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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

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#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x you

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rinneverse · 1 day

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✶⋆.˚ SPONSOR A WIP FOR GAZA .ᐟ 🍉

hello oak nation and friends! life has finally slowed down enough for me to make this post - i will be participating in the @ficsforgaza initiative!! while i was initially very anxious about making this post, i realized that i want to do something meaningful and contribute what i can to the fundraising efforts for gaza. i highly recommend checking out their blog for more info + see the other participants!!

this post was last updated: 05.28.24 !

﹙🍉﹚HOW CAN I PARTICIPATE?

great question! i've outlined the process below.

the rate is $1.00 USD = 100 words.

make a donation to a vetted fundraiser/charity of your choice; you can find some here!!

screenshot proof of your donation. send it via ask to me with ALL PERSONAL INFO redacted and mention the fundraiser you donated to. (do NOT send me any screenshots you've used for other creators: they will be shared with @/ficsforgaza to verify.) i will not be publicly posting asks.

then in that same ask, just let me know which wip (out of the ones listed below) you'd like to sponsor!! i will be updating this post minimum once a week (hopefully more) with any updates to wc/donations/status etc etc.

example: hi oak! i've donated $x.xx to [chosen fundraiser] and i'd like to sponsor your vampire blade wip. thanks!! (attach your proof here!)

once a fic is fully sponsored, completed, and posted, you will be mentioned as one of its sponsors !! (you may opt out of this part, just let me know while sending your ask!)

﹙🍉﹚WHAT ARE YOUR RULES, OAK?

another great question! for starters, here is my blog rules post. i also have a couple more for this initiative below.

i am not accepting money directly. please donate through the vetted fundraisers!

since i am an 18+ blog, i am requiring that all asks should be sent OFF ANON and your age must be easily accessible on your blog. YOU MUST BE 18 YEARS OR OLDER TO SPONSOR A WIP. your sponsorship is null and void if you do not follow this rule.

i am a slower writer, so it may be a hot minute before wips are fully edited and posted after reaching a goal. that being said, the main goal is to raise awareness as well as donate to an important cause!! i vow to do my very best to make sure everyone's donations are honored. this is my first time doing something like this, so lets all be kind here!

MINORS, BLANK, AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. nsfw + dark content is included in the wips featured below the cut.

﹙🍉﹚OAK'S WIPS AVAILABLE TO SPONSOR!

✩ you're so handsome (when i'm all over your mouth) — vampire!blade x f!reader

summary: your mother has always warned you to never to stay out long after the sun sets; the lord knows what may be lurking after night falls. in your carelessness, you are lost at sundown, with no grasp on your location nor the path home. time for you to learn just what kind of beast hides in the shadows. -> sponsored wc: 0/10,000 -> written wc: 0/10,000

✩ little bird, won’t you sing a song for me? — yandere!sunday x f!reader

summary: you’ve lived nearly your entire life in captivity. you yearn for freedom, to escape your gilded cage, but your keeper urges you otherwise. he is adamant in his refusal to set you free, and you are all the more resentful of him for it. (or: you wish to leave the planet despite sunday’s wishes. this does not bode well with him.) -> sponsored wc: 0/10,000 -> written wc: 0/10,000

✩ *take a bite — satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

summary: your roommate, satoru gojo, always has his pretty dark-haired friend over to your shared apartment as a frequent guest. one night, when the three of you play a little drinking game together, things get much more heated than you could have ever expected it to. (no curses/modern au!) -> sponsored wc: 0/10,000 -> written wc: 0/10,000

— if you've made it this far: thank you!! if you don't take interest in any of my wips in particular, i implore you to explore the creators featured on @ficsforgaza and see if there is something more your cup of tea.

*regarding the wc of these wips (take a bite in particular), i am unsure of how many words these fics will be. i will start with a baseline of 10k, but if i find that i will be needing wayyyy more than that, i will increase the donation limit. so keep ur eyes on this post!!

#fics for gaza #boosts r appreciated!#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #blade smut #blade x reader #sunday smut #sunday x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto smut #gojo smut #geto smut #dividers by @/cafekitsune

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suashii · 1 day

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— 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ injuries ﾉ pet names ( darlin', sweetheart, doll :3 ) ﾉ mentions of food

so i wrote about horse riding but. . . know very little about horse riding! i did my best to research but there may be some details i got wrong so apologies in advance!

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ next part

“that’s it, pretty girl, nice and easy.”

the horse beneath you sighs and you do the same, relaxation and contentment in the breath you let go of. it’s been a while since you’ve gone riding, a few years at least, but being sat on a saddle with reins in your hands feels as natural as it used to when you’d ride nearly every day of the summer. you’re lucky that your favorite mare—clover—is still healthy enough to take out.

you gently squeeze your legs into clover’s sides in a silent signal for her to move from a trot to a canter. the sequence of her hoof beats effortlessly switches from the two-beat gait to one of three beats and her pace quickens. the wind against your face is stronger now but you welcome the sensation, a small smile making its way to your face.

as a kid, riding was fun and exciting more than anything else but as you’ve grown into an adult, the activity has become something more cathartic—a release of sorts. your stress slips away when you’re on the saddle, lost in the summery breeze. you don’t allow a second for the thoughts that constantly nag at you to linger. all of your focus is granted to clover and the field ahead, to how you feel here and now and how you wish you could feel like this all the time.

unfortunately for you, nothing lasts forever.

you hear the dog before you see her, barking discernible in the distance. clover must, too, her ears pointing back to listen more closely to the sound approaching from behind. as the barking grows louder, the horse’s neck tenses, and it only takes a second more for her to decide that the noise is worth investigating. you’re in alert mode now, too—no, it’s probably closer to panic mode. it’s been a while since you’ve had to worry about the horse getting spooked and even then you had your grandpa or parents to rely on to make sure nothing got out of hand.

you don’t have time to even think about what the right thing to do in this situation is before clover spots the dog bounding towards the both of you.

“clove—!” you try to calm her down, to let her know that the dog isn’t a threat that she should be scared of, but it’s far too late. before you can comprehend what’s happening, clover is rearing. the motion combined with your loose hold on the reins is enough to send you flying off the horse’s saddle. a scream is ripped from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut at being in the air, destined to fall.

you hit the ground with an audible thud.

pain courses through your body—your back, your shoulders, your head. everything hurts and hot tears spring to the corners of your eyes but they pool there, refusing to stream down your cheeks. despite all the pain, the growing soreness, you find your mind wandering. where did clover run off to? what was the dog doing out here alone? she rarely leaves the house by herself. someone is yelling, they’re calling your name. is it boothill?

“shit, little lady,” he shakily breathes, “you okay?”

relief washes over you and for a short second, you think that you’ve never been happier to hear the farmhand’s voice. it’s tinged with concern, a characteristic you have yet to see him display—especially for you. it doesn’t stop in his voice either, you can feel it in how he takes a hold of your shoulders, his grip firm but not tight enough to cause you any unnecessary pain.

you take the risk of finally opening your eyes and instead of being met with the sun’s blinding rays, boothill’s face crowds your vision. his eyebrows are pulled together and for once, there’s no smirk or grin playing at his lips. upon seeing that you’re conscious, the tension in boothill’s forehead lessens. “there she is.”

his voice is soft, like if he speaks too loud he’ll break you. though it’s unlike him to be so mindful, you appreciate what you imagine is the temporary change. he opens his mouth to continue but before he can get another word out, the border collie, missy, nudges between the two of you as if she senses something is wrong. boothill shoos her away before turning his attention back to you. “you okay? what happened?”

you think back on the moments that led to this—you laid out on your back in the grass. “missy… i think she scared clover. she threw me off.”

that’s right, you have no idea where she went after being so startled or if she’s okay, at that.

“where is clover?” you dart up into a sitting position, palms against the grass. it’s a bad idea and you face the consequences of it immediately, head throbbing and the dull pain throughout your limbs becoming all the more noticeable. you suck in a sharp breath in response to the discomfort but realize that the pain you’re in doesn’t top your concern for the horse. “is she still around here? i need to go find her.”

“woah, woah, woah, hold your horses.” boothill frowns. he stands up and holds both of his hands out to help you do the same. for once, you don’t think about the underlying meaning of having your hands touch his, you just grab a hold and let him pull you up. you turn your head in every direction you can in search of clover, readying to pick any of them to start walking in. though, you can’t, not with the way boothill is holding your hands hostage. his gray eyes bore into yours. “you aren’t going anywhere but to the hospital.”

“what? no.” you shake your head and try to pull away but boothill doesn’t budge. the longer he holds onto you, the more aware you become of his touch—how warm his hands are and how, even though they’re rough and calloused, his palms are more comforting than you care to admit. “i don’t need a hospital. i’m fine.”

“listen darlin’, people who have just been thrown off horses ain’t known for their good judgment.” he squeezes your hands but then seems to think better of it, loosening his grip but continuing to hold them. he gets his message across though, with the hand squeeze and the almost desperate look in his eyes. you’ve never seen him so uneasy, heard him speak so seriously. his new demeanor has your feet glued to their spot on the ground and your gaze glued to his. “you’re going to the hospital.”

you’re rarely one to jump at the opportunity to agree with boothill but maybe he’s right. you’re running on adrenaline right now and your mind isn’t in the best place—you’re worried about the wrong things. and if the topic is important enough to have boothill practically pleading with you, you should take it just as seriously as he is.

“fine, i’ll go, but you need to find clover before we do.” that came off a little more demanding than you meant it to. you add, “please.”

he clicks his tongue and groans before telling you, “alright, i’ll find your damn horse.”

● ● ●

boothill is a man of his word and tracks down clover, putting her back in the stable before whisking you away to the hospital. the ride there feels like a visit to the doctor itself with the way the farmhand practically interrogates you about your symptoms. he’s concerned but can’t help but laugh when you tell him that he’s exacerbating any head trauma you may have sustained by making you think so hard.

despite your initial resistance to boothill’s insistence on going to the hospital, you’re thankful for his urging. turns out he was right to be worried—you got a concussion.

your helmet helped soften the blow but the physician who explained your diagnosis still recommended a few days off work to rest and recover. it’s not the best news to receive but considering things could have been much worse, you’re grateful to walk away with a relatively minor injury.

and if your doctor had any anxiety about you ignoring his advice, it was misplaced. because boothill has personally made it his responsibility to be sure you get better.

as soon as the two of you arrived back at the house, he steered you into the living room, sat you on the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen with a demand for you to stay put. you’re tempted to argue but your head hurts too much so you cross your arms instead, closing your eyes and resting your head on the couch cushion.

it doesn’t take long for him to return and his hands are full when he does—a glass of water in one, an orange precariously rolling on a plate in the other, and a bottle of pain medication tucked under one of his arms. he sets the drink and pills on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch beside you, the dip in the cushion enough to make you open your eyes.

upon grabbing your attention, boothill jerks his head in that direction. “take a couple of those.”

you sit up and unscrew the bottle, shaking out two of the pills and popping them in your mouth before taking a few sips of the water he grabbed for you. a beat of silence passes before you speak up. “you know, i could have done all this myself.”

“i’m sure you could have,” he tells you with a grin, hands busy peeling the skin from the orange. it’s still all in one piece. impressive, you think, but you aren’t surprised. it seems like boothill is good at everything he does. “just thought you might enjoy having me at your beck and call.”

you frown. what does he think you are? some princess who needs a servant? “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’, darlin’.” he slides the plate of peeled orange slices across the coffee table so you can eat them when you’re ready. he wipes his hands on his jeans before standing up and stuffing them in his pockets.

the farmhand is on his way to the door when he says, “i’m off, but holler for me if you need anything, sweetheart.”

you never thought you’d see the day you would stop boothill from leaving.

“wait, before you go…” he stops and turns around, eyebrows slightly raised in silent question, urging you to go on. you had more courage to say what was on your mind when he wasn’t looking at you. though, you know it’s only right to let him know that you appreciate all he’s done for you today. so, you turn your gaze to the floor and let it spill out. “thank you for finding clover. and for taking me to the hospital. and for this.” you gesture to the fruit.

there’s a flash of sincerity that passes over his features before that annoying smile makes its way back to his lips. “so you can say thank you.”

you don’t know what kind of response you were expecting, but you should have seen this coming. it’s like he’s hardwired to tease you, even when you’re being genuine. “you can leave now, boothill.”

“yeah, yeah, i’ll get out of your hair.” in contradiction to his words, he stays put. and you can’t find it in you to be upset that he does because the humor has left his face, replaced by earnestness. “but you’re welcome, doll. it was really no trouble.”

he finally takes his leave and when you hear the door close, you let out a frustrated groan and lay your head back on the cushion. that nasty fall must have done more damage than you thought. why else would your heart be working overtime over a simple change of expression?

you shake your head to get rid of the unwelcome thoughts—thoughts of how generous and caring he actually might be—before you think better of the motion. it hurts your head and makes you wonder how long it’ll take before the pain pills kick in. they’ll probably work better if you have something on your stomach.

your eyes fall to the plate boothill left for you.

orange slices should do.

thank u for giving this a read! reblogs and comments are appreciated -`♡´-

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: honkai star rail #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill drabble #hsr drabbles #boothill fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

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lovelettersfromluna · 1 day

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Dream Girl

Summary: Did you seriously think you’d be able to get over someone like Ellie Williams? Think again, dream girl.

an: I’m so obsessed with this series and the portrayal of Ellie, there’s just something about a small town romance that scratches the sweet spot in my brain. I hope you guys have enjoyed this one just as much as I have! Thank you so much for all of the support 🤍

Warnings: smut! MDNI!! 18+, tribbing (another tribbing fic by Luna?? Ofc do you not know me by now?), lots of kissing, sub!ellie if you squint, angst, mentions of another love interest, mentions of cheating, reader sucks Ellie’s fingers, pet names, unsure and closed off reader, pls lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

You watched from your bed as the gentle wind blew your lace curtains further into your bedroom, the birds chirping as the early morning sun slowly rose, cascading a warm glow into your room, making you squint your sore eyes with a soft groan.

With the slow rise of the sun came the constant reminder that you’d spent yet another night without catching a wink of sleep, lying there as you allowed your thoughts to carry you to places you wished didn’t exist.

Places of your ex wife, the bitter taste of your marriage still lingering on your tongue, reminding you of everything that could have been, everything that was lost due to lust.

Places of Ellie, the person who stole your heart first. You think of everything that could have changed had you not gone to the city, how your life's outcome would have had such a great shift due to one tiny change within the line of events that made up who you were, and what you did with your life.

It all leaves the whole in your heart feeling bigger, wider, swallowing up so much of the tiny organ that it almost felt there was nothing left of it.

It had been only a few days since the last time you saw Ellie, and the memories of that night still lingering in you brain, hanging heavily in your mind, stopping you from focusing on anything but that.

Because as much it felt good to kiss her, you haven't even been divorced for a year, and the conflicting feelings that you had for Ellie, paired with the newfound distrust and heartbreak that came from your recent marriage caused a storm in your head, heavy clouds swirling about in the confides of your mind and making it heard to think, hard to breath.

It was all just too fucking hard.

But you knew life was different now. You weren't a teenage girl that could run from confrontations for her own comfort. You were a grown up now, experiencing grown up situations that called for grown up reactions. So you knew that you needed to talk to Ellie, no matter how much it hurt to even think about facing her right now.

You weren’t even entirely sure where to start. Texting her was an absolute no, despite how much easier it would be to confront her that way, behind a screen would do a great job at cushioning the blow that came with confronting Ellie. Calling fell under the same category, she deserved much more than a measly phone call from your end with the intention of patching things up.

Which left only one option. You had to see her in person.

You sighed softly as you sat up in your bed, looking over at your phone resting face down on your bedside table. You hadn’t touched it since that night, avoiding the device all together in fear that you’d see any messages or calls from the worried girl.

So you aren’t surprised when you finally pick it up to see just that. Ellie didn’t pry, there were about three phone calls and four messages, all of which came across far too understanding and supportive for someone that had been kicked out mid make out session a few nights prior.

You inhale deeply before you open up your messages with her, and begin typing.

I’m sorry I haven’t responded.

Are you busy today? Can we meet up? I feel we need to talk

You practically hold your breath until she responds, which doesn’t take a very long time because the minute you send your first message, she’s read it and already typing out her message back.

Hey, don’t apologize. I was just worried about you

Ofc we can meet. Farmers market is opened today, you wanna check it out?

You don’t even realize it, but her messages are making you smile the second you read them out. Probably because of how easy Ellie makes things, how hard it is to make things awkward with someone as kind as she is.

That sounds great.

I’ll meet you there

Cool :)

Despite the small amount of anxiety that has alleviated when you’re finished texting her, you know this is only the beginning, the easy part of a conversation that will be much harder to have, much harder to explain when you aren’t even sure how to navigate your feelings as it is.

But there was no use in putting it off any further, so you’re quick to get out of bed, brush your teeth, haul on a pair of old blue jeans and an old band t-shirt and make your way out to your car to meet Ellie in town.

It’s almost impossible to have a sour mood in a place as magical as your little town. The moment you got into your car, the warm sun soaking into your skin made you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to clear your head for a second before making your way out into town.

Your mom was right, the sun can cure more than you thought.

You hadn’t even realized it was Sunday, which meant it was your towns tradition to hold the farmers market in the town center. You used to look forward to it so much as a kid, knowing it would bring out the best of the people that lived here, showcasing the talent every person had.

Some people sold clothes that they made by hand, pieces that could only be made with love and care, something you often missed seeing in the city. Others sold jewelry, so delicately crafted it was almost unbelievable that someone was able to create something like it.

But your favorite? Was the food. Different pastries baked by the hands of men and women, recipes passed on from generation to generation to continue to breath life into the traditions that made up your town, tying one another together with a single cake or pie.

It was almost like magic.

You catch yourself smiling as you walk down the strip of stands already getting into their sales. Your heart warms at the sight of familiar faces, aged but still happy. You notice new ones as well, like when you approach a stand you remember being up when you were kid, one of which sold your favorite sweet rolls.

Your attention is far too occupied with chatting up the familiar curly haired girl at the stand, the same one that your visit when you were a teenager, eager to her mothers famous pastures. You’re surprised to see that there’s now a baby on her hip sporting the same head of spiral chocolate brown locks sprouting from her head, giggling and kicking excitedly as you introduce yourself, grabbing the babies hands as you catch your with her mom.

Ellie had arrived not long after you, standing nearby as she smiles fondly at the way the baby quickly becomes enamored with you. Watching you play with kids was something that always made her heart flutter with joy.

You giggle softly as she hands you both pastries, giving her a nod as she begs you to come visit her and the sweet baby more often. You hum softly as you struggle to push both your receipt and your phone back into your purse, groaning softly to yourself as you fail to notice the sudden looming presence that falls over the, gentle hands opening your bag wider as they aid you in putting everything away.

“Here, lemme help you” Ellie breaths out gently, her voice alone making you freeze as your eyes trail to her body to land on her face that was suddenly very close to yours.

She chuckles when she notices you staring up at her with wide eyes, nodding her head down to your bag.

“Come on now, would hate to make you drop those” she hums as she mentions the pastries in your other hand. You blink a few times before you clear your throat, giving a quick nod before you push your things into your bag with her help.

“Fuck…sorry…I…um…” you struggle to speak, adjusting your bag on your shoulders as you watch the girl step back with a soft smile.

“No worries, you alright?” She questions, neck craning down a bit to get a good look at you, her own big green eyes staring into yours, making it hard to breath.

God, this was going to be much harder than you thought.

You inhaled deeply, opening your mouth to speak before closing it, looking down at the sweet rolls in your hand before outstretching your arm to hand one to her.

“I bought this for you…I figured you hadn’t eaten yet so…” you mumble out softly, watching as she stared at you for a moment before looking down at the perfectly packaged baked good in your hand.

Her heart warming at the mere thought of you thinking of her in that way.

She smiles softly before she nods, placing her hand on the small of your back as she began guiding you out of the small strip of stands.

“So sweet of you…c’mon, there’s some places to sit right up this way” she suggests, giving you a small reassuring smile as she leads you there.

Somehow it seems perfect. The sun, the birds chirping, the little shady spot that Ellie leads you over to, covered by the biggest tree with the prettiest flowers slowly drifting down from above. It’s truly something out of a dream….

It made you wish this was all a dream.

You let out a soft sigh as you sit opposite of Ellie on the wooden bench, your fingers toying with the paper the pastry in front of you is wrapped in. Ellie frowns as she watches you closely, knowing the expression far too well. She could see just how much you were in your own head, how the events you two shared prior lingered in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything.

You couldn’t even look at her, and she hated that.

She inhaled deeply before she reached a hand out, gently placing it atop yours.

“I hope you didn’t bring me out here to apologize…because you don’t have to” her words are soft, and sweet, and it makes your throat get tight because she shouldn’t be so kind to you after what you did, after the way you treated her.

You don’t respond, so she takes the opportunity to keep talking.

“I get that things are probably hard…and I shouldn’t even have kissed you that night…so I’m sorry” she tries again, and you scoff softly before shaking your head.

“Don’t…don’t apologize” you mumble out before you inhale deeply, finally looking up, only not at her, at the scenery around you both.

“I caught her in our bed, with some girl she worked with” you mumble out softly, fingers mindlessly running along the rough surface of the wooden table.

“I probably should have seen it coming….but I think I wanted things to work out so badly that I just ignored it” you shrug slightly as you explain before you finally look over at Ellie, who’s already staring intently as she listens to you.

“Ellie I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or to think that I’m using my divorce as an excuse for what I did, for what happened between us….but I just need you to know that I’m hurting, and it’s just….hard for me to open myself up to something like that again after what happened” your voice breaks as your emotions threaten to give you away, chin wobbling as tears pool in your eyes.

But you don’t let them flow free. You don’t want to cry anymore, not over this.

“I…I just need time….” You silently beg, beg for her to understand what it is you’re going through, what it is you’re experiencing.

It scares you when she doesn’t answer right away, her green eyes scanning your face as she takes it all in. It’s a lot, and you know that, but there’s a tiny part of you that begs for Ellie to do what she does best, which is tell you exactly what you need to hear.

She blinks a few times before giving you a nod, paired with a soft smile. “You don’t even have to ask….you know I’d understand no matter what”

You inhale deeply as you watch her, her gentle eyes, her soft smile telling you that all would be fine. It make your stomach churn because you feel like you don’t deserve it, you feel like she deserves so much more than what you’re giving her.

You two haven’t even addressed what actually happened that night.

There’s nothing more to do than to simply smile back at her. It’s weak, and it isn’t much, but it’s all you can mange right now.

Ellie smiles softly at you before she looks down at the rolls in front of you both. “As good of a baker that Mary Beth is….i think we need some real food” Ellie hums out softly before she swings her leg over the bench to get up, nodding her head towards a small diner nearby.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat” she suggests, holding her hand out for yours.

She notices the way your eyes linger on her calloused hand, unsure of whether or not you should take it, unsure of what signals it would send if you did.

You were unsure of everything. Unsure of Ellie, yourself, your own feelings. Nothing felt solid enough to trust, and you hated that someone like Ellie could make you feel that way, even though you knew that it wasn’t her that was making you feel that way, but rather what happened to you instead.

She can see it, she can see right through you and for a moment her frown mimics yours before she it turns into a soft smile.

“As friends” she affirms gently.

She sees a flash of something ripple through your eyes at this when you finally look up at her, something she doesn’t want to read too much into, something that she knows she can’t dive into for your own comfort, and perhaps even hers too.

A moment passes before you crack a weak smile, placing your hand into hers before you nod. “Yeah…as friends” you manage to make out weakly before grabbing the things off the table, shoving them into your bag and leaning into Ellie’s warmth as she guides you to the diner.

Ignoring the bitter taste left on your tongue at the way Ellie assured you that she was your friend, and nothing more.

Your mind was in absolute shambles.

It had been a few weeks since the farmers market with Ellie, and truthfully all had been well between the two of you. You both ate together, talked, laughed, you were even able to talk about your divorce, explaining to Ellie how you felt, what it had done to you, and she listened to it all, nodding along to your words, giving you the advice you didn’t want to hear, but very much needed. For a moment it was easy to forget all about the tension that had settled between you both, the thoughts that plagued you were finally silenced as you allowed yourself to just simply be.

That was until you got home.

The second you were in your bedroom, lying there, staring up at the ceiling, memories of that night began to flood into your mind. You could feel it all so clearly, Ellie’s hands on your body, her lips pressed against your mouth, gasping for air, her tongue sliding against your own. Her words echoed throughout your mind, desperate pants and moans of how she needed you, of how you needed her.

You couldn’t sleep a wink.

It felt as though you hadn’t even talked to her, as if things hadn’t glossed over to where they were okay, a point where things were fine between you both. They were, but the feelings you had were still there. You thought that if you had at least talked to Ellie, explained to her what you were feeling, it would give you a head start on where to go with sorting out your own feelings.

None of that ever came.

Your body yearned for a moment of peace from the issues at hand, you wanted to feel the same way you felt when you were sat at the diner with Ellie, her laugh and her sparkling smile distracting you from the things you were feeling.

But you knew you couldn’t turn to her for a distraction, you couldn’t use her to occupy your mind from facing things that you’d much rather ignore. That wasn’t fair to her and it would only hurt you further in the long run, lengthen the grieving process of the death of your marriage.

You couldn’t do that to Ellie.

You could however, go somewhere that you knew would clear your mind the moment you were there.

The low hum of your car engine shuts off as you pull up to the familiar clearing, a gentle smile on your face as you can already hear the gentle stream of the water the moment you’re stepping out of the car.

The old creek was one everyone in your town treasured, a tiny glimpse of paradise in the confides of your backyard. It was where all the seniors would go for senior skip day, and where families would visit to spend the day with their children. If there was any place that the people of your town would be during the summertime, it would be the creek.

And rightfully so, the waters sparkled like nothing you’d ever seen before, the shady trees hiding the spot away like a secret that belonged to you and only you. You had many fond memories of the place, ones with your family, your siblings, your old friends from school.

Ellie.

You and her would visit the spot any chance you got, diving into the cold water the moment you were there. You could recall the moment you two first found out, thinking it was a secret only you two shared, just to find out your parents had been visiting when they were your age as well.

Regardless of the fact that it didn’t belong to you two, it felt like it. A small piece of the world that you and Ellie could call your own, sharing secrets there with one another, Ellie pushing you off the old swing tied up to one of the trees before she swung in soon after, diving in and holding you close to her chest as she promised you’d be together forever, for as long as you both lived.

The intensity that you both shared as teenagers often made you laugh. What a silly thing for two teenage girls to say who have barely experienced the world out there.

You let out a gentle sigh as you rugged off your denim shorts after setting your spot up. A small blanket settled down with your bag, your old camera and a few books, clearly having every intention of staying the entire day, swimming to your hearts content.

Once you’re stripped of your clothes, your body only clad in your old bathing suit, you waste no time in making your way down to the water, shivering slightly once your toes hit the cold water, wiggling them in the process.

You’re convinced swimming in the small body of water has to have some sort of mystical healing properties, because the moment you’re diving your head under, eyes examining the aquamarine world that is below the surface, your mind is clear. It makes you feel like you could live there, swimming amongst the different underwater caverns and the fish, creating a whole new world below as the little mermaid you always dreamed to be.

Your mother always told you she thought she’d given birth to a little fish when your father first took you swimming.

It’s so easy to lose track of time when you’re like this, floating around in the water, letting its coldness wrap you up and swallow you whole. It’s almost comforting how quiet it is, the only sounds being the gentle stream of the water, the wind rustling against the tree leaves and the frequent sound of the birds chirping to let you know that you weren’t alone, letting you know they were there with you.

You don’t even realize it but you’ve spent hours swimming about in the small pond, the grumbling in your stomach finally stops you for a moment to actually think about anything other than swimming, forcing you out to lay out onto your blanket and dry in the sun, occasionally popping the sweet berries into your mouth you’d brought from home.

The book you’ve brought with you also silences the outside world, allowing you to flip from page to page without thinking of anything but the regal characters that seemingly had much more to worry about than you. What a world it would be to wear uncomfortable dresses and attend balls in the hopes you’d find the perfect husband.

What would they think of your divorce?

It makes you snort to yourself, a gentle hum leaving your lips as you flip another page, unaware of the sudden sound of feet crunching against the grass slowly approaching you.

The high pitched sound of your name being called rips your attention away from your book, furrowing your eyebrows a bit as you cup your hand above your eyes to shield from the sun, trying to get a good look at who it was that was disturbing your peace.

“I didn’t think I’d be seein’ you here! What a surprise!” Lilac chirps out, her curly hair tied up into a perfectly styled bun, tight coils framing her face as she clutches her towel to her chest.

You hadn’t seen her since the night Ellie took you out to the Copper Cat a few weeks ago, the girl not lingering on your mind much as you had much bigger fish to fry. You were honestly a bit shocked that she’d even remembered your name.

You give her a gentle smile as you sit up, your legs folding to cross one another as you give her a small smile.

“Good to see you Lilac….going for a swim?” You ask her, watching as the girl takes the spot right next to yours, her blanket fitting perfectly up against your own as she gives you a confident nod.

“Mhm! It’s too hot…bless Ellie’s heart for sharin’ this place with me. Don’t know what I’d do without it” she chirps out as she tugs her own denim shorts off, leaning her in the cutest little bikini.

You know she doesn’t mean it in the way that it sounds, bragging about being introduced to the small clearing by your ex girlfriend, and you knew that it was only in due time that this place was mentioned to her by someone in your town, making sense that Ellie would do it first since that’s just the kind of girl Ellie was.

But there’s just something that tugs at your heart at the thought of it all. Ellie mentioning this place to her, the two of them coming down together, alone, Lilac adorned in another one of those adorable bikinis she had to show off to Ellie her gorgeous body as they play in the water together.

Something about Ellie sharing the spot you two shared with someone else that just rubbed you the wrong way.

You inhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you remember that this girl owes you nothing, Ellie owes you nothing and Lilac has been nothing but kind to you from the moment she met you.

Giving her a gentle smile as she settles down next to you, you nod. “It’s pretty great out here…I’m surprised it isn’t so packed. Seems we got lucky” you give her a nod before you sigh, turning your attention back to your book.

She smiles fondly as she watches you turn your attention back to your book, her neck craning down a bit to get a good look at the cover, gasping softly once she realized what it was you were reading.

“You read those too? I love them! I just finished the first two” she beams, a soft hum leaving your lips as you look up at the girl, raising your eyebrows at her comment.

“Really? Most people think they’re super corny” you pout softly as you turn the book over to look at the cliche cover, which only earns a firm head shake from Lilac.

“Honey I’m a hopeless romantic, I daydream more than I actually try talking to people” she giggles out softly, giving you a gentle shrug.

Her words make you chuckle softly, gently closing your book as you toss it to the side before sitting up to mirror her posture, crossing your legs as you suddenly give her your full attention.

“You’re a hopeless romantic? But…Lilac you’re gorgeous. I wouldn’t be shocked if you have every single guy here desperate to get a chance with you” you confess, which only makes her shake her head as she gives you a shy smile, gently shoving your knee.

“Don’t you dare! I’m awful at talking to people” she pouts out, her eyes dropping from her own as she stares down at the flowers on her blanket, delicate fingers tracing the patterns gently as she lets out a gentle sigh.

“If I’m being honest…it’s not the guys here that I want…” her words trail off softly, and it makes you pout softly as you eye the girl, seeing how whatever is on her mind is clearly bothering her, plaguing the girl just as much as what was on your mind.

You open your mouth to ask her about it, feeling bad about whatever she was going through, but she’s quick to shake her head and put on a bright smile once she looks back into your eyes. “But let’s not get into that! M’glad you’re here to join me today” she breaths out, her voice sweet and genuine as her eyes soften.

And it makes your heart rate finally slow down, seeing just how genuine the girl seemed, how happy she was to be there with you regardless of the fact that you were as good as a stranger to her than anything more.

You smile softly as you nod, leaning forward and placing your hand on hers, giving a gentle squeeze. “Don’t mention it, Lilac” you hum out softly.

If there was anything you didn’t expect to do today, it was to have made a new friend, especially one in Lilac. The two of you spent the entire day down at the creek, laughing together, swimming together. The more time you spent with her, the more you realized just how much in common the both of you had.

Being completely honest with yourself, she had more kindness in her pinky than anyone in the city ever did.

The sun has set, and the breeze blew against your warm skin as you leaned against your car, Lilac in front of you as she made yet another joke that had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud laugh.

“Stop I feel the same way! I always wondered what happened to him” you gasp out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you lean back to shove your back into the passenger seat of your car. Lilac giggles softly as she nods, her arms crossed over her chest as she swatted away the mosquitos slowly began to swarm around you both.

“He’s still an idiot, some people never change I fear” she groaned out, a prominent pout on her perfect lips before she cocked her head to the side, smiling fondly at you.

“Ellie was right about you, you know? You really are somethin’ special” she breaths out, and it has your eyes going wide at the mention of the girl. It makes you realize that you hadn’t thought about her all day, not since Lilac had joined you.

It makes you wonder what other things Ellie had said about you.

You whine softly as you bring your hand forward to nudge her playfully. “Shut up….you’ll blow my head up” you warn the girl playfully before you sigh softly, looking over at the sun that was slowly bur surly setting, the once warm glow that casted onto you both disappearing.

“Ahh I should get going…we shouldn’t be on the roads too late” you breath out softly, turning towards the girl and giving her a small smile, only to see a sad one on her face.

You frown softly as you watch her, leaning forward and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey? You okay?” You ask gently, suddenly worried about the girls shift in her mood.

She lets out a gentle sigh before she looks down at her feet, kicking around the gravel below before she lets out a soft hum. “I know we don’t know each other well…but…I feel like you’ll be my only help with this” she admits to you, her eyes still casted downwards before you assure her with a soft voice. “Of course you can..” you mumble out softly.

She finally looks up at you, taking a deep inhale before she gives you a half smile. “I…think I like Ellie” she breaths out, as if she’d been keeping it held in for so long, as if finally telling you was letting a weight off of her shoulders.

Letting it off of hers and slamming it down onto yours.

You find it hard to breathe, because suddenly you’re shot back to the first night you met Lilac at the Copper Cat. Ellie’s hand on her waist, hers on Ellie’s arm as she whispers in her ear, the two of them matching one another far more than you felt you could’ve ever matched Ellie. You feel threatened, and it sets a fire off in your chest, and you feel like the world is crumbling around you as this beautiful girl admits her innocent feelings for your ex girlfriend.

When you don’t speak, she continues.

“And I just…you and her are so close, so I was hoping maybe you could give me some advice? Should I go for it? Do you…think she’d like me back?” She asks hopefully, twiddling with her fingers nervously as she watches you closely, awaiting your response.

You stare are her blankly, your body working on autopilot as you try to work your way through this. Seeing her that night felt like it might’ve all been in your head, especially when Ellie ran out after you and left the moment you were ready, but now this is all real. This is Lilac confirming that what you felt was real, and this was the reality of coming back to your hometown, more specifically your ex girlfriend.

And as you stand there, trying to figure out what the hell to say to this girl, you can only see someone doing the same thing that you’re doing. She’s a young girl, looking for love in this crazy fucked up world, and she’s unsure of herself. Someone as beautiful as her is unsure of herself and you could only wish that someone would have guided you when you were pursuing your ex wife, a third party bystander giving their advice and helping you through it all.

Because as much as it kills you? Ellie deserves love, and so does Lilac, and if they find it in one another, who the hell are you to take that away from them.

The both of them owe you nothing.

You inhale deeply before giving her a soft smile, nodding as you reach out to give her arm a gentle, assuring squeeze. “I think Ellie would be thrilled to be with someone like you, Lilac….you should go for it” you breath out genuinely, watching as the girls face lights up with joy with your confirmation, an excited squeal leaving her lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that! You’re an angel” she squeals, reaching forward and grabbing you up into her arms as she gives you a tight hug, swaying back and forth as she tucks her chin into your shoulder.

You can practically feel the happiness radiating off of her.

You smile softly as you nod, wrapping your hands around her as you hug her back before you hum. “You didn’t need me…you’ll be great on your own” you assure her before you pull away, giving her a reassuring nod.

She smiles brightly as she nods before she lets out a loud sigh. “Right…get home safe, alright? And text me! We can hang out sometime this week” she sings out as she gets into her car, giving you a wave as she begins pulling off.

And suddenly you’re left there all alone, with the newfound thoughts that are swirling about in your head. You know already that you won’t be able to sleep, not with the mental image of the two of them dancing around in your mind, forcing you to face reality, face the facts that time moves on with or without you.

But you were tired of being left behind, you were tired of being the last one to know things, the one broken heart in a sea of mended ones.

Driving off in your car from the creek gives you time to think, the cool breeze kissing your skin, pushing your hair back as the radio plays your favorite songs, creating somewhat of a perfect scenario to think things over rather than running from them.

While it all hurts, you know that there’s no use in standing in the way of Lilac or Ellie or whoever for that matter. Life would continue moving, and in that meant new love would be found, for both you and Ellie, it just felt like that wouldn’t happen for you in the moment, even if you knew it would.

But you were going to move on from this. And you were going to be fine, no matter how long it took for you to catch up with the tracks of life that seemingly always got the best of you.

There’s something therapeutic about hanging up the laundry on the old clothes line in your backyard.

You used to make fun of your mom all the time when she did it, telling her that there was a perfectly good dryer inside that would take less than half the time to dry the clothes than they did outside, not to mention less work when it came to picking them in.

However as you’ve grown older, there’s something so simple about walking outside with your basket on your hip, the gentle smell of detergent blowing into your direction as you pin up several articles of clothing, your white sheets, anything that you’ve washed, that tickles your brain in the best ways.

That, and the fact that these days you’ll take any task to fill your brain with thoughts other than Ellie or your ex wife.

Things had been fine. You spoke to Ellie here and there, dropped dinner off at Joel’s house that you knew he made sure she got some of whenever you made extra, you even made time for Lilac within the week as well. You’d picked up a small job in town as well, working at the cashier of a small floral shop that had been in town from you could remember.

So although your mind drifted to places you didn’t often like, life was fine. Life was slow, and life was good.

Lilac constantly gushed to you about Ellie, talking about all the progress they’d been making, asking your opinion on the girls behavior, which you always tried your best to help with. Although the strange thing about it all, was you heard nothing from Ellie about the situation. She didn’t mention anything about Lilac, not even when you brought it up.

It wasn’t long until you began distancing yourself from the both of them, knowing how hard it would be once they became official and you had to live life in a world where they were together.

Because although you were doing okay, the wound was still fresh, and you had to keep your peace.

You hummed a gentle tune softly as you continued hanging up your linen on the line, enjoying the feeling of the cool summer breeze against your skin, the dandelions dancing along through the air as they became loose from their stems.

The sound of your fence creaking open cuts right into your thoughts of housework, forcing you to turn around as you hang up another one of your sleep shirts, a soft smile on your lips when you catch sight of the familiar tall brunette walking into your backyard, both her hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jeans.

“Ellie…didn’t think you were coming over” you sigh out softly as you clip the end of your shirt up, continuing to hang up your clothes regardless of her being there.

“Was in the neighborhood….I thought I’d stop by” she breaths out, eyes taking in your form as you continue with your chore.

Her voice seems like something is bothering her, and you catch onto it the second she utters her first syllable. You know already why she’s here, to question you about your sudden absence, wondering if things were okay with you or not, worry clear in her tone.

“You…haven’t been around lately” she mumbles out, that same worried tone laced throughout her words.

It was just as you suspected.

You frown, thanking the task of laundry that hides your expression from her. It’s so much easier to lie to Ellie whenever you’re not looking into her eyes.

“Oh…I’ve just been uh…dealing with some stuff” you’re quick with the excuse, clearing your throat before you turn around to give her a soft smile. “I’m fine…honest” you give her your best attempt at a reassuring nod before you turn back to your laundry.

You have to turn away from her quickly, because you can see from the small glimpses you get of her that she’s frowning, and her brows are furrowed together with something that’s bothering her.

You hope she’ll leave after you tell her you’re fine.

But she doesn’t. You don’t hear her respond to your words, or even turn around silently to go about her day. You hear nothing behind you, only the sound of your white sheets wafting through the wind, drying on the line before you.

You frown when you look down to see your basket is empty, and the task of pinning up your clothes is no longer present to hide you away from Ellie.

So you need to get rid of her.

You inhale deeply, picking up the old basket and placing it on your hip, putting your most believable smile on your face before turning around, finally locking eyes onto the girl to see something that makes your heart sink.

It looks like she hasn’t slept, prominent bags under her pretty eyes, pouty pink lips chapped, most likely picked and bit at out of anxiety, a bad habit you knew she had whenever something was bothering her. Your heart tugs at the image, wanting nothing more than to pull the girl down into a hug, consoling her and telling her that whatever was bothering her, would be fine.

But you can’t. Because things aren’t the same anymore.

You inhale deeply before you nod your head towards your back door. “Well…I have lots to do inside…more house work…dinner” you explain, trying your best to hint at Ellie leaving without having to say so.

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally makes out, her words a clear plea to understand the situation rather than a half mumble that she’d rather not say.

It makes you furrow your eyebrows, watching the girl with a confused look as you try to understand her.

“Wrong? Ellie…I’ve barely seen you. What could you have possibly done wrong?” You try, confused of the sudden outburst from the girl.

Her eyes are stormy, hazy and hard to read. Her brows are knit as she looks down at the floor before looking back into your eyes, a prominent frown on her face.

“Why would you tell Lilac that there’s something worth looking for between her and I…why would you…” her words trail off, as if she wants to say more, as if she wants to persist with knowing why you would have done such a thing.

And soon it all starts making sense.

You wish Lilac wouldn’t have said anything. You wish she wouldn’t have told Ellie that you were the one that told her to go for it, even if she was the one that asked in the first place. You wish she would have just pursued Ellie without any mention of you, because was that even necessary? You know she must have done it to gush about you even further, the girl becoming enamored with you from the moment she saw you, and even more so once you two became closer.

But for the love of god…did she really have to tell Ellie that you were the one to tell her to go for it?

You open your mouth to speak before you sigh softly, your hands squeezing the handles of your clothes basket before you speak. “I….she spent the day down at the creek with me and when we were about to leave she told me she liked you…and she asked me if I thought she should pursue you” you explain with a shrug of your shoulders, which only makes Ellie scoff in disbelief.

“And you told her that was a good idea?” She argues back, as if it were the dumbest thing you could have ever done. She says it as if it were common knowledge to tell the girl other wise, you raise your eyebrows when she says this.

“Yeah? Why not? Lilac is…she’s fucking gorgeous Ellie. Anyone would be lucky to have her, and you should be happy I put you on with someone as great as her” you mumble out as you slip past the girl, clearly done with Ellie and this conversation as you walked up the wooden steps leading to your back door.

But Ellie isn’t finished with you, because she’s quick to follow behind, closing the door behind you as you make your way into your laundry room to set your basket down, your hands going to your hips once you turn around to see the girls built figure standing in your doorway.

“Ellie come on…I have things to do…you need to go” you huff out as you slip past her once again, going off into your living room to start on the dried laundry that needed to be folded, hoping that the girl would simply drop it and leave.

“You know I understood you the night after the show, and I was more than willing to give you all of the space you need, but this feels like you’re playing some sick joke on me” she’s standing over you now, watching as you try to ignore her in favor of some pillow cases that needed folding.

“Is pushing me into the arms of someone else your solution? And ignoring me until I’ve forgotten all about it? Is that the plan? Is that seriously what you think it’ll take to get rid of me?” She tries again, her voice pleading with you at this point as she watches you ignore her.

But this time you done, your hands drop to your lap as you stare up at her in disbelief before you toss the pillow case to the side, standing up opposite of her.

“I never had a plan! Lilac asked me a question and I was honest with her. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be happy with someone else” you explain to her before you finally feel as though you’ve had enough, a huff of annoyance filling the silent air as you round the couch to slip away into the kitchen.

Before you’re fully there, Ellie’s voice is echoing off the walls.

“But I can’t be happy with someone else!” She shouts out, her arms flailing up inti the air before dropping down to her side, the sound of her palms slapping against her jeans before she sighs.

You stop dead in your tracks when you hear that one, your back still turned to her.

“How could I possibly be happy with anyone else when you’re all I fucking think about….” Her voice is tired, and it’s almost as if she’s begging you for something, something you are not capable of, something you cannot give.

Begging for you.

“From moment we had our first kiss….to the moment I said goodbye to you before you left for the city…I’ve only ever wanted you” you can hear her getting closer, slowly making her way towards you as you stand there at the edge of your kitchen, frozen, silent, unable to say anything to her as she confesses these things to you.

“It’s pathetic, and I’ve tried to suck it up for your sake because I know….you’re going through a tough time after that moron did what she did….but I can’t fucking hide anymore” she breaths out, and it sounds the same exact way that Lilac sounded when she admitted to you that she had feelings for Ellie those nights ago.

Your back is still turned to her, and you know she’s right behind you because her smell fills up your lungs and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to fight all of it back, everything that you’ve done, all that you’ve worked through from the moment you got home to get to the point that you were at currently.

But you feel all of it break the moment Ellie’s strong hand grips your shoulder gently, sighing softly as she speaks.

“Look at me….please angel…” she begs, her skin wafting onto your neck as she tries her best to fight the urge to grab you right then and there and kiss you.

When you finally turn around, her heart breaks, because the whites of your eyes are red, and there are heavy tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, making them sparkle in the warm light of your kitchen, looking so beautiful yet so tragic all in the same time.

Her chest tightens as she leans in to cup your cheek, fighting back the urge to groan as she inhales deeply. “I can’t…I don’t wanna pretend like I’m not still in love-“ you’re quick to cut her off, your tears spilling out onto her cheeks the moment you hear the word.

“Don’t…don’t say it” you warn her with shaky words, struggling to even speak with the burning sensation in your throat.

You don’t think you could handle it, hearing those words fall from someone’s lips again, the fear rising the moment they hang from Ellie’s, flashbacks of you’re wife at the alter, promising you everything and more before she kissed you and whispered in your ear that she loved you.

It’s scary, and it makes you feel terrified of Ellie.

Before she can carry on even further, trying her best to convince you that her words are true, silently begging you to hear her out as her wide green eyes stare down into yours, you’re cutting her off.

“I told you already Ellie…I’m not….i can’t do this again. I can’t give myself to someone like I did with her” your voice trembles as you explain, her vision blurring with tears as you try your best to swallow them all back.

She licks her lips as she stares down at you before she shakes her head. “I get it….I get that you’re hurting from what happened, but I can’t keep going on without you knowing anymore….” She starts to explain, both of her hands coming up to cup either side of your face, forcing you to look up at her.

“I’ve….god I’ve longed for you from the moment you left after high school. There was not a day that went by where I did not think of you for even a few seconds. And I’m sorry for what happened, and I understand if I’m just a childhood fling for you, but I’d rather you tell me that then try to push someone else onto me to distract me from what I’ve felt all these years” she rambles on, nearly stumbling over her words as they all bubble up to the surface, overflowing and dragging you down with her.

You open your mouth for a moment before closing it, looking far too similar to a fish out of water as you try to find the words to say. What are you even supposed to say? Are you supposed to lie to her? Tell her that you haven’t felt the same way? But now it’s different and it hurts to even try to envision yourself in a relationship with someone let alone pursue them? Even when it’s Ellie?

Your Ellie?

She watches as you struggle to speak, her eyes searching yours for even a sliver of hope that this will work, that her confession will bring you to a point where you can both meet, where things can be okay again.

And if they can’t? She needs to hear you say it out loud.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same” she deadpans, hands dropping from your face as any hope she might have had slowly drains out, fizzling out of her system as she watches you simply stare up at her, a mere shell of the girl she once knew.

“Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll never bring this up again. We can move on from this and we can be friends. I promise” she breaths out, feeling the air slowly leaving her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

You feel the exact same way. You feel like the world has stopped around you both as images of your life swirls around your head.

There’s images of your ex wife, taking the privilege of love from you, ripping your heart out of your chest and walking away with it the moment she decided to cheat on you. It hurts, and it burns and it feels like something you’ll never recover from, something that leaves a wound so deep, that it will never grow the familiar leathery skin that it’s supposed to, creating a scar that acts as merely a memory for what happened, for what you endured.

And then there’s something sweeter in the corner, so small that if you pay enough attention to the hurt in your heart, you don’t even notice it.

It’s memories of Ellie. Sharing your first kiss with her, going to prom with her, spending late nights with her in your bedroom talking about the future, spending time with one another that will leave sweet memories in your mind till the day you die. It’s soft, and it’s easy and it makes your insides flutter with excitement at the mere thought of her by your side.

As you’re looking over all these parts of you, standing in your kitchen with Ellie and staring up into her eyes, you make a remarkable discovery.

You realize that if you try hard enough, the pain that comes from what your ex wife did doesn’t hurt as bad, long as you’re focusing on the feeling that Ellie gives you.

Because when you’re with Ellie, you feel nothing but love.

You lick your own lips as you stare up at her, inhaling deeply before you shake your head, feeling your throat burn with tears before you speak.

“I can’t do that….” Your words trail off for a moment before your eyes drift down to her strong hands, missing the feeling of her skin pressed against yours.

You slowly reach forward to take her tattooed hand into yours, your fingers dancing along the intricate details of the leaves on her wrist before you interlock your fingers, finally looking up at her as your eyes well up with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Because I….feel the same way” you breath out, watching as her sage colored eyes glimmer with happiness, a gentle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she quickly moves her hand to cup your face, her other reaching down to hold onto your waist, pulling you close to her body.

“Jesus…c’mere” she practically moans out before she smashes her lips against yours in a passionate, love filled kiss.

You giggle softly, your hands wrapping around her wrist as you waste no time in kissing her back, arms coming up to loosely wrap around her neck as you press your chest against hers, reveling in the feeling of her lips pressed against your own.

You hummed a gentle tune to yourself as you mixed up the pitcher of lemonade, far too deep in thought to pay the bustling party behind you any mind.

One of your favorite parts about the summer time was the cookouts. There was something about nearly the entire town coming together at someone’s house, enjoying the warm weather, the bright sun and good food, that made your heart burst with excitement.

You were just about ready to make your way to your backyard with the others, when you felt a firm hand sliding against your waist, smoothing down over the fabric of your flower sun dress and pulling you into their chest.

“Don’t you think we have enough drinks baby?” Ellie hums out softly, pressing her lips against the base of your neck, making you giggle softly as you lean into her.

“It’s almost 100 degrees outside, Ellie…I don’t think too many things to drink is even a possibility” you explain before you turn around in her arms, smiling softly at the firm as you wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the grill? You better not burn all that food I bought” you playfully pinch her shoulder, which only makes her groan softly.

“It’s too hotttt….wanna be inside with you” she whines out, resting her head against your shoulder as she gently sways with you in the kitchen.

You hum as you nod, your fingers toying with the short hair at the nape of her neck. “I know baby….but your father will be very upset if he doesn’t have at least one beer with you…come on pretty girl” you hum out to her softly, your hands sliding down to hold her around her middle before giving her a gentle pinch near her ribs, which makes her yelp out as she pulls away, a prominent pout on her sun burnt, freckled face.

“Fine…but come out with me” she huffs out, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss before she makes her way outside, making you giggle softly.

You sigh softly to yourself, placing the lemonade on a small tray paired with some already filled red solo cups, and a few empty ones on the side that you knew would be getting filled up shortly after you brought them out. You had to move slowly with how full they were, groaning softly to yourself as you tried your best to not let them fall as you tried making your way through the crowd of people in your home.

“Oh honey let me help you with that!” You hear Lilac chirp out as she quickly comes behind you, pressing her hands against your waist before taking the heavy pitcher off of the tray, making you sigh in relief once you saw the girl.

“There you are! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show…” you pout out, smiling softly as the girl leaned in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, which you were quick to lean into as well.

She giggled softly as she groaned. “Did you know that this party of yours is causin’ traffic out there?? Everyone’s dying to come, I almost ran out with the rollers still in my hair” she explains, making you giggle softly as she opened up your back door for you.

After everything happened with you and Ellie, you were terrified of what would happen with Lilac. You felt like you’d robbed the girl of something she wanted without even trying, even after being the one to tell her to go for it! Even after Ellie assured you time and time again that Lilac was always one to get innocent crushes on everyone, and that she’d get over it in no time, you were still scared that you’d lose the girl as a friend after just making her one.

You were quickly proven wrong when you met her in town a few days after, texting her and letting her know you had something to tell her. Instead of her being upset about you and Ellie, Lilac was thrilled. She grabbed you and hugged you, and told you that she even wanted to celebrate with you and Ellie, explaining that her crush was as innocent as could be.

And before you could even realize, Lilac had become your best friend.

You giggle softly as the children practically jumped you once they saw the tall pitcher of ice cold lemonade, frantically grabbing the cups and chugging them down before running off to play in the sun.

Catching sight of Ellie with her father and a few of her coworkers makes your heart flutter, and you decide to fill up a few more cups of the cold drink as you make your way over to them, a soft smile on your face.

“Lemonade anyone?” You chirp out softly, all of them taking them gladly before Ellie slung her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side as she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, carrying on with her conversation.

You don’t miss the way Joel smiles fondly at the two of you over the edge of his cup.

And later that night, when everyone’s left and the house is cleaned up, you lay with Ellie in your bed, the cool breeze blowing in through your windows, your bedroom illuminated by the white light of the moon.

You’re tucked away into Ellie’s side, your thigh hooked over her body, one of her hands rubbing along your skin and massaging your leg, the other looped around your shoulder as you stare up at her lovingly, your hand dancing along her t shirt clad chest.

“Did you have fun today?” You question softly, which earns a gentle smile from the girl before she looks down at you, giving you a slight nod.

“The best time baby….haven’t seen so many people gathered around for a party in a long time…you did good angel” she breaths out before she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, which makes you smile warmly.

But the warmth doesn’t just settle in your cheeks.

A simple kiss from your girlfriend makes it travel down your body. It warms your throat, your chest, your stomach, traveling all the way down until it settles right in between your legs, making you clear your throat to bite back a whimper.

Ellie frowns softly when she notices this, pulling away to look down at you as she continues massaging your thigh. “Something wrong princess?” She questions, slight concern lacing her tone as she watches you with furrowed brows, her expression clear in the light of the moon.

When you and Ellie first started being romantic again, she promised you she’d take things slow. Your relationship only went far as kissing, a few gropes here and there, but nothing further than a steamy make out session that ended once Ellie tapped your thighs and forced you off of her lap, fearing that she was pushing you too far.

At first it was extremely considerate of her. It was true, intimacy was a bit hard for you at first, somehow thinking of your failed relationship every time you tried, blaming your self for not pleasing your wife enough.

But as time went on, those thoughts were virtually silenced. You didn’t even have the capacity to think of anything but Ellie when her tongue was down your throat, the feeling of her big hands on your body, and her toned thighs pressed between your legs.

So now…God…you needed her more than anything.

You were almost embarrassed to even say it, but it was getting to a point that anything Ellie did was setting you into a frenzy. Just today, her toned arms in here wife pleaser and her denim jeans made your head spin, and your panties cling to your needy core.

Her frown deepened when you didn’t answer, the girl turning over a bit to better face you before her hand came up to cup your cheek. “Baby? What’s the matter?” She questions once again.

You finally let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you reach up to grab her wrist gently, keeping her close as you avoid looking into her eyes.

“I….need you Ellie…need you so bad” you sigh out softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Her frown only deepens further as she stares at you down in confusion. “Need me? But angel I’m right-“ her words are cut off when she feels your grip on her wrist tighten, and your thigh hikes up her body further, pressing your core against her side.

Her eyes widen in realization.

“Fuck…” she breaths out, watches as your eyes flutter open to stare into her own, yours filled with want and need as your other hand moves down to hold onto her exposed hip gently.

“Are you sure baby? We can…fuck…we don’t have to…” she struggles to get out, eyes glued to yours as she watches you.

You shake your head before you gently pry her hand from your face, bringing her fingers down to press against your lips before you sigh. “I’ve thought about you every day since I’ve left Ellie…of course I’m sure…” you sigh out softly before you open your mouth, taking her pointer and middle finger into your mouth as you slowly suck them in, moaning around them.

Ellie lets out a soft moan as she watches you, feeling her own clit pulse against her underwear as she quickly grows warm with a need similar to yours.

“That’s my girl…fuck….been needy huh?” She moans out, making you nod before you roll over to straddle her, her other hand coming down to grip your hip softly, massaging your skin through the fabric of her own t shirt draped over your body.

You let go of her fingers with a pop before you stare down at her, a soft smile on your face as you move down to press your lips against hers, wasting no time in pushing your tongue into her mouth.

The kiss is slow, and sensual and dirty and it’s everything you’ve wanted and needed since your divorce. It’s nothing like kissing your ex wife, but it’s everything like kissing Ellie. The noises she makes has your head spinning, and it forces you to roll your hips down onto her, which makes her moan even louder into your mouth.

“Fuck…want you to…wanna feel your pussy on mine baby…can you do that for me?” She questions out desperately, her hands roaming your body, pushing her t shirt up on your to reveal your tits.

Ellie had it all planned out. She wanted it to be romantic, she wanted to take things slow and show you just how much she loved you, just how serious she was about you. She wanted you to feel loved.

Oh did her plans not go as planned, but oh how you felt so fucking loved.

You nod eagerly, sitting up and tugging the t shirt off, tossing it somewhere in your room. Ellie moans loudly at the sight of you above her, hands reaching up and cupping either one of your boobs, pinching and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

Once she’s had her fun, you climb off of her for a moment, tugging off her panties, giving her time to tug her sleep shorts off as well, leaving you naked and her bottom half bare. She’s feverishly tugging you back onto her lap, allowing you to tug her t shirt off.

And the feeling of your bare chest pressed against hers makes you moan loudly, your lips coming down again to press a needy kiss to hers, filled with tongue and teeth as you both situate yourselves.

The moment comes quickly, your legs slotted between hers perfectly, pussy right on top of hers as she stares up at you with low, hazy eyes, strong hands gripping your thighs and your ass as you slowly began rolling your hips so that your throbbing clit bumps against hers, making the girl beneath you moan loudly as her back arches and her eyes flutter shut.

“F-fuck! Oh my….fuuuuckkkk…that’s it baby…fuck yourself down onto my pussy…oh my….ha-fuck” she moans out, voice going hoarse as her strong fingers press firmly into your skin, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your moans mix with hers, paired with the sound of your sopping wet pussies sliding against one another, a symphony of erotic love making that has been a long time coming. It’s like the two of you let out every raw emotion that had been bottled up for all those years you spent apart, her longing, your hurt, it all mixes together to create something of a beautiful love song that belongs to the two of you, and no one else.

“Ellieee…fuck! Feels…feels so good..” you moan out, picking up the pace as you feel your orgasm growing closer and closer by the second, your bed creaking with every thrust of your hips.

Ellie can’t take it anymore, moving to sit up as she grips both of your hips, aiding you in riding her pussy faster before she gives you an encouraging nod. “Come on baby…cum with me, yeah?” She sighs out breathlessly, staring up into your eyes passionately as she feels her own orgasm growing closer.

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, keeping her closer as you moan and whine, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as you struggle to make it there, struggle to not let the pleasure get the best of you.

Your heart feels like it’ll just burst.

“I…mmm…fuck….Ellie I love you…I love you so much…” you moan out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel right on the brink of your orgasm.

“That’s my fucking girl…I love you so much baby…more than you’ll ever know…” she moans out to you.

And suddenly, you see colors.

Your chest feels like you’ve been struck by lightening, struggling to even stay upright as your orgasm ripples through your body violently, your forehead resting against Ellie’s as your arousal mixes with hers, both of your orgasms so intense, so powerful, it feels like it’ll kill you both right then and there.

The come down is hard, because it’s almost sorrowful to no longer feel the amazing feeling that comes with making love to Ellie, but the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your middle and keeping you close is almost better, her lips pressing against your collar bones and chest as you both breath hard, the room silent compared to the noise that once filled it.

She holds you there the entire time, whispering how much she loves you, promising you that she’ll give you everything you could ever want and need.

And while you’ve heard all of that before, just for it to end in shit….

You believe her, because this time? It’ll be different.

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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uranometrias · 2 days

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goodbye love, you flew right by , spencer reid

this was inspired by the season fourteen episode 'truth or dare'... it's my take on the jeid confession aftermath. listen to ceilings while you read, but don't think too deeply into it, because the story has a happy ending... this is only part 1 though, and it ends on a awkward/angsty note, so sorry. reader passes out from a head blow.

i wanted it to be short, but i have no self control.

you tried to keep your mind on your training, you didn't really have time to panic, you needed to stay calm. you focused all your energy on your breathing, willed your fear away with thoughts of better things. you didn't even want to focus on the fact that spencer was across from you, hands pinned behind his back as he stared up at the manic man that was currently holding you, your boyfriend, and your closest work friend hostage. you believed in your team, and what you were capable of, you knew without a doubt you'd make it out alive.

"casey..." spencer speaks, his voice has matured over the years, rightfully. he sounds so official, and you find yourself sitting a touch straighter at the sharpness behind his words. jj was standing up, eyes glued directly on your captor, her face was pinched up with the proof of her worry. she catches your eye, and looks forlorn, you only hope that she sees the resilience resting in your own eyes, as you try and offer a semblance of hope through your own gaze.

"shut up!" he shouts, and his gun is aimed at spencer. he spits the words out, quickly stomping towards jj as he forced her to the floor.

"okay, okay!" she exclaims, and it's clear that he's hurting her. his patience has run thin, and jj's plan of getting through to him by playing along with his sick 'truth or dare' game was proving to be all for not. your foot unconsciously begins to tap, likely a nervous habit that you have no time to unpack. you're still too busy trying to appear unbothered, it always seemed to tick the unsubs off when it seemed like their bravado meant nothing. that's what you needed. you couldn't afford to let him think that he scared you.

"last chance." and his gun's trained directly at jj's head. "something you'd never say aloud, not even to your friends here." and casey's whirling around to point the gun in your direction, you think it might have been a mistake for him to turn around. when he sees your foot tapping his face contorts, he's annoyed with you, angry with you. your arms are uncomfortable from the way they were taped together behind your back, and the foot tapping has become involuntary.

his reaction is almost instantaneous, and you think you understand why the team's always telling you not to get so lost in your own mind.

casey's grabbing you by your arm and it hurts, especially as his nails manage to pierce through the skin. he seems to be doing it on purpose, yanking you up to your feet as jj and spencer both surge into action. "wait, wait, please-" jj's leaning forward, eyes wide and full of fear for the first time since this whole ordeal began. spencer's scared too, but he hides it much better you think.

"please, don't hurt her." he begs, and you find it a bit annoying that he's brought them to the point of begging, of using manners to appeal to his ego. casey's eyes jump from spencer to jj, and then to you, and he's sneering. he whirls you around, arm looping around your neck as he presses the barrel of his gun directly to your temple. you sing along to your favorite song in your head, using it as a way to stay grounded, it likely made you look like a mad man.

you supposed that it was your superpower, your ability to look death in the eye, and not flinch. the team often mentioned they weren't sure if you or emily was more stone-faced in a crises situation. "oh, you don't want me to hurt her?" he mocks, and you don't look at spencer, no, you keep your eyes on jj, because she's the one that has to play the game. if you didn't know spencer so well, you never would have noticed the slight movement of his arms, he was up to something.

he was fine.

jj was the one in the hot seat, and she needed you to be calm. freaking out would only make her all the more anxious. so you offer her a stern look, a look that expressed that you all would be okay. she doesn't look convinced. "i want your deepest, darkest secret." he insturcts, "impress me, or i'll kill her." and he slams the gun deep into your temple, the action dizzying as you try and maintain your balance. you feel pain blooming behind your eyes. "and then i'll kill him." he nods his head towards spencer, and jj's on the verge of tears.

you have no choice but to watch her, he's given you a first-class seat to the action. jj's eyes don't land on you though, instead she's looking over to spencer. he looks back at her, face pensive, but otherwise calm. she shudders for just a moment, and it looks like she's trying to work up the courage. "come on!" casey suddenly screams directly in your ear, and you flinch violently. it garners both jj and spencer's attention. casey tightens his hold on you, gun at the ready. "do you think this is a joke? do you think i won't blow this bitch's brains out?"

you're not too fond of being called a bitch, and the drama of it all, takes you out of the moment a bit. why were all unsubs so cliche?

jj takes in another shuddered breath, this one bordering on a sob as she takes in a puff of air. it takes her a moment to get her bearings, but then she's looking at spencer again. she offers him a weak smile, and you get a tingle up your spine, it feels like a warning for disaster. "spence..." she says his name weakly, voice harsh as she croaks. he's looking away from you finally, meeting the gaze of his best friend. "uh..." she inhales sharply. "um..." she looks at you then, and you're eyes are wide, confusion swirling there and she's exhaling.

there's a heaviness, a guilt that stares back at you, and you find yourself scared for the first time, but not of casey. no, you're scared of your friend. "i'm sorry." she mouths to you, and you watch as she looks back at your boyfriend, the clear love of your life. you feel dread then, because you know jj, you know her too well, and you know what's coming. why else would she be so worried, why else would she be looking at you with so much shame in her eyes. "i've-" she stops.

spencer's none the wiser, he wouldn't get it until she said it in full. so while you spiraled into despair, he sat patiently, doe-eyes wide and full of whatever innocence he still had left. you wish you could go back to before, you wish you hadn't been assigned to go with jj and spencer, if you were with the team you'd be none the wiser. you wouldn't feel so heartbroken, displaced, uncertain. but you're here now, and all you have to do is wait for the other shoe to drop. jj inhales, and you wish she would get it out. "i've always loved you."

and there it is.

you'd come to recognize the signs and signals of tears, it always started with your eyes burning like you'd been sitting in smoke. your nose stings next, and you bare down harshly on your tongue to keep them from falling. "and i was just too scared to say it before." it's a gut-punch, it would have likely knocked you on your ass had casey not been forcing you to take it all in. "and now things are just really too complicated to say it now." and she's crying, and that's how you know that she means it. that only makes you feel much worse.

jj, for all intents and purposes was a great actress, she could make any story believable, but she'd never been a good 'fake crier'. she could hide every single one of her tells when she spoke, but emotions were harder to manage. you remembered how she'd told you that one day while the two of you were hanging out. you don't know what brought you there, but she'd made it clear, that tears for her were hard to fake. which left you with what? a best friend that was in love with your boyfriend?

"i'm sorry, but you should know." and you'd hoped she'd at least have the decency to look at you. she doesn't. instead, she's still looking at spencer, and you feel like you're intruding. more than that you feel so stupid. spencer's got this look on his face, this shock and awe and confusion that makes you want to vomit, it makes you want to throw yourself to the ground and throw a tantrum. you want to open your mouth and scream, remind them that 'hey, you're here too'... remind them that you were apart of this, that this was a very very bad thing.

hope was not the sort of look he should be wearing, it's not how he should be responding. you don't know what you'd expected, but certainly not for him to look so relieved, not while you were sitting right there in front of him with a gun to your head. he gives her a half smile though, and you crumble. casey's suddenly chuckling, shoulders rocking as they're pulled out of their little moment. "hot damn!" and he's releasing the gun from your temple, holding it like a little prop, as he forced you back to the ground.

you don't resist, your knees slamming into the floor as you conceal your wince, conceal everything.

"now that's what i'm talking about." casey mutters excitedly. "now those are some last words right there..." he nods his head. he then looms over her, gun pointed directly in her face. "but not good enough to save your life-" before he can hope to pull the trigger, spencer has shot him. the shot echoes all around you, but it doesn't seem to pull you from your muffled mind. casey falls to the floor, jj jumping as he lands down next to her. she shudders violently.

then she's looking back at him, at spence. your spence.

you don't like how it makes you feel, that they've conjured this small habit of getting lost in one another. you clear your throat, and they're finally, finally looking at you. jj looks mortified, but you can't read spencer at all. he doesn't look at jj again, doesn't say a word, instead he's looking at you. you should feel something other than rejection, but you don't. not even when his eyes seem to brim with all those feelings that you know he has for you, because now it feels fake.

he's quick in the way he rushes towards you, kneeling as he inspects you like porcelain. his dominant hand moves to gently brush over where you'd been hit with the gun. you don't want him to touch you though, so you pull back, it's more like a hard jerk, like you were frightened of his touch. you try to play it off, pretend it never happened, but you know that he knows. it felt like the beginning of the end, like the prerequisite to something god-awful.

he looks so upset, hurt by the action, but you think out of the two of you, you're the one who's really hurt. "can you just get me out of these, please?" you don't sound like yourself either, instead you sound hollow, like a grieving woman. you probably are, grieving that is. spencer gives you a worn down nod, but maneuvers until he's behind you. he gently tugs at the tape, but it still hurts as it strips at your skin. you bare your teeth, but don't say anything, head hanging low, until he was done. he offers you his hand, you ignore it.

"y/n." jj calls, and she sounds so distraught. you ignore her too, you don't know what other choices you have. the room's not big enough to hide in, so instead you find yourself rushing over to melissa. you think it's silly, to leave the two of them alone while so much hung in the air, but it was better that way. "melissa." you say her name quietly, kneeling in front of her, despite how shabby they felt. "i need you to hang on, okay?" you exhale shakily.

"help will be here before you know it." you promise, and you're pressing on her wound, blood smearing your hands and your fingertips as she winced painfully. you don't hear anything from jj and spencer, but it doesn't make it better. clearly a glance was all it took for the two of them now. you hate the way this has thrown you, you don't exactly know why you're so fearful. jj was married, she had two sons she adored, and a marriage she was happy in. so why did it feel like the confession was the start of something bad.

were you so insecure that you felt like you didn't stand a chance?

you don't want to think about that, it might actually be enough to make you upchuck. instead, your masochistic mind has you chancing a glance back to where it all went down. you see that spencer has taken the tape off her hands. she's looking up at him, and he's staring down at her. you think that you hate them then. the door bursts open a second later, and you're glad. soon enough a medic would come to see to the wounded, and you could get the hell out of dodge.

"we're going to need an EMT, we've got three down." you exclaim. the room immediately jumps into action. you hear the incessant thrum of conversation as everyone jumped into action, and you're more than grateful when you feel someone looming. your mistake was believing it would be a medic, your face falls flat when you're met with the sight of jj. she had always had a bad habit of trying to force the hard conversations. today though, you were determined to stand your petty ground. you avert your gaze, attention back on melissa.

"y/n, please don't do this." she says this quietly, and you hear the genuine anguish in her voice. it doesn't sway you, it can't possibly.

"it's already done." you quip, and you're grateful to have slowed the bleeding of melissa's wound, as a medic takes your place, finally. you stand to your feet, bloodstained hands itching to smear against your jeans, but you refrain. you ignore rossi and tara's questions, not really in the mood to answer different variations of the 'are you alright?' game. you needed air. silly you to think it'd be over just because you'd willed it to be. just as you're stepping outside, you feel a warm hand encompassing your wrist. you don't want to stop, but it's habitual.

"let me go, spencer." you try quietly. you don't want to be that girl, the one that lashes out, and causes a scene. diplomacy was the name of the game. your eyes are glued to the ground, you didn't want to picture him with that stupid hopeful look on his face anymore. you knew that night when you closed your eyes you'd see it over and over. it would taunt you, play on an endless loop while you tore yourself to shreds. what was it about her? why was this happening to you?

"i can't." he replies, and you wish he'd spoken to you earlier. you wish that he had communicated with his mouth, rather than with his eyes. maybe you wouldn't be so far gone. it didn't have to be a big deal, because at least you would have known that it didn't matter. that her confession hadn't changed anything, but he'd stayed silent, and he'd looked at her in a way he'd never looked at you before. you knew there was history, you'd heard whispers from derek and penelope about a football game from years and years ago.

you had never expected for it to matter now.

"you can, you're just choosing to hold me hostage." you mumble, and despite your anger, you can't lash out. you can't be irrational.

"i'm not going to let you leave angry with me." and you hate how he knows you so well. you think it's something you'll miss. "i want us to talk about it, i think that we need to." he says in that voice he often used when he was trying to gently guide you towards the right choice. you don't want to be policed or treated like you were the one that had messed things up. all he'd needed to do was shut it down, all you'd wanted him to do was not look so happy, like it was something he'd spent his entire life waiting for.

"what's there to talk about, spencer? it's happened, okay? let's just move on, before this turns into something it doesn't need to." you shoot back, and he's not convinced, nor is he willing to budge.

"you're treating me like some stranger, as if i don't know you well enough to see when you're lying to me." he's gaining that disappointed lilt to his voice, and you think long gone are all your chances of getting out of this place without it turning into a full blown soap opera meltdown. "we're not going to get anywhere if you can't be truthful with me." he adds, and you don't want a lecture, because you'd done nothing wrong. you were the one casey had held, you were the one that had a gun pressed to your temple.

you weren't the one that made the life changing confession.

"i'm asking you to drop this." you say sharply, and you're hoping to snatch your arm away from spencer. he doesn't let you, and on any other occasion you'd feel so protected, so wanted. now though, you feel claustrophobic, trapped, you didn't feel safe. "i understand that you're trying to preserve our relationship, and i wish i could tell you that this doesn't change anything..." his face morphs, eyes screaming at you not to proceed. "but i just need a second to wrap my head around all this, okay? can you give me that? space?"

to him space always felt like the beginning of the end. he thinks that's why he's determined not to let you go. "will you come back? if i let you go?" and he's already dropped you wrist, so you know that he's not really talking about right now. he sounds uncertain, scared, and it does remind you that there was love he felt towards you. the fear wraps around you, and you're not sure how it really makes you feel. you exhale shakily, and you don't want to give him the wrong answer.

"agent l/n." you're both being pulled back to reality, back to what was going on around you. you note the bleeding gash in his hand, likely from the shard he'd used to free himself from the tape and you sigh.

"i don't know, spence." and it's true. "i'm just a little bit confused right now." you admit. "and my feelings are hurt," you shake your head rapidly. spencer doesn't know how to express the way his mind is running. all he knew was that jj's confession would not be enough to make him want to throw away his time with you. he wanted you to know that you weren't a consolation prize, but he didn't know how to say it now without seeming ingenuine. he knew how it looked, he knew how he'd feel if he was in your shoes.

but, he wasn't in love with jj. he remembered a version of himself that tripped over himself at her gaze, the version that stayed up late at night replaying conversations in his head. a part of that guy would always exist, he couldn't lie and say it didn't. he loved her so wholeheartedly that sometimes it still managed to scare him, but she was an illusion, a fantasy. realistically he doubted they'd make sense in a romantic sort of sense, it was only something to think about... not something to uproot lives behind.

more than that though, he'd never felt for jj the way he felt for you. he remembered the first time you'd waltzed into the bullpen. you'd knocked him right on his ass, took every thought in his head, and made it your very own. you consumed his time, and he was willing to let you. he wanted you to be the only thing that could quiet his running mind, he wanted you to be the only person that could help him sleep. he didn't want to give this anymore attention than it needed, because he was set in his heart. it wasn't a question.

he didn't know why he couldn't just say that. why everything felt so lopsided and off focus now. his lips curve down into a deep pout.

"my head hurts." you mumble, your bottom lip trembling as spencer's frown deepens. he wants to hug you, but after your initial rejection he doesn't know if he can take another one. you feel a bit drowsy, likely a side-effect of the way casey had manhandled you.

"i know, you'll need to get checked out." he says quietly. "you might have a concussion, he really did a number on you." and despite his initial protests, and your earlier reaction, he's reaching for you again. you don't know if you're insecure, or if your profiling skills are allowing to see him for who he is, but the look in his eyes pushes you to relax. his fingers are gentle in the way they cradle your face, and instinctively you're leaning into his palm, cheek pressing against his hand. "i'm sorry." and you don't know which part he's apologizing for.

"can you come with me?" a quiet and still hopeful question. "we could sit together in the ambulance, pretend everything's alright just for a second?" you offer, and you think that's an answer to his question in itself. you didn't know how long it would take to get checked out, you didn't know how long it would take for them to bandage his hand and assess him for other scrapes and bruises, but you could take advantage of it, just the two of you. you could sit in silence, and dance around in that space between love and betrayal.

it was possible.

"y-yeah." he didn't stutter much anymore, so it stands out and makes you want to frown. "we can do that." his expression is torn, and you want to know what's on his mind, what he was thinking. you needed to know, you wanted some sort of sign, anything, that would show you he hadn't given up on you all because jj was in love with him. you hoped you weren't that disposable. "i want to." he adds, and he blinks harshly, almost like he's warding off tears, and it feels so awkward. the usual banter, the back and forth, the flirty remarks that always managed to leave you both shy were all gone.

in a matter of moments.

"good." and at the very least, he's here with you right now. "give me your hand." and you're careful not to grab the one he'd split with the glass, instead stepping around him to pull his clean palm into your slightly stained one. your fingers interlock, and it's a habit, a natural one at this point. "don't think too hard about it." you instruct, and he scoffs at you. he's upset, he's disappointed, hurting, angry, confused, you can see it. all his emotions seem to pile up on one another.

"how can i not?" he asks, and he sounds so tired. "it feels like you're seconds away from telling me that you're done with me." you're a not surprised at the pivot in his demeanor.

"isn't that what you want now?" you've started to walk, and spencer's letting you lead him, not quite ready to let your hand go once you reached the medic that was currently trying their hand at getting your attention. "i mean the girl you've always loved just put herself on a silver platter." you adds with a quiet sneer a second later. "what do you need me for?" you question, and he hates the feeling of his heart mimicking the sensation of pulling and squeezing. it hurts.

"y/n..." he tries, and you shake your head. "you have to know that nothing has changed." he promises, and you scoff. it stops you in your tracks.

"everything's changed!" you hiss. "she's in love with you. jj, our friend. she's been harboring feelings for you for years, but nothing's changed?" you huff, a tear seems to find joy in slipping from your eye in that moment. it's just one, but you know it's a opener to the main event. it's probably because despite everything, he makes you feel safest. part of that safety came an inability to shield your emotions and reactions from him. you'll have to try your darndest to do so now.

you don't really know if you can conceal them, but you don't want them to turn into full blown sobs. a few stray tears were easy to ignore, but the second it became a meltdown you knew you were finished. this wasn't your secret to share, and despite how angry you were with jj, you knew that it wasn't her fault. things were complicated, and you couldn't fully blame her for how she felt. you just wondered if she was biding her time, if she thought she was better suited for spencer than you. did she actually like you?

did she actually believe all that she'd told you regarding your relationship with spencer?

'i've never seen him smile so big' ... 'you guys are actually perfect for each other' ... 'tell us y/n, are you gonna be the one to give spence a few baby geniuses? the boys need some cousins'. your heart aches at the thought of it all being nothing but lip service. but you'd never expose her to the team, you'd never hurt will and the boys like that. which meant you'd have to shape up before the team was back.

"i mean for myself. nothing's changed for me and the way that i feel for you." he presses. "i wouldn't just toss our time together away like that." spencer looks stern as he scolds you. "was there a time that i thought about what it would be like? to be with jj... to-to have her love me back? yes... i won't lie about it." he says, and your face crumples up, and you want to run away. you don't know what he's getting at, but his words don't help as much as he might've hoped.

it causes you to yank your hand away, head shaking back and forth as you step back. "i said that i didn't want to talk about it." and you feel hypocritical because you'd thrown a few rocks to get you to this point in the conversation. "so stop it, okay? we're going to let it go, and we're going to talk about something else." you try your hand at deflecting. spencer's got an exceptional amount of patience, you see it wearing thin on his face, but you're not willing to budge.

"no, we need to talk about this." spencer argues. "i'm not going to pretend with you, and we've been together long enough for you to realize that you don't have to pretend with me, either." he adds. "if we don't now... i'm scared that we never will, and you're- you're angry with me, and i need you to tell me why." he pleads. "if we can't deal with things like this, we'll never make it past the hard stuff." he exhales, "i really want to make it past the hard stuff with you."

"i don't want to talk about it." you feel yourself getting a bit more irrational, angrier. your head feels like it's hurting even more, throbbing as it passed behind your eyes.

"why are you acting like this?" he's growing a bit frantic, he's got abandonment issues, and it feels like you might leave. he's lost a lot of people in his life, he's never been the best with change, he's never been the best with moving on, getting past the hard stuff. he doesn't want to push you too far, but he feels like he's got to hold on tight or risk losing you forever. "why can't you just tell me what you're thinking? if you're gonna vent, why not with me? let me help-"

"i don't want you to do anything for me!" you snap, and you're getting looks from the officers outside. you see rossi and his eyes are directly trained on the both of you. the rest of the team is scattered about, but much like rossi they're looking your way. it's officially become a scene. you run your hands across your face, dried blood caking over your skin, as you press your hands together, taking in a shaky breath. "i told you that i didn't want to talk about it." you remind him harshly.

"y/n-" you don't give him the chance to say much else, because you're immediately cutting him off.

"no!" you're ensuring your volume stays at appropriate levels, especially now that you seemed to have garnered a small audience. tara's still looking, and you know that every so often jj's taking it all in too. you at least owe it to the both of you to not go too far. "i want you to respect that maybe this isn't something you can fix with your extensive knowledge." you proceed. "you're smart as a whip, but boy do you still have a lot to learn about emotions." and you think you might have gone too far. you've definitely gone too far.

your head is really hurting though, and your vision's getting spotty. you don't have it in you to be politically correct, but you see the way his face morphs, how he looks so hurt. he towered over you, but he never looked more like a little boy than he did in that moment. "and my feelings... whatever they may be aren't just something that you can push out of me to make yourself feel better. this isn't just going to go away and be fixed by bed time, doctor reid."

he blinks.

"i wasn't-" he exhales, heartbeat wanting to rise in his chest. "that's not-" he's not prone to panic attacks, but he knew a lot about them. he knew how they could come out of no where, and be crippling. he was panicking, freaking out, mostly because he was being misunderstood. he never wanted you to misunderstand him, especially as it pertained to his intentions and his feelings towards you. "i wasn't trying to manage your feelings... i-" he's trying to breathe. "i just want us to be okay, i don't want to lose you."

you want to reply, really you do. you don't think you can though, because your brain feels like it's about to erupt. your knees lock, and you almost jerk. spencer's eyes widen and he's surging forward to catch you the second you start to fall. it brings him to his knees, split hand be damned. "y/n." and his suspicions about your concussion were confirmed, it makes guilt lash at him instantly. if he'd just bit his tongue, you wouldn't have passed out. he'd let you get too overwhelmed, you'd told him your head was bothering you.

he's so busy beating himself up, and trying to ensure that you were breathing, he doesn't even realize that matt's trying to garner his attention. "hey, what happened?" and he snaps out of it when tara's gently shoving at his arm. he feels like everything's going in slow motion now, he's just concerned about you. that's nothing new.

"i think she has a concussion..." he mutters. "casey-" he tightens his hold on you. "casey hit her in the head." he explains, and he wonders why he hadn't been more diligent earlier. the EMTs are joining next, and he should feel more relieved that you'll be getting the care you need. he knows most times unconsciousness wanes about fifteen minutes from the time that the victim passes out, but it doesn't calm him down. guilt was one hell of a problem.

"she's gonna be alright." tara is telling him, as they're rising to their feet, eyes following the stretcher you were laid out on. "she's a real fighter." and he already knows that, he thinks you're the strongest person in the world, but he should've never pushed you.

"spence!" jj's calling him, and she's approaching before he can reply. "what happened?" she sounds about as worried as he feels. guilt clearly was a dinner for two. "is she okay? w-what's wrong with y/n?" she fires off, and spencer thinks he should be the one talking to the EMTs and not tara and matt, but he can't seem to move. or respond, based on the way jj's face contorts. "spence!" she calls him again.

that snaps him out of his reverie.

"she's got a concussion, it's all my fault." he says what he's thinking. "i shouldn't have tried to force her to talk-" and he hates that right now is the moment he decides to word vomit. "i just-" he looks up at jj, who's got a mixture of emotions swirling in her eyes. "i should have let her go get checked out." he explains.

"this isn't your fault. spence, you're not the one that gave her a concussion. you're not the one that hurt her, casey was." she insists.

"casey's not the one that blew everything up." his retort is quick, and in hindsight, he doesn't blame jj for anything. he knows things are complicated, tricky, weird. but he doesn't want her to be the one to comfort him, and tell him everything was going to be fine. not right now.

"what? are you blaming me now?" jj asks, and she sounds heartbroken. spencer thinks he's getting used to the feeling of his foot being in his mouth. there's a moment of tense silence, a stare off that occurs where neither of them knows what to say. they don't know how to proceed, and he doesn't know why he keeps getting caught in this limbo of not knowing what to say. "i didn't mean to make things difficult." she finally says. "i never-"

they're pulled from this moment by tara. "spencer." and his head turns. "are you going to ride along to the hospital?" and it should've been the natural decision, except he's not feeling particularly ready. he takes a small step back, and it's one everyone seems to notice. the only people that were privy to what went down in that room were you, jj, and himself, and yet it felt like in that moment the entire team was given a front row seat to the obvious aftermath.

something had shifted, changed.

"y-" he shakes his head. "you go ahead." he offers, and tara's eyebrows raise. her shock makes him feel worse, but she doesn't question it. she climbs into the ambulance, and soon enough they're peeling out. his hand still hurts, the gash gnawing at him, but it's a welcomed pain. he'll have to bandage it soon though.

"spence." jj's wearing this look, a mixture of emotions he doesn't want to deal with. "it wasn't your fault." she insists. it doesn't make him feel any better, instead he's forced to come to terms with the decision he'd just made. you'd been taken to the hospital, and he'd stayed behind. he'd stayed behind and been reassured by jj.

you were never going to forgive him.

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peachigummi · 2 days

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test my luck ꢾ꣒ mattheo riddle. - UPDATED!

summary: enemy to lovers! Mattheo and y/n have been each other's biggest haters since year 1, they're in their final year at Hogwarts. Mattheo finally pushes y/n to the edge, with his venomous words and guilt tactics.

pairing: enemy! mattheo x fem ravenclaw! reader

warnings: not for the faint of heart! mature themes/language. mentions of abuse. slow burn? bullying angst!! oh my god angst, but ends with some bittersweet fluff I promise! attempted suicide sorry (after reading this back, i dont mean it to be manipulation or to glorify or romanticize but! shit!! for a plot?)

note: i haven't written anything in literal years, the pov is going to shift a lot so bear with me. i honestly just lost any sense of motivation. but something in me just bloomed. you wont see any hp things on this blog it is my journal and i feel like sharing! maybe a part 2 in the making. if this gets enough response.

word count: 6,828

(slightly not really proofread or fan fact checked? if that's a thing ha)

playlist: should i create..? you know damn well the smiths would be in it! like Bigmouth Strikes Again?? that is mattheo!

reblogs & comments are so appreciated! i hope you enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was the start of your last year of Hogwarts, it was an okay time. You personally didn’t get into too much trouble, you liked to stick by yourself for the most part. You studied hard because your muggle parents were still confused about you being a witch, and what you would get out of it. It was hard to process that information, it was a thing of fairy tales. You had to prove yourself in this new world. That…that was hard when you were constantly looking over your shoulder for Mattheo Riddle.

“What’s a whore doing in my seat?” Speak of the damn devil.

You turned to look at him with a sarcastic smile, “Well hello to you too Mattheo.” You nod at the three other boys that were with him, each of their arms crossed. “Draco. Blaise. Theodore.” You return to look at Mattheo, “you know last time I checked… there are no assigned seats in Potions.” You looked around and the class was still fairly empty.

“Think again and think hard.” Mattheo spoke to you in a cold shallow tone, he barely looked at you. He circled around the table you were at, your eyes following him. He suddenly stopped right behind your chair, yanking it back. There was a loud scrape, the few students that were in the room turned to look at the scene unfolding. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. Mattheo slammed his hand on the side of the table, making you flinch. You hated that you reacted that way. He grabbed the back of your ponytail, forcing your head forward where his hand was, “Look.” M. Riddle. D. Malfoy. B. Zabini. T. Nott. Their names were carved into the side. You grabbed Mattheo’s hand, the one that was still holding onto your ponytail, you tried to pry his icy cold fingers off. It only made him tighten his grip, he bent down to get close to your face, “I suggest you move unless you want me to carve my name onto your face as well.” he spat and finally let go.

“Whatever,” you gathered your books, “this seat sucks anyways. I’ll go hang out with Professor Snape up front.” You rolled your eyes as Draco lit up a cigarette, handing the pack to the boys to share. If you’re going to try and get away with smoking, yeah do it in the back of the class I guess.

“You really like being a teacher’s pet don’t you? That’s why you’ve always got your nose up Snape’s ass.”

“Seriously fuck off! Go continue to lose brain cells with your sorry excuse of friends.” You push the seat back and let it topple over. You mentally slapped yourself, you shouldn’t be feeding into his remarks.

“That’s cute sunshine, I’ll bet you have a hard time standing up for yourself in every aspect of your pathetic life. Do better.” Mattheo smugly said, smoking the cigarette that was in his hand.

You opened your mouth to speak but decided against it, you ended up just flipping him off. He did the same, giving you an annoyed look. You took the seat next to Hermione in the front of the class. Ugh! That Mattheo. “Are you okay?!” She asked, shooting daggers at the group, turning to you again “How can you put up with that? We have to tell someone..” you shook my head and whispered, “it’ll only make things worse. I don’t want to be a snitch. It’s already been six years anyways… how can one more year really change things.”

Blaise laughed, “you like that don’t you mattheo? Isn’t she so cute when she’s angry, you like feisty girls, yeah?”

Draco chuckles, “oh he definitely does, too bad she’s a stupid bitch.” The group laughs together.

You could hear them hollering from the back. You tried to calm yourself down and pay attention to the different measurements of the potions you were being taught. Maybe I could switch this class to a different time. You thought, focusing back to the lesson when Professor Snape mentioned something about needing to be in groups of three for an upcoming project.

Before Snape could assign anyone, Mattheo spoke up, “Sir I’d like to work with Theodore, if that’s permitted.” Snape looked annoyed by his interjection but answered, “No, Theodore will be with Y/N and Draco. Nothing will change. I already made the groups, they will be posted near the storeroom.” He gave Mattheo a dirty look.

You could hear Draco scoff but he didn't say anything. Yet. He kept to himself and his buddies while they continued to smoke and do other things to piss Professor Snape off before the class was finally dismissed. I guess I didn’t need to worry about being in a pair with Mattheo. You still wanted to protest against the group choice, but nothing would come of it. You knew better than to go against Snape’s final word. Theodore wasn’t such a horrible person, he actually can be pretty smart and helpful, if you got him alone. Otherwise when he was with even just one of his buddies, he was just like them - a jerk. It was Draco you won’t be able to stand.

“Don't do anything stupid, Y/L/N, and we might actually do okay in this project.” That was Draco himself, walking over with Theodore.

You ignored his comment, “where should we meet and when?”

“We can use one of the abandoned classrooms. Before the lunch break?” Theodore suggested, handing a note with directions.

“Okay. See you.” You said as bluntly as possible, gathering your book. You went to grab the ingredients your group might need.

“Teachers pet!” Draco yelled after.

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Of course you were the first to the abandoned classroom, you had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes before either of them showed. When they did, they didn’t bother to apologize, though you didn’t expect them to. Even with smart comments from both boys, you finished discussing the project and the presentation at a decent hour. It was quiet as you started to collect your things, Draco excused himself earlier to collect a package.

“Y/N, why is it that you hate Mattheo so much?” Theodore broke the silence, carefully watching you wrap the vials carefully. You paused, taken back. “He’s been trying to get a rise out of you since day 1, why?” He continued nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

You quickly grab them out of his hand and put it in your own breast pocket, “don’t smoke around me.”

This made him annoyed, “Hey! I need those! They keep me calm!”

“No you don't, you've been fine this entire time without them. I’m not trying to raise your blood pressure right now. You’re fine.” You give him a good look, maybe he was playing dumb. How could he not know? Theodore and Mattheo were best friends; they must have already talked about this, “I only hate Mattheo because he hates me. It’s all there's to it…” I think.

He lingers for a moment after you answered him, there is something else you haven’t said, “tell me what you think. There’s always some deeper reason for this sort of stuff” He rested his chin on his hand. See this is why I favored Theodore from the rest of his group, but should I still trust him? He could use this information against me. I took the chance.

“Over the years I suspected it was just plainly because I was a mudblood and not some perfect pure-bred like you folk.” You continued to wrap the vials carefully.

Theodore rolled his eyes, “He does have a thing against people with different backgrounds than his own. He thinks everyone in this school should be from a wizarding family. But that’s not the case with you.” He grabbed a vial too, helping me wrap them, “He’s never said anything about your parents or how they’re muggles.” Mattheo would talk about me when I wasn’t around? Why would he do that? You looked into his eyes searching for some joke or underlying lie. There was none I could detect.

You recall the moment aloud when you first laid your eyes on Mattheo, “It was at the train station. Our first year. I remember hugging and kissing my parents goodbye, not wanting to let go of them. I turned around to go on the train and there was a much much smaller Mattheo staring at me with wide beady little eyes that were glossed over with tears. He was cute in that split second - ” You couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Theodore watched you carefully. You straightened your lips, continuing, “ - before he stuck a solid wad of gum in my hair.”

Theodore bellowed, nearly falling backwards in his chair, “Yeah that sounds like him, that’s a classic stunt he’d pull off. There was this one time in year 5 when he stuck gum on the chair of one of the professors before class…I never saw her so mad after she sat down and got up, her chair nearly followed her around!” He tried to settle himself down, “Mattheo always had a thing for doing stuff to people and acting as if it’s all a joke.”

“It’s not a joke when you have to cut your hair super short in order to remove the gum. I felt so naked without my long hair, it was so beautiful! And he made it worse when he made a point to show how ugly I was to everyone in the Great Hall. I even remember you laughing just like you are now.” You pushed his shoulder.

Theodore smirked, “yeah we all laughed, how couldn’t we?! You looked ridiculous before you grew it back out. We used to call you Baldy McEgg-head. You’d get so mad, only making us laugh harder.” At least someone cherished the memory. You rolled your eyes.

It grew quiet again, “have you ever met Mattheo’s parents? Has he ever talked to you about them?”

“No. I’ve never met them. He’s never really talked about his parents or his life outside Hogwarts. I don’t think he’s on great terms with his dad. He always stayed with them during the breaks, and wasn't ever allowed to spend it with us or here at hogwarts. He missed out on a lot of important hang outs. I wished he was there for them” Theodore explained, he sounded disappointed and angry.

“Do…do you think he’s jealous of my home life? The affection I was receiving in front of him at the train station…”

He thinks for a moment, “I suppose it could be a possibility…hard to tell. He doesn’t allow himself to show too much emotion, again, probably has to do with the way he must have been raised.”

You wanted to do more research into Mattheo’s family…but how? “Thanks for this Teddy. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” You finished packing everything into your bag. Before you left you tossed him back his pack of cigarettes, “see you later.”

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You let out a sigh of relief, to be alone once again. Mettheo Riddle, what secrets do you hide? You made your way to the library instead of the Great Hall. After a few hours of searching around the library, you finally find a section of massive thick old leather bound books. You blew on the covers, these books contained a record of all the wizards and witches that had attended Hogwarts. Kind of like a yearbook, but it told you what came of them. Who married who, what did they end up doing after Hogwarts, etc. a rare but quite the gem of a find. “R… R.. R” you whispered, touching the book ends. You look at the bottom of the bookshelf finding the one that contained the last names that began with R. You found it, and you began to look through for the name “Riddle.”

Just as you got to the last name, you felt a wave of shame. You were snooping into somebody’s life. Their history. This is wrong. If Mattheo wanted to talk about his home life, surely he would have. He was hiding something. There were heavy slow footsteps coming around the corner of the aisle. You snapped the book shut holding it behind you and you looked at the section opposite of where you just were. Mattheo, they were his steps, you could tell.

“Of course you’d be in the library doing nerd stuff.” He doesn’t sound happy, but also when is he truly ever?

You looked at him then around yourself, “who me? A nerd for being in the library?” I mean he wasn’t wrong but ..yeah. You still point at him, “Where are you then? Because it seems to be you’re also in the library with…” you fake gasp, “...Me! Making you a nerd too!” You hoped that confused him, you shifted the leather book behind your back. It was getting heavy by the second.

“I’m ditching classes to smoke,” He takes a rip of a cigarette that was nearly at its end, he blows the smoke in your face. “Nerd.”

“Whoop-dee-doo what a stellar insult Mettheo. I’m a ravenclaw. What did you expect? I’d rather be a nerd than a-” You took a step closer to him squinting then widening your eyes in horror, “oh my god Mattheo did you lose a tooth from all that smoking?” He quickly shoved his pinky into his mouth feeling his teeth in a panic. If there was one thing he cared more about than cigarettes it was keeping up with his good looks. Uh did I just describe him as good looking?

He actually laughed once he finished counting his teeth, “They’re perfectly fine. I care about taking care of myself, unlike you. How often do you wash yourself? I doubt you even brush your hair. I did you a favor when you had to cut it off. You have no sense of style, even with a selection of uniforms! Why do you dress like it’s winter all year? You dress like a peasant from the 1820’s”

Okay ouch, that kinda hurt. You’ve been insecure with your body, you always struggled with that. Dressing in sweaters helped hide it. You didn’t know how to respond, maybe he's right. You couldn’t stand up for yourself to save your life. You just shoved his shoulder with your own and walked past him.

Matthew continues to follow you, “did you just shove me you twat?” He snatched the book out of my arms holding it a ways away from you, “If you’re going to do sneaky shit, don’t do it so obviously. Is this a diary or something?” Your eyes widened trying to take it back, but he held it up high above his head easily with one hand.

“Yes! It’s my diary, it’s where I gush about the god almighty perfect Mattheo!” I sarcastically said, still hoping he wouldn’t look at the title of the book. “No stupid! I dont have one, I just got done working on the potions project with your buddies. Hand me back the book.”

“Oh I bet you three had lots of fun. Did you talk about me while you were there? Did you talk about how you can’t take your eyes and mind off of me? You’re clearly obsessed, following me around like a love sick puppy. You pop up wherever I happen to be.”

“Ew no never.” You fought your expression back, did Theodore tell him something? Fuck. “Draco left, it was just Teddy and I. we spent it kissing the whole time. Super carefree. His lips surprisingly didn't taste like cigarettes, they were pretty sweet.”

Mattheo’s smug smirk fades even before you finish your sentence. He hated how you used a nickname for his friend. He despised the thought of you kissing anyone, especially his mates, “fucking liar. THEODORE, not TEDDY, doesn’t like you. He just tolerates you because he has to. He wouldn’t be caught dead kissing you. You’re disgusting and I pity anyone who has the displeasure of touching you in any way other than to harm you.

You hold your hands up, “woah woah woah, whatever makes you sleep peacefully at night. Why else did Teddy take me to an abandoned classroom, it was our chance to get away together especially after Draco conveniently left.” You couldn’t believe you were lying through your teeth, this would forsure come back and bite you in the ass even harder. You haven’t even had your first kiss yet. You haven't even been romantically linked with anyone before.

“Stop fucking calling him Teddy, it’s Theodore!”

“Can you guys get a room or SHUT UP! For Merlin’s Sake” A random student yelled out at us. Slamming their hand on the table. You were embarrassed because you took pride in keeping the library a sacred place to study or relax.

“Piss off. Go find a room of your own instead of listening to us talking. You must be a first year, if you’re still so sensitive to other’s voices in the library.” He continued to raise his voice, “We’ve been like this for years! Blah blah blah!!”

“Stop it Mattheo.” You shove him again, mouthing to the student, I'm very sorry. With the distraction you go and grab the book in Mattheo’s hand but he quickly readjusts his grip.

“You don’t have to apologize for me, sunshine. You should apologize to him for your existence, do everyone a favor will you?” He finally looked down at the title of the book, Who Were They and Where They Now?: Hogwarts. He carefully used a single finger to pry it open to where the fabric bookmark was, immediately seeing his own surname. He gives a manic laugh looking up at your face and slamming the book down to the floor, “you stalker. You are obsessed with me.”

He lunged at you. You took a step back, you hit the shelving. Your heart was beating so fast you thought you would pass out from the red handed guilt.

“What kind of information were you looking to find huh?” He pointed a finger at me, his eyes ice cold. Looking to murder. Your head suddenly hurt, there was a high pitched ringing that wouldn't stop. You went to cover your ears to find some relief but Mattheo grabbed you and shook hard, “what the FUCK did you think you would find? Tell me. Tell me NOW!” You didn’t know what to say he just stared hard at you, his nails digging into your arms. You winced. He began to speak fast and harshly as if he knew, as if you had said something.

“Did you really expect you would find out that I had a happy home? Do you think I’m happy being born in some dingy hovel? Do you think I'm overjoyed to be related to and be abused by my father? He beat me black and blue and hated my existence. My mother just sat there silently watching. She doesn’t care. Would YOU be thrilled knowing that you came from a long line of dark wizards who’ve caused pain and suffering to people for centuries.”

You began to cry, “Mattheo..”

“You honestly think I would be so proud of that to tell everyone?” He scoffed.

“Mattheo you’re hurting me…”

“I. Don’t. Care.” His deep brown eyes didn’t leave yours, “you should have minded your own business. Stupid girl prying into my history. What do you care? Did you think I'd be less of a jerk to you if I had a perfect loving family like yours? ”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry! I .. I.”

“Shut up. You don't get to speak. I don't need you feeling sorry for me, I can handle myself. This is probably the worst you’ll ever experience.”

“Y-You’re right. I’m.. I’m grateful I never had to e-endure that” You were one stuttering mess.

He moves one hand to cup your mouth to shut you up again, “what did i say. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth.” He rose the other up threateningly.

You closed your eyes. Do it Mattheo. Please. I deserve it. I’m sorry I tried to pry. Do it. He was surprised by your offer and looked at you in confusion, his expression didn’t change though. “What kind of sick request is that?” You open your eyes again to meet his. Both of you were in disbelief, did he just-? “Why would you want me to beat you? Because you feel bad for me? I don’t want nor need your sympathy. Trying to act like a saint that's willing to be my punching bag whenever I want.” he scoffed, letting your mouth free, taking a single step back away from you.

“Then why are you so mean to me? Tell me that. When I first laid eyes on you during our first year at the train platform, I thought we would be friends.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing where his fingers had dug into you.

“You’re a prissy annoying know-it-all goody two shoes that thinks she’s better than everyone. You can’t help but chime in whenever you have the chance and show off.”

“So it’s just my existence then huh, nothing else to it?” You felt your own anger finally rise, you wiped your tears off your cheek trying to regain composure.

“Pretty much. You’re unbearable. You are the most unexciting thing I’ve ever encountered.”

“Let me fix that for you.” Your eyes betrayed you and let the gates open, the flood starting to spill once more. Before Mattheo could get another hold of you you quickly shuffled off, dropping your things. Already feeling limp. Just hoping your legs would carry you a bit more.

Mattheo rolls his eyes, “tsk so stupid.” He stood there staring at the place you once were. Thinking about what occurred when he processed what you said, “Y/N! Hey I-..” He began to follow in the direction you went off to.

Your shuffle turned into a run, you just needed privacy. Anything. Your dorm was too far away, so you went into the nearest girls bathroom and into the furthest stall to sob.

Mattheo reaches the hallway, looking to his left and right. Fuck where did she go? He closes his eyes to listen closely. He heard something faint and went with his gut.

You sat down beside the toilet, hitting your head with your fist. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” You heard a familiar giggle, “go away Myrtle. Now’s especially not the time.”

Bathroom, you had to be in the bathroom. He went inside not caring if another girl would see him, “Y/N? You’re in here, I know you are. Look, just come out will you?” Instead Moaning Myrtle came forth.

“Are you looking for me?” she bit her finger looking him up and down, “we don't get that many cute boys in here.” She sighed, still admiring him, “Nevertheless, shame on you. How could someone as delicious as you treat someone so horribly.” She laughed in his face.

“Shut up. I don't need to be lectured by some depressed ghost. Why are you even here. Go away.” He went further inside the bathroom pushing doors in, “actually have you seen a girl come in, Y/N?”

“Yes!” She said excitedly pointing to the last stall, “She’s coming with me and we’ll get to haunt together. It’ll be so fun to not be alone anymore” She broke into another high pitched laugh, clapping her hands with joy.

“What the hell is she on about?” That’s when he noticed broken glass from a mirror. His heart drops, “you’ve got to be kidding me…” He rushed over pushing the final door in, but this one wouldn’t budge. “Y/N. It’s Mattheo..” his heart drops and he pales when he notices blood start to seep out from under the door, you’ve hurt yourself. “Y/N!” He says again louder, “open the door! Open it right fucking now! Y/N!!”

You didn’t want him to see you like this, no one should have to see this. You try to hold the door closed but you were losing your strength to do anything. The blood made it slippery so your hand slid down, “M-m-mattheo haven’t..you said enough?”

Myrtle pointed to the glass, “look how eager she was! Damaging school property to break free” She did a couple spins in the air, “any minute now!”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Mattheo raised his wand and shot a blast at the lock, it broke open and he flung the door open to reveal you laying on the floor. His heart seemed to stop completely. “Shit! Dammit! Y/N!”

The blast frightened you, “No. Mattheo. No.” You could only make out his dark curly haired head. You tried to swat him away before losing consciousness due to blood loss.

Professor Snape rushed in after hearing a blast, “what the bloody hell is going on in here, Mr. Riddle.”

Mattheo looked at him with an angry and panicked expression, “I need her in the infirmary right now.” He said through gritted teeth. He leans over you, grabbing a large bunch of toilet paper and quickly kneels next to you. Applying pressure on your bleeding left wrist.

Snape understood immediately, “Keep the pressure on the wrist, Riddle.” He was able to pick you up easily, but he was not enthusiastic about having your blood staining his robes, “with HASTE Riddle! Follow me!” And off they went to the infirmary. Once there Snape quickly laid you on a bed gently before Madame Pomfrey took over.

She was able to stop and clean the bleeding, while she examined the cut striation she asked both Snape and Mattheo what blood type they were, “The girls lost too much blood, she needs a transfusion.” She began to stitch the wrist, the cut was near vertical to the veins.

Mattheo in a less than a split second looked at Pomfrey, “Am I able to donate for her.” He didn’t say it as a question, he wanted it to be a command.

“As long as you share the same blood type then yes, sweetheart. Please, fresh blood is much better. We can’t wait more time, Ms. Y/L/N is so terribly pale. She can have a seizure any minute if we dont get more blood to her brain” still carefully pulling at threads. His hand was still holding yours.

He nods impatiently, less talking, more action. “I’m AB-” he gulped. One of the rarest blood types in the world, “what type is she?” he began to roll up his sleeve even before Pomfrey was able to respond.

“Goodheavens! Thank Merlin. She’s AB- as well!” She sighs looking up at the ceiling for a split second, calling for a nurse to help set up the transfusion. He took a seat on your left, watching the nurse insert a needle into each of your arms. He didn’t flinch, but he gave her a threatening look when she inserted a needle into your arm, thinking she would bring more pain to you.

Madame Pomfrey stood up, finished. “If it was with a straight razor and not a glass shard, I don’t think i would have been able to-” she let her voice die down after seeing how pale Mattheo began to look too, she shut her mouth as to not worry him more with what the other alternative was. He couldn’t hide his guilt. His eyes were alternating between your face and his blood that was slowly running into your body through a single tubing. He desperately needed it to go faster.

“Is there a chance she would wake up with problems with her veins or her nerves?” He asked.

Pomfrey patted the boy's shoulders, “Let’s hope not, let’s hope they hold. With the basics in place, there’s nothing a little magic can’t help.” This eased him, “Ms. Y/L/N wont wake for a couple of hours. She needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t rip my stitching job or we will go back to square one my boy. Can I trust you?”

“Is that really a necessary question?” He bit his tongue, “Sorry, yes I will watch over her. I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Best she gets a psychiatrist too, but that's a later issue to address. We’ll focus on physical healing for now.” Pomfrey looked at Mattheo curiously, isn’t this one of the trouble-making slytherin boys? She shook her head and walked out to attend to another student.

“Y/N i’m here.” He studies your face, deep with regret and guilt. He holds your right hand tightly, he whispers softly, “it’s okay, you’re going to be alright..”

“Riddle.” Snape was still watching everything from the shadows of the room, “What happened to my best student, why is he in this condition?”

“It’s my fault, Professor…I was making a fool out of myself. I was treating her like hell… it went too far. She must have had a breakdown and she-” he couldn’t bear to describe your condition out loud.

Snape held a hand up to silence him from saying more, “rather than giving you detention for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts. I will need you to attend all the girl’s classes she will be missing in her recovery. She must not fall behind.”

“Yes sir, I understand. I’ll do it.”

Snape turned to leave but came back toward the boy and yanked the cigarette box from his uniform pocket, “none of these for you either, especially as you are sharing blood with Y/N. She never liked you smoking.” and off he turned around to change his own robes from the blood.

“Anything for you.” he whispered towards you, “please wake up soon.”

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You began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You looked around in a panic. You were incredibly sore, especially your left wrist. It stung badly. Mattheo had fallen asleep in the chair when he jolted awake to the sound of your movements, “Calm down, relax, you’re in the infirmary. You’re safe.” He couldn’t help but feel like he just lied about it being safe, if he was the cause of this.

“M…m..Mattheo” You began to cry again, “I’m so sorry.” You went to reach out and hug him but flinched. You followed the red transfusion line to him, “oh Mattheo.”

He sat up to lean towards you. He shushes you and wipes your tears with the back of his hand, ‘you need to calm down and take it easy, princess. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you're still weak. This is just to bring your levels up, you’ll start to feel better soon.”

You stared at his beautiful eyes, ones that had held so much hate but there seemed to be no trace of it now. You felt guilty, I acted like a coward. “Myrtle said it was going to be quick and painless. I’m so stupid I couldn’t even do it right.” You felt another wave of tears coming but you tried to choke them down.

“No youre not, you’re not at fault.” He couldn’t help but chuckle cautiously as what he was about to say, “you might be a know-it-all but you just need to have more control with your thoughts. Don’t listen to Moaning Myrtle. Don’t be hard on yourself, you're not stupid. You did nothing wrong.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you were so exhausted. But you needed to get this out before you lost consciousness again. With your good arm you help his hand tightly, looking him in the eyes again to emphasize the point you were going to make, “Mattheo, I really am idiotic. I Am. I did think you had a perfect life, it didn’t cross my mind that you had it any other way. You were always carefree and just let's be honest, acting like you're’ better than everyone else. It was wrong of me to have assumed that.”

He frowns. “Don’t apologize. There’s no way to tell what someone is going through ultimately. I..cope in my own way.” He softly strokes your cheek with this thumb.

If it wasn’t for the pain, you would have thought you were asleep. Dead. Or in purgatory. A realm between realms. No way the mattheo I’ve known my whole life is sitting beside me looking..lovingly at me? You felt horrible. Did I just manipulate him into caring about me? Just hours ago he was mocking and saying nasty things as usual.

Mattheo could see the look of disbelief in your eyes from the way he was behaving, “Y/N. I’m caring for you. No you’re not dreaming or in some other realm. You’re here, with me, thank Merlin. You didn’t manipulate me, you woke me up.”

You sat up too quickly for your own good, your head feeling light “How are you doing that?”

He shook his head, “Another time. I’m really sorry for how I treated you. You think I’m just some asshole, but I'm more than that really. I want to be more than that. No one else has gotten to see the real me.”

“Mattheo, I see you.” Despite your pain, you reach out to cup his face between your hands. For a second, you saw the boy you first laid your eyes on that first year at the train station. The same sad eyes, “I see you.”

He sighed into your touch, it was a soft and innocent gesture he was not used to. He chuckled softly, and gently placed his hands over yours, keeping them there. He didn’t want to lose the touch, “I know you do, and that’s exactly why I'm afraid.”

You couldn’t help but imagine - how different our lives could have been for the last 6 years, if he would have just introduced himself to me. Explained why he looked so pained when I was with my family. “My parents would have welcomed you as their own” you explained your thoughts to him. “I could have protected you. You could have visited me during the holiday breaks. I know saying it will not change the past and what has happened to you. But I see you Matty.”

“yeah..it’s too late to change the past, I should’ve but I didn’t think you’d understand. It doesn’t excuse the way I treated you all these years, Y/N.” His voice got shaky, his eyes starting to water. He was a mess.

“No, don't you start Mattheo please, baby.” You brought him into a hug, again ignoring your throbbing wrist. “Easy now.” you soothed the curls that were behind his neck. They felt so soft.

Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder and held you tightly, softly crying into you. He wrapped his arms around you and held onto your shirt like he was afraid to let go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone treated him like this, it felt so new and overwhelming.

You kissed the top of his head, inhaling - cigarettes. You hated that he smoked but at this moment the smalle was comforting. He let out a deep sigh. You broke the hug only because you scooted over on the bed, and tugged him to lay beside you. We watched you, he looked so tired. He nodded in agreement with a small smile, he carefully laid beside you, making sure to be careful of your condition.

You gave him a reassuring look that wasn’t hurting you. I’m okay. You looked at your arms touching side by side, still connected by the tubing. You couldn't help but laugh, “Matty isn’t it ironic? All this pure-blood and mudblood talk and look” you carefully lifted the tube, “we’re still one and the same foundation.” You smiled at him, helping wipe his tear stained cheeks now. “Thanks for your donation to me.”

He too couldn't help but grin back at you. He couldn’t believe you weren’t pushing him away for how he treated you, or for how vulnerable he was at the moment, “any time, but please actually don’t do that ever again. You made me worried to death..”

“No I won’t. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky for him to take.

He took it in his own nodding, “good, you’re stuck with me now.”

With our pinkies still woven, you looked at the size difference. You turned toward his Bambi like eyes, “let's start this over on the right foot. Better late than never? Hi i’m Y/N, [insert some fun facts about yourself].”

Mattheo smiled more widely, blushing his pinky did make yours look kiddish. It was adorable. He gave you a playful look, smirking at you like he usually would, “Nice to meet you there, Y/N. I’m Mattheo, the sexiest guy you’ll meet in Hogwarts.”

There’s my Mattheo. “And you promise to…?” you coaxed him.

He gave your pinky another squeeze, “to try to be nice and kind to you, and avoid bullying you….as well as to not smoke in your presence…you happy?”

You kind of nodded, holding in your laugh, “aaaand…?”

He looked at you, trying to read what you wanted him to say. He gave your pinky another, slightly rougher, squeeze. “And I promise not to throw a wad of gum into your beautiful hair?”

“Bingo. Mr. Riddle, that’s what I was ultimately looking for.” You let go of his pinky, “but it is nice to know the other stuff too.” you waved your hand like it was nothing, but it was my everything. He gave you a sarcastic scoff, he liked that you were still acting like your old self too.

You kissed his cheek and his face went redder than a cherry, you acted shocked “woah did I just make Mattheo, the sexiest guy in Hogwarts BLUSH?!” You slapped your hands against your cheeks in play disbelief, slightly regretting the pain it brought to your arms. He quickly shook his head and blushed even more than originally thought possible, he tried to hide his face away from you, “S-shut up! That’s a lie! I was not blushing, it’s just your imagination.”

You laughed at his reaction, taking his hand in mine once more comparing the hand sizes. You put my head against his shoulder, before dropping your jester attitude. Making him form another pinky promise with you. “Mattheo, I promise to be there for you. I want to protect you. You shouldn’t live in the shadow of your home life, especially not alone. Just as much as I’m stuck with you. You’re stuck with me. That’s my promise to you.”

His heart beat fast, it nearly melted his heart to hear your promise. He let out a deep, shaky breath. He couldn't stop the small tear that rolled down his cheek, he didn’t bother wiping it. He just leaned his head down to rest on your own, “deal…”

There was a pause, before you spoke up again.“I know we just started the year but please, come back home with me this Christmas holiday when it rolls around.” You blinked up at him. You started to feel really sleepy, that was to be your last request and plea for the moment, “I’ll show you how muggles get down to holiday business.”

Mattheo looked down at you and smiled softly, as your eyes were struggling to stay open, “yea sure, i’ll spend the holidays with you” he wasn’t sure how he would, but he would worry about that later.

Many promises were made this day, and you intended to keep each and every single one of them. In many ways, you knew this would still be the same Mattheo you had always known, but it would all be so different now. You managed to break through his extremely guarded shell, the hardest way possible. But it needed to desperately be broken.

You turned Mattheo’s head to look at you, he met your gaze. The corner of his lip curled up as he knew what you were about to do. He let you take the lead, closing his eyes. You kissed his lips slowly, cherishing how it felt. You wanted more of him, but your body was pleading for rest. You hugged his arm and surrendered.

He couldn’t help but touch his lips afterwards with his fingertips. He watched as you gave in to exhaustion, he followed your lead and let out a deep sigh before closing his eyes, “Goodnight princess.” Mattheo fell asleep to the sounds of you breathing and the sound of your heartbeat, they would surely become one of the most blissful lullabies to be heard by him. He intertwined his fingers with yours, he wouldn’t ever let go.

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serpentandlily · 5 hours

Text

Beneath the Ashes - Azriel x Reader

Beneath the Ashes - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Sneak Peek

Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)

A/n: I feel bad that I haven’t had anything ready for you guys in a while so here’s a little sneak peek at a request I’m working atm

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.

It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture. He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.

But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord.

Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon.

He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.

Beautiful.

Our master must see.

Permission to kill, master?

Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here.

He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion.

Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"

Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks.

None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiral towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her.

She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.

Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller.

"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention.

"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?"

"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly.

The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission.

Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs.

Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her.

"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.

"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody."

"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could.

"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go."

"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.

"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck.

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle.

"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”

“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.

“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”

“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”

“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.”

“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!”

“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”

“Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”

The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat.

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled.

Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.”

He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.

Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists.

When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter.

It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."

Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....

"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?"

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.

"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing."

“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.

“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.

"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you."

She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before.

When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”

“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”

“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.

“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.

Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door.

“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”

The door slammed in his face a second later

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar

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pennylanefics · 1 day

Text

Orchids - Quinn Hughes

a/n: not the happiest with this but i really love the idea :) it's such a cute little trope and i can never get enough of it <3

summary: you attend a wedding with quinn and his mind starts to wander about your own relationship

word count: ~1.3k

Quinn sits beside you at the overly decorated table, candles surrounding the area, creating a romantic and soft lighting. Flowers upon flowers are spread all over the entire place, and chatter amongst the guests fills your ears, making your head feel a little fuzzy.

Wedding season was in full swing, and this was the second wedding of the year for Quinn to attend, this time it was a friend and teammate he had in the AHL, who was traded to a different team about a year after. They were still close, so of course Quinn was invited to his lavish wedding.

You felt slightly out of place, not knowing a single person beside Quinn and maybe one or two guys here and there. You made acquaintences with the people at your table, though, finding out they are family of the bride.

Quinn’s hand hadn’t let go of yours since you sat at the table, waiting for the bridal party to enter. He takes in all the decorations while saying hi to people passing by or catching up with someone who stops to chat with him for a little.

He was the best at detecting when you were uncomfortable or shy, or even overstimulated or overwhelmed with a situation, no matter how hard you tried to hide it from him.

“We can leave after dinner, or whenever you’d like,” he whispered in your ear, moving to set his arm around the back of your chair.

“I don’t want to take away from supporting your friend. I’ll be okay,” you grin over at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him a bit more.

“Just let me know. I don’t want you being super uncomfortable.”

“I will,” you agree, kissing his cheek.

The entire time that the wedding party is announced two at a time, one bridesmaid and one groomsmen, and finally the newly wedded couple, Quinn had this special glint in his eyes. The lights shining around him brought out the brown flecks in them, but even with that, there was a deeper meaning to them…he was lost in thought about something.

Dinner is served soon after, wait staff walking through the tables and dropping off plates of steak and chicken with mixed veggies and potatoes, a very fancy yet simple choice you were thankful for. Conversation quietly bubbles amongst every table, everyone lost in their own little world.

Quinn, however, was in his own imagination still. You could tell something was up when he was looking all over the event space, grinning softly as he chews his food.

“Something up, Q?” You finally ask him, nudging your hand against his thigh. His head whips towards you and he shakes his head, swallowing his food.

“No, just looking around. It’s beautifully set up, there’s so much to look at,” he brushes off, but just like he knows you, you know him just as well. And you were wanting to get to the bottom of it by the end of the night.

The festivities continue after dinner, dessert is brought out and while it’s delicious, you can’t help but focus your mind on Quinn and his slightly odd behavior; it wasn’t odd, in a sense, but something was up with him. He was far quieter than his usual self that he was at weddings.

Once the speeches were over, which were filled with stories and laughter, the DJ announces that the couple will have their first dance, and then the floor would be open to everyone. Quinn’s hand returns to yours as his eyes were glued to the magnificent white dress that adorned the bride and how her new husband was holding her like she was the most delicate antique he’s ever seen.

You take notice of the glint that returns to his eyes, seemingly smiling to himself, or at the happy couple, it honestly could be either. Taking a step into your plan to get him to clear his mind, you place your head on his shoulder, startling him a little since he was so focused, but he settles back, turning to kiss your head.

As the night progresses, you soon find yourself in Quinn’s arms, slow dancing on the floor with countless other couples, your head tucked into his neck. His hands rest on your waist and he hums softly along to the music into your ear.

“Do you ever think about what kind of flowers you want at your wedding?” He asks, his thumb gently rubbing the spot where it sits. You had to keep yourself still for a moment because you were about to raise your head so fast, you would have smacked him in the chin.

When his question finally settles in, your head lifts from his shoulder and you look into his eyes, which were shining with so much adoration for you, a slight grin on his lips. His eyes rake over your face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“I love daisies or dahlias, daisies would be perfect for a spring wedding, and dahlias in general are so beautiful. I feel like roses can be overrated sometimes, so I’d want something non-traditional,” you explain, still swaying side to side with him. He nods along and his smile widens. “Why? What kind of flowers do you imagine for yours?”

“I’d love orchids for the main flower. Obviously we’d need more, but I was reading something the other day that orchids represent, well, they represent a lot of things, there’s a lot of different meanings for different colors.” He blushes under the dark lights and looks down at your entwining hand, his left hand trailing down to hold your right one.

“I read that in the Victorian era, orchids were given to someone to show love and appreciation and as a way to tell a woman that she is beautiful.” His other hand raises to your face, cupping your cheek to make sure you kept your eyes on his. “They also represent rare and delicate beauty, and I can’t think of any better flower that encapsulates you.”

Your cheeks heat up under his touch, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I’ve been imagining our wedding all night, my love. What decorations we’d have, what our color scheme would be, how romantic our first dance would be, but I’d kind of like to have that be in private, between us, and not let anyone know. So they’d be thinking they’re watching the first dance, but it’s really our second.” The pink hue remained on his face as he continued to describe his thoughts, finally giving you and insight into what was on his mind the entire night.

He had been thinking about what it would be like to marry you. Imagining yours and his wedding.

“Is that why you’ve been so distant tonight?” You tease him, tracing your finger across the dress shirt adorning his chest, messing with the chain of his necklace.

“A little. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. Thinking about seeing you in a beautiful white dress, with your hair all done up in a perfect way, a shining ring on your finger that shows everyone you are loved.”

His words send shocks through your body, your heart racing like crazy in your chest. You were in awe that Quinn had been thinking about this. You’ve only been dating for a couple years, which isn’t short, but it’s also not a long time yet. You expected him to feel this way five years in, so it surprised you a little to know he was thinking about it.

You hadn’t thought of it at all, maybe once here and there, but never in-depth, to the point where small details are planned out with such an immense amount of thought, down to the meaning of certain flowers. However, as you gaze up into his eyes, his touch feeling hot and heavy on your body, you take a moment to think about it.

And the moment the idea of marrying him enters your mind, it feels right.

“You wanna marry me?” You wonder, even though it’s a very obvious answer.

“Of course. You are it for me, my soulmate. There’s no one else I could imagine marrying, my darling.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fanfic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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elizaleclerc · 2 days

Note

Hi, could we please get something for Charles winning in monaco finally breaking the curse

this is perfect bc i was already working on this piece when the request came in so TY <333

the predestined ✤

charles leclerc x reader

summary: after many years as best friends, driver!reader is there for charles's first win in monaco

song: the chain by fleetwood mac

author's note: cried during charles's win obviously so ofc i'm gonna write about it! so happy for charles i'll literally remember that race forever. <333

word count: 2.1k

With a deep breath, Charles positioned himself behind the wheel of his car in the garage. A nervous energy pulsed through the air as everyone eagerly awaited the start of the prestigious Monaco Grand Prix. From your spot in the balcony with his family and friends, you could see the sea of faces in the grandstands. This was an annual tradition; ever since he had joined the ranks of Formula One racing, something seemed to go awry on this particular race day.

Four years ago in Monaco, it was your second season driving in Formula One alongside your best friend Charles. The roar of the engines filled the air as you pushed your scarlet car to its limits, weaving through the tight turns and tunnels of the famous street circuit. But then, a sudden jolt as you brushed the side of the wall, sending your car spinning out of control towards the barriers. Your heart raced as you fought for control, but it was too late. The impact with another car sent shards of metal flying and your body jolting violently within the cockpit.

Struggling to catch your breath, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The world around you seemed to blur and spin as if you were caught in a whirlwind. The once clear sky now appeared hazy and distorted, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the pain coursing through your body.

Muffled calls from your team over the radio asking if you were alright echoed in your ear, but you didn’t have the ability to respond. Your senses were overloaded and all you could do was try to stay conscious as the world continued to spin.

Unbeknownst to you, flames had engulfed your car, licking at your helmet and suit. Red flags went waving, signaling danger on the track as fire marshals rushed to pull you out of the fiery wreckage. Their brave actions saved your life, freeing you from the burning prison that was once your beloved race car. Relief flooded through you as fresh air filled your lungs and cool asphalt crunched beneath your feet.

Your mind reeled as you processed what had just occurred. In an instant, everything could have been lost, but thanks to quick thinking and skilled rescuers, you were still standing. It was a stark reminder of the dangers of Formula One racing, but also a testament to the bravery and teamwork that binds drivers and their teams together.

The impact of the crash was so severe that it left you with injuries that would sideline you for multiple races that season. The ultimate decision to never race again weighed heavily on your mind, as the thought of even stepping back into a Formula One car filled you with terror. You often found yourself haunted by nightmares of the crash, each vivid dream bringing back the gut-wrenching fear and pain you experienced that day. The mere idea of getting behind the wheel again was enough to make your heart race and palms sweat uncontrollably. Even now, years later, the memory of the accident is still fresh in your mind, replaying itself over and over like a broken record.

The next year in Monaco, as Charles raced for Ferrari without you, he had a DNF. And another one the year after. It seemed that in the following years after your crash, Charles had nothing but bad luck in Monaco, and you partially blamed yourself for it.

You’ve been fiercely loyal to Charles, following him on his journey through the fast-paced world of racing. From the adrenaline-filled tracks of Monaco to the Formula One races across the globe, you were by his side every step of the way. As his best friend since childhood, he called you his good luck charm, and you took pride in knowing that your presence brought him comfort and confidence. The two of you used to spend afternoons zooming around karting, dreaming of the day when you would both be competing in Formula One and representing your home streets of Monaco. Memories flooded your mind, bringing back images of carefree days spent laughing and chasing each other around circuits, helmets bouncing with every turn.

From the first day you met, you and Charles were inseparable. Your bond was unbreakable, forged through countless shared experiences and deep conversations. You were always there for him, watching as he dated girls who only ended up breaking his heart. You felt his pain as if it were your own, but you couldn't bring yourself to express your true feelings for fear of ruining your friendship. You knew deep down that if Charles would just give you a chance, you could make him the happiest man on earth. But you guarded your heart, afraid of the consequences of revealing your love for him. Despite it all, your unwavering loyalty and devotion to each other remained constant, a shining beacon amidst the turbulent waters of young love and friendship.

So you stood in the garage anxiously as the five red lights went out and the race in Monaco began. Charles had earned pole, so everyone hoped he could stay first for the whole race. As the cars roared by, the tension in the air grew thicker. It was a difficult circuit for overtaking, and some spectators complained about the lack of action. But for Charles and his team, every second counted as they strategized and hoped he could maintain his lead until the end of the race.

Even with the little action of the race, your body was riddled with nerves the whole time. You knew that Ferrari was not making any plans for a pit stop, as the two McLarens behind them were too close to Charles. You had faith that Charles could manage his tires well, but with 78 laps of racing, anything could happen.

As Charles completed his 50th lap, he expertly maneuvered around the track, his car gliding gracefully through the turns. With calculated precision, he would occasionally slow down, causing the pack of cars behind him to bunch up. You could feel the tension and intensity in the air as you watched from the sidelines. Having been in races yourself, you knew that at this point in the race, the tires were wearing severely and it was crucial to maintain control and avoid a mistake with the worn front tires. The smell of burning rubber permeated the atmosphere, adding to the adrenaline and excitement of the moment.

You clasped your hands, ignoring the cameras that would occasionally show your face on the big screen. Your crash and subsequent retirement from racing made massive media news, and your name was always brought up alongside Charles’s years later.

It was lap 65, and Charles’s first win at Monaco was becoming more and more of a reality. You placed your head in your hands, refusing to believe that something that both of you had dreamed of for years might actually be real. At lap 70, a radio message from Charles popped up on the screen, “Tell Y/N that I’m bringing it home.”

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of overwhelming pride and joy. For years, you had witnessed firsthand the dedication and tireless efforts that your partner had put into his career in Formula One racing. The term "curse" had been thrown around by critics and skeptics, blaming your own past accident for his string of bad luck on the track. But in this moment, as he crossed the finish line with the checkered flag waving triumphantly above him, you knew that there was no curse to blame. It was his unwavering determination and relentless hard work that brought him to this victorious moment.

You could hear Charles's exuberant cries through the radio, his voice crackling with emotion and adrenaline. As someone who had experienced the thrill of winning an F1 race, you understood the magnitude of this achievement for him, far beyond what anyone else could comprehend. This win was pure euphoria, a testament to his unwavering passion and perseverance.

As you stood pressed against the cool metal barrier, your eyes were fixed on him standing tall and triumphant on the podium. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart beating in your chest as he caught your eye. A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes shining with excitement and pride. Despite the chaos around them, the two of you kept a steady gaze locked on each other throughout the celebration. And just before the three drivers uncorked their bottles of champagne and sprayed it everywhere, Charles blew you a kiss in admiration, making your heart skip a beat. It was a moment frozen in time, one that you would never forget as long as you lived.

You stayed in the paddock as Charles did post race interviews, just waiting until you could see him and give him the biggest embrace. You listened to his interviews, smiling to yourself over his sheer happiness and gratitude. While answering one question, your name was mentioned. “This win means more to me than any other win for sure, but it is not just mine. I have to share this win with Y/N, we’ve always dreamt of this moment for each other and this win is just as much hers as it is mine.”

Tears of joy blurred your vision as you heard the endearing words spill from his mouth. As he finally returned to the paddock, you couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, throwing your arms around his broad neck. He lifted you up with ease, spinning you around in a blur of laughter and exhilaration. "We did it! We really did it!" His voice rang out triumphantly, echoing through the room.

"I'm so proud of you," you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion.

His hand cupped your face gently, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a momentary pause as he seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said earnestly. "And I want you to know...I love you.”

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The two of you had always been close best friends, and saying "I love you" was a common occurrence between the two of you. But this time, there was something different in the way he said it.

"I know you do, Charles," you replied, a small smile still on your lips.

Shaking his head, he spoke softly, for only the two of you to hear. "No," he said, his words filled with determination. "I mean it. I love you." Your smile slowly faded as his words sank in. This wasn't just a platonic declaration of affection - this was something more, something deeper.

"I told myself that if I won this race, I would finally tell you how I truly feel," he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "And I meant every word of it. I love you." Your heart swelled with emotions as his words washed over you, and your lips parted in shock. In that moment, surrounded by nothing but each other's presence and the sound of your beating hearts, everything changed between the two of you. And as his hand slipped into yours, you knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful and true.

As a small smile spread across your face, you replied in a soft, breathless voice, “I love you too, I always have.” A surge of emotions flooded through you, almost overwhelming in their intensity.

His grin seemed bigger than it was when he was on the podium, his eyes shining with pure joy. “Since I won, can I kiss you now?”

You eagerly nodded, feeling your heart race as his lips met yours. In this moment, all the stresses and worries of the past weeks seemed to melt away. It was just you and Charles, finally together after so many obstacles and challenges. The realization that he was now yours and you were his filled you with a sense of contentment and happiness like never before. You held onto him tightly, basking in the warmth and love that radiated from both of you.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #monaco finally loved you back charles #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charlesleclerc #monaco gp 2024 #monaco grand prix #monaco24 #monaco 2024

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melanieph321 · 2 days

Note

I did write a similar piece after man city got knocked out of Champions league. (Link below)

Could do something different? How about you being a United fan. You lost last years fa cup and he made fun of you. Revenge type ting 😂

NOW THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!! 🙌🔥

Ruben Dias x Reader - Sweet Revenge

+18

* minors get tf out!

Enjoy!

Who knew that Ruben was a sore loser? What a discovery, you thought. Despite Man City's triumph I the Prmeier League, he couldn't quite get over their lost to United in the FA Cup. You'd wake up at night hearing him mutter in his sleep. "At Wembley...Can't believe that they got us at Wembley..."

Eventually, Ruben would roll over and go back to bed, but as his girlfriend, his behavior was a tad concerning. However....as a United fan, what a glorious time to be alive.

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

You joined Ruben in the living room. It's where he spent most of his current days post-season, in front of the TV, contemplating his life decisions.

"What?" He hissed, eyeing you like you had just insulted his entire family. Just your presence would spite him these days, knowing damn well that his girlfriend was a Man United fan. If he wasn't madly in love with you, he would have shown you the door right after the Cup final.

"I dunno?" You shrugged. "Losing for once? It hurts, doesn't it?"

"You're having a laugh about it, aren't you? You and your United friends."

"Hey, all I'm saying is that all is fair in love and football."

"All is fair, huh?"

"Yes." You grinned.

"Are you willing to put your words where your mouth is."

"Erm...pardon?" Your eyes widened as Ruben stood from the couch, draping his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

"Ruben, what are you...."

"City lost, Man United won." He stated. "We had a bet."

"So?"

"So? Wasn't the bet that the winner gets a wish?"

You smiled. "And you really believe that my wish would be for you to fuck me?"

"What was it then?"

Your smile widened, realizing your power. Ruben was really annoyed, wanting for the subject to be dropped as soon as possible so that he could move on with his life and the game. However, you had another plan in mind.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Ruben said after you left the living room only to return with your favorite Manchester United Jersey.

"Unfortunately, not baby, you made me do it last year, I'm making you do it now."

"But I can't wear that. It won't fit me."

You admit that the jersey would be a bit tight on him, considering that it was almost your size. However, it would add to the sweet revenge.

"It's not my fault your team lost. A bet is a bet baby, suit up."

You didn't know what was funnier. Walking hand in hand into your favorite sports bar with Ruben wearing your United jersey, or the fact that the number behind it was the number five, "Maguire." All you know is that it was a torture for Ruben being forced to celebrate with your friends who were all United fans. A torture for him and hilarious for you.

"What. A. Shit. Night." Ruben said, quick to tugg off your shirt once you returned to the apartment.

"Ah, ah, Ruby. Not so fast."

"What do you mean? I did the bet. Now the bet is over."

"You did half the bet. Remember last year?"

He frowned. "What happened last year?"

"Don't make me spell it out for you." You said, hands on your hips. Nevertheless, Ruben looked lost. You had to help him out.

"What did you make me do once we got back from the bar of your choice last year?"

The dent between his brow grew deeper.

"Sex Ruben, we had sex."

His expression mellowed. "Y/N, I never made you have sex with me."

"Not sex, no. I wanted that."

His sigh of relief made you smile.

"What then, what did I make you..." It all came to him in a flash. A terrible flash, once he realized what it meant for him. "No." He shook his head. "Y/N, please, no."

"Oh, yes." You approached him slowly.

Ruben backed away. "Not with the shirt on. Please don't make me wear the shirt during."

You grabbed its collar, pulling him down for a kiss. "I'm sorry, Ruben, a bet is a bet."

You back him up until he slumped down on the couch. You stepped out of your shorts and got on top of him, bending down to kiss him.

"Y/N, please..." He moaned, enjoying the sensation of your lips tracing down his neck. "I'm not gonna be able to...."

"What?" You moved on to kiss his lips, making it harder for him to speak as his hands were on your hips, slowing down your grinding against his cock.

"Y/N." Ruben put a hand to your chest, preventing any more kisses. He looked serious.

"What?" You giggled.

"I won't be able to get hard wearing this shirt. Not with another man's name on my back."

"Wanna bet?"

"I'm serious Y/N, nothing is gonna work unless I take it off."

"Right."

You slid down Ruben's body, centering yourself over his shorts. You draped them down along with his underwear, revealing his slack penis.

"See." Ruben said, popping himself up on his elbows, looking down at his unresponsive dick.

"He just needs a little love." You said, bending down to kiss the tip of it. There was some movement as you did, giving you hope for the future.

"He?" Ruben said.

You looked up to catch his smile.

"You called my penis a he?"

"Is he not?"

"It's not right to assume once gender you know."

You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, I guess my dick is a he."

You inspected it curiously. It was usually alive and well during other times you would meet. Seeing it so small, so sad, was upsetting yet fascinating at the same time.

"I think he needs a name."

"Yeah?"

You nodded. "Something suiting and aspiring."

"How about Roberto?"

"No, that an old man's name."

"Okay, what about..."

"Maguire!"

Ruben's eyes widened in terror.

"That's it, let's name him Maguire. It's very suitable."

"You're out of your mind. I'm not naming my dick after another player, especially not Harry Maguire."

You laughed, watching Ruben's face turn bright red.

"And another thing...."

You yelped as he pushed you off him only to roll over and lay on top of you. "I refuse to fuck my girlfriend wearing a United shirt." He pulled it off of him, tossing it over you heads.

"Well, I guess that means you're not fucking me at all."

"Not so fast."

You made the gesture to rise from the couch. However, Ruben's weight managed to pin you down, his voice deep in your ear. "Are you just gonna leave me like this, rock hard and lonely?"

You gasped, feeling how he suddenly came to life, his erection poking you in the stomach.

"Ruben, I'm not..."

"Yes or no, Y/N...." He whispered against your skin, pressing his soft lips against your naked collarbone bone. "Either you fuck me or you don't, the choice is yours."

"I hate you." You muttered.

He chuckled and resumed to undress you, draping your shirt over your head to reveal your swollen breasts. Ruben took one in his mouth like man deprived of food, sucking on them to a point when they became sore and sensitive to all touch.

It was a sweet revenge while it lasted. At least you had that. Perhaps the plan would have been more effective if you weren't so damn in love.

The End.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #footballer x reader #man city #footballer imagine #manchester city #football angst #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #manchester utd #manchester united

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sunboki · 2 days

Text

— BRIGHTER PLACES. a Lee Felix fiction

Chef! Lee Felix x gn. reader

TROPE. cooking class au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is burnt out and slightly depressed, coincidences, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. mentions of depression/depressive episodes, mentions of unrequited love, burn out, reader is used by her boss, felix is the biggest sweetheart to exist

AUG'S NOTES. was intended to be posted much earlier than this but i’m still glad that, with life being so busy, i managed to finish it! this piece is only the start of many emotional pieces over the summer so stay tuned please! hopefully you enjoy 🫶🏼

SYNOPSIS. Thrown asunder beneath crushing assignments, work, and the fleeting hope your “young and free” twenties experience may someday happen, you had yet to realize said experience was right around the corner. Whisked into a mixture of unearthed feelings and past occurrences, presented with a cherry on top by renowned Chef Lee Felix.

or alternatively :

Eventually, the sun will shine again.

Out of any gift you’ve received, you thought the treehouse in your backyard was the most memorable. It seemed like, in this vast universe, everything was right.

Then it wasn’t, then it was. Again and again. A repetitive cycle.

However, your overcast days did have an expiration date, and sunshine would eventually show itself again.

You just weren’t aware yet.

At seven years old, you would spend hours daydreaming, inviting friends, taking naps, and reading in your treehouse. Oftentimes, during the long days of summer, you’d eat lunch up there; lost in this secluded world only you knew about.

When you’re younger, every little thing appears peach-tinted.

The warm fire of a candle on a nightstand, setting dull objects ablaze with its brightness. Shadow puppets, dance parties. So ordinary yet exceptional all the same. Easy to configure from a developing mind as something excellent, fantastical.

Your twenties don’t envelop a hazy glow. Mind now hardened, treehouse still lingering (more like rotting) in the backyard of your parents house, things are more serious, less inviting.

Who knew adulthood would be this lonesome.

Walking from a bar, you fail to appreciate the hum of music from a buzzed radio, the wafting smell of Italian food hidden somewhere in the midst of neon signs and outdoor eateries.

Instead, priorities had lodged themselves indefinitely far into your soul, drowning out the voice telling you you’re you, not the expectations you’re held to.

Further and further did you drift into that intoxicating headspace, until someone—or, in your case, something—had to pull you out.

That something being a cooking—well, baking class. This weekend, an hour and a half. Menu: The Ideal Donuts.

“Think of it as a release,” Sana had told you, this wide, excited smile etching the skin of her face.

Immediately, you wanted to hand it back to her, tell the eccentric best friend of yours to spend such an occasion on herself instead.

Yet, you knew better than to try negotiating with Sana, the girl who has been present through your ugliest moments, who you’ve cried to more times than able to count.

Your intention wasn’t an attempt to make your life as miserable as possible. In fact, each day you strived for a resource, an indication things would grow better, as better as it seemed to be for everyone else.

Though you can only stretch a rubber band so far, and once it reaches its farthest extent, it snaps.

And the recoil stings.

“Okay, thank you.” You respond after a beat of silence, lips pulled into a tight line, investigating the information written on the card.

She pats your shoulder, a sweet smile worn upon pink lipstick.

Lee’s Baking Class.

Lee. The name sounds familiar.

Awkward. Everybody has their awkward moments, but you’re certain this one takes the cake.

The entirety of the class had fallen still, engulfed in a silence you can feel gathering in your chest, sending nausea building like bile in your throat.

His brown eyes merely blink, ignorant to your inner turmoil.

Lee Felix’s brown eyes, shining like muddy globes, seem to encapsulate every ounce of affection. Affection you once had for him, affection you refuse to unearth if it costs your life.

Perhaps that's the stem of the awkwardness—harbored feelings.

How awful.

Just your luck.

“Y/N?”

It even sounds worse falling from his lips. Sweet, just like he is, Felix is.

Felix has always been sweet, always inviting. Seems you accepted without realizing you were never invited to the party.

Staring like a deer caught in headlights, it takes the man clearing his throat for you to acknowledge your position.

“You can uh, find a seat if you’d like?”

‘You can shoot me if you’d like’ you think, very much grateful mind readers don’t exist.

Nodding profusely and scurrying to the nearest table out of the four aligned throughout the room, you find yourself paired with three elderly ladies who quarrel in rabid conversation about baking powder—though it doesn’t bother you, the frenzied chatter leaves leeway to think.

As memorable as the treehouse was, it was also memorable for.. Other reasons as well. One reason in particular being that it wasn’t always just you reading and daydreaming up there, but Lee Felix too.

Since primary school the two of you had been conjoined at the hip. Between friendly rivalries and the fact he was your neighbor, there wasn’t a two day period you weren’t together.

And with that, came a crush.

But it was different with Felix, different because just as you’d been conjoined to the hip as friends, this time, you were still conjoined, but he was your crush.

And it’s a whole lot easier playing off a crush when you aren’t with them 24/7.

Before you knew it, you had fallen head over heels in love. To a degree you realized you can’t, can’t do what you’ve always done, can’t pretend your feelings are nonexistent any longer.

So you fled.

The moment high school began, you located the furthest place available and begged your parents to let you attend. It wasn’t that you hated Felix, more than anything you hated yourself for falling in love–not that it could be helped.

No matter how illogical you deemed it, your heart would prove stronger. Maybe that was your epitome.

Your number one priority had been avoiding him thus far, and you thought you were doing a pretty decent job at it, using the excuse that high school offered better opportunities to mask your internal guilt, and staying on that side of the city when you graduated.

Nonetheless, it seems the effort was in vain, especially now that you’re facing him again.

No. You refuse to dwell on the past, not when you’ve made it this far.

In front of you sits all the necessary utensils. Measuring cups and spoons, coordinating bowls, and the ingredients included as well.

Thank goodness for that, you were scared you’d mess up and Felix would have to step in. Plus, the rules of this game came easy. Participate without contact and leave with a sweet treat in hand.

Except, you’re quick to understand those rules of the game may only apply in your case by the gaze boring into your back.

Great.

“I didn’t anticipate a young lady being so aggressive,” A voice to your right piques, surveying the furious manner in which you’re cracking an egg into the bowl.

Delivering a small smile and claiming you’re simply absorbed in your work, collective laughter sounds from the older women in response.

Taking a thirty minute break while the dough chills, you welcome conversation with anybody and everybody, attempting to evade the blond’s attempt at reaching out.

Way to be a jerk, Y/N.

But, in the end, avoidance is the right course of action.

You can’t afford love, you’re too broke already as a student.

During the times he isn’t circulating, you spare periodic glances, marveling at those charming features of his, still the same as when you were younger but slightly more mature, sharper. Effortlessly kissable raspberry-tinged lips purse when he explains things, helping the participants knead dough with ring-clad fingers. That one’s new: rings.

The third time, you were caught, panickedly looking away as if an accident.

“Y/N I–”

Speeding past while pretending to be occupied with checking the refrigerator holding your table’s donuts, his words become choked watching as you flee in the other direction, hand returning to his side where it extended to you.

You manage to survive the last few minutes unscathed, awaiting the sugary goodness lying just below your fingertips after hastily nodding to Felix in thanks and following the remainder of the class outside.

Success.

Or, whilst fetching your keys and finding where you had parked your car, so you thought.

Steam billows from your car's hood, refusing to even turn on while individuals alike grant you pitying simpers and continue on their exit.

Spoke too soon.

Even worse, your instructor, the man you thought you could run from after all, happens to walk out at that moment, witnessing your real-time destruction.

Not a success.

This was utter failure at the highest degree.

“So.. How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s college?”

“Fine. ..And you?’

How you ended up in Lee Felix’s passenger seat is beyond you.

Well, not really. You just hate admitting you took the ride home he offered after your car broke down in the parking lot. In your defense, according to him, he already had to drop by the grocery store nearby.

It’s like an interrogation, your replies quick and unenthusiastic, his unwavering in enthusiasm, unyielding to the coldness you’re giving him.

Like you said, it wasn’t your intention hurting his feelings, nor being spiteful or brash. It was your coping mechanism.

This is how you got over him, or, how you’d like to say you got over him.

“Pretty busy, but I’m managing. How about you? I couldn’t get in contact, but I’m sure you got tons of offers, yeah?”

Seeing his face again didn’t help with the “getting over” part.

..Or the guilt at the “no contact” part either.

“Easy for you to say, you’re the successful one who got scouted by a culinary arts school.” The remark coming out spiteful, you scorn yourself.

That’s another thing. Lee Felix is totally out of your league.

He’ll always be number one, and you’ll always be second place. And not in an inferiority complex way, but in an honest way.

Felix chased his dreams to the end of the earth and got what he deserved out of it, and you thought you were doing the same, only to realize you were chasing him instead and leaving your own aspirations behind.

But that’s on you, not him, and you’ll likely spend the rest of your life wondering how you became so enamored in the first place.

Of course he wears that tear-worthy frown, periodically directing his attention to you while driving, face filled with overflowing concern.

How could anybody not fall in love with him?

“Y/N, you know that’s not true. I may have been scouted, but that doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. We’ve all worked hard to get where we are now, you included.”

Curse how weak you are for him. Why should he reassure you? You’re the prick that left him after countless years together, why is he consoling you?

Easy. He’s Felix.

Before anything else, he’s loving. Felix is the embodiment of love in an individual. He’s self-sacrificing (a trait you swear Chan gave to him), caring, and the most unbearably adorable mother-hen.

And you’re not even close to getting over him.

Street names pass in a blur, leaving a lengthy silence to consume the drive. You distract yourself with a flickering traffic light in need of fixing, watching the man’s finger tap against the wheel to a song on the radio in your peripheral before he speaks again.

“..Do you still talk to Chris?”

His voice, a pleasing baritone now that he speaks slowly, surprises you for a moment.

“Yep.”

Even then you refuse to turn toward him, coming to a halt at a stop sign and simultaneously dreading the manner in which he dips his head lower.

“Hey.. Are you okay?”

You feel like throwing up.

“During the class you–”

“My stop is here.”

The words come out before you can comprehend them, too worried about distancing yourself to care that this is in fact not your stop and a random street instead.

Though hesitantly, he pulls the vehicle to the side.

“But there’s no houses nearby–”

“No, this is perfect,” You pitch, quickly unbuckling and opening up the door. “Thank you, Felix.”

Oh how you wish you never said that, wish you never made eye contact.

He makes you want to scream and cry and dig up all those stupid feeling’s you’d buried in the ground.

Pulling your clothing closer to your body as the evening cools, you grace him a ghost of a smile, shutting the car door and hurrying down the sidewalk while feebly attempting to locate how far your place would be from here.

Yet, he doesn’t drive past you.

Evidently unconvinced but failing to say it aloud, you fight off the warmth heating your face as his car rolls right beside you, following your hasty footsteps while walking.

“Are you sure this is your stop? It’s getting cold!” He shouts, leaning over from his seat to regard you.

This is it. When you had sworn your embarrassment couldn't get any more pathetic.

“I.. I’m fine! Just go!” You shout back, arms waving haphazardly like an embarrassed middle schooler until he finally (and begrudgingly) steers ahead of you, car disappearing in the distance.

At least that’s over.

And yet, it feels like it’s just the beginning. You simply can’t explain why.

However, your main focus remains upon getting to safety. Safety being home.

The word has never sounded this pleasing before now.

So after thirty minutes running in circles to find your complex, you’re granted that much wanted safety, snuggled up in your cushions and turning on a show with evident delight in the mismatched pair of pajama pants and a hole-scattered top hanging off your shoulder.

No more Felix thinking, it’s time to relax.

What a joy.

Well, before your bottomless Pringle’s can abruptly spawns a bottom, hand frantically scurrying in search for more to no avail.

This is the peak of your show! How could someone possibly imagine viewing the climax without coordinating snacks?

And just when you thought you had ultimately settled, you’re thrown into a torrential debate, one that, after much contemplation (and pacing) across the cold tile of your kitchen, sends you huffing and puffing to the nearest convenience store.

Slipping past the sliding doors toward the designated aisle, you had yet to realize who else was roaming around the store.

A peculiar blond being that someone else.

It’s when you turn the corner to check out that you practically ram into each other, fear striking every fiber of your being, his eyes equally wide, but more puzzled than terrified—unlike you.

“Besides, I need to run to the grocery store afterward.”

Crap.

Granted, the probability he lived nearby was likely.

He's not required to stay a 300 meter radius from you anyway, so getting anxious about this shouldn’t be an issue. You’ll simply (hopefully not) say hi and be on your way.

Except, like most endeavors in your life so far, it is an issue.

Because one, you’ve positively blasted your chances of avoidance after the entire car experience (which, frankly, you genuinely debate death because of) and two, he’s.. apparently following you.

Wait, he’s following you?

He, as in: Lee Felix, who ultimately fails at being nonchalant. Walking a few paces behind you, eyes quite obviously trained on your figure.

After your frantic rush past him while darting through self-checkout, the footsteps behind you do little to quell your heart’s rapid pace, only worsening with each passing second.

You aimlessly ignore the sweat oiling your palms, pretending to be occupied with reading a label on your drink, hoping he’ll eventually look away.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he stays right on your tail, enough that while you break into a run through your door, he follows, jarring a foot in the door just as you begin slamming it shut.

Stalker, much?

Wielding the nearest weapon available in a panic, you’re frantic, whacking the unfortunate Pringle’s container with all your might toward the man.

“How.. How are you that fast– Ow! Ow ow- Wait- Y/N-”

Cowering down and covering his head with his arms while you furiously batter the man, it isn’t till a few specific words catch your attention that you stop.

“Your—“ Whack. “Car—“ Whack. “Was finished in the shop!”

Your what?

Hesitantly lowering his arms, Felix wears a sheepish smile, regarding your evidently frazzled, very much frantic appearance.

“For twenty minutes I’ve been trying to tell you.. your car is ready.. in the shop,” He breathes, doubling over with exhaustion.

Meanwhile, you’re still recovering from your own exhaustion. An exhaustion that urged the realization you just beat up your lifelong love interest with a box of Pringles.. who is now in your house.

Lee Felix. In your house.

What a joy.

“....I’m sorry about your head.”

“No, I shouldn’t have intruded like that.”

You cover your face with your hands, wishing nothing more than to melt into a puddle.

“Are you-” He tips his head down, that kindly confused expression of his no help to your pounding heart. “Are you alright?”

Through your wallowing, your ears burn, voice muffled whilst practically drowning in misery.

“Give me a minute, I’m so embarrassed right now.”

It doesn’t help that he laughs afterward. A low, vocal laugh that rumbles in his throat and does little for your mental health.

Placing the discarded can back on a nearby countertop, you jolt when his fingers wrap around your wrists, gently ushering your hands from your face.

“But I was serious about what I said. Y/N, are you okay?”

Oh how tender he refers to you. Careful, quiet. As if too high of a pitch and his voice will shatter the air. You don’t mind.

Because in all honesty, you haven’t been okay. Nothing has been okay. It feels like you’re working, but what for? You’ve lost the sense of purpose from when you graduated, slowly but surely watched your motivation diminish right before your eyes.

And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Chasing your tail in circles, round and around and around again has led you right to what you tried to run from in the first place.

Him; the truth.

And yet, unlike earlier today, you can’t bring yourself to push him away, to ask him to leave. You savor his touch, even if it only lingers on your wrists.

Save me, your skin cries against his grip.

Luckily, Felix joins you in your wavelength, giving you permission to indulge in the abyss of his eyes, fall into the warmth and comfort the past brought in the safety of his arms.

“Felix?” You verbalize, fragmented bits and pieces of life hidden within the words, muffled against the skin of his neck.

You missed Felix, but you’re starting to think you missed his hugs more.

“Yes?”

“I missed you.”

“Really? How much?”

You want to punch his gut, but you can’t will yourself to move.

“Too much.”

He chuckles, carefully pulling away.

“I have to head out, ‘got work early tomorrow. I can drop you off at the dealership when you’re free?”

Yes. This time, you can say yes.

Your feelings will never change from how they always were, especially when it comes to Felix. That’s something you have to accept.

Perhaps tomorrow you’ll get to see him again.

Or perhaps you’ll wake up in your bed in a few seconds and all of this will be a dream.

When he turns his back, you pinch yourself to make sure.

All real.

“Thanks, that’d be great.”

Right before he closes your door, you call out to him again.

“And Felix?”

“Mhm?”

“..Call me when you’re done with work. I’ll pick up this time so… tell me all about those seven years apart.”

At this, he nods—and it’s sort of bittersweet seeing him leave, because this time you know you’ll see him again.

And, though you try, your attempt at sleeping proves useless—caught up in your head after quickly settling in bed, deciding to save everything else for another day.

The ceiling serves as your main muse, eyes unblinking whilst staring upward.

What is Felix doing right now? Your attention flits, scowling to yourself at how much you sound like a clingy girlfriend.

Could you blame yourself though? You’re like a child waiting for Christmas presents. Except, this Christmas you’re unwrapping years upon years of time apart.

Fortunately, after a multitude of hours awake, sleep beckons. And as if a split second later, with the morning sun lighting up your room and stirring you awake do you receive a call.

You planned to ignore and roll over, but it’s a specific someone on your mind that urges you to fetch the device.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what’re you up to?”

“Getting away from you,” You groan, pretending not to hear Chris’s chiding that it isn’t healthy to sleep till noon.

And although you were gonna use last night’s experience as an excuse, you decided against it, hoping sooner or later he’d hang up without any more questions.

“Wait.”

Your silence serves as a sign to continue.

“If he’s sleeping next to you right now—”

“No! No Chris what- where did you hear— what?”

Unable to process how he knew about Felix or if he was talking about Felix in the first place, you leave it to the audibly disheveled man to explain himself.

“Look, I can explain. Sana told me she saw Felix go into your house last night, what was that about?”

Curse how Sana lives so close by.

“Well, for the record, Dad, he didn’t sleep over. We just uh, talked, like adults do.”

Chris exhales a baffled guffaw.

“Like adults do? Never thought I’d hear that from you.”

“I’m full of surprises, what can I say.”

An additional silence ensues, awkwardly tapping your finger on the mattress.

“We um.. we were catching up.”

The man on the other side of the line grins. You can practically see it through the phone.

“..When you said that, you sounded really happy just now.”

“Huh?”

“When you talked about Felix, you sounded really happy. That’s good.”

You study the ceiling a second time, feeling a small smile and tug at your lips.

“He’s good to keep around y’know.”

Rolling your eyes and adjusting your position to face the window, you stretch your arms over your head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You hear the ignition of his car in the distance.

“Whatever you want it to mean,” He chuckles. “I’m glad you got to see him though, I better contact him again now that you mention it, ‘need the Aussies to get together. Call you later?”

“Sure, bye Chris.”

Hanging up and collapsing onto your pillow, you yawn dramatically, gradually rising to your feet to open the blinds.

Then does it register to you this is the most enthusiastic you’ve ever been in a while—especially talking to a Chris—and not intentionally either.

All of which comes down a single name, the one you were reminded to keep around.

Lee Felix.

Picking up your phone, you make another call.

You

I’m on the way

Felix

(Felix liked your message)

I’ll be there as fast as I can!! Sorry, ran out of flour last night 😔

You

It’s all good, what’re you baking?

Felix

Banana cake, want a slice?

You

Yes please!

Redirecting your attention back to the road, you’re careful not to miss the exit this time (as you’ve done endless times in the past).

Almost to the café you planned to eat at with Felix, your phone lights up once more.

Yet, you forgot to check the number—your good mood diminishing instantly.

“Hey Fel—“

“Y/N, I need you in the office.”

Considering this is your boss you’re talking to, you pull into the parking lot, able to see Felix through the window—dressed to an unbearably handsome degree.

“But today is my day off, I don’t clock in on Saturday’s,” Relaying the statement, your eyes narrow at the screen.

“Well you’re going to have to. The office knows how capable you are. we need somebody like you here—we can count on you Y/N.”

You’ve been counting on me, for everything.

That familiar weight settles into your chest, more and more pressure building at a nefarious level. You feel sick to your stomach, wanting nothing more than to drop the call and walk inside into work-free air.

However, you can’t. This job holds you down (in multiple ways), it’s stable, and provides good income—you can’t afford to drop it.

But what are you supposed to say to Felix?

Everything feels too overwhelming at the moment, your lungs feel like exploding, using all your willpower to say something.

“..Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

And you hang up, gripping the steering wheel like a vice.

It’s always like this. The moment you have a good thing, not even a day later everything falls apart.

Never lasts.

You

Sorry, I can’t make it, work called.

Felix

But haven’t you worked a lot this week? Why not take today off?

You

Can’t, see you another time

How selfish, you tell yourself, throwing your phone as far from you as possible.

The moment you get the chance to see him again, he slips out of your fingertips. Or in this case, you let him slip away.

Watching him glance around, delicious slice of banana cake kept in a cute tin in front of him feels heart-wrenching. And you quite literally are the worst person in the world at this very moment.

Each key your fingers press adds to the exhaustion in your bones, growing greater each inhale and exhale your take, eyes scouring the computer screen.

Being in the office is stifling. You’re trapped in a box, a box that shrinks closer and closer every second, caging you in without hopes of escaping.

This is your prison, the jail cell you didn’t realize you’d been stuck in till it was too late.

An entire library of documents pile at the foot of your desk, your head aching incessantly. So once the hour hand strikes 10pm, you trudge out the door, more than happy to be in the safety of your car.

Then you slip, and it all comes crashing down.

As if he read your mind, the one person you’ve been longing for takes over your screen, and your index shakes pressing the green button.

“..Felix.”

The words tumble out, tiny candies filling an already full jar. Too much that the lid can’t even fit on.

“Stay where you are, I’m driving to you right now.”

His response earns a stifled sob, your fist bunching the fabric of your clothing, feebly attempting to calm the incessant beating—seeming to render your lungs with meager air.

No other sentence is spoken even with him on the other line, not until headlights pour over the expanse of your dash—until Felix nearly rips your car door off its hinges to reach you in the driver’s seat.

One hand on your head, the other on your back, he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, your second one in three days.

It’s all you need. All you’ve ever needed, actually.

Another heartbeat with yours, your calm before the storm that kept the calm, to know you aren’t alone in your suffering, that you can suffer together.

Ah, you can breathe.

“All these years and you’re still an awful liar.”

You simply squeeze him tighter, the blond’s laughter shaking either of you.

Guess a single taste can lead to addiction.

“I hate crying in front of people,” You sniffle, cringing back after seeing his shirt’s tear-stained fabric.

“Lucky for you,” Felix tuts, gathering your face in his hands, smiling. “I’m not people, just Felix.”

You roll your eyes, swollen condition of your eyes and cheeks not helping the irritable portrayal.

“I’m sorry, Lix, I’m so sorry. I wanted to see you so bad but work called and they keep piling—“

“Shush.”

He presses a finger against your lips.

“For one second, don’t think about work,” He exhales, face pursed in focus, fingers smoothing the crease lines of your brows.

“I know you’ve been overworking yourself. I’m not your best friend for no reason,” Felix sheepishly smiles, hand slipping from by your forehead down to your cheek, stroking the skin there softly.

Again and again, he watches you break.

Then, he picks you up all over again.

“Can you.. can you understand my frustration? It feels like everyone loves their jobs, but in the end, no matter what I do, I’m stuck in this constant cycle of hell. I can’t escape Felix, I can’t escape.”

Your voice dons into that of panic, into an hysterical fit of tears and rapid breathes, only able to focus back on the man before you after he shouts your name for the fourth time.

“Nuh-uh, no crying. The world isn’t ending, so no tears, hm?” Thumbs smoothing the flush of your under-eyes, he pulls you to his chest, hand gently rubbing your back while another cards through your hair.

“..Are you my mom or something?” You croak irritably.

Felix shakes with another bout of laughter.

“No.”

He slightly pushes you back where you can see his face, brows creasing in a focused, serious manner.

“I’m Felix, your best friend, remember? And I don’t want my friend to cry, she has too pretty of a face for that.”

“But what if her world’s ending?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

And the building blocks are stacked once more, barely able to hear his voice amidst your heart, forging itself free of its cage, your ribs.

“Y/N, look at me angel.”

Of course you follow, you know you always will.

“You aren’t required to cater to everybody, you can’t cater to everybody, no matter how hard you try. You’re human, and humans need to do human things, they need to live, experience exciting experiences. That’s how you make the little time we have here worthwhile.”

He tips your chin up, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“So don’t cage yourself up, please. And,” His voice gets cut off, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

Debating, thinking.

“Let me help you fall in love with life again.”

As if I’m not already in love with you.

If only you knew the same thing occurred in his head as well.

Felix drove you home, and for a second, over the span of a week, it seemed as if everything was finally back to normal.

Then you received a call from such a man, on your beloved Sunday afternoon, asking a rather whimsical sort of question you never anticipated.

No, you exaggerated.

“Are you free tonight?”

Oh. Oh.

Staring at the assortment of DVD’s scattered around on your comforter, you act as if you’re oh so busy instead of planning to rot watching Dead Poet’s Society for the thousandth time.

“Uhhh think so, why?”

Felix clears his throat.

“Well, my baking place wants you— no, I want you, no, wait—“

Your heart speeds up at the sudden confession, bursting into laughter as he sputters over his words like a child.

“Will you.. meet me at the bake shop? If you can’t it’s fine I mean I’m sure you’re preoccupied-“

“No!” You shout, not intending to be so loud, shrinking in on yourself. “I mean, no, I’ll be there. Give me ten minutes.”

Well, ten minutes might’ve been a stretch considering how animalistically you lunge at your hamper, sorting through clothing despite being aware Felix has likely seen every single one of your outfits a million times before

Doesn’t help this is pretty much an unofficial date. Or, hopefully those were his intentions.

Regardless, you don’t plan on wasting a chance like this again.

Standing on the sidewalk, hands situated in the pockets of a midnight black jean jacket paired with coordinating slacks is Felix, his face breaking into a smile upon seeing you.

Catching up with the man, you walk by his side, listening to him talk about meeting up with Chris days prior, about business.

It’s comforting, this small talk. And for a second, you swear you never left at all.

“And then I told him Vegemite was obviously the better choice but he…”

Words halting, you look to where his attention had been stolen, finding an old woman lingering outside the shop the two of you planned to enter. She wasn’t one of the ladies you’d seen before in your group.

Cautiously approaching the woman, it takes multiple clears of his throat for Felix to grasp her attention.

“Excuse me Miss?” He offers, allowing the woman to grab his hands with her wrinkled ones, eyes squinted to assess his face. “Would you like some help? I’m the owner of this shop.”

Slowly, a small smile stretches her face upward, wrinkles forming around her mouth like the petals of a flower.

“Why.. Why yes, young man. I’m in need of more brown sugar.”

Felix perks up at the request, and you follow them inside with your own smile, cherishing his warmth, his gentleness.

Leaning against the unmanned reception, you find the longer you stare at him describing each ingredient to the old woman, the greater that feeling in your stomach grows, eyes becoming watery.

Felix, in his loving, patient glory, is the sun.

He casts his rays over your garden, blooming once wilted flowers.

Forever ago, you believed the two of you sat on entirely opposite hemispheres. He received the day, and you, in your unchanging seasons, eternally remained shrouded in night.

Yet, you forgot the earth tilted on an axis for a reason. And, with time, the sun would rise again.

Lamps briefly illuminating the woman’s exit while Felix helps her outside, you wait till he comes back in to speak, staring at the worried way he ensures she safely heads off through the window.

For a moment, it feels like you’re back in the treehouse, gazing at him as if he painted the stars in the sky.

You refuse to let your anxiety get the best of you, not when the one person whose presence you’ve been longing for comes back in your life.

“Felix,” You voice from across the table. He looks back to where you are.

“If I don’t say it now, I doubt I ever will but..I like you. I have liked you, for a really long time actually. More than friends I mean, I like you… more than just a friend.”

He sort of studied you for a moment, and your heart flies up to your throat, rethinking every instance leading to now.

“Took you that long to tell me?” He murmurs, and when you meet his gaze, you note the small grin on his lips, the way honey seems to swirl in the pools of his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting, y’know. For a really long time,” He finishes, donning that sheepish smile whilst walking toward you, an action that causes you to fall stock still.

Leaning forward slightly, his hands clutch your face, planting the lightest of kisses on your forehead, each of your cheeks, and then your nose, fondly admiring the flush of your skin in the dimly lit room.

“You’re missing something,” You whisper, peeking an eye open.

Felix cocks a bemused brow.

And what is that?”

Without words, you hesitantly tap your lips, and Felix wastes no time, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible prior to savoring your taste on his tongue, remnants of sugar clinging to his bottom lip, transferring onto yours each time he tips his head.

You hop upon the countertop, beginning to apologize in case you messed up his workspace before being shushed again by his lips, hands frantically searching to hold his face, expression pinched, eyes squeezed shut.

It feels as if your heart may just burst, beating at a deafening rate in your ears.

There must’ve been something in the sugar.

“Lix?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come back over to my place?”

Instantly, his once smugly pleased face dissipates, a hot flush rising up his neck in its place.

“Y..Your place? I mean isn’t it a bit too early to—“

Without elaborating, you drag him off, silencing any of his nervous babbling along the way back to your car.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for either of you to get comfortable.

“..Oh Lix.”

“I can’t- I can’t take it anymore Y/N..”

Sitting beside each other on your mattress, the both of you hold huge containers of popcorn, the newest rendition of “Alien” playing on screen. Felix is coddled in blankets, wincing as the creature gets closer to the girl’s face while you’re already gagging watching the miniature monster crawl out of the bigger one’s mouth.

“This is disgusting!!” He shrieks, hiding his face while you giggle, trying your hardest to watch the grotesque scene.

This is your third movie of the night, and even after years apart, you can still use even slightly thrilling movies to freak him out.

Still entertaining, too.

The longer you stare at him, the greater a fondness seeps into your face, into the lines of your smile, the irises of your eyes.

Months upon months you had been searching for your antidote, ignorant to the fact the antidote in question could be a person.

You hadn’t realized how low you’d gone until you had to be dragged back out again.

A hand reaching out, pulling you up when your legs were too weak to move. Kissing you when the words couldn’t come out of your mouth, holding your hand when you needed support.

Lee Felix, wrapped in your comforter now fast asleep, was your brighter place.

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ecstarry · 1 day

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"Regulus' Birthday" - a sweet microfic set in the same universe as my fic Dare to Stay // @fromagony @godsofwoes // 486 words

“Happy Birthday, love.” Regulus was awaken to the soft voice of his James. His James. His James waking him up. With a gentle kiss, on his birthday. In his bed. He slowly opened his eyes as a smile adorned his face.

“Good morning, Jamie.”

It was their first big celebration together ever since they shared their first kiss a few months ago. They had longed for each other too many years to waste a single day apart. James was good at making up for lost time.

“Get dressed, the boys have a surprise for you.”

He quickly put on some pants and James’ shirt from yesterday. He loved nothing more than smelling like him first thing in the morning. James held the bedroom door for him, and as Regulus passed him by, James grabbed him from behind, placed his chin on Regulus’ shoulder and very gently whispered “I love you.” Three words that never failed to send a shiver through Regulus’ spine.

Regulus turned around, his hands instinctively cupping James' face. "I love you too, Jamie."

“Let’s go, love. I can feel the boys getting impatient.”

Giggles and tiny voices grew louder as they walked down the stairs. When they reached the last step Regulus stopped dry. The entrance had a big banner reading ‘Happy Birthday’ in fun colors, and ‘we love you’ written under it in what was clearly Harry and Draco’s writing.

Before he could even process the overwhelming warmth that was filling him, two little boys rushed towards his arms with such a force that he fell over.

“Happy birthday Uncle Reggie!” Said Draco as he kissed his cheek.

“Aaaaah!” Harry just screamed as he also launched himself towards a fallen Regulus. Harry hugged him tightly, a gesture Regulus held onto dearly just as much as the first time it happened.

“Okay, let’s give my fiancé some space on his big day. Let’s go show him his surprise.” James helped him up and they followed the boys towards the kitchen.

Like two miniature guards, Draco and Harry stood on opposite sides of the pantry door.

“One, two, three!”

“Surprise!” Sirius said as the doors opened and ran towards Regulus to embrace him.

“I thought you were going to be away,” Regulus whispered to his brother’s ear while holding onto him.

“I have never spent a birthday away from you, I was not going to start now little brother.”

Regulus couldn’t help the tears falling down his cheeks. He remembered the loneliness and desperation that filled his fifteen year old self. He was now living a reality that once upon a time felt like a fantasy. Something unattainable, something someone like Regulus Black would never deserve.

He now had everything he had ever longed for.

There, one day in July, standing in the kitchen of Potter Manor, Regulus Blacked had no more scars left to heal. He was happy. Entirely and blissfully happy.

here's the complete fic that started it all

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mayajadewrites · 2 days

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could've been you: aizawa x fem!reader x hawks

summary: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy. Nothing could go wrong... right? relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader warnings: some chapters will be NSFW, they will have a warning on them in bold. not many descriptions of reader, other than she's midsize.

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond, @falling4fandoms

CHAPTER SIX

It was this moment when you realized that you fucked up. Feelings for Shouta are bubbling into your mind that you've been suppressing for years.

In high school, you and Aizawa were the best of friends. You would hang out constantly, tell him your deepest secrets, and you trusted him. That's why when you were in the battle with him and Endeavor, you felt so hurt.

Betrayed by him.

All the love you had for him went out the window. You couldn't believe he would risk your life like that.

You look down at the raven haired man that's laying with you. You stroke his hair, twisting his curls around your fingers. He's still sleeping - soundly at that. You felt his chest against your thighs move as he breathed slowly.

You sigh as you continue caressing his hair and dragging the tips of your fingernails across his scalp.

Your phone vibrates with a text from Keigo.

Keigo: I'm sorry about today. I can't believe how strong Shigaraki actually is.

You: It's not your fault, don't stress it. Did you get home okay?

Keigo: I did. Do you want me to come over? I'm down for a sleepover.

You look down at Aizawa sleeping soundly in your lap.

You: Not tonight. I'll call you tomorrow?

Keigo: Sounds good to me. Sleep well, baby bird.

You: Goodnight Kei.

Aizawa stirred in your lap as he gripped your plush thighs gently. He was mumbling words but not of them were audible.

He began to twitch and grip you tighter.

"Stop, please." You could finally understand him.

"Hey, Shouta." You nudged him gently. His eyes fluttered open with a panicked look on your face. "Relax." You whispered as you stroked his hair again.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked looking into your eyes.

"No." You shook your head as your eyes got lost within his. His eyes are beautiful, despite how tired they look. You could feel your heart beat faster as you kept looking at him.

"I should-" Aizawa attempted to stand up and leave the room, but you stopped him. You grabbed his wrist gently as he stood next to the bed.

"You should what, Shouta?"

He just... stared at you. His eyebrows furrowed as if he was talking to you with his mind.

"I can't read minds Aizawa." You kept holding his wrist, now tighter. "Don't make me get in your head."

"You don't want to know what's going on up here." His voice was low now. He kept his eyes on you, peering at you through his lashes.

"What do you want Shouta?" You prop yourself on your knees so you're a bit taller, almost at Aizawa's eye level. "Tell me." Your eyes move from his eyes, to his nose, to his lips - then back to his eyes.

Aizawa leaned in, his lips ghosting yours. "What I want to do, I can't do to you yet."

Shivers were sent down your spine. What did he mean he can't do it to you yet?

"What can't you do to me Shouta? Use your words."

"Anything that's going on up here. It's not time." He tapped his temple with his index finger.

Your lips form into a pout as you let go of his wrist. You turned your head to the side, refusing to look at him.

"Don't be a brat." Aizawa grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently bringing your gaze back to him. "It's for your own good."

"You act like I can't put two and two together." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Obviously there's something going on here."

"What I want to do to you..." Aizawa leaned down to your level and rubbed his nose with yours. "I want to study each and every inch of your skin. I want to kiss you in places you've never been kissed. I want to learn what makes your toes curl. I want to taste you, Mirage."

There goes your heart again.

"Don't use my hero name, asshole." Your lashes fluttered against his cheeks.

"I thought it fit well." He shrugged and pressed his forehead to yours.

You wanted to kiss him. So badly. You wanted to feel his plush lips on yours. You wanted his large hands to grip your body caress your curves.

Aizawa must've known what you were thinking because he pressed his hand to your cheek. You leaned into his touch and took a deep breath.

Then you felt his lips on yours.

You swore you felt sparks that electrified your kiss. His lips are plush as he moves his mouth slowly, making sure he's feeling every part of your lips. You press your hand to his that's on your cheek and tilt your head to the side - your faces fitting together like a perfect puzzle pieces.

You wanted more. So much more.

But then Aizawa pulled his lips from yours slowly. You savored every moment of that kiss that you could but you already wanted more. The sounds of your lips parting is now your least favorite sound.

"That's it for now." Aizawa stood up and straightened his posture. "It's a school night and your first full day as a teacher."

"You're just gonna kiss me and expect me to act like that's a normal occurance?"

"What, the bird doesn't kiss you like that?"

No, no he doesn't.

But you really like Keigo. You like how you feel with him. How happy he is all the time. How caring he is about every detail of your life that you tell him.

He doesn't kiss you like that though.

Or at least, you don't feel this way after he kisses you.

You didn't answer him, instead you just look away. "Get out, Eraser."

"Don't be like that." Aizawa slipped his shoes on at your front door. "I'm making sure you get a good nights sleep and don't get distracted." He winked and gripped the doorknob.

"Goodnight." You stood up, turned around and stretched, putting your ass on full display for Aizawa. Your shorts hug your curves beautifully and he took notice. His eyes trailed your body, especially the soft parts of you. Your stomach, your hips, your thighs.

"You going somewhere?" He asked as you took a few steps towards your bathroom.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. I'm going to shower. Get your stink off of me." You smirked as you opened the bathroom door. "Goodnight, Eraser."

Aizawa stood at your front door - one hand on the door knob and his eyes gazing at you.

"Did you forget something?" You let go of the bathroom door and walked over to him.

"I did." He nodded as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. He brought one hand to your hips as he kissed you, this time he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. You pulled away once you felt his tongue dance with yours.

"Don't start something you won't finish." You looked up at him through your lashes. "Goodnight Shouta."

"Goodnight." He smirked as he opened your door and left. You heard the few footsteps to his room, and his door close.

You put your hand on your chest as you feel your heart rate increasing. Every time he kisses you it's like he takes your breath away while at the same time he's giving you life. You touch your lips with your fingertips, still feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

He's only 2 doors down from you but it might as well be 2,000 miles away.

__________________________

Monday morning came quickly. You showered even though you showered before bed, mostly because your mind was filled with thoughts of Aizawa.

Dirty thoughts. Nasty, even.

You put on a black midi skirt that hugged your curves, white platform converse, and a white t-shirt tucked into your skirt haphazardly.

You did your usual makeup and hair, then you were ready to get out the door. Your purse is on your counter when you grab it, your phone pinging with a message.

Keigo: Good luck today baby bird. I know you'll be amazing.

You smiled at the message and typed up a response.

You: Thanks Kei. You have a good day too :)

When you look up Shouta is locking his door. He has his hair pulled into a low ponytail, some of his front pieces of hair framing his face. You looked away from him once he looked at you and walked towards the halls of UA.

You settled into your classroom, writing your name on the board. Your first class will trickle in after homeroom, aka Aizawa's class.

You look over your lesson plans, mostly just introductions and what they think strategy means.

You tap your index finger on your bottom lip as you read some notes Nezu left for you when you hear a knock on the door.

"Hey, you ready for them?" You looked at Aizawa in the doorway.

"As I'll ever be." You smile as he swallows you with his eyes. He only nods in response as he lets the kids from class 1A in.

"You will behave for Ms. Mirage. Got it?"

"Yes, Mr. Aizawa!" The kids said in unison. He watched each kid enter your classroom and nodded at you when the last one walked in.

"Good morning." You smile at the classroom full of eager students. "You all know me already, so we can skip that introduction. But I want to know, what do you think strategy is?"

A couple of students raised their hands. Midoria, as always, very eager to learn shot his hand up first.

"Strategy is a plan to achieve a goal. It's essential when fighting villains!"

"You're right, Midoria." You smiled at him. He was so sweet, and willing to learn every day and better himself. You notice Ochako smile at him as if she had hearts in her eyes.

Ah, young love.

The rest of class went off without a hitch, not to your surprise. You know how to keep your ground and make sure the kids stay on task.

You said goodbye to them at the door as they filed out for lunch. You noticed a dual-haired boy try to sneak past you.

"Hey, Shoto." You gently place your hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"That depends. Are you gonna tell my old man if I tell you?"

You blink a few times as you try to understand what he's saying. As a teacher, you have to keep a good relationship with your students. They need to trust you above all else.

Even though you're good friends with his father, this stays between you and Shoto. He's like a nephew to you - you remember when he was just a baby crying in his mother's arms.

You shook your head 'no'. "Whatever you tell me is just for me. I don't need to report back to your father."

"Noted." Shoto said as he continued to walk out the door.

Just like his father.

You bring your bag to the teachers lounge for lunch. You watch Aizawa walk into the room first so you follow after him.

Except he's stopped at the doorway.

You turn your attention to where he's looking - at the round table in the middle of the room where some people eat and socialize during lunch hour. There are smaller tables in the lounge, but this is the biggest one.

A vase full of 4 dozen red roses was placed on the table.

"Ooooh, Mirage has a lover! Yamada held up the note attached to it. "Good luck my baby bird." He sang. Yamada laid the back of his hand on his forehead. "How romantic!"

"Tsk." Aizawa sucked his teeth as he walked to one of the tables on the outskirts of the lounge. You can't help but smile at Keigo's gesture and take a whiff of the aroma of the roses.

You: Thank you for the beautiful flowers.

Keigo: They could never be as beautiful as you, baby bird.

When you look up from your phone screen, Aizawa is staring at you. He takes a bite of his sandwich as his eyes stay glued on you.

"I'm gonna put these in my classroom until the end of the day." You grab the vase full of flowers and walk out of the room.

You can still feel Shouta's eyes burning into your skin.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #mha hawks #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic

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holylulusworld · 2 days

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Unworthy

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother and won’t stop telling you, his parents, and Loki so.

You’re not rich, and don’t come from a wealthy family. You’re just you, and that is not enough in Thor’s eyes.

“How can you believe she wants to be your friend,” Thor’s voice booms through the hallways. You sigh and try to focus on work, not the fact that the brute is yelling at your friend again. “You’re blinded by lust!”

“Y/N and I are only friends. I know you cannot be around a woman without getting between her legs, but I cherish my friendship with Y/N. Stop trying to ruin our bond.”

“Bond,” the blonde snorts when you step out of your office to come to Loki’s aid. “Ah, there she is. The she-devil.”

“What is going on here?” You glare at Thor, not afraid of the tall man. He’s much taller than you and easily towers over you. “People try to work here, Mr. Odinson.”

“He tried to ruin our friendship again,” Loki defensively says. He moves closer to you, seeking your closeness. He’s still not out of the woods, and the confrontations with his brother do him no good.

You straighten your back and try to look taller while glaring at Thor. “I know you cannot understand that people want to be friends, but this doesn’t mean you can argue with your brother about our friendship all the time. This is ridiculous. Why do you hate the fact that Loki is my friend? There is no harm in being friends with me.”

“Says you,” Thor huffs as he eyes you up and down. “I know exactly what you are up to. Loki is just too blind to see who you truly are.”

You gently take Loki’s hand when he starts fidgeting next to you. He needs someone to help him with his insecurities and not fall back into old patterns.

Drug addiction is a dead end. If you don’t find a way back out, you are stuck. Loki is doing well. You’re a big help and the constant he needs to stay clean.

Thor doesn’t get that you are Loki’s anchor when the world gets too much again.

“How about we get you something to eat, darling,” you wrap one arm around Loki’s shoulder to guide him toward your office. “My office is a haven. Don’t worry. You’re safe, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Thor watches you guide his brother away from him with angry eyes. One day, he’ll find a way to get rid of you.

He doesn’t care that Loki and his father think highly of you. Thor Odinson swore to himself to remove you from his brother’s life, and he won’t stop until he succeeds.

“Son, I won’t argue with you again. Y/N is a hard-working woman. She’s smart, eloquent, and always professional. Stop trying to make her a bad person,” Odin warns one last time. Thor tried, once again, to get you fired.

“I do not trust her. Father, she’s not like us. I know there is something wrong with her. Why would she want to be friends with Loki during his darkest times if not to take advantage of him and his vulnerability.”

“I’m right here,” Loki rises from his seat to glare at his brother. “I’ve been clean for almost a year. Y/N was one of the reasons I did not have a relapse. She’s a good person and a kind soul. Stop being a classist!”

“I’m not a classist!”

Loki pants heavily. “YES YOU ARE!”

“Sons!” Odin slams his fist onto the table. “Thor, stop right there. Do not go any further.” Odin’s features soften seeing Loki’s hand tremble. “Loki, we believe you. Y/N is a good person and she’s always welcome here.”

“Thank you, father,” Loki nods before he turns to leave the room. “Please excuse me. I lost my appetite.”

“Morning darling,” you try to cheer Loki up. He told you about the scene Thor made during dinner. “I got you breakfast and the tea you like some much.”

“You’re the best,” he grins and takes the offered tea. “I’m sorry for chewing your ear off last night. I know I can be…too much.”

“Loki,” you cup his chin with one hand, “let me stop you right there. We are friends. You’re never too much. If you want to talk, even if it’s two am, come over or give me a call. That’s what friends are good for.”

Thor watches you run your hand up and down Loki’s arm. He squares his jaw and huff.

“Only friends. Who are you trying to kid, woman…”

Thor feels like he defeated a dragon. He crosses his arms over his wide chest and smirks as he watches your downfall.

Odin didn’t waste time. He’d do anything to protect Loki. Even if it means to fire one of his best and most reliable employees.

It took one old picture to ruin your life. Thor didn’t let up until he finally found something he could use against you.

A snapshot of you, stoned and barely awake as you hold a drink in your hands. To anyone else, it’s a girl partying during college. To Odin, it’s a picture of a woman bringing drugs and alcohol into his drug-addicted son’s life.

Your ears ring from the yelling you received from Odin. He called you an addict, and a bad influence. You don’t care that you lost your job. The only thing that pains you is that Odin forbids you to see Loki again.

“Are you done?” You coolly reply. “If so, you should know that I do not drink and that I didn’t take drugs. That’s a very old picture taken by someone I didn’t even know.”

“I cannot have someone like you near my son or at my company,” Odin regrets his harsh words, but Loki is more important than an employee.

You angrily wipe your eyes while Thor watches you clean out your desk.

This is it. He made it. You not only lost your job, but your friendship with Loki is over too.

His father will not allow you to keep in touch with his son. Not after his golden boy made him believe you’re a bad person. You knew the first time you met Thor Odinson that he would be your downfall.

“I knew you’re a bad influence,” he sneers when you look at him with teary eyes. “You’re tears and pout won’t work on me. I’m not my unstable brother eating out of your hands.”

“Do you think I care?” you choke on your tears. “Did you…” You take a deep breath. “Did you dig a little deeper? Did you find out that the picture was taken after some rich, entitled frat boy spiked my drink to show the poor and shy girl what happens when she turns his advances down?”

Thor blanches at your words. He doesn’t want to believe you, but your eyes give the truth away. “I—” It’s the first time the tall blonde is at a loss of words. He doesn’t have an answer or a comeback.

What if he just destroyed your career and friendship with Loki over nothing?

He was so blinded by his ignorance and jealousy that he did more than damage your career. Thor Odinson destroyed you completely. Your reputation and career lie in ruins all thanks to him. Everyone saw the picture you desperately tried to forget.

What’s past is past you told yourself whenever the memories flash back up. You tried to move past what happened back then and you believed, at least for a while, that you succeeded.

“Did you find out that I ended up in hospital, and that I only got lucky because a friend found me before that very same frat boy could finish his plan?”

“Why would he do this to you?” Thor’s tone is softer now.

“Well, he was just like you. A rich boy who never heard the word no,” you throw the last knick-knack into the box and pick it up. “He believed he can tell me to suck his dick and I’d happily oblige. That guy didn’t get that I’m not the kind of girl seeking attention from guys like him.”

“Wait—if that’s true,” Thor touches your arm, but you shake his hand off. “I talk to Father and explain my mistake. We can figure something out.”

“Save it,” you huff. “He didn’t believe me. I was nothing but loyal to your father and the company. All I ever wanted was to do a good job and be a good friend to Loki. Just you know, I stopped Loki from taking drugs anytime life dragged him down. I hope he finds help soon.” You sniffle. “I’d hate to watch him fall for the poison again only because you made it impossible for me to be there for him.”

Thor swallows thickly when you storm out of your office. You brush past Odin and Frigga who heard every word you threw in Thor’s direction. They feel as guilty as their son when their eyes meet Thor’s blue ones.

“Is that true, son?” Odin questions while you walk away, holding your head high. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you ever did was to support Loki.

“I don’t know yet,” Thor hastily says. “I’ll find out and then…” he trails off watching you walk past your co-workers. None of them even says goodbye, even though, you’ve been there for them whenever someone needed help. “I’ll make amends.”

Tags in reblog.

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #loki laufeyson #au!thor odinson #business au #thor x reader #thor odinson x you #thor x you #Unworthy

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mermaidgirl30 · 9 hours

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✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 5: Let Me Take You There✨

Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has been a work in progress for 2 months, but it is finally here! Moodboard made by @mrsmando 🩵 I have been working on so many things lately, but I’m so happy with how this chapter turned out. I hope you enjoy 🥰 No beta for this one, but thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for letting me share snippets with you and scream about these two 🩷

Chapter Summary: After your parents cancel your weekend trip to Galveston at the last minute, Joel offers to take you instead.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 10.5k

Chapter Tags: Joel takes reader to Galveston, road trip, oral receiving (both male and female), unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, reader and Joel being in love, bondage, vibrator use, lots of fluff and smut, switching POVs, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Tuesday evening, a few days after your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating takeout Mexican food. You’re not alone with your parents; your dad invited Joel over to watch some college game with him. He sits next to you, leg digging into yours as you let yours mold into his. His leg is strong, firm, holding you together as you let it rest against yours. You want to be in his arms, let him hold you tight while you drown in his lips, in his taste, but you can’t. Not here, not right now.

You take another bite out of your chicken enchilada and pop another chip drowned in queso in your mouth, letting the juicy flavors run down your throat as it hits just the right spot.

“Hey, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. You know the Galveston trip this upcoming weekend?” your dad asks, finishing off a bite of his cheesy quesadilla as he sips from his tall water glass.

“Yeah, what about it?” you ask through another bite of enchilada.

“We’re gonna have to cancel the trip,” he says sadly, taking another bite out of his dripping quesadilla like he has no care in the world for the words that just came out of his mouth.

“What?” you ask, shocked. You drop your fork and it goes tumbling to the ground, landing with a loud clunk against the hardwood. Joel doesn’t hesitate and reaches his long arm down, picking up the ruined fork and setting it on the table next to him.

“I’m sorry, hun. Your aunt May and Charlie are making a surprise visit down, and they’re gonna come stay with us for the weekend. We wanted to tell you Thursday, but we didn’t want to ruin your weekend,” she says with apologies all over her uneasy tone.

“Why couldn’t you just tell them we already had plans? You’ve never canceled this trip before!” The words come out stronger than you want them to, hurt written all over your angry voice. They knew this weekend was important to you. They knew.

Joel places a hand discreetly on your thigh to help soothe you, but you barely register his gentle touch with how mad you are.

“We tried, hun, but the plans just fell through. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to go. Maybe next year…”

You interrupt your mom. “Maybe next year?” you ask quietly with your lip quivering around your words. This trip was important to you. It was always something you looked forward to, but now it was ruined. You feel the backs of your eyes burn with hot tears, but you won’t let them see. They don’t deserve to see you crumble. You’ll just go sulk in your room.

Joel sees how upset you’re getting, sees the way you’re trying to keep it together at the table. He digs his thick fingers into the flesh of your knee and knits his brows together as he looks over at you from the corner of his eye. You feel his concern through the connected skin. As much as you want to place your hand over his, you just need a few minutes alone.

“If you’ll excuse me, I just lost my appetite,” you say as you push back your chair and feel Joel’s warm fingers drop from your skin.

As you leave the room and make your way up the towering steps, you hear your dad say something under his breath. “She just needs to cool off. She’ll be fine.”

For some reason those words just make you more frustrated as you tread up the stairs, letting a hot tear collapse down your cheek as your vision begins to blur. Stupid trip, stupid aunt, stupid everything. You can kiss goodbye to any chance of your ocean weekend getaway because it isn’t happening.

You slam the door closed and flop onto your bed, curling your knees into your chest as you let the tears fall. You try to keep yourself together, but you’re too angry, too sad, too hurt. It might not be a big deal to them, but it is to you. So you burn with the heat inside your body and let it swallow you whole.

Joel takes a stiff drink of his iced tea and looks over at George. “You didn’t tell me you were canceling the trip,” he says slowly, trying not to show the concern in his voice as he worries about you wallowing alone in your room.

“It just came up. May isn’t usually the type to just drop in, so we thought we’d better stay home and let them come on down. I feel bad, but sometimes things come up, ya know?” George says through a bite of a crunchy tortilla chip, not seeming all that concerned about his daughter.

“That’s too bad. She seemed really excited. I think you crushed her,” Joel says as calmly as he can without getting all worked up himself. The thing was, he hated seeing you upset, would never dream of ever making you feel that way. And now he felt obligated to make you feel better. He had to because you’re his girl, and he always takes care of his girl.

“We are really sorry. We just hope she’ll forgive us,” Claire says with a sigh huffed in between bites of her dinner.

“Yeah. Joel, the game’s back on, you ready to go finish it?” George asks as he gets up and starts heading toward the living room.

“Oh, yeah. Just go ahead and turn it on. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Gonna head up to the bathroom first,” Joel says as he pushes back his chair and heads toward the stairs.

“Alright, don’t take too long,” George calls as he disappears into the dark living room. Joel prowls up the stairs quietly and heads toward your room.

You wipe the last tear away from your cheek and look at yourself in the mirror across the room. You definitely look like you’ve been crying with your tinted red eyes and wet sleeves that leave traces of tears on the back of the aquamarine color. You feel like a complete mess.

Just then, you hear the click of the door handle and the squeak of hinges as Joel opens the door and slowly shuts in behind him. You silently gasp as you hope he doesn’t notice you were crying, but he probably will. He always notices.

“Hey, you okay there, darlin’?” Joel asks as he comes over and sits on the bed beside you, his eyebrows knit together with worry as his brown eyes stare intently at you.

“Mhm,” you hum out faintly as you keep your eyes locked on the cream carpet.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing to me,” he says as his hand brushes up against the side of your thigh, almost calming you down as your insides still rage like a hurricane.

“I’m fine, just a little upset is all,” you mumble out, holding back anymore tears that may spill over the edge.

“Hey, look at me,” he says gently as he cups your chin carefully and turns your face to him. His brown eyes are full of concern, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours at all.

“Where’s that smile that I love so much, huh? C’mon, baby. Let me see it,” he coaxes as he lifts the corners of his mouth into a warm smile, the sight instantly calming you down.

He slowly unfolds you, and you can’t help but break when you see his crooked smile splayed across his face. It’s your favorite thing in the world. You drop the frown and replace it with a gentle smile as he trails his calloused thumb against your jawline, making you relax into his touch.

“Ahh there’s my girl. The one with the beautiful smile,” he presses as the words send a quick giggle out of you. “Attagirl,” he praises as you get lost in his soft brown eyes. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, making your insides coat with tingles at the warmth of him.

“Thanks for making me feel a little better,” you sigh as you fall into his chest and lean your head into the crook of his neck as he gently runs a hand through your hair, soothing you into a calm state.

“I’m sorry about this weekend,” he apologizes as he gently combs his fingers through your hair.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault my parents canceled at the last minute. It’s whatever. I didn’t even want to go that bad anyways,” you pout as you jut your bottom lip out.

“Oh, yes you did, sweetheart. I saw how upset you got down there. This trip meant a lot to you, didn’t it?” he asks as he trails his large hand up and down your back repeatedly.

“Yeah, it did,” you sigh, letting the thoughts wash out of your head so you don’t get upset again.

“What if you could still go?” he asks as your body goes still underneath his touch.

“Huh?” you ask as you pull your head up and sit up straight. “Still go? What do you mean?” you ask, confused because the trip had already been canceled.

“What if you could still go, would you?” he asks as he pushes a fallen stray curl away from his forehead.

You ponder his question, wondering why he’s asking such a silly thing. “Of course I would, but why are you asking?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him curiously, trying to decipher his meaning.

“Because,” he starts, straightening out his button-up blue flannel, “what if I take you?”

Your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide. “What?” you ask with a locked jaw expression, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth.

“What if I take you? Just you and me. We could stay the weekend, get a little sun, maybe swim some, explore Galveston.”

“You’d do that for me?” you ask with teary eyes as he connects his hand with yours, entwining his fingers with yours as you feel them burn the back of your skin.

“I’d do anything to see that pretty smile, sweetheart,” he says with the curl of his lips and the dimple that presses deep into his cheek.

He’s so fucking beautiful and sweet and so loving. How did you ever get so lucky?

“Joel…”

“Let me take you to Galveston, please. I’d love nothing more, truly,” he says with genuine brown eyes.

You start to tear up, vision blurring as the tears lick at the edges of your eyes and start to fall against your cheeks. Joel cups your face with his big hands and wipes away the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. What’s the matter? Why are you cryin’, darlin’?” he asks worriedly as he looks into your eyes intensely, concern lathered in those doe eyes of his.

“You’re just… you’re just so good to me, Joel. Why are you so perfect?” you cry out as another hot tear falls from your eyes. Joel catches it with the tip of his thumb and brushes it away effortlessly.

“I’m nowhere near perfect,” he chuckles as he keeps his brown eyes on you, “I just know how much the trip meant to you, and there’s no way I’m letting that get taken from you. You wanna go? Then we’re going. I’m not gonna see you disappointed, baby. I’ll take you there myself, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every second of it,” he confirms as he drops his hands from your face.

You suck in a breath and slam into his broad chest as you wrap your arms tightly around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” you breathe into his ear, feeling one of his hands come to cup the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.

“You’re so welcome. And I love you, too, sweetheart. Never gonna stop,” he says slowly into your ear, making every part of you completely lose it for him.

You lift your chin up and slowly plant your lips on his, letting the moment move slow, delicately, passionately. You sink into his weight and let him devour your lips, your tongue, your everything.

Joel Miller was the definition of everything, and you’d never ever let him go.

The cool breeze of November blows in a rush through your long locks of hair as you lean your head out the window, the air crisp and smelling of pine trees as you rest your elbows on the edge of the door and enjoy the taste of freedom. The radio hums low through the speakers as you feel Joel’s eyes on your back, feeling his warm smile on your skin as you close your eyes and take in this beautiful moment.

The drive to Galveston is relaxing, the sun kissing your skin as you bathe in warm sunlight. Joel taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel along to an AC/DC song that plays quietly throughout the truck. You take a moment to turn toward him, leaning your head on the back of the seat as you admire the beautiful man that sits before you. Tousled curls with grey threaded through his thick locks, a blue flannel that tugs at his muscular biceps, a glowing smile that reflects off the backs of your eyes as you soak him up, painting a pretty picture in your mind that you’ll surely take to your grave.

Joel catches you staring and reaches an arm out as he snatches your fingers and pulls your hand up to his plush lips. He grazes his lips against the back of your knuckles and laces his fingers through yours as he pulls your hand into his lap, holding tight as he drives along the vacant highway.

You blink twice and smile as you watch him drive, your hand on top of his thigh as he looks over and sees you in a lovesick daze. “What are you smilin’ ‘bout, hmm?” he asks as he smirks your way, arching an eyebrow as he drives along.

“Oh, no reason. Just can’t believe you’re taking me all the way to Galveston.”

He squeezes your hand gently and looks over at you as the crow’s feet crinkle around his warm eyes. “Well, believe it, baby. Gotta keep my girl happy. And trust me, I wouldn’t wanna spend the weekend doin’ anythin’ else.”

You scoot over to his side, unfastening your seatbelt as you nuzzle up into the side of his neck, catching the edge of his greying scruff. He tsks at you as he eyes you with your seatbelt off. “Seatbelt on, baby. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

You huff out a response, batting your long eyelashes up at him. “I just wanted to be next to you. Being in the passenger seat was too far away,” you pout.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, putting a strong arm around you as he hugs you into his side. “You’re a handful, you know that?” You giggle out and he just shakes his head. “Guess you can stay right here, can’t say no to my girl.”

You beam up at him, reaching up to leave a sweet kiss against his tanned cheek while you wrap your arm around his hip and nuzzle back into the warm, woodsy scent of his flannel. You still can’t believe you’re going to the beach with your boyfriend, your dad’s best friend, and you can’t even fathom how he fell in love with you in the first place, but you’re so glad he did because you think he’s the love of your life.

Joel stops on the way to Galveston at Buc-ee’s, and the both of you jump out and grab all your favorite snacks for the long ride. The two of you share a bbq sandwich, grab fountain drinks, a bag of Doritos, beef jerky, and numerous bags of candy. When you’re back in the truck and driving down the long highway, you’re back against Joel’s side and leaning your head on his shoulder while you slowly chew on a piece of salted beef jerky.

He leans down and bites off a piece of it which makes your head fall back and laughter flow out the cracked window. Who knew that a simple road trip with your dad’s best friend would be the most exciting thing to happen this year? You never saw it coming, but neither did he. He just made you that happy. You’d be content just sitting by his side, reading a book while he watched a baseball game on tv. It was simple really, you were just that in love with Joel.

He takes another bite and hugs you tight against his side while his fingers slowly trail up and down your outer arm, making tingles flow down your spine. “So, what’d you tell your parents? Reckon your mother gave you a mouthful for leavin’ on the weekend you have family comin’ into town,” Joel says as he keeps one hand on the leather steering wheel, his eyes vigilant on the straight road ahead.

You sigh, leaning your head on his broad shoulder. “Told them I was having a girl’s trip this weekend in Dallas. My mom was pissed, but she’ll get over it.”

He nods his head, tongue sliding over his bottom teeth as he eyes you from the corner of his vision. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quick. Besides, how can she stay mad at a pretty face like yours, hmm?” He cups your chin as his calloused fingers slide against your smooth skin, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on your cheek.

You smile up at him, your cheeks warming from the golden sun and his soft touch. He really is the sweetest guy you know. “Thanks, Joel. You always know how to cheer me up.”

“Always here for ya, baby.” He laces his fingers with yours and brings your hand up to his lips while he lays gentle kisses across your dainty knuckles.

When he releases your hand to focus on driving again, you pick out a sucker wrapped in pink paper and slowly unfold the sweet treat. You pop it into your mouth slowly and savor the cherry flavor on your tongue. Joel watches you lick at the sucker, your tongue sliding along the see through candy, eyes growing dark when he watches you pop it out of your mouth with drool sticking to the top.

He shifts in his seat, eyebrows furrowing together as he smirks your way, a devilish grin spreading across his crooked smile. “That good, huh?” he asks with hooded eyes.

You smile his way, taking your tongue along the smooth edge as you slowly lick at the cherry flavored sucker. “Sooo good,” you hum as you take it further into your mouth, as far as you can without choking yourself.

His jaw clenches, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he drives along, fighting himself from running off the road. “Better stop that now,” he warns, his eyes flickering with dark flecks of temptation as he gazes at you again with little control.

“Stop what?” you ask innocently, giving the sucker another lick as you stare directly into his smoldering eyes.

“Stop fuckin’ teasin’ me. You tryin’ to kill me?” he murmurs as you eye the hardening cock against his jeans. Oh yeah, you were going to have fun with this.

“Not trying to kill you, handsome. Just having some fun,” you tease.

He sighs, raking a hand slowly down his grey threaded scruff. “You’re trouble, sweetheart. A little tease is what you are.”

“Oh, I know,” you giggle.

You lean over and lick your tongue up the side of his neck, tasting the salt of sweat and a hint of mahogany cologne. You taste him.

“Christ,” Joel groans as he grips the steering wheel even harder. “You’re gonna make me pull this truck over if you’re not careful, I mean it,” he warns, his voice thick and gravelly against the pinch of temptation.

“You’re not gonna pull over. You’re gonna keep driving with your eyes on the road while I do this.” You palm him through his jeans, feeling just how hard he is as he groans through his gnashed teeth.

“Now, sweetheart. Jus’ hold on there.” He tries to pry your hand off, but you don’t move an inch.

“Joel, I’ve wanted to do this for years. Please, let me make you feel good. Rather suck on your cock than this lollipop.” You give another innocent lick to the pink sucker and bat your long eyelashes at him, giving him the prettiest smile you can muster up.

He ticks his jaw, eyebrows molding together while he drags a huff out. “Alright, alright. Jus’ don’t go wild. I need to concentrate on the road.”

“Noted,” you wink, watching him grit his teeth together as he watches you slowly unzip his denim jeans, pulling his boxers down while his hard cock springs up and hits his soft tummy.

You revel at how thick and long he is, wrapping a hand around him to slowly slide up and down his shaft, spreading the leaking precum over his entirety. He groans at your slow motions, eyes blowing out as he watches you sink down to his lap while your mouth closes over him.

“Fuckkk,” he groans as you bob your head up and down his shaft, hovering down to where his tip is kissing the back of your throat, making you choke and drool all over his weeping cock. He shifts beneath you, hands cemented to the steering wheel as he fights to keep his eyes on the road instead of at your pretty mouth around his thick length.

You gather your spit and fist him in your hand, moaning while you hear the wet, sticky noises of your fingers working him nice and good up and down repeatedly. You feel your own slick gathering in your panties, an ache you’re desperate to alleviate. You slide your left hand under the lace, circling your throbbing clit while you moan his name, still working him up and down with your hand.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he growls, watching you get yourself off with your own fingers. “If I wasn’t in the middle of the highway, I’d pull this truck over and have you spread across my lap while I finished the job.”

“Yeah?” you whine, fingers curling up inside yourself while your thumb presses down on your pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. Better believe I’m takin’ care of you later. You brought what I asked, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself about to spill inside your denim shorts.

“Attagirl. Gonna get you all nice and wet with my fingers, my tongue. Gonna tie you to the bedpost and give you what you deserve. Gonna make my girl come so hard that we’ll need new sheets before the night is through,” he growls with gritted teeth.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling a white hot sensation flow through your body before your panties are ruined with your release, continuing to stroke him while you come down from the blissful high of an orgasm.

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he praises. You’re absolutely drenched from his dirty words.

You take a minute to come back to the present while your eyes glaze over, feeling his pulsing cock beneath your fingers while you work him up and down slowly. You lean over and glide the tip of your tongue up the underside of his cock where a large vein guides you forward. He groans, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel while you work your magic.

Suddenly, Joel stills beneath you, hearing his phone buzz deep in his pocket. He curses under his breath and reaches one hand in, grabbing up his vibrating phone as his eyes blow wide.

“It’s your father,” he mutters, knitting his eyebrows together as he answers the phone. “Hey, George. What’s up?” he says casually, motioning for you to stop while he talks on the phone.

You still your hand, keeping it wrapped firmly around the base, brushing the end of your nose through his coarse, wiry hairs, breathing him deep as you get intoxicated off his manly musk.

“Beers at your house tonight? Sorry, bud. I’m actually out of town this weekend.”

You hear your dad on the other end sighing, can almost see him rolling his eyes. You know he misses his best friend, but right now he’s a bit tied up with you.

“M’sorry. It was a bit last minute, but I’m goin’ to the lake with Sarah.”

You listen to Joel and your dad carry on the conversation, one hand on the steering wheel tight while he balances the phone on his shoulder. You know he’s trying not to break while he’s on the phone, but you just can’t help yourself.

You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, flicking your tongue in slow circles around his swollen red tip as he hisses through his teeth. He glares at you, but you just smile sweetly up at him as you dive back in.

You take him deep in your mouth, feeling the salty precum slide down your throat as you choke on him again and again. He grabs the back of your hair, letting you work him over, swallowing your own moans with his thick length.

You take him deeper, choking on him while you make the most obscene gagging noises around his cock. “Ahh fuck,” he growls through his teeth as he looks down with blown out black eyes. “Oh, sorry. Jus’ lifted somethin’ a little too heavy for me. Guess I couldn’t quite handle it,” he mutters while his fingers grab your hair harder.

He pushes you down further, rutting his hips up while you choke again and again on his cock, letting him deepthroat you as your drool and spit coat him in wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right. Mhm, feels fuckin’ great at the lake. Not too cold, not too hot, jus’ right,” he grits through his teeth, fisting your locks in his hand as he drags your mouth up and down him, mouth fucking him intensely. You’re nearly drowning in him.

“Mhm. Tuesday. I’m gonna come. On Tuesday, right,” he pants out, teeth gritted together as he pushes your head down hard and blows his load inside your hollowed out cheeks.

You swallow him down, barely able to take all the hot ropes of cum as some leaks out of your mouth. He curses under his breath and hits the back of his head on the headrest, broad chest heaving while you clean him up and lap up all the excess cum and drool on his messy cock. When you’re done cleaning him and his cock is softening, you fold it back into his boxers and pull his jeans back up, zipping them up for Joel.

He takes deep breaths, listening to the last few words your dad tells him on the phone. He seems uninterested in whatever your dad has to say, his eyes only watching you now. They’re glazed over, dark flecks shining in the sunlight as he looks at you with love in his eyes. It makes your heartbeat pick up and kick against your chest.

“Alright, George. Sounds good. Have a good weekend. See ya Tuesday.” He clicks the phone off and shoves it in his pocket while his hand trails back over to you. His eyes find yours, and they look so beautiful in the rays of sunshine that glow through the window.

“You messy, messy girl. Goin’ down on me when I’m tryin’ to drive, when I’m on the phone with your father. You’re such a mess, baby,” he chuckles as he settles a large palm on the top of your head, gently running his fingers softly through your long locks.

“Mhm. I’ve always wanted to do that for you. And now I can say I have,” you giggle.

“Christ. How’d I get so lucky with you, hmm?” he smiles, watching you turn on your side and laying your head in his lap while one of your arms wraps around his thigh.

“The question is how’d I get so lucky with you? I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I finally have you all to myself. Almost doesn’t seem real, you know?”

You hear him hum while his thick fingers curl against your shoulder. “I know what ya mean, sweetheart. It’s real, though. You’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you go. You’re stuck with me, pretty girl.”

“Fine with me, cowboy,” you smile.

He chuckles out, the weight of his laughter echoing through your heart. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“And I love you, Joel Miller.”

He smiles down at you as you situate yourself in his lap, closing your eyes to take a nap. Maybe when you wake up you’ll see the surf and sand of Galveston before your eyes.

After you check into the lavish hotel and place your bags in your suite, you and Joel both throw on your swimsuits and grab some beach towels. You settle into a dark teal bikini, and Joel almost matches you with light blue swim trunks. He looks so good, so broad with his tanned chest almost glistening in the sun, his large muscles flexing every time he moves. He looks like a masterpiece.

Just when you almost get lost in your fantasies in your mind, Joel pulls you right back out. “I’ll race ya to the beach,” he smirks as he pulls open the back sliding door that leads to a winding staircase down to the beach.

“Bet I can beat you,” you giggle as you push him in the shoulder and race past him, barreling down the sturdy steps as you hear him laughing uncontrollably behind you.

“Cheater,” he laughs with a gravelly tone, “pushed right past me.”

You turn your face his way and stick your tongue out playfully. “Come catch me, slow poke,” you giggle. That just makes him sprint faster toward you.

You take off in the warm sand, your heart beating wildly inside your chest as you run toward the blue crashing waves of the ocean. You turn your head back around quickly and scream when you see him right on your heels.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he chuckles. One more step and he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder while you squeak and try to escape.

“Joel, put me down!” you laugh, using every bit of strength in you to break free of his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got you in a tight embrace.

“Ain’t puttin’ you down jus’ yet, baby. Nah, gonna jus’ take ya for a little dip in the water.”

“Joel Miller, put me down this instant!” you squeak as he squeezes the backs of your thighs, taking off into the thick sand.

“Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna do that.”

You hear the crash of waves before you see them, and then he’s throwing you into the salty water while your head gets completely covered in the cold water. You make your way quickly up to the surface and rub the salt out of your eyes, yelling at Joel playfully while he laughs in the near distance.

Once you see him you start splashing him in the face with the cold water, watching his hair get completely soaked with his tousled curls slicked back with big droplets of salt water framing his face. “Now who’s winning!” you shout gleefully.

“Oh, so you wanna be like that? Okay, baby. Two can play at that game.” He starts splashing you right back while you turn your head and avoid the salt water getting in your eyes.

It’s a water fight in the best possible way, you and Joel going back and forth seeing who can make the biggest splash and who can get the most soaked. A fit of giggles leave your mouths while the sunshine warms your dripping shoulders. It goes on for minutes, the playful water fight until Joel comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist.

“C’mere,” he chuckles. He spins you around and pins you to his chest while his lips find yours hungrily. You melt into the kiss, fingers twisting through his dripping curls, him slotting his tongue into your mouth as you taste the salty flavor of the ocean and him.

You squeak when he picks you up, legs wrapping around his hips as one of his hands locks you to him. You rest your forehead on his, your lips curved into a warm smile as you take in the salt water that covers his tanned skin. “Thanks for taking me here, Joel,” you whisper against his mouth.

“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and let him hold you up in the water, keeping your body flush to his chest. You both turn your attention to the horizon, watching the gentle blue waves lap against the water, focusing on the afternoon glow of the sun, the graceful seagulls flying overhead, your own beating heart mixing with Joel’s.

It’s moments like this that you can never take for granted. Being at the beach with your lover, not having to sneak around under the nose of your reluctant father, being at one of your favorite places in Texas. It’s all surreal, almost fictional. You’re one hell of a lucky girl, and you know that. God, you know that.

You rest your head on Joel’s shoulder and feel him kiss the top of your head slowly, his lips grazing against your drenched hair. “This is so peaceful, Joel,” you breathe, sighing into the scruff of his jaw.

“Mhm, it sure is. Haven’t been down here in a while. You know Sarah was jealous, right?”

You giggle and look up at him, catching the sunlight strike his dazzling honey colored eyes. “You told her you were coming here?”

“Yeah. Guess it was a mistake ‘cause she threw a fit, but she got over it. Told her I wanted a little alone time with my girl.”

You smile and nod in understanding. “Glad she took it well.”

“Me too. She kept askin’ when we were gonna tell your folks about us,” he sighs, one hand raking down the curve of his jaw, thick fingers catching water droplets from his greying beard.

You huff and sink back into his chest. “I don’t even want to think about that. I mean eventually we’ll have to, but not today. Not this month, or year. Maybe next year,” you sigh while your nails scratch against the back of his tousled curls.

“Whenever you want, baby. M’not in a rush either. Whenever you feel like the right time is, we’ll tell ‘em together. I’ll be right there by your side, no matter what happens. M’not goin’ anywhere, even if your father hates me after. I’m yours. Always.” He brushes his lips over your cheekbone, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower regions. The man always knew how to get you.

You stay in the cool, salty water just a little longer, going back and forth from floating on your back to being in Joel’s arms. No one else is in the water or on the beach, it’s just you and Joel. Your own island paradise for the weekend.

You bathe in the beauty of it all. The salty air breezing across your hair, sun kissed skin soaking in every bit of ray of sunshine the sky graces you, Joel standing behind you with his lips brushing against your collarbone, his deep hums sending sparks of lightning through your core. You never want to leave this place, never want to leave him. You’ll just stay in the moment for as long as you can.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” He hums as he kisses your neck sweetly, his other hand dancing along the bikini line as his thick fingers play with the teal material by your hip bone.

“Promise me this isn’t just a dream and that I’m not gonna wake up tomorrow with you gone.”

He chuckles behind you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers in his deep, gruff voice you so love. “S’not a dream, baby. It’s real, I’m real. And I can promise you I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You sink your weight into his broad chest, his finger cupping your chin with his calloused fingers. He tips your head backwards and meets your lips with his, letting him soak you in all his sunshine and salty presence while you float off on a cloud into paradise. This is heaven, Joel is heaven. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him.

After half an hour of basking in the beautiful ocean, you decide to get out and lay in the sand for a while. You drag your feet through the damp sand, body relaxed and tired from the ocean water. You spot your towels laid out together, yours pink and Joel’s dark blue. But before you can reach them you feel Joel catch your hips while he envelops you in his warm hold, dragging you down to the sand as his weight topples over you. He pins your wrists to the warm sand while he holds himself over you.

“Got you,” he chuckles, hovering over you with his tousled curls dripping salt water all over your chest.

“Joel!” you laugh as you erupt into a fit of giggles. “Didn’t realize we were still playing.”

“Mmm, found the perfect opportunity to take you down again. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles.

“Silly old man,” you tease.

“Old man, huh? Ain’t old enough to do this,” he laughs, sinking his body against yours while his lips crash into you.

You melt into his lips, your fingers running through his tousled curls that smell of salty water and mahogany, the two mixing together to form a scent you breathe into your lungs and get lost in. His tongue dances with yours, his rough hands gliding against the curve of your hips as he slithers his way between your legs.

You stay like that for minutes just breathing each other in, getting lost in the hungry kisses, the panting breaths that sound in tune with the lapping waves against the shoreline. It all feels like a dream, but this is real, and it’s the most perfect day with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

He nips at your bottom lip, slowly releasing his mouth as he hovers back over you. When you open your eyes, you gasp. The way the warm sun beams down over him makes him look angelic, a bright light surrounding him as you look into those beautiful honey eyes, the dark flecks reflecting off your own. God, he looks so beautiful, so exquisite. You could stare at him every second of every day if you got the chance to.

Your fingers brush over his grey threaded beard, lips parting in awe as you smile up at him. His lips curve into a warm smile that makes your toes curl, and his eyes crinkle down at you while one of his hands grazes against your jawline.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. You know that?” he asks, affection spilling off his Southern drawl while he traces your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.

“You tell me all the time, handsome,” you smile, eliciting a groan from his mouth as you drag your fingers against the scruff of the back of his neck.

“You deserve to be told every single second of every day, sweetheart. And I’ll do that, over and over again. Even if you get tired of it, I’ll keep at it. ‘Cause you deserve the world, so let me give it to you.”

Your mouth drops open, your heart in your throat. You’re so stunned that you can barely say anything but run your fingers through his hair, a wide smile splayed over your face as you gaze into the eyes of the love of your life.

“Joel Miller, never knew you were such a romantic at heart,” you smile, lazing into those crystal clear dark eyes.

“Always been a romantic, baby. Guess I jus’ didn’t have anyone to show it to. But now, there’s you. So let me shower you in it. Got many years to make up for it,” he chuckles.

You drag his face down to yours, pressing your lips flush against his until you sink back into him, reveling in his touch, his kiss, his everything while the sun slowly slips against your ocean kissed skin. You swallow his essence, inviting him in while his tongue swirls feverishly around yours. It’s like you’re in the middle of a cute little romance movie, but this is your reality. This is real.

He drags one of your bikini straps down, slipping his fingers underneath the silky teal top, grazing against the underside of your breast. “Joel, stop,” you groan. “This isn’t a nude beach,” you laugh.

“There ain’t nobody around, darlin’. Jus’ let me do one thing, yeah?” he asks while you silently nod your head in approval.

He drags one of your cups free, burying his face in your chest as he takes the flat of his tongue and gently swirls around your pebbled breast. You groan into the shell of his ear while his other hand lightly feathers against the folds of your already soaked center.

“Joel,” you warn, wrapping your arms around his salt covered neck as he nips up your collarbone. He slips a hand beneath your bikini bottoms and starts to slowly circle your puffy clit, eliciting a moan that falls like a melody against the curve of his ear.

“Yeah? That feel good, darlin’?” he asks, feeling just how drenched you are beneath your bikini. He presses harder against your aching bud, pulling you dangerously close to spilling over him as you feel a cold wave hit the backs of your feet.

“Joel, fuck - you’re gonna make me…”

“Make you come? Go on, gorgeous. Spill for me. Know you want to,” he purrs, his calloused fingers swirling swiftly around your bundle of nerves until you dig your fingers into the scruff of his neck and moan his name intensely while he elicits a long, amazing orgasm from you. Your body jolts at the aftershocks, coming down from your high as cum spills all over your teal bikini.

“Attagirl,” he praises, working you through your orgasm, then slipping his fingers inside his mouth to clean them off properly. He groans at the taste of you, savoring the flavor against his tongue.

He leans back and looks at you, glistening tanned skin and chocolate coated eyes you want to melt in. He’s absolutely stunning. “Joel Miller getting me off on the beach?” you smirk as you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Mhm, couldn’t wait to get back to the room. Had to get a taste and repay you for the favor you did for me in the truck.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but laugh and roll him over into the sand. You climb on top of his chest and drape your arms over his broad shoulders while he brings his large hands up to rub your back softly.

“You’re the best, Miller. Best I ever had,” you smile as you rest your chin on his tanned chest.

“Mmm, think you’re the best, sweetheart. Never met a girl that got me quite like you do. You’re somethin’ else.”

He takes one of his fingertips and traces a heart in the sand, writing out your initials and drawing an arrow through the heart with a lovesick look in those pools of honey. You gawk at him, almost tearing up when you see how mesmerized he looks hovering over your initial, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him.

“There. Now it’s our beach. Jus’ yours and mine, baby. It’s written in the sand,” he lulls warmly.

You smile down at him, placing your hand against the soft scruff of his jaw and turn his face toward yours. You part your lips, almost speechless as words start to fail you. Joel really was a romantic after all. Your perfect, romantic, endearing boyfriend.

“Joel Miller. You amaze me every single day. And God, I’m just so in love with you,” you muse.

“Sweetheart, it’s me that’s so in love with you. Never gonna stop. It’s written in the sand, in the ocean, in the stars even. You’re mine, baby. All mine,” he whispers, staring up at you with the most endearing brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Everything about this moment is magical.

You gaze into the warmth of his honey eyes and play with his tousled curls, running your fingers through the soft locks as you get lost in his gaze. You stay like that another hour, listening to the lapping waves of the ocean, soaking up the warm sun, getting hopelessly lost in his mahogany and salt water scent. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, just like he is with you.

After a while, Joel helps you up off the sand and leads you across the shoreline. He takes your hand in his and guides you through the lapping water, taking in the salty breeze of the sea and the picturesque vision of you and him walking along the coast. It’s so romantic, so very special, and it feels so right. His strong hand in yours, him smiling down at you with those beautiful brown eyes, and his smile that sends you over the edge every single time. It’s all just so breathtaking.

Maybe this was fate after all, maybe you were meant to be on this beach with Joel the whole time. It sure seems like it now. You realize why it never worked with anyone else. It’s because Joel Miller was always the one. You just didn’t know it then, but you do now. He’s the one for you. Your forever.

After you and Joel have showered and thrown on white silky robes, you sit on the balcony and watch the sunset paint the sky purple and amber colors. You lean into Joel on the reclining chair, letting his fingertips trace up and down your arms slowly while his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ask, watching the waves slowly lap against the sand while he murmurs in your ear.

“Mhm, gorgeous.” He grazes his lips against your cheek and whispers sweet words into your ear. “You wanna go back inside? Let me make love to my girl,” he whispers as he trails another kiss over your cheek.

You spin around and smile down at him. “Okay, handsome. What’d you have in mind?” you giggle.

He smirks up at you and chuckles. “You remember when we were watchin’ Scream on Halloween night, and I asked about the whole handcuff thing?”

You raise your eyebrows in question and nod. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, don’t exactly have the handcuffs, but that black silk ribbon I asked you to bring? Gonna use that to tie you to the headboard. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. That what you want?” he asks with a long Southern drawl, eyes darkening as he speaks to you in a deep voice.

You gulp and nod your head. “Okay, daredevil. Take me to bed then,” you whisper into the shell of his ear.

He wastes no time and hauls you up, cradling you in his strong arms as he makes his way through the sliding glass door, closing it with the heel of his foot. “On the bed for me, naked,” he instructs as you fully oblige.

The room is massive, marble countertops and fancy light fixtures filling the room. The room is dim, only a couple of lamps on as the luminescent dark blue walls cover the space. The king sized bed is pristine, white sheets with fluffy pillows covering the top of the bed. The headboard is made of light wood, and a small fireplace crackles underneath the 70 inch flat screen tv in the center of the room.

You slip off your robe, crawling onto the plush bed while Joel watches with wide eyes, grabbing a couple things from your pink suitcase that sits in the corner of the room. His eyes stay locked on yours, especially when you spread your legs wide and show him the sticky mess already building up over your warm core.

He licks his lips, dragging a hand slowly over his mouth while he feasts on your naked body. “Look at you, baby girl. Already so wet and ready for me. Christ, you’re a fuckin’ vision,” he purrs, leaning against the edge of the bed just mesmerized at the perfection that splays in front of him.

You smile, bedroom eyes slipping over his tanned form, and he knows exactly what that means. He crawls over you, pushing your legs further apart with his knees and catching your wrists above your head. “Stay still for me, sweetheart. Gonna tie you up now.”

You stay still, letting him collect your wrists above your head, gently tying the black silk ribbon against the headboard. You almost moan, feeling his thigh brush against your clit as he sits back to assess his work. “You okay? Not too tight?” he asks with concerned brown eyes.

“Feels perfect, Joel,” you smile, giving him a mischievous smirk while your foot hikes his robe up his tanned thigh. “Gonna take that off, Miller?”

He chuckles, untying the belt slowly and then ripping it off his body as it goes crashing to the floor. You gawk at him, watching his cock twitch before you, already hardening as he assesses your bare body before him.

“Look at my man. So handsome, tan, big, all mine,” you giggle.

“Mmm, all yours, gorgeous. Now breathe for me. Wanna try somethin’,” he murmurs with darkening eyes.

You see him spread your thighs more, trailing kisses up your inner thighs and brushing his nose through your folds, dragging it over your sensitive clit and ending in the soft curls above your mound.

He gives you a devilish grin and then licks a long, thick stripe up your core, sending a moan falling from your lips as he drinks in the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl,” he groans, licking the slick from his lips slowly. “Now, for the fun part. Think you’re gonna love this,” he smiles.

He reaches behind his back and grabs the vibrator that was sitting underneath your clothes in your suitcase. He turns the power on, starting it slow as the buzzing noise fills the width of the room. Before he brings it to your center, he hovers it just over your clit as he speaks. “Take a deep breath. Gonna start it slow.”

Your breath falters when he places the end of the vibrator on your clit, pressing down and massaging slow circles across your bundle of nerves. “Fuck, Joel,” you whine, letting him revel in your long, drawn out moans.

“Attagirl, feels good don’t it?” he chuckles, watching the way your lips part and eyes blow wide.

“Yeah, it feels - ohhhhh,” you moan, feeling him slip two digits into your dripping hole, working them nice and slow, curling up into the spongy wall that makes you lose control.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let’s take it up a notch, shall we?” he smirks.

He switches the settings, powering the vibrator to a more intense level that has your legs shaking uncontrollably. He shifts his knee, pinning your thigh down so he can see the spasming movements of your ruined pussy.

His eyes expand into black pits, tongue licking against his bottom lip while he assesses the damage he does to your soaked core. He watches the way the slick runs down his knuckles, fingers fucking deep into your drenched pussy, obscene squelching noises and melodic moans filling the room. He’s never heard anything more beautiful in his entire life.

He presses down harder on your throbbing clit, the buzzing motion of the vibrator making you squirm beneath his calloused fingers. “Joel, I’m so close. I’m so - oh,” you writhe, hearing the wet noises of him fucking your pussy with his thick fingers faster and faster, feeling him coaxing you on each time his fingertips kiss that perfect spongy spot that makes you black out.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises, pressing downward on the vibrator and opening a whole new sensation that makes you form your lips into a wide O, white hot heat sliding down the edge of your spine.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, fusing your eyebrows together and choking on a moan.

“Come for me, beautiful. Make a mess on these fingers,” he coaxes.

One more brush of the vibrator and curl of his thick fingers and you’re gone. You moan his name, twisting your fingers into the silky ribbon as you feel the rush of bliss blow over you. You release for him, spilling all over his fingers, along with another wave of pleasure that overcomes you. You feel yourself squirt, watch yourself coat his broad chest, the scruff of his jaw with the slick that just keeps flowing.

“Oh, Jesus Christ you’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby. There she goes. Jus’ keeps on comin’. Fuckin’ drenchin’ me,” he purrs all mesmerized and hypnotic while he talks you through it.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” he praises, turning the vibrator off while he collects slick against your glistening mound. He slides his fingers from your insides, popping his soaked digits into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you.

“Joel, that was incredible,” you pant, coming back to your body after the intense orgasm washes through you.

“Yeah? Well, I ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart,” he teases, a crooked smile forming over his beautiful face.

“Not yet?” you ask, laughing.

“Not yet,” he confirms with a glint in his blown out eyes.

Your eyes look down, staring at the large erection between his legs. His cock is thick, the head red and swollen while precum leaks down his shaft. You go wide-eyed, licking your lips as you gaze hungrily at him.

“Joel,” you whine.

“What do ya need, baby girl? Use your words.”

You strain against your bindings, panting desperately, trying to show him how badly you need him between your thighs. “Your cock. Need you inside, please,” you beg.

“Don’t gotta beg for me, darlin’. It’s all yours, I’m all yours,” he smiles.

He brings your legs over his shoulders, crawling between your thighs as he stretches you wide, cock gliding against your folds, collecting slick on his angry tip. You groan at the feeling of him, the tingling sensation his cock gives as it slides against your wetness.

“You ready for me?” he asks, brushing over your clit once more as you stifle a moan.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Okay, baby girl. Deep breath for me,” he instructs.

He pushes into you, stretching you wide as his thick cock fills you to the brim. You pant, writhing beneath him while he starts a slow rhythm of going back and forth, his grunts becoming savage like when he talks you through it.

“There ya go, sweetheart. Takin’ me so good, jus’ like you always do,” he grunts out, his large hands caging you against him.

You want so badly to be able to run your hands through his hair, want to scratch your nails down the tanned skin of his back, feel the sweat building on his sculpted skin. Being tied up is hot, and something about not being in control right at this moment is really turning you on, but you also want to just be able to really feel him.

He sees you struggling with your wrists, pulling against the black silk while you pant out his name through every brush of his cock against your tight walls. He stills his thrusts, giving you a concerned look as he takes you in. “You okay, sweetheart? Is it too tight? Too much?” he asks with a soft voice.

“I just… This is really hot, Joel. But I kind of just want my hands free so I can touch you,” you say with glossy eyes.

He chuckles, nodding his head in understanding. “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart. Here, let me jus’ fix this real quick.” His arms go over your head, carefully untying your hands from the polished headboard. He throws the black silk ribbon on the nightstand and situates himself over you again, all while still being inside you. “Better?” he asks, a crooked smile draping over the curve of his mouth.

You throw your arms around his neck and let out a sigh of relief as your fingers scratch up the tousled curls on the back of his neck. “Better,” you smile.

“Now, let me get back to makin’ love to my girl,” he says with eyes that smother over with darkening irises.

He ruts back into you, speeding up his thrusts as his lips come down to meet yours. You part your lips and let him slot in, drowning out your moans with the slide of his tongue as he licks feverishly inside your mouth. You twist your fingers through his sandy colored curls, eliciting a grunt from his lips as your nail beds dig across his scalp.

He moves his lips down to your neck, teeth scraping along your collarbone, sucking against the sensitive areas all while his large palms cup your breasts, pebbling your nipples with every stroke of his calloused thumbs.

“Oh, right there,” you whine, feeling his cock reach that certain spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.

“Yeah, feel good?” he purrs along the shell of your ear, licking his tongue along the edge of it. “How ‘bout this?” he says with a devilish grin, eyes blowing wide with dark black pits.

“Fuck,” you moan, feeling his thumb draw meticulous circles across your swollen clit while his cock kisses the back of your cervix, spreading wet, obscene noises around the glow of the room as his balls slap frantically against your sweaty skin.

You dig your nails into the back of his shoulder blades as Joel folds you like a pancake and ruts deep inside you, his cock drenched in your sticky slick. Your walls squeeze him as you feel the hot heat slide down your spine. You’re so close to spilling.

“Come on, baby. Know you’re close. Want you to come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock. Attagirl,” he praises as he sees your eyebrows thread together, your body quivering beneath him.

He slides his thumb in slow circles over your buzzing clit, cock hitting your spongy wall again and again and again until you can’t hold back any longer. You squeeze his thick cock, moaning his name as white hot heat takes control of your body. You feel yourself start to spill, covering Joel in your blissful orgasm that coats him in your slick.

“Attagirl, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, talking you through your high as your body starts to come down from sweet release.

He pushes your legs further apart, cock working swiftly in and out of your core as he chases his own release. “Oh yeah, fuck me,” he growls, thrusting in and out faster and faster until he’s furrowing his eyebrows together and clenching his jaw, spilling hot ropes of cum inside you till he collapses at your side and pulls you flush to his chest.

You both pant out in exhaustion, sheets soaked from the sweat of skin on skin, bodies tangled together as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and smiles warmly over at you. “Did so good for me, baby. Always do so good,” he praises, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek as you take in the starry flecks of amber brown of his dreamy eyes.

“Thanks for showing me something new. Never knew I could be so into bondage,” you tease, smirking his way with flirtatious eyes he can’t seems to look away from.

“Mmm, we’ll jus’ have to explore those kinks together then, yeah?”

You giggle while you run a hand through his messy curls, taking in this beautiful moment of you and Joel on a weekend getaway together. It feels so natural, so right being here with him. You guess it’s just always felt like this ever since starting this whole thing with him.

After a few minutes of just staring at one another mesmerized, Joel traces his thumb across your bottom lip and smiles gently at you. “You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you when I met you?” he asks quietly.

“What?” you laugh gently, placing your palm over the top of his hand.

“Your eyes. Never saw such beautiful eyes before. And your smile. God, that gorgeous smile. Thought I was seein’ an angel the first time you looked at me.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, the outside waves being muted from the man that lies in front of you. “Joel… that’s so… wow,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Think I was in love before we even started dating, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest with myself, I should’ve known all along. You’re exactly the woman I’ve been lookin’ for. You’re so beautiful and smart and kind. I’m jus’ so… fuck, I jus’ love you a lot.”

Your mouth drops open, a gasp leaving your throat as you stare at him like a lovesick puppy. You’re almost too overwhelmed right now with tears licking the backs of your eyes. “Joel Miller, you sweet, sweet man. I never thought… I only dreamed that this could all be real. I never knew it’d turn into this. But I’m so crazy about you, and I love you so so much.”

His eyes tear up, brown syrupy flecks glistening back at you in the starry moonlight. He looks so happy and so in love that your heart swells like a balloon in your chest. “Thank you again for taking me to Galveston. You’re the best, Miller,” you smile, fingers entwining with his.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’d take you here anytime. Jus’ say the words, I’ll take you anywhere. As long as I get to be with my girl, that’s enough for me,” he smiles.

You pull him in for a long kiss, getting lost in the scent of the ocean breeze and the woodsy scent of his cologne. This may last forever, it may not, but you’re going to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts.

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