess anywhere. The L-shaped sofa and single armchair looked basically new, without a lot of the wear that furniture gets when it’s used for a couple years. A boxy television sat on top of a cabinet with closed doors that probably held all the movies and such. The walls were covered in more wallpaper, this time white-and-green striped. One wall had a bunch of framed photographs hanging on it in neat rows.

JJ, Jackie, and Stacy were all in here. Stacy was sitting in the armchair, looking a bit awkward perched on the edge, while Jackie and JJ were sitting on the sofa, where Jackie seemed to be showing JJ his camera. He looked up as Marvin, Chase, and Schneep walked in. “Hey, it’s the rest of the guys!” He smiled. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, great to be here!” Chase said, smiling back. He walked around the sofa and put the present down with the others already there. “Whoa, you have a lot of presents. Nice.”

They’re mostly clothes, JJ said.

“How do you know that?”

JJ shrugged. Mam and Dad always use the same type of boxes for clothes. Look at all the flat rectangles.

Schneep also put his present down and looked around the room. “You have a nice house.”

“It’s a bit cramped with you all in here, so that sucks, but yeah, it’s alright,” Marvin said.

“Hi Chase, hi Schneep.” Stacy gave a little wave.

“Hi Stacy.” Chase waved back. “So your parents let you come?”

“Yeah. It’s, uh...” She glanced around. “...really different from girl birthday parties. You guys don’t have any decorations? Or cake?”

“We have cake,” Marvin said defensively. “It’s in the kitchen with Mam and Dad. And we’ve never really had people over for birthdays, so like, there’s never really been a need to decorate stuff, you know?”

“My parents still get balloons even when I’m not having friends over,” Stacy said.

Marvin blinked, looking surprised. “Really?”

I’d like balloons, JJ said. It’s a bit too late now, but maybe next year.

A moment passed in silence. “Well, uh, now that everyone’s here we can get the party started!” Jackie said cheerfully. “What do you guys want to do? JJ, Marvin? It’s your party. You want to open presents first?”

“Oh! We can play video games!” Marvin said, walking over to the TV. He slid open a door in the cabinet, revealing, as Chase suspected, a row of DVD and game cases. “We just have a Wii, nothing exciting like at Chase’s house, and we only have four remotes but we can take turns! We have a lot of ‘party games.’”

“Cool, I’ve never used a Wii before.” Chase jumped over the back of the sofa and landed in the corner of the L shape.

JJ flinched. Don’t do that when Dad can see, he’s really particular about the furniture.

“Really? Oh. Sorry.” Chase shifted in his seat. “I was excited. Excited to play games with you guys on your birthday! Happy birthday, by the way! And happy Halloween!” He looked to the side. “Schneep, wish them happy birthday!”

Schneep was still standing, looking at the wall of photographs. His eyes were narrowed as he examined them all. “Was?” He turned back around. “Oh, yes. Happy birthday Marvin! Happy birthday JJ!”

At that moment, Mom peered into the room from the hallway, with Granmam behind her. “Chase? Henrik? I’m heading out now,” she said. “Have fun!”

“Alright, Mom!” Chase said.

“Goodbye, Aunt Jess.” Schneep waved.

“Goodbye.” Mom waved back. “I’ll be back at five.” And with that, she turned and left.

Granmam took her place staring into the room. “Ah, a full house, I see.” She chuckled. “Do you boys want me t’leave you to it?”

“Uhhh, yeah, I think so?” Marvin glanced at JJ, who nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Granmam!”

“Not a problem, lad. I’ll be in the dinin’ room wit’ your parents if you need me.” And she disappeared.

Marvin beamed. “Alright! Thanks again!” He then turned back to the TV cabinet. “Okay, what do you guys want to do?”

They ended up playing party games for a while, with everyone taking turns. Chase found the Wii remotes strange, but apparently Schneep and Stacy really clicked with the different controllers because they ended up playing more than Jackie and Chase did.

“Ach! Nicht fair!” Schneep shouted. “This game is—is broken! Why do you get all the high dice rolls?!”

“There’s a trick to it, I swear,” Stacy says. “It’s something about the timing.”

“Timing? Time to get your face out of my face.” Schneep grumbled, leaning back against the sofa and stretching his legs across the floor. He held up the remote for Chase to take. “Here. You do this part.”

“Oh I’m so glad you gave me the controller for the worst minigame,” Chase muttered, taking it anyway.

“I like this minigame,” Marvin said.

“It’s all luck!”

“Yeah, that’s why I like it. It evens the playing field.”

“The game has already—already—ah!” Schneep snapped his fingers a couple times, looking for the word. “Already leveled the playing field! With bombs!”

Jackie chuckled. “It’s demolished the playing field.” He settled back into the sofa cushions.

“If I knew you guys had a game system I would’ve got you guys a game for it,” Stacy muttered.

I’m sure whatever you got was great, JJ assured her.

Stacy sighed. “I should’ve actually asked you guys what you wanted.”

JJ shrugged. I’m never sure what I want for presents, only what I don’t want. Like clothes.

“I’ve wanted the same thing for ages,” Marvin said. “I want a pet.”

“A pet?” Chase asked, glancing away from the screen.

“Yeah! I know we don’t have room for a dog because they need a lot of space, but we could have a cat! I’ve asked every birthday and Christmas for a cat, but I’d be fine with anything. Like, we could have a hamster in our room. Or even a fucking fish. I really want a tiny, cute-ass animal in our house. I’ll take care of it and everything, I’ve read so much about cat care—well, and a bit about taking care of other pets. Like I said, I’d take anything.” Marvin paused. “But I really want a cat.”

“Pets are a lot of responsibility,” Jackie said. “I once pet-sitted for my aunt, it was so much to take care of her dog for just two days.”

“Yeah, I know.” Marvin shrugged. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve checked out a bunch of books from the library—Oh for the love of god!”

Chase laughed. “Do you still like this minigame, bro?”

Marvin threw his hands in the air. “I’m in last fucking place now! Dick!”

Chase just laughed harder. “Here, Schneep, take your controller again.” He held it down for Schneep to grab, but he wasn’t paying attention. “Hey. Schneep.” He followed Schneep’s line of sight. “Why are you staring at the pictures on the wall again?”

Schneep jumped a little. “Sorry.” He took the remote again, then looked at JJ and Marvin. “I-I hope you do not mind.”

“Course not,” Marvin said absentmindedly, paying more attention to the game. JJ just shrugged.

“Can I... ask you something?” Schneep asked. “Why... Are... A lot of the pictures just have one of you in them. That is... Do you two... Does one of you not like taking pictures?”

“Mam and Dad have more pictures,” Marvin said, still not looking away from the TV screen.

JJ sighed. They’re mostly of me, he said, looking up at the ceiling.

“...oh.” Schneep blinked. “That is... strange.”

The schools like to hand out awards for being very good at things, I’ve won a fair amount. Mam and Dad like to take photographs to remember the occasion. JJ jerked his head over to the wall of pictures. You’ll notice a lot of them have me or one of them holding up a piece of paper. That’s what that’s about.

Schneep narrowed his eyes. “That is not all of the pictures with just one of—”

JJ reached down and nudged him. It’s your turn again.

“Ah, so soon?” Schneep looked back at the TV.

The short conversation hadn’t gone unnoticed. Pretty much everyone else had heard and seen it, though Stacy was a bit confused on some of the words JJ signed. Jackie looked the most uneasy out of the group. He kept glancing back towards the hallway, towards the mentioned dining room. The only one who hadn’t really reacted was Marvin. He hadn’t turned away from the television the whole time. As if it wasn’t important enough to look away from the video game to listen.

“Weird,” Chase muttered, deciding to move on.

“Yeah, weird, huh, Chase Brody?” Stacy said in a suddenly pointed tone.

“Huh?” Chase looked over at her. She was still sitting in the armchair, basically in a straight line across the room from him.

“A lot of things are weird,” she said, eyes latched onto him from behind her pink-rimmed glasses. “But like, sometimes you shouldn’t use that word. People might not care for it.”

“Oh. Oh! Right.” Chase cringed. He hadn’t forgotten about apologizing to Marvin for the whole ‘magic weirdo’ incident. He just... hadn’t been able to. They were all so busy with school, and the Jacksons were in a different year so it was harder to see them around, and the group hadn’t met up much outside of school until now...

But this was a birthday party. This was supposed to be fun. Though, if Marvin thought Chase didn’t like him, that would get in the way of the fun. But also, what if Marvin had moved past it? He didn’t seem... different. Like how he’d been different recently. But also also, that could have been because Marvin also didn’t want to kill the fun mood. God, why was having friends so hard? It wasn’t supposed to be hard.

Chase was a bit quiet as they finished up the game, trying to think of a way to do this. As they wrapped up (JJ won), he decided it would probably be best to get right to it. “Hey, uh, Marvin? Can I talk to you... in the hallway?”

“Huh?” Marvin looked at him, confused. “Uh... sure.” He stood up. “Don’t pick a game without us, guys.”

“Everything okay, you two?” Jackie asked, concerned.

“Yeah, uh... I just want to talk about some stuff.” Chase glanced at Stacy. She gave him a smug little smile that made him want to change his mind about this. But whatever.

“Alright, c’mon.” Marvin walked into the hallway, and Chase followed him.

The two of them stopped halfway between the living room and the dining room doorway. It wasn’t too far, but Chase didn’t want the adults hearing this, that would be weird. As long as they spoke quietly, it should be fine. “So, uh...” Chase kicked at the carpet. “I, uh... Stacy told me that I’d said something mean.”

“She did?” Marvin’s face was hard to read.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t—I didn’t mean it when I said it, I just... wasn’t really thinking... uh.” Chase took a deep breath. “Anyway. When we were in the planetarium basement, Stacy and I were talking, and I said that I didn’t want people to know I was hanging out with ‘magic weirdos.’”

Marvin stiffened slightly. Chase wouldn’t have noticed that before, but now he was paying attention. “Yeah?”

“I, uh... didn’t realize you... heard that,” Chase said slowly. “A-and it’s not what I meant! I wasn’t calling you o-or anyone else a weirdo, I just... I-I was trying to say that’s what other kids would say. Not me. But, uh, Stacy and Schneep pointed out that it was still calling you guys names, and I’m sorry. I-I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Marvin tilted his head. “Really?”

“Uh... yeah.” Chase wasn’t expecting that flat tone. “I’m sorry. You’re not weird.”

“Really?” Marvin narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m wearing a fucking cape.” He twirled said cape around. “That’s not weird?”

“I mean... it is.” Chase instantly regretted that. “But that’s not a bad thing!” he hurried to add. “I mean, it’s great! You’re great. I-I still like you. And... and I never want to make you feel bad. So... I’m sorry.”

Marvin was silent for a moment. Chase shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He didn’t realize until now that Marvin rarely looked directly at people. The way he was staring at Chase now. Just as Chase was about to break the quiet, Marvin nodded. “Okay. Yeah.”

“We’re... good?” Chase asked hesitantly.

“Yeah. Apology accepted.” Marvin turned around. “Let’s go back to the party now.”

Chase watched him walk back down the hallway. He couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t really over... But he followed him back into the living room anyway. Maybe he could ask about it again later.

It might have just been because of that conversation, but Chase felt like there was a weird mood in the air after that. The group played another game, shouting and laughing like they’d been doing before. Stacy talked a lot about how this was different from what she usually did with friends. Jackie took pictures with his camera. Marvin and JJ got really competitive playing. It all seemed fine on the surface. And yet, he could have sworn there was this... this tension below all that.

After only half an hour, the grown-ups walked into the room. Granmam, and a man and woman who were clearly the twins’ parents. The woman had short blonde hair and blue eyes, while the man had darker brown hair and a thick beard. “Alright boys!” Mr. Jackson clapped his hands for attention. “It’s time to open gifts.”

“Aw, hell yeah.” Marvin paused the game and put down the remote. “Jackie, scoot over, I have to sit next to JJ for this.”

“Here, you just take the spot.” Jackie stood up. “I don’t mind standing.”

Everyone scrambled to make room. Luckily, the adults had the idea to bring in chairs from the kitchen and put them down in front of the television (which they turned off without powering off the Wii.) It ended up with Chase, Schneep, and Stacy crowded onto the long part of the sofa’s L while the twins sat on the short part. The grown-ups sat in the kitchen chairs while Jackie took the armchair, where he now sat with his camera out for pictures. “Why don’ you open the gifts from all your friends first, boys?” Granmam suggested.

“Oh! Open ours!” Chase shouted. “That one’s for Marvin, and that one’s for JJ, right there, in the green wrapping paper.”

“Cool, it’s big!” Marvin said, excitedly picking up his present. “JJ, same time?”

Same time, JJ agreed, and the two of them started unwrapping, with Marvin tearing off the paper and JJ carefully undoing the tape.

“Henrik insisted on getting at least one book,” Chase said. “I don’t really get it, but I think you’ll like it. And, uh, they didn’t have the sort of magic that you like, Marvin, so I hope that’s fine—”

Marvin gasped. “It’s perfect!” He’d unwrapped a box that turned out to be a magic trick kit. “Magnificent Magic? Oh, that’s cool. I’m gonna learn how to do all the fucking card tricks.”

As one, the kids glanced towards Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, all of them expecting some reaction to Marvin’s swearing. But the two parents seemed fine. Mrs. Jackson was taking pictures just like Jackie was, smiling gently. “What did you get, Jameson?” Mr. Jackson asked. “Hold it up for the camera.”

JJ held up his present and automatically smiled for the picture. It was a book about filming techniques in old Hollywood. Chase hadn’t understood why Schneep insisted JJ would like it, but clearly Schneep had been right, because after the photo JJ turned to them and excitedly signed, Thank you so so much! It’s amazing! I’ve never had a book like this!

“You are welcome,” Schneep mumbled, grinning and ducking his head in embarrassment.

“You guys should do mine next,” Stacy said, pointing to a pair of identical white-and-gold presents.

Oooo the paper is so nice, JJ said, and picked one up.

“Yeah, we have really nice paper.” Stacy paused as the twins unwrapped the gifts. “I didn’t really know what to get you guys, because everyone I asked about presents for boys suggested sports stuff or car stuff, and I don’t think you guys care about either of those. So I gave up and got you the same thing I would’ve got a girl friend I didn’t know too well.”

“What is it?” Marvin opened up the thin book and looked at the pages inside. The cover was blue with a pattern of clouds. JJ held a book that was exactly the same, but with a pattern of stars.

“Diaries. Or, uh, journals, if ‘diary’ is too girly for you,” Stacy explained. “I think everyone should write stuff down.”

That’s such a great idea, JJ said, smiling. He and Marvin looked at each other and, after a second, swapped journals, apparently deciding they liked the other cover better.

“Hold it up for the picture!” Mrs. Jackson said, taking a photograph. “Oooo, they have little locks on them, how cute.”

“It’s just Jackie’s left now, right?” Marvin asked.

“Yeah.” Jackie chuckled. “I hope you’re not too disappointed. They’re those two gift bags right there.”

The twins picked up the bags and pulled out the tissue paper to look at the contents inside. What is this? JJ asked.

“It’s for your video camera. If you put the case on it, it’s supposed to protect it from being dropped. I hope it fits. I wanted to get a tripod, but I wasn’t sure if you already had one, or if I could find one you could use. Be hard to wrap, anyway.”

Marvin gasped as he looked at what he had. “Witchy socks!” He pulled out a bunch of striped and patterned socks in a variety of colors, all themed around black cats and broomsticks and other witch-like stuff. “That’s so fucking cool! I’ve never had fun socks before! Thank you!”

“Picture, boys!” Mrs. Jackson trilled, snapping another photo even though Marvin wasn’t looking at the camera. “Now it’s time for the gifts from family!”

“Ah, don’ rush ‘em, dear,” Granmam said. “The gifts’ll still be t’ere in five minutes. Here, boys.” She leaned forward, holding out a pair of envelopes. “I’m sure ye know what’s in t’ese.”

The family gifts started with money from Granmam, fifty in cash for each of the twins, which they both looked very excited for. The rest of the presents were from their parents. As JJ had suspected, a lot of the flat, rectangular packages were boxes of clothes. Every time he opened one, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson gushed about how nice he would look in that shirt, or those pants. He clearly got sick of it very quickly, but he kept smiling every time his mom prompted him for a picture. Marvin, meanwhile, abandoned all sense of order and began tearing open presents.

“Dude, slow down,” Chase said. “You’re not even checking the labels.”

Marvin snorted and rolled his eyes. “They don’t have labels. We’re twins. It’s always for both of us.”

That sort of made sense. But also... neither of the twins looked particularly excited about the presents from their parents. All of them were rather boring. Clothes, books, school supplies. The most exciting it got was a pair of white teddy bears, identical except for the bow ties around their necks (red and blue.) Where was all the fun stuff? If you were going to buy stuff that both of the twins would enjoy, wouldn’t you buy things that both of them liked? Instead of things that neither of them did?

Mr. and Mrs. Jackson didn’t seem to notice their kids’ lackluster reactions. They kept saying things like, “Isn’t it great?” and “That’ll be so helpful!” and “You’ll get a lot of use out of t’at!” Chase found himself quickly getting annoyed by these comments, but he had to be nice. They were Marvin and JJ’s parents, after all, and this was their house.

He also noticed Jackie had put away his camera a while ago, and was now leaning back in the armchair not reacting to much. Schneep was staring at the parents and frowning, but saying nothing. Stacy still looked like she was paying attention to the present-opening, but Chase recognized the way eyes began to glaze over when someone was bored. It usually happened to him in math class.

Eventually, it was over. Or—was it?

“Alright, everyone stay right here!” Mrs. Jackson stood up. “We have one last special gift t’is year!”

Mr. Jackson also nodded and stood up. “We’ll be right back.”

The two of them left, leaving Marvin and JJ exchanging curious looks. Granmam beamed at them. “You two will love t’is, boys,” she said. “I’ve helped out a bit wit’ the costs and the... well. Everyt’ing else you’ll need.”

The parents soon returned carrying a large box between them, wrapped but with a circular hole in one side. Unlike all the other presents, this one had a label on the top, though Chase couldn’t see what it was since there was also a large red ribbon. “Alright, here you go,” Mr. Jackson said as the two of them set it down on the sofa between the twins.

Marvin and JJ leaned over, looking at the label. They looked up at each other. JJ grimaced slightly, and Marvin leaned back, playing with the edge of his cape. “Come on, open it!” Mrs. Jackson said, sitting down and picking up the camera. “Marvin, help your brother.”

“No, I’m fine,” Marvin said shortly. “Go ahead, JJ.”

JJ’s grimace deepened, but he quickly schooled his expression into pleasant neutrality. Are you sure? he asked.

“Yeah.”

JJ nodded slowly. He began unwrapping the large box. Was it just in Chase’s imagination, or was the box... wiggling?

The paper fell away to reveal a big cardboard box. JJ opened the flaps on the top, and—

Something inside squeaked out a small mew.

The room fell silent. Chase stared at Marvin, who was looking into the box with wide eyes as a small gray head peeked over the edge. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson smiled. “Whoo!” Mrs. Jackson said. “Do you like it, Jameson?”

“Emma, the kitten is a present for both of them,” Granmam said, frowning in clear disapproval.

“We just thought that Jameson has been doing so well this year that he deserved a little extra reward,” Mr. Jackson explained. “Marvin can help take care of it, too, of course. We don’t play favorites.”

Marvin abruptly stood up. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, and hurried out of the room.

“Marvin!” Jackie gasped. He also stood and followed Marvin out of there.

“Um...” Stacy’s head darted around the room. Out of everyone, she was the most uncomfortable. “Is it... cute?” she asked awkwardly.

JJ reached into the box, prompting a couple more squeaky meows. He pulled out a tiny gray kitten, gently holding it in two hands. It wriggled a bit, and he carefully lowered it back into the box. He nodded.

“Alright, I suppose it’s time for cake, t’en,” Mrs. Jackson said.

JJ violently shook his head. I’m not blowing out the candles without Marvin, he said.

“He’ll just be a minute, Jameson—” Mr. Jackson started.

“Listen to the lad, will you?!” Granmam snapped. “He wants his brother t’ere, and you shoul’ too!” She stood up and left the room.

Mrs. Jackson sighed. “It’s alright, Bobby, we can wait,” she said. “Let’s go get everyt’ing ready in the kitchen, sure?”

Mr. Jackson nodded, and the two of them left the room.

The four remaining kids sat in silence for a long time. JJ’s eyes were fixed on the kitten in the box.

“Are you two... okay?” Schneep whispered.

JJ sighed. It’s fine.

“It is not.”

I know, but... JJ trailed off.

“You two can come over to our house whenever you want,” Schneep said quietly. “Ja, Chase?”

“Ja—Yes.” Chase nodded.

JJ gave them a small smile. Thank you. He sat up straight. I don’t think Marvin will be back for a while. I hope you weren’t expecting cake any time soon. While we wait, can you all help me sort these presents out? We’ll just stack them on top of the table again.

The others mumbled agreement and quietly went to work. Chase glanced up towards the second floor, where Marvin had mentioned the bathroom was. Everything would be fine, right?

++++++++++++++++++++

Knock knock knock. “Marvin?”

Marvin started, his breath catching in his throat. He looked towards the closed bathroom door but didn’t stand up from where he was sitting in the bathtub. In fact, he curled up tighter, pulling his knees closer to his chest and burying his face in them.

“Marvin?” Jackie called again. “Are you okay?”

He wasn’t. But that didn’t matter, did it? It never. Fucking. Mattered. A sob clawed at his throat but he choked it back. Not while Jackie could hear.

“Everyone’s waiting downstairs,” Jackie said gently. “I... I know you’re upset. It... That was some bullshit back there. But... we... we’re here for you. JJ is, too.”

JJ was always there for him. Marvin had always been so... so happy that he was. It would be easy for him to leave his twin behind, but that wasn’t how it was between them. Did that make it worse? That he clearly didn’t want this, but it kept happening?

Another soft knock on the door. “Marvin?” It was Granmam this time. “I talked t’your parents. They shouldn’ have done t’at, the kitten is a gift for both of ye. I’m sorry.” She paused. “When you come out, we can have cake. It’s butter yellow, wit’ chocolate frosting. You can blow out the candles when you’re ready.”

Marvin swallowed the lump in his throat. “Mm-hmm,” he said. It was the most he could muster up.

He heard quiet voices. And then footsteps. The creak of the staircase. Granmam had probably convinced Jackie to leave. She knew that sometimes he just needed his space.

The moment they were out of earshot, the crying started in earnest. Marvin clutched his hair, rocking back and forth. Why? Why was this his life? Why was it always so hard? Why couldn’t he just have been normal? This was who he was. He couldn’t change it no matter how hard he tried. And he did try. When he was little, he tried to be quiet like Jameson, thinking that maybe his parents just didn’t like loud noises. But that wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how he worked. So he tried leaning into it. Maybe he could be impossible to forget about. And yet.

He didn’t understand. He never understood. And not just at home, either. Everyone else was the same. But it was the opposite there, wasn’t it? They never forgot him. They never forgot about how he broke the stupid rules that all the other kids seemed to just know! Why didn’t he know the rules?! What was wrong with wearing a cape to school? It didn’t break the dress code, and he liked how it felt, isn’t that all that should matter? Did they think he didn’t notice how they all looked away quickly? How not a single person ever talked with him if they didn’t need to?

Apparently they didn’t. Chase didn’t even realize that he’d hurt his feelings until Stacy told him. Shouldn’t it be fucking obvious?! Was he not doing it right?! How was he supposed to be upset the right way?! It shouldn’t matter! None of this should matter!

But it did.

“I’m sorry. You’re not weird.”

Chase was trying to be nice, but it didn’t work. Marvin knew he was different. He’d always known.

“But I still like you.”

‘Still.’ Like Marvin’s personality was something Chase had to... put up with. Was that always it? Was he always something to be put up with, and nothing more?

That was it, wasn’t it?

Marvin’s throat was starting to hurt from the sobs clawing at it. His pants had grown wet with tears and snot where he’d pressed his face into his legs. He couldn’t stay here. They were all waiting for him. Couldn’t keep up with the twins’ birthday if one half of the twins was missing.

Slowly, he raised his head. He wiped his face on his arm. “Stop it,” he said to himself. “Stop it, stop it.” He never understood how people stayed calm when it had all been so much. “Stop it, damn it.”

He got to his feet and stepped out of the bathtub, walking over to stand in front of the sink. His eyes were terribly red, and his lips were trembling. “Stop it,” he said to his reflection. Tears gathered in the reflection’s eyes, and he gritted his teeth. “Fucking stop it. You’re fourteen now. You can’t keep acting like a kid.”

His chest heaved with the effort of controlling his shaking breaths. He turned on the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. That seemed to shock his system enough for him to grab control again. He took several deep breaths just to prove he could. Then turned to the bathroom door, grabbed the handle, and slowly pushed it open.

The upstairs hallway was pretty quiet. Marvin couldn’t hear any noise from downstairs. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked over towards the staircase, pausing at the top. Now he could hear voices. Were they having a good time?

“Hey.”

“What the f—?!” Marvin spun around. That voice had come from right behind him.

And it was clear why. Standing mere inches from him... was Anti. Grinning. Marvin blinked, disoriented. He looked so... real. There wasn’t a hint of transparency to his body, though most of it was still black as shadow. The slash across his throat oozed blood, and Marvin could smell the metallic tang from it.

“Happy birthday,” Anti said.

And then he pushed.

Marvin screamed—mostly in surprise—he hadn’t seen the shove with how close they were—and then in pain. The world became colors—brown and white and blue—as he crashed down the stairs. His bones jolted with each impact. His arms and legs flailed.

And then his head cracked against something and it all went dark.

++++++++++++++++++++

Jameson’s head snapped up at the sound of the scream. He was running before the clattering sound even began. The others were frozen for a split second before they all ran after him, going right past the grown-ups also hurrying towards the sound.

Another scream. A lot like the other one. The kids all jolted in surprise; they hadn’t realized Jameson could scream. But he could. And he did. The reason why was clear.

Marvin was splayed at the bottom of the stairs. His body a tangled heap. Jameson collapsed to his knees next to him and started shaking his shoulder. When that didn’t work, he pulled him closer, cradling Marvin’s head in his arms as he started to cry. There was a smear of blood on the hardwood floor.

“Holy fuckin’ god!” Granmam gasped. “Mary and Joseph! Emma, call the fuckin’ hospital!”

Mrs. Jackson nodded, clearly in shock, and ran back into the dining room.

“I-is he okay?” Chase asked in a hushed voice. “What... what happened?”

Jackie put a hand on his shoulder. “He must’ve fallen down the stairs. He’ll... he’ll be fine.” Though Chase appreciated the comfort, he heard the shaking doubt in Jackie’s voice.

Schneep ran forward, kneeling next to Jameson. “You need to check pulses in the neck,” he said hurriedly, reaching out to feel for a heartbeat. “But sometimes i-it is hard to find, so you—you check the mouth with a mirror for breath. But! I-I can feel it. He is... okay, Jameson.”

Jameson shook his head. Things were not okay. Marvin was not okay.

++++++++++++++++++++

Chase had never been to the hospital before. He’d been to the doctor, but not to the hospital. It was different here. Brighter. The fluorescent lights lit up the white walls in a blinding way. Everyone who worked here wore blue or green shirts and pants. Things smelled... different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Stacy’s parents had already come to pick her up. She looked at the rest of them sadly, said, “Tell Marvin I said hi when he wakes up, a-and I hope he gets better,” then left with them. Chase and Schneep were still here. Sitting on a hard, square sofa in the middle of the hallway. A few doors down, JJ and his parents were inside a hospital room with Marvin, who still hadn’t woken up.

Mom was here, too. Schneep asked Chase to call her soon after Mrs. Jackson announced an ambulance was on the way, so that she could drive them to the hospital, too. Chase agreed. Neither of them wanted to leave. Mom understood, and was now waiting with them. Her foot kept tapping on the tiled floor while she stood there. She was worried. When she noticed Chase staring at her, she gave him a quick smile, to show that she was not worried.

The door to the room opened. A man wearing a white coat and those same blue clothes stepped out, followed shortly by Mr. Jackson, then Mrs. Jackson, who was holding Jameson tightly by the hand. The man glanced down at where Chase and Schneep were sitting, then went back into the room. The Jacksons saw them too, and walked over.

“How are things?” Mom asked, taking immediate charge of the situation.

“He’ll be fine,” Mr. Jackson said. “The fall just knocked him out and gave him a concussion. He’s awake now, but it hurts, so they gave him something for the pain. They want to keep him here for a night to monitor things.”

“Is it... okay that he was out for so long?” Mom asked cautiously.

“That’s what they’re watching for,” Mr. Jackson explained.

Chase and Schneep looked at JJ. His eyes were distant, staring forward at nothing. But he noticed them looking and managed to focus. Yanking his hand free of his mom’s grip, he signed, He was really confused and couldn’t really talk but the doctor said that was normal and he might actually be lucky considering his head hit the bannister.

“Can we go see him?” Chase asked.

“Sorry, kids, it’s family only right now,” Mrs. Jackson said sympathetically.

“But you are not still in there.” Schneep stared at the Jackson parents, his expression intense, but hard to read.

“Unfortunately, we can’t stay all day,” Mrs. Jackson continued. “We have work tomorrow, and Jameson is too young to stay on his own.”

Schneep nodded, but Chase saw his hands clench into shaking fists. And he realized what that intense expression meant: Schneep was angry.

JJ turned around, looking over his shoulder at the door to the room. His mom grabbed his hand again. “We’ll be right back here tomorrow,” she said to him. “Eight am sharp, promise.” He looked at her and nodded, his eyes going distant again before he looked back at the closed door.

There was some more talk between the adults, and then Mom sighed and said, “Alright, sweets. I know it sucks, but we have to go home now. We’ll come back tomorrow. Public visiting hours start at nine, and we’ll be right here for that. I promise.” Her voice softened into a whisper. “Marvin’s going to be fine.”

Chase and Schneep stared at each other. “I guess... we have to go,” Chase said.

Schneep nodded reluctantly.

The two of them stood up and followed Mom out of the hospital. The heavy air choked out all words, and the car ride back home was silent.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.

++++++++++++++++++++

Something was wrong.

Marvin had tried to explain it to Jameson when he woke up, but something was off. The words weren’t coming out, it was only mumbled sounds. The clearest thing he could manage was “Th’ shadow... wasn’... a sh’doh...” And that was no good. Did Jameson understand?

He’d never felt pain like this before. There was lightning in his head, racing down his face and neck with every heartbeat. A woman in blue clothes—scrubs. That’s what they were called. She put a needle in his arm and said it would help.

Mam and Dad left. They took Jameson with them. He saw the tears forming in his eyes, and he started crying as well. “Don’ leef...!” he tried to say.

His head was full of water, too, now. The ceiling tiles were starting to become one as the separating lines blurred together. This wasn’t... normal. This was... wrong.

He knew the doctor’s voice.

“Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, your son will be fine.”

Where did he know the voice from? The last time he’d been to the hospital was years ago, and he didn’t remember much of that visit. Why would he remember this voice?

The doctor was talking to the woman in blue scrubs now. The door to the room was closed but they were still mumbling. He had... he had to listen. But... they were talking underwater.

“...bit of a risk...” “They won’t... remember the first... years ago?” “Alri... move him? Tonight?” “...o’clock, when the shift...”

Why... was he so sleepy? He didn’t... need a nap. He never...

A shadow formed on the ceiling. It looked like... a person. And it... said something. He struggled against the sudden... sudden tiredness, and just before he fell asleep... he heard...

“I think you’ll like your present.”

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #brigid writes fanfiction #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #antisepticeye #pnptau

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suashii · 1 year

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sweet hanni!! ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝ᵔ ▽ ᵔ⸝⸝꒱ྀིა TODAYS THE DAY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIN!! i’m lighting sparklers & throwin confetti in honor of his special day!! i just know you & him have a v special night planned!! i’d love to know the agenda if you wanna share!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ dw reo & i are droppin by w cake & ice cream & gifts ofc!! hehee!! & i am forever & ALWAYS squeezin you & sending all of the stars (yes, all of them!!) to bring you the shine & delicate energy you deserve <33 mwah!!

YAYYY chloe joining the celebration !! hmm the plans for his night aren’t particularly special, probably something close to the bday fic i wrote because he would much rather keep things lowkey than have a big birthday bash — i think i could get away with inviting some (like 3 or 4 lol) of his teammates though :3 but yeah! just a cake and movie of his choice! and he won’t admit it when we’re cleaning up but he definitely had at least a little bit of fun hehe. mm but for the rest of the night he just hijacks my attention! gets all the head scratches and forehead kisses he could ask for <3

#₊⊹⁀➴ postcards #❤︎ — cutie mootie #kisses u and kisses u and kisses u !!!#sending you all the love in my heart <3 !!

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jolapeno · 1 year

Note

Happy birthday bash lovely! Can you tell us your top 5 Narcos episodes? 🥰

thank you so much, love!!! 🩷✨ omg, this is going to be so hard. I’ve decided to go with ones that pack the most punch for me personally. not so much ones where I’ve felt inspired to write.

so without making you wait, here we go:

despegue: so much happens in this episode, but javi rattled because steve is missing. steve being ‘kidnapped’. it’s also more of my girl, connie. it’s also the final, so it delivered with a punch!

the good, the bad, and the dead: each time I watch this one, I am on the edge of my seat. it’s so intense. the individual guilt that weighs on both steve, javi and messina is so strong.

los pepes: similar to the previous mention, it’s another one that has me on the edge of my seat. the way the episode is laid out too is interesting, but also we get to see the pressure that Peña has put on himself by choosing what he has. plus, we watch murphy connecting the dots, showing how deeply he knows his partner.

checkmate: I get all of the things I love in season three, Peña being peña, van ness and his fanny pack, and a takedown. it was tense, beautifully shot. (and Peña looked amazing, so)

todos los hombres del presidente: beautifully shot again, but the emotional toll is really apparent in this one. there’s so much on the line, and even as it looks like a good thing happened, more shit lands in peña’s lap (my poor boy)

#asked and answered #kind souls #fuckyeahdindjarin #mm birthday bash

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redheadjustin · 2 years

Text

Alpha’s little mate

WARNING!!!! this contains mentions of past abuse of a child. I have in no way expreanced abuse. however I am using this as a way to show those have can find love after they are out of the abusive environment. If anyone needs to talk please do so. I am here for you. Oh and some Bella bashing.

Jacob had always had feelings for you. Long before the wolf. Long before his mom died. He had loved you since he met you when you were 2 and he was 4. He had always been protective and you adored it. You relished in the fact that someone loved you enough to deem you worthy of protection. You Y/N L/N were born in Forks Washington on MM/DD/YEAR to Y/F/N and Y/M/N L/N. The first three of your life were perfect. Your mother was a successful lawyer who worked from home. Your father worked at Seattle general hospital and would make the hour commute both ways. They loved the small town fell of Forks but your father was the chief of surgery and didn’t want to downsize to Forks general. Then on your fourth birthday is when your life went to Hell.

You were in the car on your way home from your birthday dinner. Your father and mother were conversating and you were trying your darndest to not fall asleep. Then a truck ran into the car. The next thing you remember was waking up in the arms of one Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He held you as both your parents were in surgery. Your mom made it. Your father however, died on the table. You Became numb for a while. The only one who could get through to you was a six year old Jacob Black. You spent many a day in Jacob’s arms. At home your mother became abusive. You didn’t tell Jacob. you became very good at hiding your bruising and scars.

When Bella moved back to Forks your life went off the rails. Being fourteen you knew you were gay with a giant crush on Jacob. Then Jacob’s fever hit. The next time you saw Jacob imprinted on you and told you everything about the supernatural. Once the mess with the volturi had been dealt with you and Jacob married. And through the years you kept your abuse secret. It’s not that you didn’t want Jacob to know but you had internalized your feelings about your abuse and never told anyone even after Victoria killed your mother. If you had your way Jacob would never find out. But fate had other plans.

Jacob had taken to running a morning patrol with Seth. Relations between the wolves and the Cullens were better but still tense and Bella hates you with a passion. Jacob had started these patrols when a coven of witches moved to Forks. The wolves trusted the Witches even less than the Cullens. You were a wizard and a very powerful one at that so Jacob didn’t see the problem with leaving you alone a bit. After all, you were more than capable of defending yourself. What Jacob didn’t know is that one of the new witches in town has a blood feud with your family and is powerful enough to bypass the protective wards around your home.

When Jacob arrived home he made his way to your shared bedroom. It was about 9:00 A.M. and it wasn’t unusual for you to sleep in. So, as he walked to your side of the bed he didn’t see your sleep pants and boxers on the floor. When he pulled back the covers Jacob was expecting his nineteen year old mate. But, where his mate should be was a five year old boy in your Batman T-shirt. To say Jacob was shocked was a complete and utter understatement. For a second Jacob thought that you somehow had a son. But, one look at your H/L H/C and the pack tattoo told him it was you. It was then at this point Jacob noticed the note one your nightstand. As he picked it up Jacob snarled at the feel of someone else's magic.

Dear mutt,

You by now have no doubt found your mate quite younger than you last saw him. You see mutt, my coven and the L/N’s have a blood feud. And when I found out the last of the L/N’s was in town and the mate to the alpha of the wolf pack? I couldn’t help but have some fun. However, when I managed to enter your mate’s mind I found some things that concerned me. So, I decided to show you those things. You’ll probably try to rip my head off but the spell will wear off tomorrow.

Have fun being a father for a day,

The Nickjewl coven.

Carlisle Cullen was many and had seen many things. He was a doctor, a vampire, a husband, a father and he had seen the worst of humanity and the supernatural. He smiled as Edward feeds Renesmee her breakfast. He was proud of his children. Edward more than any other. He went from believing he was a monster to loving himself more than he had in 109 years of life. Carlisle was happy to see his son doing well and he thanked every God he could think of for his granddaughter. The one thing he was less than pleased with was his daughter in law. Carlisle was pulled out of his thoughts by the door bell. Confused at how someone managed to approach the house without anyone smelling them. As he walked to the door he heard Bella mumble at how her makeup was ruined due to the noise spooking her. Carlisle rolled his eyes opening the door. What met his eyes was something that despite what he has seen that many find to be impossible found himself blinking at the sight before him.

At his front door was Jacob Black and in his arms a little boy no older than five. Jacob looked absolutely panicked with the sleeping boy in his arms. Carlisle ushered the alpha into the living room.

“Carlisle you’ve gotta help me. The new witch coven in town, one of them turned Y/N into a child.” Carlisle was both surprised and pissed. He knew that there was a new coven of witches in Forks. They’d been peaceful…at least to them. however when Y/N was mentioned the head of the coven had a snarl on her face. “Jacob, you mean to tell me that it’s Y/N in your arms?” Carlisle had a special place in the hearts of the Cullens(no matter that they’ve been as still as statues for centuries). Carlisle had been the one to treat you on the day of the car crash.

After that Carlisle had kept tabs on you. So, to hear that the witches turned not only the mate of the alpha wolf but someone with the protection of the Cullens into a child? This was essentially an act of war. “Jacob, how on earth did she get through the wards?” It was inconceivable to him. Y/N was one of if not the most powerful warlocks in history. “Carlisle, they brute forced the wards while Y/N was sleeping and read his mind.” The growl in Jacob’s voice got louder till it was a snarl. While the witches and warlocks were not governed like the vampires or wolves there were unspoken laws. To brute force the wards around a warlock’s home and to read their mind and then to turn them into a child? It was one of if not the most serious crime one could commit.

Carlisle led Jacob and a very groggy Y/N up to his study to check on Y/N’s health. It was then that Bella stormed out of her room and stopped short at seeing Jacob. She was all smiles until she smelled Y/N. Bella hated Y/N. She saw Y/N as stealing Jacob away from her despite the fact that she could not make up her mind between Jacob and Edward and the small detail that Y/N was Jacob’s imprint which he could not help.

“Why’s the whore small?” Bella asked with nothing but loathing and contempt in her eyes. At Jacob’s little growl Carlisle sent Jacob and his little mate into his office.

“Isabella, I know you blame Y/N for losing Jacob. But, That boy has been through more than anyone should. If it weren't for the fact that we are vampires I would have adopted him. I will no longer tolerate your hatred for that sweet boy. Now, why don't you help your daughter get ready for school and send Edward up here?” Carlisle had never spoken to Bella like this before and everyone that had heard it, even Edward, agreed with him. She went downstairs tail tucked between her legs as Carlisle walked into his study.

Carlisle smiled as he saw Jacob bouncing you in his arms pointing to every animal he could see in the forest. Carlisle was one of two people in the Cullen family that knew of your abuse. Edward heard your thoughts when they first moved back to Forks. Edward had a soft spot for you. Unlike when Jacob was with Bella, Jacob and Edward teamed up to keep you safe. So, It was no surprise when he told Carlslie what he saw in your head. Before Carlslie had time to do anything about it Your mother was killed by Victoria and you moved in with Jacob. Carlisle was vaguely aware of Edward standing next to him. Edward heard Carlisle’s thought of “Please go retrieve supplies for Y/N and Jacob.” Edward nodded and left quietly as Carlisle got his supplies ready.

“Y/N? Do you remember me?” he asked as he got ready to check the boy’s heartbeat. Y/N looked at the kind blonde man before him, Jakey seemes to trust him. “Docta Cullen?” Y/N asked, tilting his head. Carlisle gave a small, sad smile. “You were dare da night Daddy died.” What Y/N had said made Jacob do a double take. He knew next to nothing about your past. He just knew you had a connection with the Cullens.

Carlisle nodded with a sad smile. “That’s right, little one. I helped your boo boo’s.” Carlisle said as he ran his hands through your hair. Y/N giggled at the feeling, having missed his daddy doing the same thing daily. Carlisle knew Jacob was confused and sighed in relief as Edward and Emmet walked in with bags of clothes. “Y/N? Would you go with Edward and Emmet so we can get you out of that big shirt?” Carlisle asked as he kneeled in front of Y/N.

You nodded reluctantly and followed Edward to his room. Carlisle turned back to see a confused and almost hurt look on the alpha wolf’s face. It made Carlisle’s nonexistent heart break. But, it made sense that you wouldn’t tell Jacob. You refused treatment when Carlisle first offered. You were a proud person.

“Jacob, Y/N obviously never told you about his past. I will tell you but you cannot be mad or upset at him. He has his own reasons for not telling you And once he’s back to normal he’ll tell you. But, to be able to care for Y/N you need to know, understand?” Jacob growled a bit at the obvious command but nodded; He needed to know about your past. Carlisle took a deep breath as he began to tell your mate about your past.

“Y/N was born and raised here. His mother was a senior partner at the biggest law firm in seattle. She was the perfect mother for a time. Y/N’s father was chief of surgery at Seattle general hospital. He was one of the best to ever pick up a scapael that I met. Y/N’s life was perfect. On his fourth birthday Y/N was in a car accident on the way home from his birthday dinner. He and his family were sent to Forks general for treatment. Y/N was very lucky he only had a very minor concussion and a few cuts. His parents were rushed to surgery. His father died on the table.” The way Carlisle spoke as if it was yesterday made Jacob flinch. To him it was fourteen years ago, but to you it had only been a year.

“Y/M/N was devastated. She had lost the love of her life. She became cold and closed off. She barely flinched at Y/F/N’s funeral. She dove into her work. And into alcohol. She blamed Y/N for Y/F/N’s death and became violent. Y/N kept it quiet. He lost his father and somewhat lost his mother and didn’t want to lose her completely. I only found out when we moved back and Edward heard his thoughts. Even then he protected her. Then Victoria killed his mother.” Carlisle finished and the sight of Jacob sitting on one of the sofas with tears welling up in his eyes was one of the saddest things Carlisle had seen in centuries.

“H-he didn’t tell someone?” Jacob asked, Praying that his mate tried to get help. He knew that his mates' reasons were noble. If he were a born Quileute he would be honored for his loyalty. Jacob was saddened even further when Carlisle shook his head.

Jacob gave you the best day a kid could have. He took you to the beach and swam with you in his wolf form. You were spoiled by both the pack and the Cullens. Seth was happy he wasn’t the youngest at least for a day. Leah, Rosealie, Alice and Esme were all mama bears. Emmet loved teaching you different sports. Jasper….tried and everyone was grateful for that. Edward played all your favorite songs and Billy even let you sit in his lap. You flinched whenever someone hugged you but they all were paistant and understanding.

The next morning you were back to normal. And the look on Jacob’s face told you that he knew about your past. “I’m not mad. I just want to know why you never told anyone ?” The look on your mate’s face hurt. But, you knew a way to make him understand. “If in your car accident, you lost your dad but your mom lived and was changed, would you risk losing her all the way?” your voice was soft. Understanding filtered into Jacob’s eyes. “When you put it that way. No, I wouldn’t. But, I still wish you told me.” Jacob wrapped his arm around you and you leaned into the embrace.

“I love you Y/N Y/L/N. Now how bout we show those witches what happens when you mess with the wolves and Cullens.” Your cackle could be heard from Carlisle’s office and one thought passed through both the pack and the Cullens at the same time. ‘Those witches are so screwed.’

#male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male #x male! reader #x male reader #twilight x male reader #jacob black #jacob black x male reader #deaged reader #deaged male reader #bella swan bashing

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venerex · 2 years

Text

ride

pairing: dino x f!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: fingering, reader has a motorbiking hobby

a/n: came up with this when i saw the new concept photos and i just had to write this down. i don't know if it's good, but biker!chan is such a compelling concept - i had to. hi @starlightjoong!

"god, you're so wet - i haven't even done anything yet"

you moan at chan's words, your hips grinding against his hand, whines escaping you when he removes it, tsking lowly.

this is not how you expected your twenty-third birthday going. well, you did expect the sex - but you thought it would be in the comfort of your bed, not in the warm interior of chan's car, with the two of you almost completely clothed.

you remember chan's face the first time you took him to the tracks (which isn't nearly as tough as it sounds; it's a clean-cut motorcycling facility run by licensed professionals) - it took him a minute to believe that you actually could ride a motorcycle (and that this whole thing was legal). he's come around to the idea since then - often accompanying you to the center, cheering you on as you run laps on the oval track. you had asked him once if he wanted to try it out, but he had politely refused. clearly, he's changed his mind since.

when chan asked you to meet him at the center today, you figured he had bought you a few sessions of your favorite activity as a birthday gift. it was when you walked to the tracks that you realized - he had done much more than that. there stood chan with a nervous grin on his face, decked in full riding gear (you nearly drooled) - with a new bike next to him. "i know you don't like receiving expensive gifts", he had said while fidgeting, "but i - i thought that you wouldn't have to wait until your favorite bikes were free if i bought you one. you can have it returned, i totally under - ". you had to shut him up with a kiss.

you had panicked when he got on the vehicle and fastened a helmet (one needs training before riding a bike like that), only to be assured by the trainer that chan was trained for this - he had apparently been taking classes behind your back for the last few months, to surprise you on your birthday.

if someone would've asked you yesterday what you'd say if your boyfriend learned how to bike just for you, you would've said you'd feel joy, love, and pride. you would never have guessed that the sight of chan confidently handling a motorcycle would make you so - well - wet. whether it was the fact that he did it for you, or if it was his confidence as he smoothly executed a turn - you don't know.

chan was clearly oblivious to your intense feelings regarding his gift, he honestly just looked glad to not have fallen from the bike. "i did it", he had exclaimed gleefully while undoing his helmet, holding you close when you ran to hug him.

it was only when you had shyly whispered to him that he looked "really good today" (and you had to emphasize the really for the dork to get it), did he understand the effect his actions had on you. his slightly bashful smile had quickly turned into that annoying cocky smirk, and a few teasing comments later he was pulling up to an empty lot before adjusting his seat and leaning back, dark eyes watching you straddle him. soon enough, your pants were pulled down and your top was lifted to expose your bra-clad breasts, one of his hands tracing your nipples while the other rubbed you over your underwear.

all because of how unfairly good your boyfriend looked while riding a bike. a fact that he was, unfortunately, very aware of.

"you liked it that much, mm?", his hand reaches to unclasp your bra, "i would've done it before if i knew".

you moan at the feeling of air hitting your breasts, gasping when he gently pinches and twists a nipple, just the way you like it. his fingers reach inside your underwear and stop right before they touch you where you want, his lips pressing soft kisses on your neck.

"want me to touch you, pretty baby?", his fingers dig into your skin lightly, his other hand moving to pinch your other nipple.

you nod, raising your hips for some contact - but chan knows you well, he's already pushing you back, shushing you when you whine.

"i'll give you what you want", short nails lightly scrape your nipple, "but you need to tell me, mm? how will i know if you don't tell me?"

"channie", you'd be embarrassed by how desperate you sound, if you weren't so turned on, "fingers, please".

"there we go", a fingertip finally touches your clit, rubbing lightly while you whimper, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

his other hand reaches up to wrap around your neck, his thumb resting on your pulse but applying no pressure. the action has its intended effect, and your breathing quickens as your hips grind on his hand. he doesn't protest this time, though - he knows it won't be enough.

"channie", you gasp, earning a hum from him, "fingers - inside me - please".

"ofcourse, baby", two fingers enter your cunt, making your arch your back, "being such a good girl, mm? you just need to tell me, baby - i'll give you whatever you want".

the hand around your neck moves to cup your cheek and chan's lips find yours in a heated kiss, his mouth covering your moans as his fingers curl to hit the sensitive spot inside you in practiced motions, his palm hitting your clit just right. your orgasm is close before you can help it, and you know chan can sense it.

"it's okay, baby", he whispers against your lips, his hand moving down to tug your nipples, "come for me. you've been so good".

you come with a broken sob, your muscles clenching around his fingers as he helps you ride your high, whispering praises while his hand rubs your cheek. you let your body go lax, your head resting against your boyfriend's chest while his arms wrap around your frame. the sounds of an engine starting and air conditioning running fill up the car - he's turned on the engine to cool the air. he knows you get warm after an orgasm.

"okay?", his lips press soft kisses on your hair.

"yeah", you sit up again, smiling when his hands envelope yours.

"happy birthday", he brings your hands to his lips, "i'm glad you liked your present".

"i loved it", you giggle, feeling slightly bashful under his heated gaze, "i think you know how much".

"mm, i could use a reminder", one of his hands cup you over your soaked underwear, a cheeky grin taking over his face at your sharp inhale.

"chan", you want to scold him but it comes out as a whine, your thighs tensing from the effort of not bucking your hips into his hand.

"who knew that watching me ride something would make you want to ride me so bad", he's full-on grinning now, his face filled with pride at his horrible pun.

"oh god", you can't help but chortle, the air is lighter now, "you're such a dork".

"maybe", his fingers suddenly slip into your underwear to press at your clit, your yelps and his chuckles filling up the car, "but i'm your dork".

#dino smut #lee chan smut #chan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #dino x reader

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

that’s my boy

w/c: 0.8k

warnings: just the floofiest fluff

summary: you give peter the perfect start to his special day

a/n: no wayyyy it’s peter day y’all ! i can’t believe my favorite person literally ever is going another year around the sun like i’m kinda emosh about it? we’re still out here tho let’s turn it up in his honor <3 teehee i hope you enjoy my loves

you skip up the stairs to peter’s building with a goofy grin on your face, quickly finding your way inside. you’re hardly able to contain your excitement as you begin the ascent to his floor.

you’ll make sure today is everything peter could wish for and more, if it’s the last thing you do.

you’d coordinated with may to prepare the apartment for one of her annual birthday bashes while you take peter for breakfast and explore the city. it’s going to be perfect. you and peter will get some one-on-one time together, then you’ll come home and celebrate with all your friends.

after a few knocks at peter’s apartment door, may answers. she has a smile that matches yours and a box of streamers tucked under her arm.

“is he still asleep?” you question, peering down the hall to where peter’s bedroom is. may snorts and closes the door once you’re in. “hard to tell. you know him.” laughing yourself, you kick your sneakers off on the welcome mat. “he’s either been up for hours or out cold. no in between.”

“that’s our boy,” may agrees, your heart warming at that. she’s definitely responsible for shaping her nephew into the lovely soul he is. “why don’t you go in and wake him, huh? he’d rather you than me.”

you click your tongue and push up one of the backpack straps on your shoulder. “oh, that’s not true. we should do it together!” may pats your arm, her tender way of shooing you off. “no, no. i’ll let you kids have your moment. besides, i’ve got my work cut out for me.”

she gestures to a large pile of miscellaneous party gear covering the kitchen table. she’s sure as hell committed.

“well, good luck with that. i’m gonna go check on the birthday boy, then.” you beam at may, earning two thumbs up from her before you sneak over to peter’s room.

walking on tiptoes, you slowly open up his door to reveal your very own sleeping beauty. peter is buried underneath his blankets, on his stomach and hugging his pillow during his visit to dreamland.

there’s a sight to cherish.

you slide your backpack, which is carrying his gifts, off your shoulders and quietly shut the door behind you. your feet lead you straight to your boyfriend’s cozy bed.

“pete, hey,” you whisper and set a gentle hand on his back. “time to get up, babes. we’ve got stuff to do.” peter groans, shoving his face further into his pillow. “mm, sorry. peter can’t come to the phone right now,” he mumbles, you giggling when he swats your hand away. instead, your touch trails to his mop of curls.

you play along. “why not?” your fingers stroke through his messy hair, the sensation having peter practically purring. he turns his head so his cheek is smushed against the pillow and he’s looking at you. “‘cuz he’s sleeping. he says you’re welcome to join him, though.” a lazy smile paints his parted lips.

you’re not passing up a chance to snuggle him, especially not on his day. you have a bit until your reservations, anyway.

“i’ll bite. scoot over, bug boy.” you tug on his locks for emphasis. “you mean arachnid?” peter corrects, now smirking. “someone’s a bit cheeky today, aren’t they?” you rhetorically ask and nudge his side to move over. peter obliges this time.

he leaves a warm spot for you, pulling you in and under the covers by your waist. not expecting this, you squeal as you land on the mattress.

“i’m allowed to be,” peter insists and hides his face in the crook of your neck, where he peppers sloppy kisses that tickle your skin. “you know why?” he gazes up at you. you wind your arms around his own neck with a grin so wide your cheeks hurt. “because it’s your birthday.”

peter brushes the tip of his nose against yours, pecking your lips softly. “ding, ding, ding,” he sings. “happy birthday, peter benjamin parker. my hero, love of my life.” you capture his lips again in a longer kiss, peter chuckling into it. he lets out a content sigh.

“thank you, baby. love you forever,” peter rasps with his morning voice you adore so much. “and… always,” you finish for him. “times infinity,” he adds, giving you a short and final kiss. your legs wrap around his waist, both of your heads resting on his pillow.

his eyes hooded, peter runs his fingertips up and down your spine soothingly. “so, what stuff did we have to do? what’s on the agenda?” you situate your hands in the curls at the nape of his neck, humming. “just wait and see. you’re in for a real treat, peter.” he yawns and decides to lay his head on your chest. “mhm… can’t wait, y/n.”

“go back to sleep,” you lightheartedly command. “gladly. it’s too early for this,” peter grumbles. that was easy. “wake me in ten… hours.”

he secures his arms tighter around your middle, you laughing to yourself while he drifts off to you toying with his hair.

the perfect birthday has officially commenced.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker au #peter parker oneshot #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot

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thelilxcfxiry · 3 years

Text

Loki: *starts violently yanking at his headpiece's left horn*

Mobius: ... What are you doing?

Loki: It's! *yanks it* aRGh! A secret! *bashes it against the wall*

Mobius: Well okay then.

*The Next Day, at 2 am in the morning*

Loki, whisper-shouting: SylvIE! SylVie!!

Sylvie: *groans* What do you want now?

Loki: Guess what day it is!

Sylvie: .. Tuesday..?

Loki: But not just any Tuesday! It's my birthday!

Sylvie, grumbling under her breath: Did you seriously wake me up just because you wanted a birthday wish? Fine. Happy birthday. Can I go back to sleep now?

Loki: No no Sylvie wait! It's my birthday, and since you don't remember yours let's have it today! I got you something, look! *conjures his new broken horned headpiece atop his head and her crown in his hand*

Sylvie, slowly sitting up: ... Mm alright, what is it?

Loki: *places her crown on her head and gestures at their broken horns* See? We match! The horns are broken, just like us, but they're still beautif- OH NO SYLVIE ARE YOU OKAY?

Sylvie, tearing up: You big dumb idiot. *hugs him*

Bonus:

Sylvie, whilst embracing Loki, whispers into his ear: You're still really terrible with metaphors

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writeforfandoms · 3 years

Text

When Legends Rise 6

Find my masterlist

Here we are guys! This is it. The last chapter of this story. There will be a short epilogue as part of my birthday bash, but otherwise this story is FINISHED!

Warnings: Mild violence, threatening language, implications of violence, swearing. It’s Dave.

Word count: 2k

Dave York x f!reader

Chapter 6: Legends Rise

The next week was undeniably tense. David was a little more cautious around you, a little quieter. You, in turn, were trying desperately not to blurt out anything that would give away that you knew his secret. And you were both researching Djarin, albeit separately. You only knew because you overheard Dave’s side of a conversation one afternoon that you very clearly were not meant to hear.

This, however, left you with a conundrum. You and Dave both wanted Djarin to stop, but you guessed you had rather different methods of making that happen. Personally, you were hoping he could be bought.

You were pretty sure Dave hadn’t ruled out murder as an option.

And you were pretty sure that option was getting more appealing. You overheard two more phone conversations between Djarin and Dave. Well, you heard Dave’s side, but you could guess what Djarin was saying based on how Dave reacted.

And, really, it was a good thing you heard the second conversation.

“You again.” Dave stood and motioned for you to stay put, striding away to the bedroom and closing the door. You, of course, did very much not stay put. You sort of knew that tone of voice, from having overheard it. Never aimed at you. He sounded angry. Actually, seriously angry. And if you were honest, it scared you, just a little.

“I told you to lose this number,” Dave growled, jerking you back to the present. That was a new tone of voice. Pissed and annoyed. Yikes. He was silent for a few long moments. “You have no proof.” Silence again, longer this time. Then Dave scoffed. “What do you want?” Pause. “Tonight?” Pause. “Yes.” Rustling, like Dave was searching for something, then silence again. For several rabbit-quick heartbeats, you listened, waiting. “Fine. Tonight.” Then Dave sighed, and you could almost see his shoulders slump, one hand rubbing down his face.

Then the bed squeaked as weight was lifted from it, and you bolted back to your spot at your desk, trying for all the world to look like you hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Anything interesting?” you asked from your desk, frowning at your computer. You were sort of trying to remember where you’d left off, and sort of trying to look busy and like you hadn’t just thrown yourself back in your chair.

“Nothing important,” Dave told you, walking over to kiss the top of your head. “A little work that came up for tonight.”

“Tonight? That’s pretty last minute,” you observed, careful to keep your tone neutral.

“Mm.” Dave sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s work, it’s important.” You shrugged. “Not a big deal.”

Dave kissed the top of your head again. “I’ll be able to stay for dinner.”

“Guess you better figure out what you want.” You yawned and stretched, pushing back from your desk. “Be back in a minute.” You walked calmly to the bedroom, pausing for a minute to try to figure out what Dave had been getting earlier.

There. A notebook on his bedside table, one that normally wasn’t there. Casual as you could, you nabbed the notebook and a pen, and took them both into the bathroom with you.

It took less than a minute to carefully run the pen over the page in a crude rubbing. But it worked. The notation was simple: Maple and 3rd. Midnight.

Well, at least now you had a starting point.

You tore that page out of the notebook, returned the notebook and pen to where they’d been before, stuffed the page in your pocket, and rejoined Dave in the main room.

Dinner was quiet but normal. And, as he’d said, Dave left after dinner.

Which suited you just fine. You had your own preparations to make.

You dressed warmly to combat the falling temperatures. You kept your phone on you, some cash, your ID. But not much else. You wouldn’t need much else, not for this.

Your only weapon and only defense you already had memorized.

You walked the last few blocks to the meeting place, taking your time. You were early still, fifteen minutes to midnight. You needed to find a good spot out of the way to watch and listen.

After you figured out where exactly this meeting was happening.

There was a parking lot behind an old restaurant that had closed, if you recalled correctly, at least five years previous. The windows were all shuttered, though the fencing around the building had seen better days.

You weren’t sure if they were meeting in the parking lot or in the building, until you saw the very clearly cut section of fence.

Guess you were heading inside.

The building was mostly empty, with a few chairs scattered around. Honestly, it was a bit spooky, made moreso by the knowledge of what was likely happening here tonight.

Djarin had threatened Dave, you’d guess, and Dave… Well, Dave was probably going to remove the threat.

You found an out of the way spot to settle, and you settled. The building was quiet around you, almost eerily so.

At least until someone else entered the building.

“I know you’re here,” Djarin called. He sounded cold, calculating.

“You’re early.” Dave’s voice came from somewhere up above, but you couldn’t tell where exactly.

“Come down here and we can discuss this.”

“You said you have evidence.” Dave’s voice didn’t move.

“I do.” Djarin lifted one hand, wiggling something small and slightly shiny. A flash drive, probably. “This is not my only copy of this evidence.”

“I expected as much from a man like you.”

Djarin was quiet for a few moments, head slightly tilted to one side. “What now? You want this to go away. You haven’t given me a good reason.”

“Is your life not reason enough?” Dave sounded both closer and angrier.

“No.” The answer was calm. No fear at all. Despite yourself, you admired Djarin a little for that.

There was silence again for several long moments. Then there was the sharp sound of a gun being cocked. Dave stepped out of the shadows at the back of the room, dressed all in black, expression cold and calculating. You’d never seen him like this before.

“I could shoot you now and take the evidence,” Dave said, cold fury in his voice. “Wouldn’t be hard.”

“What would you tell your little author when all of this comes to light?” Djarin murmured, somehow more threatening for the lack of volume and violence. “Because it will. If I die, this will become public knowledge.”

“I already know.”

In retrospect, that was not your finest move, and you were extremely lucky that you didn’t get shot. As it was, two heads whipped towards you, and in the dim light you could just read their expressions. Djarin looked shocked. Dave looked… well, quite honestly, freaked out. Worried and freaked out and pissed.

In the moment, though, you just stepped towards the two of them, oddly calm. You weren’t worried about yourself. You were worried about Dave.

“What?” The word sounded like it had been punched out of him, and Dave grimaced. Clearly he hadn’t meant to ask that.

“I already know,” you reiterated gently. “About your business trips. I know.”

“You don’t know everything,” Djarin interjected.

“I know enough.” You kept your gaze on Dave, willing him to listen to you.

“How long?” His voice was rough, but not exactly angry. Panicked, maybe. Or as close as Dave got.

You shrugged. “At least a week.”

The rough sound that left his lips was almost like a bark of laughter. Almost. “You’re too fucking smart.”

“Too curious.” You shrugged again, your lips lifting in a half-smile. “It’s not always a bad thing.”

Djarin looked a little like someone had just taken the wind out of his sails. Which, well, you rather just had. His fingers flexed, hand traveling slowly to his hip. Dave looked back at him, the gun having never wavered from Djarin’s chest.

“Seems you need a new plan,” Dave growled, eyes narrowing.

“Or!” you piped up, once again getting twin looks of frustration/confusion/anger. “We can solve this peaceably.”

“You have a suggestion?” Djarin spoke first, voice mild.

You shrugged. “I mean, my idea was paying you off, but that sounds like blackmail.”

That, of all things, got a scowl out of Djarin. “I would not stoop so low,” he growled.

“You have a son,” Dave interjected.

Djarin went deathly still, which was confirmation enough for both you and Dave.

“You come near us again, and I will find him,” Dave promised, low and cold. “Any of your evidence goes public, and I will find him. You understand me?”

Djarin was tense, clearly debating how to react to this threat. So you jumped in to give him a little nudge.

“Nothing will happen to your son,” you promised gently. “We won’t try to find him unless you move against us first.” You shifted your weight towards Dave, making it quite clear the two of you were to be treated as one unit.

Djarin was quiet for several long moments, his gaze flicking between the two of you. Finally he dipped his head in a nod. “A stalemate,” he murmured, probably more to himself than to you or Dave.

“You leave first,” Dave told him, not relaxing one iota. Not yet. He didn’t reiterate his threat. He didn’t need to. All three of you were well aware of what Dave was willing to do.

“How did you find out?” Djarin narrowed his eyes at Dave. It took you a moment to realize Djarin was asking about his son.

Dave smirked, just a little. “He’s legally yours. Didn’t take much digging to find.”

Which, to your mind at least, meant that Dave had had this information for a while, and had been sitting on it. He hadn’t moved against Djarin’s child earlier. This had been his backup plan. That knowledge, while a little creepy, also made you feel a little better. Dave hadn’t gone after the kid when he’d found out.

At least your initial assumption was holding true. Dave wasn’t a serial killer. He killed for money and in self defense. Still not exactly a squeaky-clean record, but one you could probably live with.

Djarin left first, backing out of the empty building and vanishing. You didn’t get a chance to move or say a word. As soon as Djarin was gone, Dave was on you. The gun was tucked away, and he grabbed your shoulders.

“Are you insane?” he growled. “How did you know? Why are you here?”

“Easy,” you murmured, cupping his cheeks. “We’ve got all the time in the world for you to ask all your questions, and I promise I’ll answer all of them. I just… needed to make sure you were okay.” You rubbed your thumbs over his cheeks slowly, holding his gaze.

Dave sighed, and most of the tension in his body left with that exhalation. “Okay,” he agreed, oddly quiet. “Questions later.” And then he pulled you to him in a crushing hug, just holding you tight for several moments. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, while his other banded like steel around your waist. It was almost uncomfortable, but you were okay with that. It meant you were both okay and alive and everything would be okay.

Oh, sure, you’d be in lots of trouble for eavesdropping and digging up information, for sure. But other than that.

You let yourself relax into Dave, hugging him back as tightly as you could. “We’re okay,” you whispered. “We’re okay.”

And for now? For the first time in weeks? You were absolutely certain of it. You were okay.

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#When Legends Rise #suburban murder daddy #Dave York x reader #Dave York x you

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