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golden-cherry · 8 days

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deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

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A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder.

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh.

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly.

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment.

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes.

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple.

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family.

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins.

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers.

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?"

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second.

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again.

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour."

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot.

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip.

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends.

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good.

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks.

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me."

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news.

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it."

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on.

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods.

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him.

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back.

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear.

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now."

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back.

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.

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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

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Chapter 31 - Rookie of the Year

Last regular chapter! We have the Drive to Survive episode and then the prologue left! I'm not going to say many words because my farewell to this story will come after DTS drops which will be tomorrow night around 8:30 pm CT

The end of To Do is To Dare is scheduled for this Saturday, 11:30 am CT.

I love you all!

“Kid, are those shorts?”

You looked up the phone in your hand up to Max, who was sitting in front of you in the limo. Your eyes flitted back down to your lap, where your dress had ridden up to reveal the basketball shorts that were supposed to be hidden.

You shot him a sheepish grin.

“Quite possibly.”

Max rolled his eyes. “And why are you wearing shorts underneath a 7 thousand dollar dress?”

“If Zendaya can do it, so can I. And besides, I’m taking them off when we get close. I just didn’t want to cross my legs in the car.”

A snort came from Arthur, who sat to your right. To his opposite sat Charles. The four of you were all decked out in clothing that could definitely pay for a high end sports car. The Armani suits were tailored to the two Monegasques. Max’s suit and your dress were from the newest Dior line, thanks to your own ambassadorship with the luxury brand. The heels on your feet costs thousands as well. You didn’t even want to think about how much the jewelry that adorned your wrists, neck, and ears cost.

Arthur leaned over, hand on your thigh. “Well you might want to take them off because we’re about 5 minutes away.”

A pout grew on your lips, but you appropriately slid the basketball shorts off your smooth legs. You definitely didn’t miss the ogling eyes of your boyfriend. You gave him an innocent smile, which made him glare at you.

“You think I’ll get rookie of the year?”

The question made the men groan.

You gawked at them. “What? I don’t know if they’ll do it since I was the only rookie. That’s like giving a first place trophy to the only alone person in a competition. Useless.”

Charles gave you a smile. “What previous awards have you won or records you have broken?”

Your eyes flickered to the ceiling in thought.

“Ok, so I was the youngest European Karting Division Champion in 2010, the youngest Italian Karting Division Champion in 2012, youngest F4 race winner and champion in 2018, youngest F3 race winner and champion in 2019, youngest F2 race winner in 2020. That year I was also Rookie of the Year and got the Jules Bianchi award. And then I was the youngest F2 champion in 2023. This year I was the youngest pole sitter in F1, I had the most points for a rookie year with 333 points, and then the most podiums for a rookie with 15 podium finishes. I equaled Lewis’s record of four wins in a rookie season. And I think that’s it…Why are you three staring at me like that?”

A blush formed on your face as the three men just stared. Max shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re more decorated than I am.”

A roll of your eyes had him arguing. With the jerk of the car, the two of you silenced. Through the heavily tinted windows, you could see the flashes of cameras. You inhaled sharply which caught Arthur’s attention.

“I’ll hold your hand the entire time ok?”

A nod of your head let him know that you’d be fine with that. The moment the door opened, the noise was deafening. People were screaming your name, along with Max, Charles, and Arthur. You flashed the best smile you could as you walked to the building. But a certain car caught your eyes. The familiar navy was beaconing you to go over. You let your hand slip from Arthur as you got closer to your season car.

“Hey buddy,” you whispered as you ran your hand along the carbon fiber body. You could still hear the flashes of the cameras but it didn’t matter to you anymore. You were back with your car that carried you so well during the races.

You leaned closer as if to tell a secret. “I’m still going to buy you so you can come rest with my other cars back home. I’m going to miss you Forum.”

The name was a simple call back to the Formula cars. But, in your mind, you couldn’t just call him Formula, because that would be weird. Max only smiled when you told him the name earlier in the season.

Apparently, the Red Bull cars were men.

You smiled over your shoulder at Arthur who had waited for you. Internally, you were trying to waste time so you didn’t have to sit through long boring speeches. But, the look of mild panic of being late in Arthur’s eyes got you to start moving.

Once inside, you welcomed the air conditioning. Arthur’s fingers found the open slot of your dress on your side. The comfort of the skin to skin contact was very appreciated.

Thankfully, they had decided to put the top three at the same table. Since you and Max were on the same team, and Charles got along with the two of you quite well, they didn’t see a problem with you all sitting together. It definitely made the night less boring.

When Max got up to say his acceptance speech, some tears rolled down your face. It was especially when he got to talking about you.

The Dutchman smiled down at the table, or well, at you.

“I don’t normally do this, but I also have to thank my teammate, Y/n.

“When I heard that she was going to replace Sergio at the beginning of 2024, I was a bit hesitant. I am used to being in a comfortable spot in life, but the world decided to throw a 20-year-old at me and said ‘here you go, have fun’.”

The crowd chuckled at his words, but you tried to laugh through the tears. Max continued.

“The first few races were great. I had to go find her after she borrowed a car, we played football on the Miami beach, and I got to really connect with drivers that I didn’t know I could be close to.”

You saw a bigger smile grow on Charles’s face. You personally knew that the Ferrari driver was more than thankful for Max’s close friendship. It made the season go so much better than in 2022.

“It was in Suzuka that I noticed that my teammate had become part of my family when I was so…scared to lose her. I know I wasn’t the only one that said I wouldn’t have continued to race if she had…”

Max didn’t finish the sentence as he wiped his eyes. Arthur’s hand gripped yours a bit tightly at the reference to your DNF at Suzuka.

The Champion inhaled before he spoke again.

“But what matters is that she was able to finish the season with me in third place. We were able to take home the constructor’s championship with her fastest lap.

“Y/n has meant so much more to me than a regular teammate. And I am thankful that we get to have more years of competitiveness together. I am 100 percent confident when I say that she will be a World Champion.

“Thank you.”

Max walked off stage as the crowds roared at the completion of his speech. You were up next, so you stood from the table and walked over to meet him. He brought you into a big hug and didn’t let go for a bit. You felt him kiss the top of your head before he let you go.

You shakily inhaled as you stood on the edge of the stage.

“And now, please welcome the Rookie of the Year and third place winner of the Driver’s Championship, Y/n L/n!”

Once you heard the clapping, you made your way to the middle of the stage. The man handed you two trophies that were a lot heavier than you thought. You awkwardly grinned as you stood still for pictures.

One the man gave you the signal to start, you bent down slightly to put the trophies down. When you rose back up, you took a deep breath. You gave the crowd a smile before you started to speak.

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone here today. It would be weird to be speaking to an empty room, so the audience is appreciated.”

Laughter came from the crowd, which let you know that you were doing great.

“Next, I’d like to thank my personal team. I wouldn’t be here without my physio, even if I continued to beg her to eat ice cream all the time. To my trainer, I don’t think I’d be able to even turn my steering wheel without him. And then to Vito, my manager. When I say that he is truly the only person who has stayed by myself through the years, it’s him. He didn’t have to stay, but he did. I’d be lost without him and probably driving an uber around cities to make money.”

Your voice gave a little crack at the end, but a chuckle covered it up. You saw Vito smile at you and hold his thumb up.

“Then there’s my found family. I’d like to thank the Leclercs for truly putting time and effort into my career. I can’t count the amount of times on my hand that Pascale sent me some extra food whenever she visited Arthur. I know she’s not here tonight, but she deserves all of my thanks. She truly treated me like her own, even if I wasn’t. She’s been the mother that I never got to have growing up.”

“To Charlie, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to race and compete against my childhood hero. But here we are, with you looking at my backside throughout the season.”

You heard a “hey!” from Charles that made the crowd laugh even louder.

“But, we both know you came out on top despite some difficulties. Thank you for being so kind to me. And thank you for signing all three pairs of my Lightning McQueen Crocs.”

Charles blew you a kiss which you pretended to catch.

“Last and not least of my Leclerc entourage, Arthur. I cannot begin anywhere to ever tell you how thankful I was to be your teammate in Formula 2. You saw a frightened and anxiety-ridden girl, who thought that the 2023 season would be the end of her driving career. But, you took me to dinner after our first meeting, and in the process might have taken my heart as well. I’m glad that it only took me crashing my car in Japan for you to finally confess.”

Once again, you choked a bit. But, you’re pretty sure that everyone in the room did as well. You sniffed as you wiped your eyes.

“But I wouldn’t have it anyway.”

At the table, there wasn’t a dry eye at all. Arthur was wiping at his eyes harshly in frustration. The tears would not stop falling. Even Max was crying and you hadn’t even said anything in his direction. The Dutchman knew that he would be a gonner the moment you said his name.

“To the Red Bull team. Like I’ve said all night, there aren’t any words that could sum up my gratitude. I remember hearing the news that Max was signed at 17 and I only thought, gosh they had balls.”

More laughter from the crowd.

“Charles might be driving for Ferrari, but I have always wanted to drive for the energy drink team. Their famous saying, Red Bull gives you wings, has been entirely true for this season. You took a chance on me and gave me my wings to fly and soar. Thank you Christian for treating me like the dad I never had. I’m excited to be driving for you for many years.”

You changed your card and looked down at the wobbly words due to tears. You looked up, and at that moment, you realized that your eye makeup must have been running. Oh well, who cares.

“And finally, but maybe the most important person of all in this room, other than me of course.”

Soft laughs could be heard despite the sobering moment to come. Everyone had been waiting to see what you would say about Max.

“If there was an award for best teammate, I would give Max the trophy over and over again. I was so nervous to meet him. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, because you don’t just become a three-time world champion’s teammate without doing something right in life. But that happened to me. Almost immediately, I could tell that Max would be a good one.

“The night we met, he took me out to get ice cream and showed me pictures of his cats for hours. At Christmas, he knew that I didn’t have any family to spend it with and all but dragged me back to his home in Monaco. He made sure I knew that I was welcomed and loved.

“Because that is what I admire about Max. Not his career, not his driving, and definitely not his cooking skills. I admire him for his ability to be kind and to love easy. I never had the best childhood, and Max knew nothing about it, but he treated me with such preciosity. He made me feel wanted for maybe the second time in my life.

“My childhood was filled with moments of unwantedness. I was a female going against the best boys and men in the motorsport leagues. I was treated unfairly sometimes, but I was never treated like that with Max.

“So, Maximillian, I can’t thank you enough for making a little girl’s dream come true. I might have won all of these awards tonight, but I only feel like a winner because I am walking away with a group that no family could beat.

“So thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

The amount of applause could not be contained in the room. Even the security guards outside the door could hear the cheers and claps coming from the different personnel in the room. It wasn’t long before everyone was standing for you as you walked down.

However, Max seemed to stand the straightest in pride for you. If it wasn’t for the tear stains on his cheeks, you wouldn’t even know that he had been crying. There was a genuine smile on his face. His arms opened for a hug when you got to the table. You put yourself there as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head rested gently on his shoulder. You felt his lips touch your forehead.

Once the hug was over, you felt another person wrap their hands around. You knew who is was once his lips touched your own. You melted a bit before Arthur leaned back.

“I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you mon bebe.”

A groan left his lips.

“You know what it does when you speak my language.”

A smirk grew on your lips. “Oh I know.”

Arthur only rolled his eyes.

“My rookie of the year.”

Max’s hands landed on your shoulder and Arthur’s. To be honest, you forgot that the rest of the word even existed. Oops.

“Not rookie anymore. Time for the sophomore year!” Max’s voice sounded above the crowd.

You looked up at the Dutchman.

“I’m going to win the championship this year.”

“No you aren’t.”

“You are both wrong. I will be the world champion.”

“Sure Charles, sure.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 wow, I didn't expect to be walking home with three trophies tonight 😚 all jokes aside, thank you to the FIA for naming me Rookie of the Year (even if I was the only one) and then for granting me the first ever Woman of the Year in Motorsports. I'm hoping that in the next few years, others will be able to be bestowed this award like I have been. Thank you everyone! See you in a few months for testing 💙 - rookie out

liked by arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, y/n.nation, and 6,204,957 others

y/n.nation if you look in the back of the fourth picture, you can see me drowning on my tears

arthur_leclerc I am totally fine being the trophy husband

y/n.89 awwww I'm glad that I can have you as the trophy husband

y/nxarthur HUSBAND?

maxverstappen1 HUSBAND??

charles_leclerc HUSBAND?????

y/n.89 I said what I said - haters gonna hate 🤭

box_box_express I cannot WAIT for preseason testing, why do I miss this already?

y/n&co I'm just waiting for the DTS episode, it's going to be so good

y/n4ever her speech tonight, I'm kind of worried for the episode...

lestappenlove oh gosh, Charles and Max looked like such proud older brothers (I don't think I've ever seen either of them cry before)

maxverstappen1 couldn't have done anything without you kid! even if you continue to call me Maximilian in front of thousands and thousands of people

y/n.89 I don't care - you'll always be my maximillian 😆

sophomore_y/n the trophies are so pretty 🥹

formula1_edits I can see all the videos and edits on tik tok forming now - maybe something Harry Styles 🤔

author everything is going to be all right - just like it always is

y/n.89 thank you for making this happen!

author anything for you kid...anything

charles_leclerc CAN I BE WORLD CHAMPION PLEASE?????

formulala_delulu WHY IS IT ENDING??? 😭

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gurugirl · 5 months

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Can We Start Over? | Ch. 1 The Winter Ball

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 1. Summary: You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Word Count: 10k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

The winter ball was something Mr. Spector threw every year for his clients, colleagues, and other wealthy people he wanted to be seen with. This one was like the past three you’d attended, but unlike the others, this would be the last. Your boss, Mr. Spector was retiring, and he was moving to Italy. You were happy for him. Truly. He’d been good to you the past three and half years you spent working for him. You took on the duty of a personal assistant and friend. The friend part came naturally, of course. It wasn’t part of your job description but you honestly really liked Mr. Spector. He wasn’t nice to most people. But to you, he was kind of like the dad you never had. He was hard-nosed but he was fair and somehow you two just clicked.

You worked for one of the most elite household talent staffing companies out there. Your clients usually consisted of, not just wealthy people, but filthy rich and usually the kind that wanted to fly under the radar and needed the utmost discretion. In Mr. Spector’s case, he didn’t want his spiteful children to know how much he was really worth. Sure they were in the will, and they’d certainly do well upon his passing (that was all they seemed to care about), but they’d never see the real number of his assets until it was too late and everything was already doled out according to Mr. Spector’s wishes.

And so you helped him in any way you could to achieve this façade. You found a private accountant for him to move money about and helped him keep the appearance of not having the kind of money he actually did. You suggested, for example, that he not buy the Rolls Royce but that the Mercedes should be sufficient, and that rather than wearing a 31-million-dollar Patek Philippe, diamond-encrusted watch, he go with the more basic, 25-thousand-dollar stainless steel sports model Rolex instead. So he still maintained an air of wealth and prestige because there was no question to anyone that he was super rich. But you just helped him bring it down a notch.

And his winter ball was more like his retirement party this time around. He’d really gone all out. Despite your hesitation with some of his selections, you figured you’d give him this one. And you could admit that helping to plan his parties was one of your favorite tasks. You’d fly to venues all over the world seeking the best (once they’d been narrowed down of course) for him. Find the best chefs and mixologists, the perfect planners and decorators. You got to help select finishings, menus, and staff, right down to the types of linen and even the theme of the events.

And the theme of the night was A Secret Garden in the City. For this, you found a penthouse in Manhattan with full 360-degree views. The space was empty when you first arrived to look at it. You were told it wasn’t a place normally rented for parties but that the owner had intended to make it a fancy restaurant at some point. But it had been sitting for years, empty. And you found the place because Mr. Spector knew everyone. You had a number for a real estate agent to the wealthy in New York City and he gave you a bit of insider information. The penthouse space, he’d told you, could be negotiated by the owner to rent given the right price.

You had landscapers come in and make a garden of the space. Flowers, grass, trees, bushes, vines, even a lily pad pond… when everything was put together, it really did look like you were in a secret garden in the middle of Manhattan. Delicate string lights lit the space, the ceiling was painted a dark sky color so it felt as if you were outside. The table settings were like something out of a Hobbit’s Tale with knotty oak chairs with green silk cushions. The linens were of green satin silk with gold embroidery design and the napkins were gold satin. Centerpieces were potted leafy plants of all types, and moss was placed around the pots to give them that fairyland look. Tiny candles illuminated each table all around. Gold cutlery. Big golden lighted globes hung from the ceiling in various sizes between plants that cascaded down. It really was quite the spectacle.

You were proud of how it all turned out. And the 200 guests that Mr. Spector invited all appeared to be in awe of the space.

The stringed music playing for most of the event in the background was live. The musicians stood to the side of the room on a newly installed platform, trees lined the back of the stage. And now that the night was finally coming to an end, well, the main event had ended, it was time to drink and dance and let loose, the band was switched out for something rockier and more upbeat.

Mr. Spector kissed your cheek and gripped your arm, “My dear, you never cease to astonish me with your hard work. Thank you for this. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

You tried to get him to stay and enjoy the after-party. And like every year before, he declined. He liked his private time. Liked reading and writing and the quiet. He preferred his guests to enjoy what he’d been able to give them. It was, after all, for them, he always said.

“Even though it’s your last event like this? You won’t get this again, sir. Are you sure?” You smiled at him and he nodded. You knew he’d decline to stay.

So, you ordered your second cocktail of the night once Mr. Spector left. Some type of green concoction with a blackberry-sized red flower floating atop. You didn’t know what was in it. All you knew was that it tasted delicious and it was going to get you into some trouble. But maybe that’s what you were looking for that evening. After all, this was your going away party as well. You’d be put back into the system as active again once you were officially out of Mr. Spector’s employ. It would be time to find your next role.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many dancing, some sitting and chatting, others making their rounds to network and schmooze. You stayed at the edge of the dance area and let your body move to the rhythm. You kept your eyes on everyone. Even though you were trying to just enjoy yourself you still felt somewhat responsible for all the attendees. It was ingrained in you.

You definitely fit in with everyone, though. Your outfit was couture, high fashion like the rest of the guests. Mr. Spector had paid for everything for you, as always. You picked out a beautiful cowl neck, deep navy-blue velvet dress with a slit that went up to your mid-thigh. The back draped down tastefully but the drape at the front was dangerously low. Just like you wanted. You had red pumps with gold and ruby jewelry. It was always difficult finding things in your size that weren’t from a big box store but the hunt for the perfect dress and accessories was always worth it. And the dress? You felt absolutely sexy. From head to toe.

The song was swingy and fun. More people covered the dance floor and somehow you’d gotten pushed further in. You still had your drink in hand but now it was nearly empty so you were less worried about spilling any of the liquid on yourself.

A woman you recognized as a small IT business owner greeted you and you both chatted as you danced together. When the song changed Elsie pointed at your drink, “You’re low. So am I,” she lifted her glass to show you, “Should we grab more?”

The answer that night was yes. Yes to anything.

The bar that lined the wall opposite the band had people hovering, waiting for their drinks. You let Elsie take the lead in getting the attention of the bartender. She was a tall, slender blond with smooth shiny hair so you figured she’d do better at getting your drinks faster. And you were used to that. Being the fat one, you tended to get overlooked and ignored. When you were younger it hurt a lot more, but these days you learned to use it to your advantage.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unworthy. You just understood how most people perceived you, even if they were wrong. You were confident when it mattered and took good care of yourself. And you rarely ever mistook a man’s kindness for him flirting with you, which was nice in a way. You couldn’t ever wrap your mind around assuming every guy who was kind to you was flirting. A lot of your friends had that mentality. Any time a man would chat them up they’d automatically jump to thinking they were being sized up somehow. You couldn’t imagine feeling so confident that you thought a man having a conversation with you meant anything more.

So that’s why when the tall, gorgeous man with dark, soft curls, sharp green eyes, and an even sharper jawline leaned in and asked, “Are you having a good time?” You didn’t assume he was flirting with you.

“I definitely am. How about you?” You turned to look up at him. Deep pink lips, broad shoulders, a very expensive suit and shoes, cocky grin.

“Sure. But I had to fly out here to attend last minute. My assistant forgot to add the event to my calendar so I had to settle for this suit and here I am. I’ll deal with her later. Luckily Alfred always throws the biggest and best parties so it’s been worth it.”

You noted the tiny dig to his assistant in the back of your mind and nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Spector loves to go big. It’s turned out great I think.” You had planned on mentioning you were the man of the night’s assistant until Mr. Cocky complained about his own. So you’d keep that little detail to yourself.

He was drinking whisky, neat. And when Elsie finally returned to your spot at the edge of the bar she handed you your tasty green drink and you introduced her.

“Elsie, this is… uh… What was your name?”

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he held his hand out, gaudy rings on most of his fingers toward the pretty blond and she nodded, “Elsie Powers. Nice to meet you.”

The pair got to talking the moment Elsie mentioned her company and so you decided to dip out. You didn’t need to stand around and watch them flirt, which is what you assumed was going on. They were both gorgeous so that seemed natural to you.

But before you could take even a step outside of the little bubble the three of you were in you felt Harry’s hand at your low back as he leaned down to speak into your ear, “Don’t go too far. I was hoping to ask you something.”

You looked down at his arm and back into his eyes, “Okay… I’ll be around. You can come find me.”

When his fingers slid off your back as you stepped away you still felt the heat of his skin where he’d touched you. You liked his touch, but you assumed it happened because you took up so much space. It was more likely, in your mind, that he hadn’t meant to touch you there at all.

After another cocktail and a bit more dancing by yourself, Harry did find you. You didn’t realize it was him at first. You felt a warm body dancing behind you, not touching, just near enough that the heat emanated from him to your back. But then you heard his voice, “Found you. Thought you left.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and spoke, “Was planning on staying til the end. Felt like I deserved to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Harry’s hand brushed along your bare arm softly before he removed it. You felt the trail of where he’d touched your arm and it made you wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

“No reason. I just deserve it,” you kept swaying your hips and you felt Harry moving with you, standing over you. You could smell his cologne.

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room, Y/n.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

“What are you drinking? I’ll go get us another so we can chat a bit before you make any decisions.”

Now this question was one you could actually answer, “The cocktail is one from the menu. Called the Grove.”

Harry got up and left you at the table by yourself. You sat back in the seat and sighed. What were you going to do? He was mouth-watering, which is why you choked on your spit in the first place. Your mouth was literally watering at his proximity on the dance floor. And now he was asking you to go back to his room to hook up. He couldn’t have made it clearer. There was no room for you to misinterpret what he meant.

And why should you say no? Why should you go back to your own room and sleep in that big bed all by yourself? Well, mostly because you were worried about getting attached. Sure you didn’t even know the guy but that’s just how you were. You weren’t built for casual hookups or one-night stands. And you were sure that’s all this would be. Could you handle it? Would you be able to have sex with someone and then move on from it?

When you saw Harry walking back toward you you’d made up your mind. You’d finish your drink and tell him your verdict. You needed one more drink, though. Just to really loosen up. If you were going to do this if you were going to take a risk and have sex with a stranger, one more drink would help you relax about the whole situation.

Harry handed you your cocktail and sat down with his whisky in hand. He brushed his fingers over your arm as he spoke about how he knew Mr. Spector, “His cousin was my boss years ago. Before I got started in my current line of business. And since then, Alfred’s been inviting me to his parties. I can’t usually go but I rarely miss the winter ball.”

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before taking another sip of your verdant drink.

Harry grinned and licked his lips, “Let’s not talk business.”

You frowned and looked down at your red-painted nails. It wasn’t always polite to ask people what they did for a living but you figured given the circumstances, those being that he’d just asked you to have sex with him, it was okay. Clearly, you’d misjudged.

Harry gripped your chin and pushed your head back up to look at him, “Don’t feel bad for asking. You were just curious. I think the less we know of one another the better. Besides, work talk is boring. Don’t you think?”

You blinked again, his intense gaze was really working its way under your skin.

“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.”

Harry shook his head, keeping his hand at your chin, “And don’t say you’re sorry. Wouldn’t you rather talk about anything but work right now?” He let go of your chin and sat back in his chair as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I guess. It’s just that everyone here is networking and I thought it was only natural.”

“You and I are not networking, Y/n.” Harry grinned.

By the time your drink was but a clear puddle of melted ice at the bottom of the glass, you could feel how hot your face was from the alcohol. Your neck and ears were burning and all of Harry’s soft touches were making you fuzzy. The way he was whispering in your ear…

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your room tonight,” you spat out quickly before you could change your mind.

Harry’s gaze lowered to your breasts again, his arrogant grin in place, “I know, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit it. You ready then?”

If he wasn’t so hot you’d have changed your mind at his cocky response. But god was he alluring. And somehow, his egotistical attitude was putting you at ease a bit. Because it would possibly be much easier to not get your feelings mixed up for a guy like him. It could just be a one-night stand. Like so many other people indulged in (which you always found absurd).

You both walked to the coat check to get your things before Harry led you, with his hand at your low back to the elevators.

You draped your wool coat over your shoulders and stood awkwardly in the elevator next to the man you were leaving with. You couldn’t believe yourself. You were 28 years old so it shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it was. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Are you nervous?”

You sighed and nodded as you looked up at the man, “A little. Haven’t ever done anything like this.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I can tell. That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

There was a black car waiting for you at the curb as soon as you exited the building. A man who was standing near the car opened the back door and gestured for you to get in. You followed behind Harry and the door was shut, closing you off from the outside and loud noises of the city to the dark leather interior of the car. Harry’s hand slid up your exposed thigh the moment you’d settled into the seat, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me and you.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Are you always like this? So confident about everything?”

Harry laughed and squeezed at your thigh, “If I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.”

You guessed that made sense. You just found it so strange that he was so sure of himself even when he hardly knew you at all.

You felt Harry’s long, ringed fingers slide upward over your plushy thighs in search of your panties most likely. And when he leaned over you and took your jaw with his free hand and smushed his mouth against yours it felt like crystalized water beginning to melt and drip and pool onto the ground.

He pulled your hand onto his lap and pressed your palm over his crotch, to which you felt as he grew harder and harder as the seconds passed with your lips connected.

When he was satisfied that you would be keeping your hand in place as you pressed down harder he raised his hand to your breast, his palm placed over the soft velvet before he lowered his mouth to your neck causing you to lean back the slightest for his access.

The car ride ended before you even realized you’d been moving through the city streets when the door you were sitting next to opened and the driver looked in at you two all disheveled and mid-kiss with his hand out for you to take.

Harry walked you into the hotel, which happened to be the same one you had a room at (how convenient you thought). The elevator ride up to his room was not unlike the car ride where you’d lost track of time and space when his lips were on yours and his tongue softly swiped at your mouth. You’d never had a man act this way with you before. It almost felt like desperation. Like he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

Guiding you off the elevator and to his room, you felt buzzy and your heart was bouncing around in your chest wildly. His hand was at the back of your neck, his long fingers gently ghosting over your skin.

The moment you were pushed into his room Harry stood over you and began to loosen his tie, “Take your dress off. God, I need to see you.”

You were already worked up as you panted, keeping your eyes on his, slowly unzipping the back of your dress and stepping out. You had forgotten that you were wearing a nude shapewear slip that kept your tummy rolls in place and your breasts pert. The back of the slip was low cut to accommodate your dress. You looked down over yourself and stuck your fingers into the fabric to pull it down and as your breasts were revealed Harry groaned and leaned down to wrap his pink lips over your nipple. You watched his tongue drag over your plump flesh and his fingers dig into your heavy tits as he worked his way around both sides.

You were pressed against the wall as he pinned your arms back and kissed his way up your tits to your neck and then he found your lips.

Finally, he backed away, giving you space to finish the reveal of your body to him as he continued removing his own clothes.

You watched tattoos appear on his skin and the more buttons he undid the more you saw of him. He was strong and muscular. His pecs were impressive and he had a soft six-pack hidden under the fabric that you only saw once he tossed his shirt off. Tattoos on his arms scattered over his skin.

Tugging at your slip to get it off you knew Harry’s eyes were on your body. But you weren’t going to stop now. Even if you were slightly embarrassed. This was happening and you knew he wanted it. Sometimes you worried about the logistics of sex being as heavy as you were, especially when it came to being with a guy who was not at all. But Harry’s build was masculine and broad and he was clearly going to be able to handle you.

When his pants were off and he was down to his underwear you knew he was enjoying the view of all your bits based on the thick lump under the fabric. You were left standing in your silky black panties when he stood over you and smoothed his hands up your arms and palmed over your tits, “Jesus fucking Christ look at you. Get on the bed for me.”

You swallowed and stepped toward the area of the room where the bed was and sat at the edge, watching as he stalked after you. His eyes were dark as he crawled over you and nudged you with him into the middle of the perfectly made bed, soft and luxurious feeling under your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he smoothed his lips against yours as he palmed over your skin down to your thigh, pinching at the fleshy insides as he pushed your legs open, putting his knees down into the mattress to keep you spread with his thighs.

He kept his lips working over yours, his tongue smearing against your tongue wetly as you felt his fingers dip down to your panties and then to the wet patch at your center. You could tell you were wet before he even touched you. He’d turned you on with ease. His voice, his body, his eyes, his confidence…

You felt him smile against your lips when he dredged his fingers up and down over your wet panties, right where your labia was. Soft strokes of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties between your pussylips until he dragged a finger up and found your clit and you gasped. He circled over your clit, pressing the wet fabric into you.

When he lowered himself, using his lips and his tongue down your body as he went he looked up at your face after dotting kisses over your fleshy tummy, “You’re gorgeous and you smell so good. Such a dirty girl, though, aren’t you?” He dabbed more warm kisses down your stomach to just above your panties, “All wet for me like you’re desperate for cock,” he licked along the band of your panties and looked up at you again as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Are you desperate for cock, Y/n? Need me to take care of you tonight?”

You nodded, “Oh my god…” your words came out as a whisper, “Yes, Harry.”

When you felt his tongue glide up your crease over your wet panties your mouth dropped open wide. He was not holding back with the foreplay so far. You were usually disappointed in sex, the few times you’d had it. Foreplay was an afterthought. And only a handful of times did you ever receive any kind of mouth-to-pussy action, which you assumed was due to your size.

But Harry was having no trouble treating you like some kind of irresistible sex pot. He pushed your thighs harder and raked his tongue up and down over you until you’d bucked upward just a bit.

Harry’s fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties, “Taking these off because I need more.”

You felt your panties being moved down your legs then Harry returned with enthusiasm, his lips all over your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his fingers pinching into your flesh before he poked the tip of his wet muscle to your clit and began to lick all around it, lapping you up and teasing you to the point you were shaking and whining, proving him right about how desperate you were.

When he finally stopped his teasing licks he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. You gasped loudly and moaned, to which Harry moaned into your pussy.

His shoulders were against the back of your thighs as he masterfully licked you out and kissed your clit until you were reaching down with one hand to slide your fingers into his thick curls.

And that only seemed to stir something more ravenous in him. He growled when he felt you pulling at his roots and suddenly you felt his fingertips at your entrance before he pushed them in slowly, the metal of his rings being nudged in the slightest. You were in an alternate universe. Somewhere that only existed you and Harry and the bed you were on as you laid spread out for him to pleasure.

He was good with his tongue. He used it over your clit like he understood what you needed, putting pressure where it was vital and then slurping you into his mouth making your entire body quiver in ecstasy. His repeated movements, soft tonguing, pulling at your clit, the bump of his fingers through your walls and into your delicate warmth, the precipice of your orgasm was taunting you.

“Harry!” You yelped when he sucked your clit in especially roughly and his fingers dug in deep making your pussy squelch.

He smiled and lifted his mouth, speaking against your cunt, hot breath coating your labia and clit, “Feels good, Y/n? You gonna let me give you an orgasm?”

You moaned pitifully and nodded to yourself as you scrunched your face when he attached his wet lips back to your clit and curled his fingers just right, “Yes! Oh my god…”

You had never felt anything like it before. Like Harry. And maybe it wasn’t that he was all that good at cunnilingus (he was), but perhaps it was the way he was handling you. The way he was so eager to make you feel good. The way he wasn’t worried about his own throbbing cock between his legs, growing heavier by the minute as he sucked and licked and kissed your cunt.

His focus was on you completely and you felt that. You felt his attention and his devotion to your pleasure before his. And that was what did it for you. It was the care and thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced with any man before and it pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm rolled out of you in waves as you writhed under him and cried curses and nonsense into the room. He held you down with one hand as well as he could so he could lavish you with his mouth until you were done with your unraveling. His fingers stroked your insides as you pulsed around them and felt the tingle of your clit being overwhelmed by his lips. You gasped and laughed at the way he continued ravaging you well past what was necessary.

Releasing his hair you pushed yourself up by your elbows to see his face still between your legs, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much as you had. It might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. But that could have been all those feel-good chemicals being released in your brain post-orgasm.

You pushed at his forehead to indicate you were done, “Okay!” You tried closing your legs but Harry pulled his fingers from your pussy and pressed you down as he licked up and up and up. Until finally he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips still making out with your pussy as you laughed and tried pulling away.

“It’s too much!” You giggled and moved your hips under him.

Finally, he parted from your labia and pushed himself up over you, caging you in as he hovered, “Good?” He raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” You laughed as you spoke.

Harry grinned and you watched him move away from you, pulling his underwear down and exposing his weighty cock, thick and long. Yes. He’d be able to handle you just fine.

He grasped it in his hand and moved next to you. You sat up and reached out to feel him, velvety and warm under your palm before getting to your knees and looking up at him as you lowered your lips to his shaft. You wanted to feel it on your mouth and in your mouth.

Dragging your wetted lips down until you reached the base you gripped him and tongued your way up to his tip and heard a shallow gasp from his chest. Licking around his crown you pulled at his skin and wrapped your lips around just the very tip of his head before slipping your tongue around him and sucking softly.

A beautiful deep moan was music to your ears. He was enjoying it. So you indulgently lowered yourself down a bit more, feeling the width of him take up space inside your mouth and on your tongue. Gentle strokes of your lips over the top part of his shaft and over his swollen head felt good for you. You hadn’t given head in a long time. And you could tell Harry was into it.

He smelled good. Nice and clean and warm. You used your hand to pull at the base of his shaft up to your parted lips as you sucked on him and lapped around his skin.

When Harry’s moans turned into a rhythmic panting you felt his hand at your jaw, nudging you up until your lips were pulled away from his pretty cock, “You are desperate for cock. Sucking me like that? If I didn’t want fuck you so bad I’d let you finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

You shifted back as Harry leaned over you and pressed his mouth against yours, his hand at your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His mouth was wet and smelled like you as he smeared his lips on yours. You moaned when he parted from you and got off the bed.

You could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from the condom as he sorted himself out and then crawled back next to you, taking your hand, “How’s that sound, Y/n? Want my cock inside your soft pussy? Hmm?”

Looking down at his hard length, covered in a condom, and back into his eyes you nodded, “Yeah,” you were breathless.

The grin on Harry’s face as he moved between your legs, his eyes on yours was like someone who’d just gotten the best news they’d heard all day. He thread his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hand down into the mattress near your head.

The front of his strong thighs pushed against the inside of yours as he positioned himself over you. His cock heavy on your belly before he moved back, letting go of your hand to grasp himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to hear how good it makes you feel, okay?” His tip dragged through your wet labia, up and down, “Just lie there like the pretty little thing you are, and let me fuck you deep.”

You nodded as you watched his eyes. He was looking down at where his cock was brushing over your wet and puffy pussylips, his lips parted as he bumped into your clit and then smacked his girth down over you.

The sound of his cock dragging through your arousal made you feel like a different person. No man had ever taken the time to indulge the way Harry was. It was clear by the look on his face that he liked everything he saw and even how soaked you were.

You felt the tip of his broad head nudge into your entrance as he looked at you with dark pupils. He pulled his brows together as he savored the feel of you and gently pushed through the ring of your wet muscle. Just knowing that you were making him feel like that had you moaning with your eyes locked on his.

“Feel that, Y/n?” He slowly dipped in and pulled back, wetting the condom as he went, pushing in deeper on each thrust forward.

“I feel it…” your words came out shaky as his length was forced through your slick walls, spreading your insides apart slowly.

Harry inhaled a breath and let out a deep moan when his cock reached as far as he could take it, “Taking my cock so good,” he pulled back and looked down at the scene between your legs. All wet and puffy, his cock coated in your creamy arousal. He loved the way your pussy gripped him and your labia stretched around his cock, “Gonna be dreaming of this,” he pressed his thumb over the space where his cock was moving into your entrance and then up to your clit to rub circles softly, wet and warm.

“Ohhh…” you whimpered when his thumb pressed into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your entire body was boiling and buzzing as Harry rocked into you, his balls thwacking slowly into your ass.

“Yeah? Tell me how you like it, pretty girl.”

How could you answer this man with his dick lodged so deep in your tummy? How did he expect you to make a coherent sentence with the way his thumb was stroking your clit back and forth? How could your brain form any sort of response when his cock was dragging through your insides and pressing into all your bits, hitting your hidden spots like his shape was made just for you?

“I want it… Mmm… like that…” was all you could bear to squeak out when he smacked into you in one harsh thud.

“Harder? Softer?” His thumb never ceased the yummy caressing of your fleshy pearl.

“Fuck!” You gasped when he smacked into you again, causing your body to jolt upward from the force.

“Like that? Need it a little rougher, Y/n? Need my cock to split you in half?” Again, a harsh thrust into your guts that had you gurgling and falling apart too soon.

“Oh she wants it a little rough, I can tell. Your cute pussy likes a good pounding doesn’t she?”

You held your breath when you felt him angle over you and sink down into you until it hurt. Until his long cock was buried in so deep his balls were tucked against your ass as he ground himself in, “Pussy like this needs a lot of attention. Lots of care…” he moaned when you clenched around him, “Want me to take care of you? Want to feel what my cock can do to this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, please, Harry!” You grasped onto his forearm as he rolled solidly into you, deep and slow, slushy and sopping between your thighs.

“Yeah? Gonna stuff myself so far into you that you can’t breathe. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never want another cock again.”

You moaned and felt his crushing weight over you as he continued grinding his hips against yours but then suddenly he was pulling out and you felt a sting on your thigh when he smacked you, “Get on all fours.”

You were blurry and floaty as you rolled over and pushed yourself up to do as he asked. Your pussy puffy and begging for more of his cock.

His hands gripped the side of your hips tight and you smushed your face down to the mattress before you felt his cock rip into you in one punishing stroke. You cried out and he did it again. And again. His cock pummeled into you repeatedly, punching the air from your lungs and giving your pussy the best fucking of its life.

You did like it hard. A little rough. Nothing wild, just something that you could feel for a couple of days. Something that made you gasp and brace for more.

“Holy fuck…” Harry gritted as he fucked into you, watching his dick disappear repeatedly. Your pretty round bottom bouncing and wiggling at each plunge. He dug his fingers into your ample flesh and spread you out so he could watch as you gripped him exactly like he loved. The little noises you were making had him reeling.

It was his favorite. A beautiful woman with her ass in the air as he railed her deep. But especially when it was a nice big ass. He loved to be able to grip something in his hands. To squeeze and smack. It always felt so much better to have something to hold on to. Not that he didn’t love slender women. He certainly did. But there was nothing like the feminine physique of a woman with meat on her bones, wide hips, a big tummy, and extra bits to touch and run his fingers over. It was fucking sexy.

You could feel him as he worked you open. He buried in deep and then pulled back until his thick tip was being pushed through your entrance again and again. He was long and every inch of him pulled and pushed through your walls, sliding along all your bits and ridges making your skin heat up.

Then you felt his chest against your back and his cock was angled so far inside of you that your eyes nearly crossed, “Love your little gurgles and moans, Y/n. Feels good on my cock?” He rolled into you, keeping himself stuffed to the hilt.

“Yes! Fuck, Harry!” You turned your head to speak so he could hear you and then you felt his lips on your back as he kept rocking into you languidly, never pulling back, only dipping into you, swiveling his hips to ensure you could feel every part of his cock moving through you.

You felt a tear drip from your eye as he reached down for your hand and moved it toward your pussy, “Rub that wet clit, sweet girl. Want to see you quivering under me again.”

The moment your fingertips came into contact with your puffy nub you moaned and all you could feel was Harry’s warmth and his big cock and your clit being worked just how you liked.

He began to rut into you with unforgiving strength. Your body was being smacked into and your skin was beginning to burn where his hips were striking your ass. It felt incredible. It felt like a man who knew what he was doing.

“Yes! Yes!” You shakily cried out. Harry’s long shaft was gliding in and out and you could feel him every time your fingertips moved back the slightest. His heavy cock slipping into your pussy vigorously as you ran your fingers back and forth, up and down on your clit.

Harry put a hand on your low back and settled his thumb into the top of your crack as he watched your cunt swallow him on each thrust. He bit his lip at the gorgeous sight and lowered his other hand to your right cheek, pulling at your flesh to give himself a better look at how you were taking him. How perfect you were for his cock.

When he noticed your moans growing louder and more desperate and then saw your thighs shaking he pounded into you with deliberate, long strokes so you could really feel him inside of you.

And feel him you did. His length filled you up and pulled back, before pressing back in until your world began to spin and your pussy was powerless to your orgasm. You reared yourself back onto his cock and cried out pathetically as Harry breathed heavily and felt your cunt sucking him in and spasming around him.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned and watched more cream coat his cock from your pussy. You were coming hard, lips wide open as you cried out and gasped, and the way you were clenching around his cock felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced during sex. You were fucking sexy.

When your voice lowered and your body stopped quivering Harry halted his movements and ran his hands on your back gently and down to your bum, keeping his cock lodged inside of you, “Creamed all over my cock, Y/n,” swiped his thumb around the area where you two were connected and lifted it to his mouth to taste.

You panted and smiled into the blanket when he suddenly pulled out and popped your bottom with his palm, “On your back. Want to see that pretty face again.”

You were on the verge of being completely wiped out. You knew he hadn’t come yet, though, and you felt like he deserved it with how fucking good he was. Two orgasms already. That was unheard of for you.

Harry helped you situate and he fit himself between your thighs. You looked down at his cock and noted he was right about you creaming all over him. White gobs of your arousal at his shaft and in the thatch of dark, trimmed hair at his base. God his cock was good.

“You feel so good on my cock, Y/n. You know that?” He pressed his tip inside of you, making you drop your mouth open and he gasped. The way he stretched you apart was insane. It felt incredible.

“Fuck… your pussy needs my cock inside of her. Yeah? I could fuck this sweet cunt all day and never get tired of it. Fuck, baby…” he moaned his words as he thrust into you, his hips dragging against you and your clit being pushed into with each plunge.

You took your breasts in your palms and kneaded at them as you watched Harry’s face twist up in rapturous despair. Every roll of his hips was torture for him. His body wanted to come but he had planned on you having one more orgasm. Wanted to feel you squeezing and pulsing around him as he came with you. The decadence of being able to feel your pussy coming around him as he was pouring into you would be bliss.

The edge of his hairline was wet with sweat. You knew he was working hard to give you his cock the way you needed it. His arms were flexing as he held himself up over you, back and thighs clenching and stretching as his muscles exerted, loosening and tightening.

Now there was no slap of skin or the sound of thuds filling the room, it was only hot breaths and gasps and wet pussy being fucked. The occasional distant sound of people moving past his suite on their way to their own.

Deeper and deeper he stuffed himself as he kept his radiant green eyes locked on your face. Your insides were bowing and tensing and vibrating with delight. It was the best you’d ever gotten and his handsome face watching you had your head spinning and your body melting under him. He was too good. The way he was tugging his cock inside of you and stroking your walls and fitting himself deep into your guts like he was trying to reach up into your spine and your lungs under your ribcage… it was going to stick with you for a long time. And he was probably right. You’d be dreaming of his cock. You were sure of it.

His pacing was perfect; smooth, wet thrusts and a satisfying angle that had your whole body resonating with sex and electric crackles like you’d never felt. His undulating hips kissing your clit each time he ground into you.

“Look at your tits jiggling, Y/n. Fucking so hot…” he panted his words like he was out of breath, “Damn baby,” he moaned as he slowed his stride for a moment to collect himself. His balls were already tightening against his body, ready to release too soon.

He leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours and it made your skin and pores and nerves spark and convect. Little by little your pulse accelerated until you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His tongue inside your mouth and his perfect cock inside of your tummy, the smell of him and of you and the soft bed beneath your back- it had you nearly going up in flames.

When he finally began to move again, when he’d steadied his composure so he could last a little longer you gasped into his mouth.

Now his long strokes were thick and stunted, his shaft inching in and in and in until you couldn’t breathe. His nose pressed into yours and his lips moved around your lips, smearing saliva over your warm, plush mouth with his tongue. It was filthy, the way he kissed. Wet, aching. Like he was fucking your lips with his tongue at the same time he was filling your pussy with his cock.

You felt his muscles begin to shake as he parted from your mouth and looked down at you. Blown-out pupils, pink parted lips, and a flushed face. He was about to come and you could see it on his face and in the way he was panting and getting louder with each jerk of his hips. It was delicious.

“You gonna come, baby? Gonna milk my cock with your cunt, squeeze around me, and drain me?”

Grabbing onto his forearms you nodded and feebly whimpered, “Yes… oh my god…”

Harry groaned as he canted his hips sloppily and his thrusts grew erratic as he held back to wait for you to come first.

You’d always heard of the mythical concept of a cock fitting together perfectly with the right pussy and how it could make women come from penetration alone when they’d never been able to before. You’d never experienced it and thought it was just a made-up fantasy. A wild fable.

But you were wrong. Harry’s cock proved you wrong. He was nudging into things inside of you that even your vibrator missed and as shocking as it was to know you were about to come, yet again, you were of no mind to think too much about that because your body was submitting to the way he was handling you and your pussy was already beginning to flutter around him and pulse as you gasped and dropped your mouth wide.

Yes, you were having one of those kinds of orgasms that you could feel from the inside out. That made your ears feel stuffy and your vision go white as you cried out loudly.

Harry choked out a gasp as soon as he felt your walls gripping him and you tossed your head back, moaning his name over and over again like you needed the room to know who was making you fall apart.

Your pussy wrapped around him so perfectly and he looked down from your perfect tits to your face and he lost it. His own cry of your name was loud as he threw his head back and throbbed, releasing into his condom, his come filling the tip full as you milked him with your pulsing orgasm.

Divine. Complete and utter perfection. He hadn’t come so hard in years and the way you responded to him only coaxed him deeper into his own ecstasy.

When his cock stopped pumping and twitching he opened his eyes and looked down at you looking all fucked out and satisfied. Exactly what he had hoped for when he brought you to his room. Better even.

When your gaze finally found his he smiled down at you. He figured it would be nice to have you again in the morning if you were up for it because he certainly didn’t want to have you leave. Not yet. Maybe he’d order room service and you two could talk some more. Maybe another round or perhaps you’d both just crash after that marathon. But he knew he’d want to give you a parting gift in the morning at the very least. One of those soft and lazy morning fucks before kissing you and sending you off so he could catch his flight the following afternoon.

Yeah. That sounded nice to him.

But the sudden sound of his phone buzzing had him turning to look at the nightstand. You’d barely recovered from your scorching orgasm when he rolled off of you and quickly picked up the phone, his back to you, “Hello?”

You inhaled deeply. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that. With a stranger nonetheless.

“No, I’m okay. Just ran to grab the phone is all.” He was panting just enough that whoever was on the line had wondered what he’d been doing. You turned your head to look at him. His back was to you.

“Sure, babe. See you then.”

You sat up quickly. Babe?

Harry stood from the bed and picked up his pants, “I’m sure you can get your clothes on and be on your way quickly. Yeah?”

You instinctively covered your chest with your mouth dropped open, “What?!” Harry paused before putting his shirt on and looked at you with an unamused expression, “I said you need to leave.” He raised his voice a notch as if the reason you asked him what was because you hadn’t heard.

You shook your head and slid off the bed feeling dirty and shameful, reaching to the ground for your discarded dress, “I know what you said. I was surprised that you were… never mind.”

The sudden change in his attitude toward you was a shock. He’d been so attentive and affectionate and now he was cold. Inconsiderate. You struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in his temperament.

Harry walked to the window as you shimmied into your dress and attempted zipping it up, “Fuck…” you mumbled under your dress. The last thing you wanted to do was ask this asshole to help you but really didn’t want to walk out of his room with your dress half unzipped and your ass crack hanging out.

“Can you please help?” You sighed and looked over at him. God, you hated how attractive he was, especially now that he was being so cold to you suddenly.

Harry silently shook his head to himself as he tucked his shirt in and walked toward you as if it were some terrible chore to help you.

“There. Now I really need you to go. Quickly.”

You hadn’t even had the chance to wipe up in the bathroom or pee. You were stunned at his behavior.

You gave him your dirtiest scowl, scooped up your underwear, and grabbed your small purse, stuffing your bra and panties inside. The slip you had to carry in your hands. As you pulled your shoes back on your feet one at a time, Harry was plucking the condom off the floor and looking around the room in a slight panic.

“Fuck you, Harry. This is rude. You didn’t have to treat me like garbage. Not like I was gonna fall for you or something you prick.” When your feet were securely in your shoes Harry walked across the room toward you as you tried to make your way to the door to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at him.

“Can you toss this in the garbage near the elevator for me? Thanks,” he pressed the used condom that was stuffed into a tissue into your hand and you nearly lost it. Nearly fucking karate chopped his ass to the ground and stomped on his face. But then you realized something. He was in a hurry to get you out of his room because he had someone coming up to see him. Someone he wanted to hide the condom from. A lover? Girlfriend? Wife?

Instead of responding verbally you flipped him off and slammed the door behind yourself. But before you walked away from the door you pulled the condom from the tissue and put it over his doorknob, nice and tight. The used rubber was still heavy with his come and you smiled as you dropped the tissue onto the floor and pulled out a cocktail napkin and pen from your purse, pressed your lips into it to leave it lightly stained with your leftover lipstick, and then wrote Thank you, Harry xx. You balanced the napkin right over the condom on the doorknob and then grinned to yourself as you walked down the hallway to the elevator. You sure were glad your room was in the same hotel. When the elevator doors opened a pretty blonde stepped off and rushed past you, headed in the direction of Harry’s room. She barely even glanced your way before you stepped onto the elevator and pressed 2 for your floor.

So maybe it wasn’t a terrible ending to the night after all.

Part 2

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diorsluv · 4 months

Text

feather , part 31

“ i’m gone ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

slightly (ish) suggestive, nothing extremely explicit

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, luca.fantilli, trevorzegras, and 200,997 others

yourusername three fit checks all rolled into one 🤭

and thank you to my photographer mackie because he would cry if i didn’t give him credits

tagged: mackie.samo

view all comments

username77 😧

lhughes_06 holy shit

lhughes_06 wait i didn’t mean to say that

lhughes_06 actually no i said what i said holy shit

lhughes_06 fuck

lhughes_06 goddamn

lhughes_06 you’re so pretty

liked by yourusername

→ yourusername lukey are you sure your girlfriend won’t get jealous 😥

→ lhughes_06 so sure

→ markestapa he’s so gone

→ luca.fantilli we lost him boys 😓😓

→ edwards.73 what a fucking simp

→ _alexturcotte i mean… let’s not act like we’re so much better

→ trevorzegras speak for yourself man i’m not even trying to act _alexturcotte

→ jamie.drysdale z buddy i think you’re forgetting THATS MY FUCKING SISTER

→ mackie.samo yeah my pictures are really doing her justice here

jamie.drysdale be careful when you go out like that make sure to bring your pepper spray and shit

→ yourusername it’s okay my super cool boyfriend is really good at defense

→ jamie.drysdale yeah but is he good at offense 🤨🤨

→ yourusername might be even better than defense 🙈

username63 see i feel like jamie’s whole thread is just them dropping really obvious hints

username2 I WILL LITERALLY DO ANYTHING IF YOU GIVE ME ONE CHANCE

username16 🛐🛐

markestapa so

→ yourusername so?

→ markestapa what will it take to make you break up with him

→ yourusername MARK

→ markestapa IT WAS A JOKE HE TOLD ME TO SAY IT

rutgermcgroarty if i bought you a ring would you marry me

→ yourusername RUT

→ rutgermcgroarty HE PAID ME TO DO IT OKAY

→ yourusername how much was i worth ☹️

→ rutgermcgroarty an undisclosed amount that would result in my immediate banishment if it were to be disclosed

→ rutgermcgroarty but it’s way over what you think (probably)

→ yourusername UHHHH $500

→ rutgermcgroarty still over

→ yourusername wtf is he doing

username75 i just screamed

adamfantilli i know you’re not into younger guys but..

→ yourusername adam babes… 😭😭

→ adamfantilli ARE YOU GIVING ME A CHANCE

→ yourusername i’m not a cheater ❌

→ adamfantilli good

→ yourusername OH MY GOD DID HE ASK YOU TOO

username54 luke is concocting some evil shit

username85 luke fucking scored holy you’re gorgeous

mackie.samo you look very beautiful

→ yourusername be so fucking honest did he ask you to say this too

→ mackie.samo 🤐🤐

→ yourusername HOW MANY OF YOU DID HE ASK

→ edwards.73 me 😥

→ colecaufield me 😑

→ _quinnhughes me 🫢

→ _alexturcotte me 😔

→ lhughes_06 me 🤯

→ dylanduke25 me 😱

→ markestapa me 😬

→ trevorzegras me 🙄

→ rutgermcgroarty me 🫣

→ adamfantilli me 😢

→ jackhughes me 🥰

→ luca.fantilli me 😃

→ jamie.drysdale this is still MY FUCKING SISTER

username35 luke got the whole squad trolling

username11 MY BODY GOALS

jackhughes i love you so much

→ yourusername i love you too (?) 😭

→ jackhughes tú es muy bonita

→ yourusername tú es muy bonito también

username9 wait.. JACK??

username65 JACK ROWDEN HUGHES?????

username98 i’ve fallen in love and i can’t get up

username34 WHAT THE FUCK IT’S JACK?

username27 THIS CAN’T BE

lhughes_06 please just one chance that’s all i ask

→ yourusername i’ll consider 😳

→ markestapa this is very obviously favoritism

→ lhughes_06 bro you’re my biggest opp markestapa

_alexturcotte well now that you know that he asked all of us i have nothing to comment 😕

→ yourusername you know imy turcs 🫶🫶

→ _alexturcotte you should fly over i’ll pay for the flight tickets

→ yourusername free airfare ⁉️

→ _alexturcotte only for you

→ lhughes_06 bro you’re an even bigger opp 😟

username72 i’m flabbergasted but in the best way possible

username90 THE WAIST??

lhughes_06 you know i bet your boyfriend is thanking the lord he’s dating you

→ yourusername lukey you’ve commented like ten times already

→ lhughes_06 can i not appreciate my best friend?

lhughes_06 but i also think he doesn’t even know how he managed to convince you to date someone like him

→ yourusername well i think it’s for the same reason your girlfriend is dating you

→ lhughes_06 which issssss?

→ yourusername because you’re you

→ lhughes_06 so specific

username68 wait this is throwing me off..

lhughes_06 your boyfriend also (probably) thinks that if he ever lost you he would cry and beg for you to come back until you did

→ yourusername oh!

→ lhughes_06 yeah

→ yourusername well he’s done it before when we weren’t even dating so..

→ lhughes_06 oh!!

→ yourusername yeahh

→ luca.fantilli you’re both so fucking weird

→ yourusername he’s my best friend for a reason 🙏🙏

username17 WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ONNNN

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, markestapa, dylanduke25, and 212,168 others

yourusername he’s so pretty when he goes down on me 🥴

view all comments

trevorzegras YO

→ yourusername IT’S. A. SONG. LYRIC.

→ trevorzegras 🤫🧏‍♂️

→ yourusername what if i just decided to push you off a cliff one day

mackie.samo TOUCH TANK?

→ yourusername YOU KNOW IT

→ jamie.drysdale do you just know every song she knows

→ mackie.samo nah nah i jus put her on good music

→ yourusername I LITERALLY SHOWED YOU HALF THE SONGS ON YOUR MOST USED PLAYLIST??

lhughes_06 i know i do, you tell me every time

this comment has been deleted

lhughes_06 😳

→ yourusername 😳

markestapa GOLD SKINNED EAGER BABY

→ yourusername BLUE SHIRT OUT THE LAAAAAAUNDRY

→ _quinnhughes when will you ever stop

→ mackie.samo HE TELLS MEEEE HE’S GENTLE WHEN HE WANTS TO BE

→ dylanduke25 SO I THINK HE WANTS TO BEEE

→ edwards.73 GENTLE WITHHHH MEEEEE

→ yourusername never 😈 _quinnhughes

username15 why are his eyelashes so long

→ yourusername i ask myself that question every day

username7 they’re so in love it hurts me

adamfantilli what type of songs are you listening to

→ yourusername BRO IT’S LITERALLY A POPULAR SONG KINDA

→ adamfantilli sure it is

dylanduke25 interesting!

colecaufield your captions are getting raunchier every time you post

→ yourusername ITS A SONGGG

jamie.drysdale caption 🤨🤨

→ yourusername it’s a song 😔

_alexturcotte HEY WHAT IS THAT CAPTION SUPPOSED TO MEAN

→ yourusername HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO EXPLAINNNN

→ trevorzegras maybe “he’s so pretty when he goes down on me” wasn’t the best lyric to quote then 😐

→ yourusername i mean he is pretty when he goes down on me but that wasn’t my intended message

→ jackhughes HELLO????? yourusername

→ _quinnhughes damn kids these days

→ lhughes_06 bro cannot keep her mouth shut

→ yourusername we’re no longer best friends 🖕 lhughes_06

username44 the amount of times you’ve friendzoned him is unhealthy babe i’m starting to think you’re NOT dating him

→ username35 the evidence is too incriminating

username48 your vague posts infuriate me but i love you

rutgermcgroarty i’m going to projectile vomit all over the place

→ yourusername you’re disgusting

→ rutgermcgroarty YOUR POSTS ARE DISGUSTING

→ yourusername I’M NOT PROJECTILE VOMITING ALL OVER THE PLACE

→ rutgermcgroarty YOU’RE PROJECTILE VOMITING YOUR LOVING BOYRFRIEND ALL OVER THE PLACE

username32 well he has curly hair so it can’t be jack

→ username37 we’re being gaslit into thinking it’s jack when we’ve all known it was luke from the start

edwards.73 he always complains when we touch his hair 😕

→ yourusername it’s because i’m just better

→ edwards.73 HIGHLY debatable

→ yourusername ask the whole gc they all know it’s me 🥱🥱

→ edwards.73 in your dreams

jackhughes what would we do without your constant reminders that you’re dating someone

→ yourusername you would be sad because you would’ve forgotten i was dating someone!

njdevils 💓

→ yourusername WAIT WHAT

→ username24 YO WTF

→ username99 THE DEVILS???

→ username12 well now there’s no denying it it’s luke

elblue6 tell us when you plan to visit the lake house again! 😍

→ username80 ELLEN?

→ username31 yall arent slick 🤨

→ yourusername hii ofc i’ll tell you!! ☺️

→ username24 what is this 😨😨

luca.fantilli what the actual hell is going on and why is your caption the way it is

→ yourusername is your whole life just surrounded around questioning me 😐

→ luca.fantilli yes why????

→ yourusername i swear you can’t go one day without pissing me off

→ luca.fantilli I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING THIS TIME

→ yourusername “this time”

_quinnhughes BRO YOU’RE A CHILD STILL

_quinnhughes and also he’s gone back to his old ways and is whining about not being able to call you

→ yourusername tell him to call me anytime he wants and i’ll always pick up for him

→ _quinnhughes god you two make me sick

→ yourusername i was just being a good gf 😓

→ lhughes_06 yeah let her be a good gf

→ _quinnhughes absolutely sick to my ass

→ trevorzegras i don’t think that’s the saying

→ _quinnhughes shut up zegras

→ yourusername he’s right tho that’s.. not the saying

→ _quinnhughes i’m sick to my stomach which just happens to have fallen in my ass from the amount of times i’ve seen some lovesick post from either of you

username5 quinn’s a professional hater

username43 so tell me why i thought you and luke had been dating this whole time

→ username39 i think we all know why 🫢

username30 touch tank is luke coded.

lhughes_06 you’re pretty when you go down on me too

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next chapter notes ) so this is my 69th post AND I WAS FEELING A LITTLE DEVIOUS.. so this is what the end result is and ngl i was kicking my feet writing this

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys @loveforaugust @cstads-blog @h0e4fictionalme-n

#luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #alex turcotte #cole caufield #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #luca fantilli #adam fantilli #rutger mcgroarty #mackie samoskevich #dylan duke #mark estapa #ethan edwards

386 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 3 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 32: Promises

Joel adjusts to life in Jackson after his brush with death. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-31 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: References to canon-typical violence. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 9.5k

A/N: Hi y'all. If you're still looking at this fic but have skipped the last few chapters because of spoilers, this is a pretty safe chapter to jump back in at. You do need to understand that Joel was nearly killed in an encounter with an unnamed person while on patrol and that someone was looking for him in particular to have the context for this chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to DM me.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

December, 2027

“No.”

“Baby…”

“I said no, Joel.”

You stalked off to another room and Joel could feel your frustration from where he sat on the couch.

He sighed, debating whether or not to follow you or if he should stay where he was and let you cool off.

It wasn’t the first time the two of you had had this discussion over the last six weeks.

Joel had made significant recovery since the incident in November. His leg had mostly healed, though he still walked with a slight limp. But he could breathe deeply without feeling the burning pain of broken ribs now. And the parts of him the doctors had to cut away so he would survive - part of his liver, part of his intestine, one of his kidneys - no longer constantly hurt to the point of occasional agony. Everything was tolerable now, if not necessarily what it was before.

As a result, he was starting to go a little stir crazy. Admittedly, the doctors hadn’t cleared him for anything too strenuous - though he wondered how much of that was your doing versus theirs - but he wanted to start preparing to go back to the life he had in Jackson. One where he felt fulfilled, like he had his place in the community and a way to contribute.

You, however, weren’t too happy with that plan.

Joel sighed and got up from the couch, the muscle in his leg burning as he did. Things still hurt and pulled at first - and he was sure getting on a horse would be uncomfortable at best - but it would pass. Or he’d get used to it.

Either way, he wasn’t content with continuing to sit in his house and rot.

“Sweetheart,” he said, finding you in the kitchen.

You closed the fridge door with too much force, making the jars of canned produce inside rattle.

“No,” you said, adding milk to a cup of tea on the counter. “Find a place to sit, I don’t want you spilling hot tea all over yourself.”

“I’m not a kid,” he said, a little defensive. “I know perfectly well what I’m capable of…”

“No, you don’t,” you said, leveling him with a glare before returning the milk to the fridge and pointing to his spot at the table. “Now sit.”

Joel squared his jaw for a moment before going for the kitchen table - trying to walk with as little a limp as he could manage even though it fucking hurt - and sitting down there. He took a deep breath as you got the mugs of tea and carried them to the table, setting one in front of him and the other in front of the seat he’d come to think of as yours. You settled in beside him, holding the mug with both hands, seemingly determined to not actually look at him.

“We need to talk about it,” he said gently.

“I’m not going to discuss you going out there to get yourself fucking killed, Joel,” you snapped. “I’m not doing it, I’m not going through that again. End of story.”

Joel tried to remind himself that he wouldn’t feel any differently if he were in your position. He couldn’t blame you for it.

You’d been a mess when he woke up. It had just taken him a few minutes to really realize it.

It was like you couldn’t get close enough to him once you were against him, clinging to him as you tried to not disturb him or put any weight on him. But once he got you settled, you fell asleep quickly.

Joel, however, was wide awake. Part of him was afraid to go to sleep again. He didn’t want to not wake up, he wasn’t confident enough that he would. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious but it felt like he’d slept enough for a lifetime.

So he just held onto you. He soaked up the feel of you in his arms, a sensation he thought he’d never have again. He tried to pick through the fog of his mind, remember what had happened before, but it felt so far away, nothing but a haze of blood and hurt before your voice was there. After a while, he left it alone.

But you didn’t sleep the way you normally did. At first, you seemed stiff, like you were still conscious enough to be worried about hurting him. That didn’t last too long. Your whole body relaxed, as limp and pliant as you were when he’d just made you come again and again. But you almost never actually found rest that way. Even with Joel beside you, there was part of you that was always tense and ready to defend yourself. A byproduct, he was sure, of years of torment that could strike at any time. You only slept that way when you were at the point of total exhaustion, when your body physically couldn’t be on guard anymore.

As much as he wanted to talk to you - ask you what happened, how you were feeling, how long he’d been like this - he wanted you to rest more. You needed it, your whole body desperate for it. So when his door opened just as the light in the room shifted to the pink and orange of dawn, his hold on you tightened ever so slightly.

Carol, one of the doctors, didn’t even notice him watching her come in at first, nearly jumping out of her skin when she realized that his eyes were open.

“Joel!” She yelped and you stirred ever so slightly against him. He held you tighter.

“Shhh,” he hushed her before whispering, soft and low. “She needs her rest. Don’t think she’s had much of that lately.”

“But…”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Let ‘er sleep. Can look me over in a bit.”

She rolled her eyes but left all the same and he watched you, lost in you. You’d survived. He remembered being afraid that you wouldn’t but you had, and so had he. He trailed his fingers gently over your exposed skin, marveling at the softness of you, that you loved and trusted him enough to let your softness be this close.

The sun was high when the door opened again, not easing open this time but flying, Ellie tearing into the room in a blur of wild hair and disheveled clothes. The door smacking into the wall made you wake with a jolt and he held you close as he felt that tension shock back into your limbs.

“Joel!” Ellie barreled over to him and he couldn’t help but smile as she skidded to a stop at his bedside as you sat up.

“Hey baby girl.”

“You’re awake,” her voice was thick as she sat down near you at the edge of the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t…”

“Are you OK?” He asked, trying to look her over.

“I’m fine,” she waved him off. “You scared the shit out of me but I’m fine. The doc said I needed to get you to let her look you over? What the fuck, Joel?”

“Joel!” You looked down at him, wide awake now, his head propped up on pillows.

“You needed rest,” he shrugged.

“You needed to be examined by a doctor!” You snapped, unfolding yourself from your place at his side. He tried to hold onto you but you leveled him with a glare. “After everything we did to get you here alive, don’t even start.”

He tried very hard not to laugh.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

He seemed to frustrate you a lot after that. You talked to the doctors more than he did, never leaving his side and listening to everything they said with a hard look on your face. He tried to ask more about what happened to you - he remembered you bleeding and your face was still damaged but healing - but you changed the subject back to him immediately every time.

Joel was ready for things to go back to normal as quickly as he could manage but you were nervous, hesitant. The first time you dared leave him at the clinic, something happened with a horse and Olivia came to get you. It was the third day he was awake and you were gone long enough that he was able to get out of bed and try to walk on his own. He didn’t make it very far, all but falling into a chair near the door after using the wall to haphazardly balance as he went. The chair smacked into the wall and Joel heard scrambling from the hall before Carol threw open the door, her eyes wide and panicky before she saw where Joel had ended up.

“Are you trying to get yourself hurt?” She demanded as she helped him back to bed.

“No,” he said, defensive. “I’m tryin’ to get myself back to normal…”

“Joel, you’re 60 years old…”

“Don’t remind me.”

“…And injuries take time to recover from. You’re not a young man anymore, you can’t push yourself the way you used to.”

“I’m not a young man anymore,” he agreed as she helped lower him to the bed, his body seeming so hulking and large beside hers. “I can’t afford to waste time bein’ useless.”

“Recovery isn’t useless,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re not going to listen to me then you need to listen to that woman of yours, Joel. Take it easy and don’t do things like get up without someone there to help if you need it.”

Carol was nice enough to not tell you about the fact that he got out of bed and walked to the chair, at least. But she had distinctly sided with you in all matters related to his recovery after that, as had Tommy, Ellie, Maria and Savvy.

It didn’t help that there were clearly conversations happening that no one wanted to tell him about. He heard raised voices from the front room of the clinic one day, you and Ellie going back and forth about something he couldn’t quite make out until there was the sharp boom of Tommy’s voice ending the conversation.

“Care to tell me what that was this afternoon?” He asked as you settled into his side to sleep after Ellie and Tommy had gone home for the night.

“Depends on how pissed off you want to be,” you replied, draping your arm gingerly over his chest and settling in with your head on his shoulder.

“Not gonna piss me off,” he said gently. You had shrugged out of the button down of his that you’d worn that day before climbing in bed, stripped down to the tank top below and he could feel your skin so easily like this, his hand skimming over your bared arm. You pressed yourself closer.

“Yes it is,” you said quietly, stretching and kissing his throat before settling at his side again.

“Can’t go the rest of our lives without shit pissin’ me off, baby,” he said gently. “Don’t think I can handle you treatin’ me like glass the whole time, either.”

“I just worry,” you said softly. “I don’t want to do this without you, can’t give you a damn heart attack because Ellie has some scheme…”

“So it’s Ellie that’s causin’ the trouble,” he said.

You groaned.

“Fine,” you said. “Better not get all worked up and just let me handle it. Trust me when I say I have it, Joel, I really do…”

“Baby.”

You sighed again.

“From what Tommy was conscious for and what little you remember,” you said slowly. “The people who… those people. They were after you. Specifically you. And Ellie… she hasn’t taken kindly to that.”

“Alright…”

“She wants to go find them,” you sighed. “She thinks she can handle it…”

“No,” he said, already moving to get up but you held him down.

“Joel.”

“She’s not doin’ that…”

“I know she’s not,” you said, still holding him in place. “I told you, Tommy and I have it handled.”

“I don’t want her to go after them,” Joel said, letting himself relax back into the mattress and your hold on him eased. “Don’t want any of you putting yourself at risk on some damn fool mission…”

“I know.”

“She needs to get that shit outta her head…”

“I know, Joel.”

He sighed.

“This is such a fuckin’ mess. All of it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quietly, nuzzling in closer to him. “All that matters is you’re alive and you’re here. We’ll figure it out.”

You figuring it out, apparently, just meant keeping Joel under lock and key for the foreseeable future. Your jaw was set tight across the table and you fidgeted with your mug, your thumb tapping out a stuttering rhythm on the handle.

“I need to contribute,” Joel said gently. You glared at him. “Sweetheart…”

“You can contribute without leaving Jackson,” you said. “Your value here isn’t limited to going on fucking patrol…”

“It’s a big part of my value, Baby, yeah,” he said. “I don’t got a lot of skills…”

“You were a contractor before,” you snapped. “You think buildings here don’t need to be repaired? That things don’t need to be constructed? Do that, let them take you out of the patrol rotation.”

“I’m not gonna hide,” he said, trying to get you to look at him even as you seemed bound and determined not to. “I want to get back out there, I want to do my part…”

“Your part doesn’t include getting fucking murdered, Joel!”

“I sure hope it doesn’t,” he reached out and took your hand, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I want to be here, with you, for a good, long time, baby. But I can’t… I can’t be something I’m not. And I’m not someone who just lets other people take on all the risk while he sits at home, on his ass…”

“Joel.”

“You say you love me,” he said. You actually met his eyes with that, glassy and wet at the edges.

“Of course I love you,” you said, not as harsh now. “I love you so goddamn much, I can’t lose you, I can’t, do you understand me?”

“I know, Baby,” he reached out, his large hand cupping your face. “And I’m not planning on going anywhere. But I can’t be the man you love by hidin’ away and waitin’ for trouble to come to someone else. I need to be the one to handle it. Me. I need to take care of my own business, need to look after you, need to take care of our girls. I can’t do that here, acting like I’m not capable of doing my part. I’m going back out there, Baby, and I’d like to do it knowin’ that you’ll still be speaking to me when I get back.”

“You don’t get to ask me to watch you hurt yourself,” your voice was thick. “I will not watch you die, Joel. I’m not going to do it and you don’t get to ask me to.”

“I’m not,” he said gently. “But, Sweetheart, if I am gonna go? I’d like to go out as myself. And that means going back out on patrol.”

Your eyes searched his for a moment before you all but collapsed against his shoulder, your arms snaking up around his neck, a sob cracking through you. He put his arms around you, rocking you gently.

Part of him had been waiting for this to happen. Beyond when he caught you off guard when he first woke up, you’d been nothing but strong and stoic. The only time there was a hint of anything else was when the two of you went to bed at night. You clung to him then, Joel swallowing any hint of hurt you accidentally caused when you held him tight. You breathed him in deep, pressed as much skin to him as you could manage. Sometimes, those deep breaths were shaky ones, like you were trying not to cry. He just held onto you, wishing you’d say something - anything - so he’d know how you were feeling. But you didn’t. So he took care of you the best way he could while you were focused on taking care of him.

“It’s alright,” his hand spread wide over your back, keeping a slow and steady rhythm as it ran up and down your spine. Your tears were racking, choking, making your whole body shake. “You’re OK, I’ve got you, s’alright…”

“I can’t,” you sobbed against him. “I can’t, I can’t… you can’t leave me, Joel, you can’t.”

“M’not gonna leave you, Baby,” he said softly. “I promise you. I’ll always come home to you.”

“You can’t know that,” you sniffed, your sobs calming to sniffles. “Seeing you like that…”

“I know,” he said quietly. He’d seen you nearly dead enough times, he knew. He understood it. “I’m sorry, Baby, I’m so sorry…”

“Then why are you insisting on trying to go back out there,” you sat back from him. “If you understood it, you’d stay here with me and with Ellie and Savvy, you wouldn’t do this. Not to yourself, not to me, not to them…”

“I know,” he said again, looking in your eyes, begging you to understand. “But that girl… she took a lot from me, baby. A few organs, more time than I really want. Almost took my future with you and the girls. Not gonna let her take who I am, too. And I need to go back out there. Not gonna just hide in here, afraid, for the rest of my life.”

Your eyes searched his, wide and wet, and then you sighed.

“I have conditions. If you expect me to be OK with this…”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “What are they?”

“You go out with Tommy or me,” you said. “No one else. I don’t trust you out there with Jesse or fucking Gene…”

“They were tryin’ to do the right thing…”

“The right thing was saving you,” you snapped. “You go out with Tommy or with me or not at all.”

“Alright,” he said. “You or Tommy. At least to start.”

You glared at him for a moment but you pressed on.

“You don’t even think about going out until you’re fully cleared by both doctors,” you said. “None of this second opinion bullshit, they’re both on board or you don’t go.”

“I can do that,” he nodded slowly. “You’re being very reasonable, Baby, I’m impressed…”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughed a little and tugged you closer to press a kiss to your temple. You melted into his chest, head nestling against his shoulder so that your nose brushed his neck.

“I promise, I don’t have a death wish,” he said, thumb tracing a path over your arm. “I always want to come home to you. I just need to do this, too.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m just… I’m so scared with you. All the time, I’m so afraid. It’s different than with Savvy, I’ve always been afraid with her. Scared I was gonna drop her or accidentally hurt her or not teach her the right thing or teach her too much. Scared I couldn’t save her. She’s my heart just walking around outside my body, I’m used to being afraid with her. But it’s different than how I feel about you and I just… I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and I don’t know how to live with being afraid of losing that.”

He took a deep breath and held you a little tighter.

“Know the feeling.”

It was just a few days to Christmas and preparations were in full swing. The tree was up in the middle of town, lights lined the buildings, Julie had been hoarding supplies for some kind of holiday cocktail that she claimed was a surprise that you were highly skeptical of. You, Ellie and Savvy had picked a tree for his living room just the week before and set it up, Savvy standing back with a slight frown on her face the whole time.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Joel asked, sitting in an arm chair as he watched you and Ellie decorate. His leg wasn’t quite up for standing that much yet.

“It’s just…” She looked at him for a moment and perched on the arm of the chair before looking back at you. “People really did this before? Put trees in their houses?”

“Yeah,” Joel smiled up at her. “They did. Biggest holiday of the year for a lot of the world, trees inside stores and offices and shit, too.”

She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together as she frowned.

“She never did this with me,” she said quietly. “I read about Christmas in a book once but it didn’t talk about this part and she didn’t talk about it much when I asked and… I don’t get it.”

Joel nodded slowly. Savvy was still warming up to you. She seemed skeptical of your motivations, of your intentions, of everything you said. It was hard to tell how much of it was teenaged cynicism and how much was rooted in her feelings of abandonment. But since you’d all but moved into Joel’s house, she’d been around you more and more and you did your best to let her guide it. He could tell how much it was killing you, though. He knew the feeling well, remembering back to the days when Ellie wouldn’t even look at him. He could tell how badly you wanted to cling to her. He saw how much you wanted her to stay close and tell you everything in the way you hung on her every word, the way you watched the door for a full minute after she left to go back to Ellie’s. But you needed her to be OK with it more. That just didn’t make things any easier.

“What did she tell you?” Joel asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t rise over the Christmas carols you’d put on the stereo.

“Stuff she did with her parents,” she shrugged. “That her brothers would tease her about being bad… None of this stuff.”

“Well,” Joel said slowly. “Think she told you the important stuff.”

She looked at him, skeptical.

“The important stuff ain’t the decorations, it’s the people,” he said. “She couldn’t give you the other things so she told you about your family. Don’t think she was trying to hide anything from you. She shared with you what mattered.”

She nodded slowly and looked toward the tree again until Ellie turned around and called her over to put an ornament on the tree. You bit your lip as you watched her do it, your eyes wide and soft and you hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze when she stepped back to look at her handiwork.

Joel was steadfastly trying to focus on the holiday instead of the tension that had settled over the town since his attack. Patrols had been ramped up, sending people out in small groups instead of pairs. There were growing signs of people present in the wilderness, more xes on trees and remains of fires. Tommy had told Joel - much to your chagrin - that the prevailing theory was they were marking Jackson territory, the signs always found at the edges of where patrols ran. As though someone was watching for where they could seize power. Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for something worse to happen.

But the build up to Christmas seemed to have taken everyone’s minds off the looming threat. Joel was thankful for it. It seemed to have lightened your mood some, too - part of why he decided to bring up the patrol issue yet again.

He didn’t tell you that he was set to see Carol the next day to hopefully get cleared for patrol. And… other activities.

The cruelty of the timing of the attack hadn’t been lost on Joel. He’d just gotten you back, hadn’t even had 12 damn hours with you before he had to leave for patrol and then almost never came back. But he’d lived and, while you’d been close ever since, you weren’t close enough.

He wanted you.

That wasn’t quite right, he always wanted you. He was pretty sure he’d wanted you since the moment he first saw you. He was beyond that now. He needed you so bad he ached with it, his whole fucking body hurt with it sometimes. But you wouldn’t touch him without the doctors saying it was OK. Even though, at this point, he was starting to think it was medically dangerous to be so fucking wanting.

“Are you goin’ to the stables today?” Joel asked, holding you close. You nodded against him. “You think you’ll be done in time for the movie?”

“Definitely,” you said. “Savvy’s never seen a Christmas movie, not missing that.”

He kissed your forehead.

“Been meanin’ to ask you something,” he said.

“Hm.”

“Think you’ll be my date for the dance tomorrow night?” He asked. You pulled back from him and glared, your eyes still red. He smiled a little. “Know I left it to last minute but I’m hoping…”

“Of course I’ll be your date,” you shoved him ever so lightly. “Who else am I gonna go with? Been cooped up here with you for the last month, all my other prospects have given up on me…”

He laughed and kissed you.

“Guess you’ll just have to be my girl, then.”

“Guess so.”

He kissed you again, deeply, firmly. But it was different than so many other kisses he’d shared with you over the past few weeks. There was heat behind it. A twinge of need and want that tasted so familiar on your tongue. You moaned and adjusted so you were closer to him, your body curving, leg hitching up over his so you could press your mound against his thigh. He gripped you tighter, pulled you closer, but you pulled back with a groan.

“Baby,” he breathed but you shook your head.

“Not going to risk hurting you,” you panted.

“Not gonna hurt me…”

“Not sure I trust your judgement,” you gave him a final, chaste, peck on the lips. “I’ll see you tonight, walk over with you and the girls.”

“Have a good day,” he said.

“I will if you take it easy,” you replied, extracting yourself gently from his grip and heading out the door.

He watched you leave and waited for a few minutes to make sure you were gone before he got up, too. It was almost Christmas and there were things he wanted to do.

***

Joel looked far too pleased with himself, his hand on your thigh as you sat beside him at the Tipsy Bison. You had one of Julie’s special cocktails - something she called the Grinch and tasted like mint - and were well on your way to being tipsy for the first time in months.

Savvy and Ellie were sitting with some friends - Dina, Jesse, the boy from school you suspected Savvy had a crush on named Kyle - and looked to be having fun. You hoped Savvy would talk to you about it later. She’d been opening up a little bit more, never fully pulling away like she had for so long. You took what you could get, thankful that she was willing to speak to you at all.

She’d gone with you, Joel and Ellie to the movie the night before. It was Miracle on 34th Street. She seemed to enjoy it, smiling and watching the screen in wonder, soaking it all in. It was bittersweet to see. You’d always wanted to be able to give her these things, the kinds of things you remembered loving as a girl at the holidays. But there was a certain cruelty in it, too. She’d never see a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, never visit a mall Santa. Jackson brought her closer to the life you’d led as a girl but it was still so far away and it was hard, not being able to share it with her.

But Ellie had talked her into spending Christmas Day with you and Joel. You’d damn near kissed her when she told you and you felt a little like you had as a child on Christmas Eve, the greatest gift you could have ever asked for, spending the day with Savvy, Joel and Ellie all together.

But Joel seemed as excited as you were, a small smile tugging at his lips as you sat across from Tommy and Maria.

“Can’t believe it’s Christmas again,” Maria said, taking a drink of his beer. “Swear, time goes by faster and faster every damn year.”

“I’ll take time goin’ faster as long as that means it’s still goin’,” Joel replied.

“Know that’s right,” Tommy shook his head a little, half smile on his face. “We’re all still standing and after the last year, seems like the best I can ask for.”

“Y’all doing anything special for William this year?” You asked, turning your cocktail glass slowly in your fingers. “He’s getting big enough to know what’s going on now.”

“Santa’s planning to make a visit,” Tommy smiled a little. “He’s been pretty good lately, figure that should be rewarded.”

You smiled back, looking toward Savvy. She was facing the boy on the bench next to her and his fingers traced the outside of her knee and she smiled.

The music changed, the strains of the song familiar. Hallelujah. You looked toward Joel and he smiled a little wider, the change so subtle you doubted anyone but you would notice.

“This is hardly a Christmas song.”

“There’s an argument to be made,” he said. “Heard it on the radio sometimes at Christmastime, it counts.”

He took his hand off your thigh and held it out to you. An offering.

“C’mon, baby,” his eyes were hot on you. “Call it an early Christmas present.”

You put your hand in his and let him lead you to the dance floor. You draped your arms over his shoulders, fingers trailing through his hair as he tugged your body close to his.

“See?” He said, tracing your nose with his. “Not so bad.”

“Helps when you’ve got a good partner,” you smiled a little. “How’s that leg of yours doing?”

“Good as new,” he said. “Definitely isn’t gonna keep me from dancing with you, that’s for damn sure.”

You laughed a little before you nestled your head against his chest, sighing contentedly.

“I’m so glad you’re still here to dance with,” you said quietly as you swayed with him. He gave you a gentle squeeze.

“Me too,” he said softly, almost sadly.

“I feel like I wasted so much time,” you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and making your throat tight. You got like this a lot lately, this haze of what almost was hanging over you. “I should have known better and…”

“Hey,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to look in your eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t waste anything. I gave you a lot of shit to work through, more than you ever should have had to deal with. You did what you needed to do, s’not a waste.”

“What if I’d lost you?” You asked softly. “What if I never came over that night, what if…”

“What if a lot of things,” he cut you off. “Doesn’t matter. We got here. That’s the important thing.”

He pulled you back against him and you pressed your ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Gotta ask,” he said, tone lighter after a moment. “Never had any of those fancy dance classes you had. How do I hold up compared to the guys who did?”

You laughed once, burying your face in his chest for a moment.

“Best partner I ever had,” you said.

He chuckled a little, his lips brushing your forehead.

“Good.”

You held him closer, moving with him slowly on the dance floor for a while. You weren’t sure how long. You let yourself get lost in him. The way he swayed in time to a rhythm your body was more in tune with than your mind, the way he felt so warm as he wrapped around you, the way his heart beat and the rise and fall of his chest were constant and stable. The way he was whole in your arms. It was like you could finally relax into that reality, you’d reached a point that you weren’t just scared anymore. He was here, he wasn’t going to fade away to nothing in the night. His heart would keep beating, his chest would keep rising, you wouldn’t need to find a way to do this without him.

“Ready to go?” He asked softly after what felt like a while. “Want to get you home.”

“Yeah,” you said, separating from him enough to look at him. “Let’s go.”

You went and said your goodbyes to Tommy and Maria and Joel stopped by the girls’ table - scaring the shit out of Kyle by the look of it, Kyle’s eyes wide and terrified - before lacing his fingers with yours for the walk home.

“What did you say to them?” You asked, walking close enough to him that you could feel the slight limp he had now.

“Told ‘em to get home at a reasonable time,” he shrugged. “And no boys behind closed doors. Don’t want that Kyle kid gettin’ any ideas…”

You snorted.

“It looked like you threatened to castrate the boy,” you said. “I don’t want anyone taking advantage of Savvy but I don’t want everyone terrified to date her, either.”

“Didn’t get that specific with it,” Joel said, a little defensive. “Just made it clear that someone was watchin’. And that someone was me.”

You smiled and shook your head a little.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. “But… thank you. For taking care of my daughter.”

He looked at you, his face serious as you came to a stop at his front walk.

“Course,” he said. “She’s an amazing kid, Bambi. You did a great job with her. And… might not deserve it but… feels like she’s mine, too. Love her like she’s mine. Hope that’s OK.”

You looked at him for a moment, his eyes soft and warm, the lines of his face familiar landscapes. For a moment, it was as though your heart had broken open with him, cracked down to the center because the love you had for him couldn’t be held there anymore. You pulled him close to you, kissing him soft and deep.

Or it started that way, at least. But his body against yours, the sharpness of your love in your chest, the taste of him on your tongue pushed you into desire. It didn’t take much to spark it - it had been so long since you’d had him - but once it was there, it burned hot and fast, swallowing the reminder that you should keep yourself under control quickly.

“C’mon,” Joel said against your lips, breathless. “Let’s go inside.”

You nodded and followed him inside, using the short walk from the street to his front door as a chance to try to get the want that was flaring inside you under control. It was too soon, it had to be too soon and you weren’t going to risk Joel’s health just because you were aching to have him as close as possible.

Joel pulled you back against him as he he closed the door behind the two of you, tilting your head to give him better access to your mouth, his fingertips sinking into your skin as he gripped you tight. You swallowed a moan and tried to keep yourself from giving in even as you pressed yourself closer to him.

“Joel,” you breathed, pulling your lips from his, his hands still holding you against him. “We… we should stop…”

“Don’t need to,” he said, kissing you gently again.

“Joel…”

“Went to the doctor today,” he kissed over the line of your jaw, following the curve of your bones up to your temple where his lips lingered. “Said there’s a lot I’m allowed to do now. Including everything I want to do to you.”

He trailed kisses down to your neck and you moaned as his lips pressed into the sensitive skin there.

“I’ll beg if I have to,” he whispered. “But I need you, baby. Need to have you close, need to be inside of you.”

“Fuck,” you panted, eyes closed, fighting to focus. “Are…” his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot, kissing and sucking you gently and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. “Jesus… are you… are you sure? I don’t want you gettin’ hurt…”

“I’m sure,” he said softly, finally pulling his lips from your skin to look in your eyes again, your body cradled against his. “Bein’ apart from you has damn near killed me. Need to feel you.”

“Need you, too,” you breathed, caving to your baser instincts. “Please, Joel.”

He kissed you again and you could taste the desperation on his tongue, heat pooling between your hips. He guided you toward the stairs as he shrugged out of his coat and pushed yours off your shoulders and down your arms. He left both in a heap on the floor, keeping his mouth against your own until the two of you were at the base of the stairs. You only separated long enough to go up them, Joel pulling you back against him on the second story landing.

You let him guide you, tried to focus on being gentle with him instead of pulling him to you and pressing him against you the way you wanted.

But you could only resist so long. You tugged at his shirt, pulling at the buttons until you could shove it down his arms and toss it to the floor, too. He did the same with yours, discarding it in the hall before pulling you into his bedroom, nudging the door closed with his foot. It wasn’t long before you were both naked next to his bed, bodies pressed close and tight, his cock thick and hard and weeping against your stomach.

You took control then, turning him in your arms so that he was against the bed. He lowered himself back onto it slowly, his grip on you gentle but secure so you were on his lap, straddling him as you kissed him.

“Really fucking missed you,” he whispered, kissing down your jaw to your neck to your chest. He rocked his hips up against you, his thick shaft nestled against your clit, the motion making you moan. “Goddamn, missed you so much.”

His hands slipped over your skin to your breasts, cupping and cradling them before lavishing his hot, wet mouth over the soft swell of flesh there. He sucked a nipple into his mouth with a needy groan and you couldn’t help but roll your hips against him as he did, your tight, hot center clenching and gripping at nothing, desperate for something to pull deep inside. Joel’s tongue teased the firm nub between his lips, licking and sucking you, making you moan and rock yourself against him on his lap before moving to the other breast, giving you the same treatment there.

“Joel,” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls. He pulled his mouth from your chest to look in your eyes, his gaze soft and hot like starlight.

“Think you can come like this for me?” He asked softly. “Want you to come for me, want you to be so wet and soft inside for me, think you can do that?”

You just nodded and his hands slid around to your back as he buried his face in your throat before going back to your breasts as he rutted his thick, dripping length up against your clit, the silken firmness of him pressing close and tight against your wet heat. You ground your hips down against him, desperate for more, to be as close as you could be to him, his body determinedly angled to keep you from working him into you. There was a tightening ache in you, the burn of need for something that was just out of reach making your head spin and pleasure spool.

“Just gotta come for me,” his voice was hot and needy. “Just come for me, all you gotta do. Just come, just come, please baby, just come, want to feel you come like this, you can give me that, know you can…”

His desperate words were what you needed, the tension in you rising until you felt like you were going to break with wanting before your orgasm hit you hard, a wave of pleasure rolling over you. It was sharp, you hadn’t come in weeks, and you could feel all of it. How your clit throbbed against his cock, how your entranced pulsed and grasped at the root of him, how it seemed like your entire being was trying to pull him into yourself.

“Oh fuck,” he held you tight to him, his cock pressed tight against you, so firm that you could feel him against your pubic bone. “Fuck, just like that. Gonna feel so good inside you baby, gonna be so goddamn good, just get all that come all over me, feel so good drippin’ all over me.”

You dropped your head to his shoulder, body going limp for a moment as your orgasm finished. Joel cradled you to him before going to adjust you on the bed but you stopped him, sitting up again and pressing back on his shoulders.

“Baby,” he groaned but you took his face in your hands and tilted his head so you could kiss him, really kiss him, the kind of kiss that was more hungry and consuming and claiming than anything else.

“Let me,” you whispered when you pulled your lips from his just enough to speak. He let you adjust him then, until he was flat on his back in the middle of the bed, your folded legs bracketing his thighs. You stroked his cock - wet with your come and leaking his own arousal - before rising onto your knees to notch his thick head at your entrance. Joel’s hands went to your thighs, his thumb tracing the scar there, the one from the knife you’d taken to the leg when trying to save him. His eyes were trained on it, his fingertips digging into your flesh more sharply there than your other leg. His eyes traced up your body to the scar at your stomach, just as harsh and red and raw as the one at your leg.

“Not tonight,” you said quietly. His eyes found yours. “It’s not about that tonight.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, his callused hands slid up your thighs to your hips and you eased down onto his hard length. You moaned as you took him into yourself, his thick cock sinking into your soft heat. He felt so good inside of you, your body remembering just how to make him a part of you. It had been weeks but it didn’t matter, he was built into you now, he fit into you the way no one else ever could, filling and stretching you totally. His breaths stuttered as more and more of him entered you, his fingertips clutching onto the soft flesh of your hips and ass harder and harder with every inch of him that worked its way into you. Just as the ridge of his head ghosted against the back wall of your channel, your hips met his and you let yourself adjust for a moment, savoring the feel of him inside you that way.

Joel was panting for breath below you, his eyes tracing over your body again and again as your channel gripped him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he looked in your eyes as he said it. “Most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

You just moaned a little, your hands coming to rest on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers splaying wide over his skin. But you didn’t move otherwise. He felt too good like this, so deep inside you. You almost didn’t want to move, didn’t care if you didn’t make yourself come with him in you. He was deep inside and he was secure there. You could feel how whole and alive he was, the way his cock throbbed, the pulse of him, the comforting heat. Like this, he was yours. Unquestionably, undoubtedly yours and no one could take him away from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his fingers tightened on you. “I… fuck… I need you to move, baby… I can’t keep goin’ like this, I need… I need you to move, need to feel you, please baby, please.”

You didn’t respond. You just started to rise on his cock, moving your hips slow and shaky over him, making him groan. When just his head was left barely inside your entrance, you thrust back down, his cock splitting you open again, his head falling back, mouth open in a desperate gasp.

You rode him like that for a while, you weren’t sure how long. The slow and aching lift, the devastating reclaiming as you took him again and again almost meditative. You watched each other, lost in the feeling of your bodies together, working in tandem to become something more than just yourselves.

Eventually, Joel tugged you closer, tilting you down until he could reach your face, his large palm curving over your jaw, his thumb pressing into your cheek.

“C’mere,” he whispered in the dim light of the moon on the snow outside his window. “Want to feel more of you.”

You folded yourself into him, your bodies aligned, his cock still buried deep but your chest now against his, your lips overing over his own, noses against each other. Even in the night, you could see the different shades of brown in his iris like this, all of them soft and full of love for you.

His hand slid to the small of your back, tilting your hips just so and holding you there as he started thrusting up into you and making you whimper.

“Let me,” he said softly.

You just nodded, letting him gently work himself into you again and again. The strokes were aching and smooth, almost rocking as he moved inside of you. The deep, full press of his thick cock into all the soft parts of you that existed because of him, the brief moment of feeling so full and whole before the tender rhythm he set within you pulled him back again.

“Joel,” you whimpered, so desperate. You weren’t sure you could even say anything else, every other word you’d ever learned reduced down to the only one that mattered in that moment.

“Together,” he said quietly, never breaking his rhythm. “OK baby? Together.”

You just nodded quickly. Your body was getting tighter and tighter and you kept your eyes on his, breathing the same air, feeling the press of his warm, soft skin into yours as your orgasm built alongside his.

“You’re close,” he said. It wasn’t a question and you didn’t need to answer. He could feel you and you could feel him, too. “I’m gonna come, want you to come with me. Going to fill you up so deep, baby, going to feel me so deep and I need to feel you, too.”

His hand that was on your back pressed into you firmer, taking root at the base of your spine and pushing your hips lower so his cock was deeper longer, his hips pressed against your clit with more heat and tension and, for a moment, it felt as though your entire body was on fire with need before the band of pleasure that had been winding tight inside you snapped. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, rushing out from your core and flooding through the rest of your being just as Joel pressed your hips down and flush with his, holding himself deep as he came with a strangled moan. Your channel fluttered around him, rippling and pulling him into you as he pulsed deep inside. You could feel him so clearly against and inside you, every inch of his skin, every throb of his cock, every gasping breath. You kissed him then, bodies connected in every way, until your orgasms eased and you went limp on top of him. Your head nuzzled against the side of his neck and you breathed in the scent of his skin as you came back down to earth, his arms keeping you flush against him as his cock softened inside of you, the combination of his come and yours already dripping out of you.

“Never goin’ that long without you again,” he said softly, his fingers tracing slow and easy abstract patterns over your skin. You hummed in agreement. “I’m gettin’ to be too old to be so deprived.”

You laughed a little.

“Should start being more careful then,” you said, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair.

“Well now that I have the proper motivation…”

You laughed again and closed your eyes. He held you like that for a while, until goosebumps from the winter air started prickling over your skin. He took you more firmly then, slipping his soft cock from the safe, soft warmth of you and slipping you down beside him on the bed. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and you sighed contentedly. He tugged you closer and you happily obliged, your legs tanging with his as he brushed your hair back before holding your face gently in his large hand. You just smiled a little, eyes on his. He smiled back, just enough that his cheek dimpled.

“You’re still feeling OK?” You asked quietly after a few minutes.

He laughed lightly.

“Whole lot better than OK,” he replied. “I’m amazing. Always amazing when I’m with you.”

You smiled a little wider.

“You know,” he said slowly. “I had a lot of time to think when I thought I was about to die.”

Your smile shifted to a frown but his didn’t, not really. His gaze was just soft, gentle. Like he was trying to leave himself as open as he could to take as much of you in as possible.

“I remember more of that than anything that actually happened in that room. Didn’t have much in the way of regrets,” he continued. “Had you to thank for most of that. Ellie and I had made things right, I was thankful for that. I was thankful you’d come back to me, even if it was just for a night. Thankful I got to tell you I loved you one last time…”

“Joel,” you whispered. His thumb stroked your cheek.

“I saw Sarah,” he said quietly. Your eyes went wide but you stayed silent. “When I was unconscious, I saw her. She was someplace good, somewhere that was bright and warm like her. And there was part of me that wanted to stay with her, take care of her and make sure she was OK. But… most of me wanted to come back here and be with you and the girls. And Sarah… she told me that it wasn’t my time yet. Told me I still had things to do here, that I needed to take care of you and Ellie and Savvy and I just… I knew she was right. I felt it, more than I’d felt so many other things, I felt that. I belong here, next to you. I don’t want to have any regrets when it comes to you but right now… well, I got one big one.”

“What?” You asked quietly, your heart beating faster.

“That I almost died before having the chance to live as your husband,” he said. Your breath caught. “But you saved me, gave me a chance to do it right. And I don’t think I deserve to ask you for a damn thing but I’m hopin’ you’ll let me, anyway. Will you give me that chance? Will you be my wife, will you marry me?”

Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear your blood in your ears. You reached out, hand trembling, and cupped his cheek.

“Of course I will,” you said softly, voice thick and wet. Joel smiled, tears glistening in his eyes, and he kissed you, gentle and deep and lovely, a kiss empty of expectation and full of promise.

When you separated, you just looked at him for a moment, taking him in, the man who would be your husband. The whole concept made you laugh, the sound bubbling up in you.

He just smiled.

“What, baby?”

“I just…” you paused, still laughing a little. “It’s the end of the world, how do you even get married now? Not like there’s a courthouse…”

“Well,” he said, rolling away from you for a moment and reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. You propped yourself up on your elbow and frowned, watching as he rolled back with a small wooden box in his hand. “Figure since the paperwork part don’t exist anymore, we can do it whatever way you want to but…” he opened the box. Inside was two rings, both dark metal, one band slender, the other thick. “Thought I’d make sure this part was covered.”

“Oh Joel,” you sat up all the way, letting the blanket pool around your hips. You took the smaller ring from the box and held it up, looking at it up close. “Where did you find these?”

“Made ‘em,” he said, sitting up, too. “They’re from one of Ares’ old horseshoes. Figured it was only appropriate…”

“They’re perfect,” you breathed, turning it over in your fingers for a moment before looking at him. “Could we… I mean, I know it’s fast but… would you be OK if we just did it now?”

“Did what?”

“Got married,” you said, watching him. “I understand if you want to wait or want the girls there but…”

“How do you want to do it?” He cut you off.

You smiled a little.

“How about we just make promises to each other.”

He smiled back.

“I like it,” he took his ring out and set the box aside. He held it out toward you and you took it before putting your ring in his palm. The two of you faced each other, blankets in your laps, knees brushing under the covers.

He took a deep breath.

“I promise I’ll love you with every part of me,” he said. “And I promise I’ll keep lovin’ you until there’s none of me left.”

“I promise to love you every second of the rest of my life,” you replied. “And every second of whatever comes after, too.”

“I promise to protect you,” he said. “Promise to never let anything hurt you.”

“I promise to take care of you,” you said. “And look out for you and protect you because where you go, I go.”

“I promise to love your girl like she’s my own,” he continued. “And I promise to take care of her and do everything I can to make sure she’s safe and happy.”

“I promise to love Ellie like you do,” you said. “I promise to help guide her and protect her and give her the life she deserves to have.”

You looked at each other for a moment, tears in your eyes, before Joel gently took your left hand in his.

“Think they used to say ‘with this ring, I thee wed,’ or something like that,” he said, thumb tracing your knuckles.

“That sounds right,” you smiled a little.

“Alright then,” he said, lining the ring up with your finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

He slipped it into place. It fit perfectly, settling at the base of your finger with a soothing sense of finality. Joel lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed you there, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before releasing you. You held his ring tight in your palm for a second, warming the metal, before taking Joel’s left hand. You lined the ring up with his finger and took a deep breath before looking him in the eye.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

You slipped it into place, lacing your fingers with his once it settled where it belonged. You smiled, looking down and seeing his ring on your finger before looking back at him again.

“Think I get to kiss the bride now,” he said.

You laughed.

“I think so, too.”

He pulled you against him gently and kissed you all soft and deep, his lips holding every promise he’d made to you and, for the first time since the end of the world, you knew what it was to feel secure.

Next Chapter

A/N: ❤️

And that's all I have to say about that.

And that there's a lot more story to come. We're not quite to the end yet, I promise.

Thank you for being here and for reading. Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic

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staryingx · 8 months

Text

Piecing together: The current timeline in Reverse 1999

CN SPOILERS up to Chapter 5 and Interlude. Long post.

The new Chapter 5 and Interlude for Reverse 1999 has shed some light on the Storm and its timeline. With all the new info, I've tried to piece it together as accurately as possible. Here's the timeline I have put together:

Let me break down my findings.

First of all, let's look at the IDM Computer with 37's Mother's prediction.

37 mentions "From 1999 to 2007, the emanation has taken place seven times". Here's how I interpret what the years mean in the Phenomenal column. It's like calling the effect of the Storm: for the first row, the 1996 Storm reverses the era 1999 to 1996. So the "1996 Storm".

The IDM only shows 6 Storms, so the 7th is the Storm that reversed to 1929. I wonder why she didn't include the 8th Storm (1929->1913), but that could be because it was the anomaly 2-day emanation that ruined the model prediction.

Here's a table I have made attempting to fill in the blanks of the IDM computer.

Let's analyze it Storm by Storm.

The 1st Storm (1999 -> 1996)

When: 23:59. December 31, 1999

Reverses to: 1996

Many sources for this, from the IDM showing 1996 to Greta, the writer of the letters in the interlude, mentioning it in her letters.

The 2nd Storm (1996 -> 1985) [Original: 2000]

When: 1996-1997.

Logs don't explicitly say when, but from the IDM we know it takes place ~1 year after the first Storm.

Reverses to: 1985.

We know this from Greta.

"Things remained unclear until time was reversed again. This time, we all witnessed that rain in the 80s. That was 1985."

She was safe in the Headquarters, witnessing the Storm reverse.

The 3rd Storm (1987 -> 1976) [Original: 2003]

When: On a 27th evening, 1987.

Greta: "The Storm in 1987 was predicted. "…but the prediction was not accomplished by LAPLACE. The captive from Manus Vindictae names the precise date of that Storm."

In Chapter 3, we learn the Foundation captured a Manus Vindictae member who gave them the date of the next Storm. Greta also mentions a captive from Manus predicted it.

Thus, this is the Storm that took place in the breakaway incident, where Vertin was 12-years old and witnessed the Storm for the first time.

Reverses to: 1976

Greta: "Finally, I made up my mind to write to [37's mother]... ... ... She died. On the same day, the first and only timekeeper who just took office, the 12-year-old child returned alone from the Storm. She told us the time in the outside world at that point." "...The last two digits in the number of the year after that Storm were exactly her name and her number: 77".

This was a bit hard to understand. I concluded the year it reversed to was 1976, as Greta said "the year after the Storm" was 77.

Original Year: 2003

Two years has passed from the 2nd Storm (1985) as this Storm took place in 1987. This fits with the year 2003 in the IDM computer. Also, when Sophia talks to Sonetto at the geometry graveyard:

Sophia: "Four years ago, my father was restored to a geometric body on his way back to the island. So was 37's mother who was also on that ship".

We know (or can at least assume) 77 is 37's mother who perished in this Storm. The current time is 2007, so four years ago is 2003.

The 4th Storm (~1976 -> 1930s) [Original: 2004]

When: 1976~1977/78

Reverses to: Some year in the 1930s

Original year: 2004

37: "In the initial four years, the emanation [Storm] has a pattern. First it brought us back to the 90s, then the 80s, and then the 70s. After that it suddenly leapt to the 30s."

When is the initial 4 years? 1999-2003, and this fits with our current pattern thus far from 90s -> 80s -> 70s. So the 4th Storm takes us to the 30s.

Sophia: "We miscalculated the impact area of the emanation. We thought the ships would be safe in the [...] current."

This confirms the Storm has a limited area it affects, where places hit by the Storm reverses to that particular year. The timeline of R1999 isn't going backwards linearly. This opens a lot of possibilities and eras we could visit.

The 5th Storm (~1930s-> 1912s) [Original: 2006]

When: Sometime in the 1930s

Reverses to: 1912

Original: 2006

37: ".... After that it suddenly leapt to the 30s. In the subsequent 3 years, [the emanation] took place twice."

When are the three years? The Storm that took us to the 30s was 2004. So the subsequent 3 years 37 refers to are: 2005, 2006, 2007.

The IDM jumps from 2004 to 2006. You can (very vaguely) make out "1912" from the year 2006. At least I think it's 1912. So the 5th Storm takes us from the 30s to 1912.

The 6th Storm (~1912s-> 1966s) [Original: 2007]

Here's where it gets interesting, and where I start to theorize things because there isn't much info yet about this Storm.

When: Theorized: 1912~1914

Reverses to: 1966

Original year: 2007

In 2007, there is a 6th Storm. This is likely the Storm before the beginning of R1999, which takes us to 1966 where Vertin meets Regulus.

Here's why I think this Storm fits with the IDM model and happens in 1912~1914, more possibly 1914.

In Chapter 1, Vertin lists down people she has met to Regulus.

Regulus: "Huh? It's Lewis. I know him!" Vertin: "Yes. I took this photo several days ago. He was selling the Hoover Upright Vacuum Cleaners in the West End, and thought photos would help his business, so he gladly took this." Regulus: "Why did you take a photo of him? How's he..."

Vertin's response is to take a deep breath.

This interaction was very interesting. Why is Regulus so surprised Vertin took a picture of Lewis? "How's he..." How's he what? Alive?

Now I'm not very familiar with historical figures named Lewis, so I could be very (and hilariously) wrong, but after researching who could be related to a business involving Hoover Upright Vacuum Cleaners, I speculate Lewis is John Spedan Lewis. His father, John Lewis, founded John Lewis, a British brand of high-end department stores.

In 1914, John Lewis hands Spedan Lewis control of a store named Peter Jones. Where is Peter Jones located? Sloane Square, London, which is in King's Road.

Vertin: "Yes. I took this photo several days ago."

This fits with the London location and timeline we know so far. So a few days before Vertin met Regulus, she was in an area of 1914s where she met Spedan Lewis trying to get his store [Peter Jones] going.

Judging from her reaction, he got reversed by the Storm that took them to 1966. Spedan Lewis died in 1963, which is why Regulus is confused why Vertin has a picture of him taken several days ago, and why a wealthy Founder of high-end luxury stores needs a photo taken to help his business.

I thought this was a nice clue that Vertin was in ~1912s era before the 1966s, though this is all just speculation. Feel free to add your own theories who Lewis could be.

The 7th Storm (~1966s-> 1929s) [Original: 2007]

When: June 3rd, 1966.

Reverses to: February 14th, 1929.

Takes place in Chapter 0, where Vertin and Sonetto meets Regulus.

The 8th Storm (~1929s-> 1913s) [Original: 2007]

When: February 15th, 1929.

Reverses to: 1913

Takes place in Chapter 2, where Vertin meets Schneider, Druvis, and Sotheby. Manus Vindictae escalates the Great Depression to cause an earlier Storm. This era only lasts for two days.

These two Storms are straightforward since we witnessed them in game. I won't go into details about them. We're still in the year 2007 according to 37.

The Current Year in Ch 5: 1914 [2007]

Chapter 4 takes place from August 26th to October 10th 1913. The new Chapter 5 begins in 1914.

Eight storms have taken place thus far. Here's a summary with the timeline for reference:

1st Storm (1999 -> 1996)

2nd Storm (1996 -> 1985) [Original: 2000]

3rd Storm (1987 -> 1976) [Original: 2003]

4th Storm (~1976 -> 1930s) [Original: 2004]

5th Storm (~1930s -> 1912s) [Original: 2006]

6th Storm (~1912s -> 1966s) [Original: 2007]

7th Storm (~1966s -> 1929s) [Original: 2007]

8th Storm (~1929s -> 1913s) [Original: 2007]

The Current Year in Chapter 5: 1914 [2007]

Random thoughts:

I hope this post helped paint a clearer picture of the Storms and the possible timeline! Cause, whew, the reason I made this whole timeline was to make sense of it myself. So much lore was dropped in the new chapter.

A question that remains unanswered:

How do people predict the Storm? How can they tell the time in the outside world?

Moissan: "Since Timekeeper hasn't reported the time of this era to the Foundation, you two, as the Foundation investigators, shouldn't know what year this is."

We know 37's group predict them through patterns and math, but what about the Manus Vindictae and Vertin? Vertin just seems to... innately know through her pocket watch and Storm countdown timer on her bracer, perhaps related to her great sense of arcanum. I'm really curious about that.

Biggest Takeaways:

The Storm isn't going backwards linearly and it has a limited impact area. So that means some places not hit by the Storm remains untouched, while others get reversed to whatever era the Storm brings. The first Storm probably had the widest impact.

This means an era in the 1912, for example, could be "reversed" to 1966 if it was hit by the 1966 Storm. That's what I'm getting from all of this. Anyone in the Storm impact area just... poofs, and arcanists/humans in that time era spontaneously appear with the buildings and such. I really love this idea-story wise we could jump around eras.

Then we have places that are completely immune like the Headquarters, Suitcase, and 37's island. They are the only ones who can consistently keep track of time as they're unaffected like spectators viewing the outside world. For the Foundation, Vertin is their way of tracking time in eras: what era did a Storm reverse a place to.

Again, some of these are just speculations and my theories. If you noticed any information I missed out or a mistake, feel free to let me know whether through tags, reply, or even my asks if you're shy. Or if you would just like to talk theories or about Reverse 1999 I'm more than happy to :>

#reverse 1999 #r1999 #timeline analysis #reverse1999 #cn spoilers

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ckret2 · 5 months

Text

Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!

The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:

It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.

####

Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."

"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"

"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."

"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.

Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"

Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.

"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.

"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."

"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"

"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."

Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."

"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.

Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"

"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."

Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"

Bill blinked. "Who?"

"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."

Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."

"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."

"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"

"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.

Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.

Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"

"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"

Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"

Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.

Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."

"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.

"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.

Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.

The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.

"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."

"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.

"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.

But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."

Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.

Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.

"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."

Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"

Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"

Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"

The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"

Mabel asked, "Have we...?"

Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"

Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."

"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"

Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"

Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.

"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.

"Donations?"

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.

Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."

Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"

Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."

"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"

Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.

"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"

"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.

"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."

"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."

"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"

Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"

Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"

Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"

"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"

"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"

Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.

Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"

"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.

Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."

"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.

"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.

He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."

Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.

Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.

Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"

Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"

"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"

"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"

"English class, I know."

Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."

Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.

"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"

"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."

"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"

Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"

Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"

"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade probably didn't hurt, did it."

Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"

"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"

Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.

"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"

Dipper regretted this conversation completely.

"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"

Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"

A pause. "I think I need help!"

"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.

The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.

A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.

Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"

"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."

Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."

"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".

Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."

Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"

"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."

Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.

"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.

"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.

Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.

By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.

And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."

Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.

They shut the door.

"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."

Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"

"Please."

They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"

"Hm?"

"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"

Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"

####

A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"

"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"

"Uh—yeah, why—?"

"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"

Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"

A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"

Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"

"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."

Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"

"Eh, I'm not picky."

"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"

Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"

Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."

"Hey."

Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.

"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."

As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"

"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."

Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"

The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"

"Nope!"

Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.

"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."

"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.

Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.

Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"

"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.

Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.

She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."

"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.

Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."

"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."

Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."

"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."

Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."

Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."

"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."

"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"

"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"When?"

Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"

Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"

"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"

"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."

"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.

The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.

Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.

Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—

The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.

Or. Or.

He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.

As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.

Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.

####

He made seven small children cry.

####

Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.

He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."

"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."

"Good for her!"

Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"

"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."

Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."

"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."

"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."

"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."

They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."

Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."

Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"

####

During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."

"And...?"

"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."

"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."

Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."

"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."

"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."

And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.

####

Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."

"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"

"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."

Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"

"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."

Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...

Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.

Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.

Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.

Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.

But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"

"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.

Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"

A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"

Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.

Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"

"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."

Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"

"Why?"

"I wanna talk!"

"No."

"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."

Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.

"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"

Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.

Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"

Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"

Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"

Ford Frowned.

"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"

Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.

Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"

Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."

Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.

Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."

"I heard 'we like you'!"

"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."

Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."

"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."

Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.

"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.

Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.

"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."

"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."

"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"

Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."

Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."

He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.

"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"

Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"

"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."

"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"

"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"

Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."

"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"

Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"

She was doing what? "No. Why?"

"She's so nice."

"You just said that."

"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."

Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.

Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.

He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."

"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."

Ford gingerly shut the window.

Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."

"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"

"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."

"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."

"You know what I mean."

Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.

He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.

He stared into the dark after it.

A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.

But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.

Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.

The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.

Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."

"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."

"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.

"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."

Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.

But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.

(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)

Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.

Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"

"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"

"Huh." Well. That made his night.

"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."

"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.

"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"

Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"

"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"

Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."

Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"

The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.

####

Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.

Bill was nauseous.

He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor.

Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.

But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.

When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say.

(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)

(No. Of course it was an accident.)

He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.

He missed home.

####

(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)

#(tbh that's the best Mabel & Dipper I've ever drawn)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #dipper pines #(for both the art & fic)#grunkle ford #grunkle stan #(for just the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher

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staytinyville · 7 months

Text

OUTLAW (31)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none (There will be no masterlist in the next chapter. Read bottom note for more info)

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz).

You felt odd watching yourself in the mirror. You could remember putting on your mother’s wedding dress as a child and giggling to yourself about your dream husband. You had always thought you would find someone perfect to spend the rest of your life with. However, getting into your teens, you found yourself disliking the boys around you more than not.

You had watched your classmates get married and start their own families, while you stayed to work in the hotel. You didn’t regret that part of your life. The regret was for not allowing yourself to find more things outside your own family. But now you have the boys in front of you, holding their hands out for you to take and lead you towards where you deserve to be.

“I never thought I would see the day you would get to wear this dress.” You turned around, facing your mother who was smiling brightly, eyes glassy.

“Did you have no hope for me to get married?” You laughed, feeling your breath get caught in your throat.

You knew where this entire thing was heading, but that still didn’t make it any less emotional. You were going to leave your childhood home and follow your path–alone.

“I thought (S/N) would get married before you.” She laughed. “But that's not the case here.” She pressed her lips together, looking down to the floor. “(Y/N), are you sure this is what you want? I know you're only doing this because of us sending you away, but we won't do that anymore-” She told you.

“Mom, I want to do this.” You stopped her. “More than anything. If this is where I have to go, then I'm more than happy to take it.”

She might have not known what it was you were feeling over the whole ordeal, but she could tell this was where you had your mind set to. And when you had your thoughts in order and knew what you were going to, you were going to see it through. She had been the one who gave birth to you and held you in her womb. She was going to make sure you had everything you wanted.

“Let's get going then.” She took your hands, pulling you along to walk out the house.

(S/N) was beaming at the door, holding onto a parasol. Her shoulders raised as she tried her hardest not to cry. You could feel your eyes start to sting, but you tried not to let it get to you. You took the parasol, picking up your skirts to walk out the front door.

Your brother was helping your littlest one fix his shoes while your father watched over them. When they heard you all step out, they quickly turned. Your dad sucked in a breath, as you came out into the sunlight.

“Dad.” You bowed your head at him.

“(Y/N), you look just as beautiful as your mother had when we got married.” You watched as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Thank you.” You whispered out.

“I'm sorry.” He cried, sobbing as he pulled you into a hug. “I'm-I'm so sorry I said those things to you. Please forgive me. I can't allow you to leave thinking I meant those horrible things.” His grip tightened as his tears began to stain the dress.

You patted him on the back, hugging him as well.” I know.” You spoke, pushing him back lightly. “Even if I am leaving, you're still my dad and I will always love you. You gave me everything I could've asked for.”

With everyone drying off their tears, you were all led to the wagon. Your family made their way towards the city hall, where you would sign the marriage certificate in front of the judge. Your hands become sweaty inside your lace gloves, fingers clenching and unclenching in fists.

Your throat suddenly became dry the moment you saw a group of people waiting outside the city hall. They were laughing loudly, shoving at Yeosang who stood in the middle of them all. A smile quickly found itself on your face, tears building up in your eyes once more, when you took in how handsome they all looked in their nice suits.

Your father helped you down from the wagon, holding onto your hand. As you dropped onto the ground the boys all stopped to stare at you. You turned around to find why they had all gone quiet, blushing when you realized they had their attention on you.

With a deep breath, you walked up to them. They, too, began to blush, which prompted them to tease one another. Their laughs brought joy to your very being, which made you giddy. You looked over at Yeosang who gave you a soft smile.

“You look stunning.” He told you. You giggled to hide your blush.

“I've only known you for a few months, but I know you're a nice boy.” Your father came up behind you, patting Yeosang on the back. “Please take care of my, (Y/N).”

“With my life.” Yeosang answered, keeping his eyes on you.

You took a glance at the others, catching sight of the same smile they all shared. You knew they were all thinking the same thing. It was obvious how much this meant to all of them, even if you were technically only marrying Yeosang.

You noticed how your parents looked at the seven other boys oddly, but didn’t question it as they noticed how Yeosang was speaking with them. It was clear that they had known each other. Your parents walked in first, followed by your siblings.

“You look absolutely gorgeous.” Wooyoung grinned, as he passed you.

“Wish it was me.” Seonghwa teased, giving your chin a flick.

“Good luck.” Yunho laughed, patting your head.

“Yeosang isn’t the worst of us.” Jongho rolled his eyes, following behind Yunho.

“I’ve never been this close to other people in a long while.” Mingi fidgeted with the clothes you had given both him and Hongjoong to blend in.

“You look dashing.” San patted Mingi, pushing him into the building.

“This is going to be the rest of your life. It’s not too late to walk out.” Hongjoong had his hands inside his pockets. “We won’t make you.”

You turned as Yeosang walked up next to you, taking your hand in his. The others were watching from the door, waiting for the rest of you. Your lips slowly grew as you looked over all of them.

“I think I’m good with that.” You gave Yeosang a squeeze of his hand.

The ceremony itself wasn’t anything overly extravagant. The town Judge, Thomas Quiad, reverend and handed you two a feathered pen to sign the certificate. Your hand was shaking, but you managed to get a legible signature down. Yeosang was no better than you.

As he pulled up from the table, he turned back to you. You wanted to laugh at the smile he had. It was official.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Quaid gave you a smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

Your eyes went wide, which prompted Yeosang to laugh out loud. But he softly leaned down, giving you a simple kiss. Things were much different this time around. You had an audience, which made you shy. Even if you had already kissed half of them, you were still getting used to it all.

As Yeosang pulled back, the others began to cheer loudly. You blushed deeply again, laughing. Yeosang chuckled, holding up your intertwined hands. The both of you began to walk towards everyone, the group making their way outside to allow room for others.

“How about you all come to dinner with us?” Your mother smiled, looking at all the boys. “We'd love to meet all of Yeosang's-”

“Brothers.” You told her. “They are brothers.”

She looked at you with raised eyebrows but nodded anyway. “Of course.” Your mother bowed her head.

The boys looked at one another bashfully, shaking their head at the idea of a meal cooked by someone else that wasn’t them. So that was where you found them all sitting around your family table. They had to bring in other chairs seeing as there was only 6 at the table and 8 of them, but they made it work.

They were so polite, complimenting your parents on what they had done. Your mother blushed with how they kept telling her she had made amazing food. Wooyoung and Seonghwa even asked for the recipe. Your father laughed along with them as well as they expressed their thoughts on something around the house.

Things felt so right with how everything was going.

“I didn’t know you were friends with the officers.” Your father spoke to Yeosang.

“Yes, Seonghwa and I became good friends with them while working in the hotel.” He answered.

“So, how did you all meet? If you don’t mind me asking.” Your father asked, turning to the other boys.

“Not at all.” Hongjoong answered.

You turned to him as well, listening in to what he had to say. You had already known some of their backstory, but it wasn’t enough to say you knew them. It might seem stupid to get involved with them when you didn’t know everything, but that’s how you made friends. Someone doesn’t start with knowing everything.

“We met when we were teens. We all have had our troubles, but we came together because we all shared a love for music.” Hongjoong explained.

“Music?” Your mother spoke up. “I would have never guessed.”

“We don’t exactly look like we would have studied it. Do we?” Yunho got a laugh from your family.

“No offense.” Your father added.

“None taken.” Hongjoong waved him off. “It's just something we all look towards for inspiration and motivation to keep going.”

“Do you all live together?” Your mother looked between all of them.

“Yes, we have a home in Aurora, but we are traveling in the meantime.” Wooyoung grinned, bouncing your brother in his lap. “We met (Y/N) and decided to stay for a bit longer.”

“Yeosang met (Y/N).” San quickly spoke up.

“He forced us to stay.” Seonghwa laughed.

“Oh, so you will be leaving again?” You looked over to your parents, seeing their worried expression on you.

You hadn’t thought about that aspect. At least not to where they were going to take you to their actual home in Aurora. You thought you were just going to be exploring or the likes. Even causing some trouble here and there. But to actually live with them in the place they have shared since they were teens?

“Ah, that’s up to Yeosang.” Hongjoong gave the man a look.

“I have all my family in Aurora.” Yeosang spoke up. “I don’t want to take your daughter from you, but I would like for her to meet them one day.”

“Of course!” Your mother nodded her head. “I’m sure any parent would like to meet the person their child is marrying.”

You silently thought to yourself about meeting Yeosang’s parents. It seemed as though he had left his family on bad terms from what he told you a while back. You didn’t want to assume you would be meeting them at one point–maybe he had told your family that for them to not worry about where they would be taking you.

Looking over at the rest of the boys, you began to wonder what their family was like. None of them spoke about their parents or even siblings, so sometimes you wondered if they even had them. You figured they did with how well-mannered they were. Someone had to teach them.

But you figured with how much they spent together, their family was each other. There was no need to be born from the same person, all they needed was the love they had for one another. You began to smile as you thought about the rest of your life with them. You wanted to have what they did. And hopefully you can now.

Series Masterlist

UPDATE. Due to the nature of the next chapter there will be no taglist. Scheduled Update will be November 2 at 6:00 PM (CST)

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongi1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

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completeoveranalysis · 4 months

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[2]

I love the little magic swirls marking the scene change, and their reflections in the water slightly distorting their faces. Very pretty. Very meaning.

I think my big question about what Lava Lamp is saying is... he says he was in the Lava Lamp until he turned the correct age, but we've seen that was also only escaped the lava lamp because he was illegally broken out by Xing Huo. Did her actions just happen to line up with the correct time frame, by hitsuzen? Or did she act at that exact time by choice?

Was Evil Wolverine just going to keep him in there indefinitely even though it was outside the bargain (of course he was) and it took Xing Huo’s actions to technically fulfil the terms of the wish? I think I quite like that. How even though Evil Wolverine tried to take even more than he was owed (again), hitsuzen still arranged itself so that the terms still fulfilled themselves naturally.

But following that thought a little further I do love that the point in time where Lava Lamp's Time Price is Over is such a central moment across the multiverse. It's "Where The Original Timeline Ended", but it's also the BIG Acid Tokyo Moment, as well as The Natural Time Where Watanuki’s Time Expired, and The Time Where Syaoran Had To Grow His Own Soul all at once. It all lines up PERFECTLY because most of it is FROM the same cause, even if we didn't know it until know, and it just so happened to line up with a completely unrelated visit to Acid Tokyo, which was already going pretty miserably (ie, Syaoran was being murdered, and then he was murdering other people) - but all connecting at JUST the right moment to prevent everything completely falling apart right there and then. A few minutes late and Auto Pilot Syaoran might have succeeded in a full party wipe and it all would have been over.

#This has been: Time Talk #We sure do talk about time!#liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 203 #Lava Lamp Guy #Xing Huo #Syaoran #Evil Wolverine #Mokona #And hitsuzen working out PERFECTLY and TERRIBLY #At the same time #As it tends to #Oh ALSO #I just want to note #That Lava Lamp mentions that he was always 'wherever he was'#Which would be a pretty natural lead in to Syaoran being HERE too #... Because we only have 31 chapters to go #He kind of HAS to show up here

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plussizefantasia · 7 months

Text

Trick-Or-Treat

Flufftober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: Here it is. The last one shot of October. Thank you to everyone who has left comments and reblogs you guys are awesome. I'll be taking a short break (like two weeks) and will be back soon with some more stories including a multi-chapter Steve Harrington x reader story and plans for the 100-follower celebration that we earned at the beginning of the month. As always, reblogs and feedback are really appreciated.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Bucky Barnes didn’t think very much of himself. Which is a real shame, considering he’s one of the most amazing men you’ve ever met. You wouldn’t have moved in together if he was a bad guy like he thought he was. The two of you had moved into a two-story townhouse in Brooklyn three months ago. Bucky really wanted to get close to his roots, especially after everything that happened. Steve had moved into an apartment about a block from you guys but split most of his time between the Avenger’s initiative and being home.

“Jamie, could you help me move the couch to the stoop please?’

‘Why are we taking our indoor furniture outdoors?”

“So that we have something comfy to sit on while we hand out candy.”

“We’re handing out candy? I thought we were just going to put it in a bowl and leave it outside the door.” Bucky was confused, and more than a little apprehensive.

“Jamie. Love of my life, this is what people who have houses do. They sit out on their porches and hand out candy to children in mediocre costumes for two hours while trying not to freeze. It’s a rite of passage.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t do trick or treat in the olden days?”

“First of all, don’t call them the olden days. Second of all, trick or treating wasn’t really a thing until I was too old to participate, and even then, people had more things to worry about than handing out candy.”

“Why don’t you want to hand out candy, Jamie?”

“Because… it will be cold.”

“You’re literally a human furnace try again.” You lifted one eyebrow at him, trying your best to capture the essence of Roger’s ‘eyebrows of disappointment’ that he had practically trademarked.

“Doll, I just don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Why not Jamie? I won’t make you hand out candy if you don’t want to but I have a feeling that whatever reason you have in your silly little noggin for not wanting to isn’t really a good one.”

“What if they hate me?” He mumbled.

“What if who hates you, baby?”

“The kids. What if the kids are scared of me.”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You are a hero, you fought to bring back literally half of the population of the entire universe, anyone who is scared of you is an idiot.”

“That’s sweet doll, but I don’t want to ruin anyone’s night.”

“The only person’s night who is a risk of being ruined is mine. I don’t know how I’ll survive without my human furnace to keep me warm out there.” You batted your eyelashes at him. “Please, Jamie? Just try, if you hate it you can go back inside but I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” You didn’t try to fight the smile that spread from ear to ear.

‘Yeah, doll. I’ll hand out candy with you.”

Bucky wasn’t sure about any of this. But you had asked so prettily and his therapist (someone you had found for him, not one of the shitty government-appointed ones) had told him that he needed to start pushing his boundaries. He figured that spending the night next to you and watching you be happy was as good of a way to start pushing boundaries as any. He had pulled the couch out into the space that was right in front of your door. He had helped you climb over the back of it with a huge bowl of candy after you realized that the couch had practically trapped you inside. Now the two of you were waiting. The night didn’t officially start until 8:00 so you had about fifteen minutes to go.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?’

“I forgot my phone.”

“Okay?’

“Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“Could you go get my phone?” He let out a deep sigh and one of those old man grunts as he pushed himself up off the couch and climbed over it. He walked further into the house and you took your chance. “Hey Jamie?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Since you’re inside… could you make me some hot chocolate?”

“Doll, if you wanted hot chocolate you could’ve just asked in the first place you didn’t need to send me on a quest for your phone.”

“I did actually leave my phone on the counter so it’s not like I lied.”

As Bucky was making your hot chocolate, the beginning few kids started emerging from their houses, parents behind them bundled up to counteract the chilly October night.

You saw a few clowns, some kids show characters that you didn’t really know the name of, and some funny pun costumes that you laughed at. But what really caught your eye was the trio of boys four houses down from yours, making their way down the street.

They couldn’t have been older than eight but their costumes were impeccable. They really were mini versions of your three favorite guys. A mini Captain America complete with a homemade cardboard shield, a mini falcon with swim goggles and a plastic redwing, and last but certainly not least a mini winter soldier whose arm was wrapped in tinfoil.

You had to resist the urge to actually scream, but you did let out a few overjoyed giggles.

“Jamie! James come quick!” You yelled into the house.

“You’re hot chocolate is almost done.” He yelled back.

“Who cares about the hot chocolate this is way more important!”

He started making his way towards the open door, “What is more important than hot choco-” He completely stopped. Frozen in his place looking at the three little boys making their way up your steps. “Holy Shit”

‘Language.” You replied.

Bucky practically launched himself over the back of the couch to meet the boys,

“Mom! Mom look! It’s Sergeant Barnes.” The boy with the tinfoil arm turned with a bright smile on his face. His mom was nearly as frozen as Bucky, most likely not expecting to run into a retired superhero on Halloween night.

With a smack from you, Bucky released himself from his stupor. “Hey little man, what’s your name?”

“George, but everyone calls me Georgie.” He said with the confidence of a kid who had rehearsed.

“Well Georgie, that’s a very nice costume you’ve got there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, Sir.”

“Call me Bucky, please.”

“Okay, Mr. Bucky, sir.” Both you and Bucky chuckled at that.

“I think a costume as good as that deserves some candy what do you think?” Bucky looked at you.

“Definitely, I think all three of these young heroes deserve their candy.”

You placed a handful into the Captain’s bucket, and the Falcon’s but let Bucky grab the candy for his mini-me. He grabbed two large handfuls and winked at the kid as he placed them inside his orange pumpkin bucket.

“Would you be okay with taking a picture?” Georgie’s mom asked.

“Absolutely!’ Bucky replied and pulled all three young boys in front of him. Kneeling behind them and giving a genuine smile.

Once pictures were done the parents got the boys to say goodbye and move on.

“There are more houses to go to Georgie, besides, I’m sure Mr. Barnes would like to be able to give candy to some other kids.”

“Okay Mom,” Georgie turned back to Bucky, “Thank you, Mr. Bucky, sir. You’re my hero.” He turned back away and skipped down your stairs and onto the next one like he hadn’t just broken your boyfriend.

The rest of the night went pretty similarly, with the occasional Avenger costume and star-struck kid. Bucky posing for pictures and actually enjoying it and you handing out way more candy per child than their parents were okay with.

Bucky’s smile never faded and he seemed to get more and more into it as the night went on.

“Hey Doll?” He asked when the two of you had finally returned your couch back to its rightful place.

“Yeah, Jamie.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You kissed him on the cheek. “You never did bring me my hot chocolate though.”

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ihearthes · 1 year

Text

Title: Hole in One

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3100

The sky is the bluest it’s been in months, and I hear birds singing from the trees surrounding the private course. My clubs have been unused for far too long, and I cannot wait to feel the grass beneath my feet. Spying my grandparents talking to a young man who I assume is the club’s pro, I make my way in their direction, eager to get onto the green. The giddy skip in my step is undeniably partly due to the excitement of playing the game again, but mostly because I’ve not seen my jetsetter grandparents since Christmas.

“Grammy! Gramps!” I call, my hand waving as they turn towards me. Wrapping my grandmother in a hug, I put out my hand for a high five with my grandfather. Gleefully, he obliges.

“So glad you could join us!” Grammy whoops. “Let me look at you.” Taking my hands, she steps back to survey me in that way that must be a full chapter in the Grandparent Training Manual. “Looking sexy as hell,” she laughs, her greeting likely not in that same manual. “Twirl for us.” She makes that motion with her finger, and I oblige.

As I spin around, my skort not moving in any way that would make a twirl necessary, my grandfather applauds as if I were a five year old at her first ballet recital.

“Two of the biggest dorks I know,” I giggle. “I’m so happy to see you!” Excitedly, I pull them in for a group hug, wondering why the golf pro hasn’t excused himself yet. So when I step back, I pointedly look in his direction.

And promptly freeze.

Fuck. Nope. Not the golf pro. Nor the course manager. Not anyone who works at the place.

“Hi. I’m Harry.” He leans forward to shake my hand, his left leg raising behind him as a counterbalance to his inclining body. “You must be Birdy.”

Horrified, I grasp his warm hand, my eyes roaming over his face with that stupid hair clip firmly holding back his bangs and his green eyes examining me, a smile on his face as his dimple deepens. Flustered, I don’t give him my birth name. “A nickname, of course,” I remark inanely.

“I’m just hoping it doesn’t bode ill for my game today.” His gray pants are matched with a dark blue pullover sweater, a white turtleneck underneath.

How my mouth continues to work is beyond me, but I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Probably too loudly as I’m feeling a mixture of terror and arousal, and the laughter is decidedly nervous. “I’ve never been a threat to anyone on the golf course,” I comment.

“With grandparents as young as yours, I expected someone younger.” Harry thinks he’s being coy, but my grandmother responds honestly.

“We’re ancient, Harry, and our Birdie is 31 now. And not getting any younger.” Pointedly, she looks at me as though I had offended her in some way.

“We’re up,” Gramps points, and we haul our clubs to the first tee.

“What’s your handicap?” Harry asks as Gramps swings a few times for practice.

“23,” I announce proudly, on the low end of average. “You?”

“14,” he brags, adding a wink for good measure, an indication that he is aware of his boast. Not that I can complain since I’ve also gloated about my below-average number. He’s too handsome and charming for my comfort, and I engage my attention on my clubs, polishing my driver before withdrawing it from my bag.

Amiable enough, Harry diverts his focus onto my grandmother, and I’m grateful for the respite to catch my breath.

“You must go first, Vivienne.”

I want to interrupt and tell him we always go with the oldest first, which is my gramps, but my grandmother has already fallen for Harry’s charm, and she giggles like a schoolgirl as she makes her way to the tee.

After my grandfather and I have each teed off, Harry prepares for his turn. In those tight golf trousers, his arse is as well defined as the ostentatious naked statue in the fountain at the entrance to the golf club. I find myself unable to stop staring as he bends down to place his tee, and his form when he swings is a thing of beauty. No wonder he has a low handicap. Why couldn’t he be a failure at just one thing in his life? And why couldn’t it be golf?

Noting where his ball lands, Harry removes his sunnies from the vee of his sweater and slides them over his eyes, shielding his expression. With a nod at the three of us, he twists his body, ready to move on.

“Shall we?” Gramps gestures, and I hoist my clubs onto my shoulder again, setting off behind the elderly couple who head for a single golf cart. “Sorry, Birdy.” He casually throws over his shoulder as we approach the small vehicle. “We got the last cart. You and Harry will have to walk. But don’t worry. Your grandmother and I will do our best not to burn rubber.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my grandparents were trying to play matchmakers. But they wouldn’t have any idea who Harry is. Although maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Perhaps my grandparents just want to pair me up with any Tom, Dick, or ….Harry.

“Mhm. See that you don’t get a speeding ticket, Gramps!” I yell as they take off, leaving Harry and I trailing behind.

“You seem like a chip off the old block,” Harry jokes as we hike towards the hole. “Get it? Cause a chip is a golf shot.”

“Oh, I understood the joke, but it was bad,” I groan. “No ifs, ands, or putts about it.”

His eyes widen. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”

We both giggle, and when he shoves my shoulder at my next golf pun, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. As if Harry Styles needed to flirt with anyone.

It’s on the fourth fairway that my Gramps gets involved with a joke of his own. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, sir?” The polite reply comes as I’m replacing my divot.

“Why do the golf pros tell you to keep your head down during golf lessons?”

“I don’t know, Rufus.” Harry withdraws his 3-wood and addresses the ball, shaking his hips in such a way that if my grandparents weren’t around, I’d probably faint. “Why?”

“So you can’t see them laughing.” Gramps guffaws, and Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he takes a deep breath and launches his ball closer to the green.

My grandparents always make me laugh, but today they seem in finer form than usual, as they joke with Harry, my grandmother clearly vamping. Before today, I’ve never wondered if my grandfather was anything other than straight, but the way he touches Harry at every opportunity makes the wheels in my head churn.

On the 8th hole, Grammy takes a mulligan after her ball sails into the water hazard, just short of making it across. She sighs, pulling another ball from her bag and muttering goodnaturedly to Harry. “Golf balls are just like eggs. They’re white, round, and you need another dozen every week.”

Harry slaps his knee as he giggles at her pathetic joke. I can almost convince myself that he’s having the time of his life playing golf with these 78-year-olds. He gives every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon game. No wonder no one has anything unkind to say about him. Well, no one he’s met anyway.

As we walk to the 9th hole, I decide to dive in and bravely ask the question that’s been on my mind for the last two and a half hours. “Why did you join us today?”

Startled, he twists his head to look at me. “You had three. I was a late single player. The pro added me to your party. Simple.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out, wondering if I should ask the follow-up question, and when he continues glancing at me curiously, I go for it. “But why do you have a free day today? And why didn’t you bring someone with you?”

He turns his head away from me, but I still see that left dimple deepen as he shrugs. “I decided on a whim that I wanted to golf in this perfect weather, and my manager was busy preparing for tomorrow night’s show.” Turning around, he walks backwards so he can face me. “But I never thought I’d meet such a fun –” his eyes never leave mine, “and sexy companion.”

I can feel the red creeping up from my toes through my body to flush my face. How does he do it? Flirting so openly without being gross? If anyone else had delivered that line, I would have gagged. Instead, I pretend that his comment has had no effect on me – like I’m not going to need dry panties before dinner with my grandparents.

“Harry!” My grandfather yells from where he and my grammy have stopped at my ball. “You better watch where you’re going! Sometimes people don’t replace their divots.”

The musician nods to me courteously as though he hadn’t just made my heart flutter. Turning to face forward, he continues on the pathway where we finish the 9th hole.

“Birdie,” Grammy stoutly announces to me as she climbs back into the cart. “Your grandfather and I are tired. We’re going to head to the clubhouse and have a drink, but you and Harry should play the back nine.” With that, my grandparents wave to us as their cart drives off towards the start.

Oh.

Well.

That was unexpected.

This is unexpected.

Harry has put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Well?” He watches me carefully, and I know the decision to continue is mine.

“I doubt I’ll get to play with someone like you again, so we might as well continue.”

“Someone like me? A celebrity?” Seeming genuinely confused, he removes his sunnies and scratches his head near that damn hair clip.

“A duffer,” I tease.

“If that’s the case, it’s because your beauty has distracted me from my game today.” His eyes twinkle when he makes the comment, and that’s the moment I know the flirting is on in earnest.

When we reach the 12th green, I can’t stand being so close to him without letting him know I am up for more. As he squares up for his putt, but before he pulls the club back to take the shot, I whisper loud enough for his ears only, “If you miss this putt, I’ll let you kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the shot that rolls right at my feet where I’m holding the flag. And yet somehow the ball doesn’t go in.

“Does that deal count if I accidentally missed?”

Biting my lip, I tilt my head and observe him. “Hmmm…I’m not sure. It’s kind of offensive that you wouldn’t want to miss it on purpose. I mean, here I am, perfectly kissable. I’m going to say no. It doesn’t count.”

Stalking towards me, he picks up his golf ball and tosses it to the edge of the green. “How about now?” His voice is a growl, and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body.

Fuck. He’s so hot. Beyond sexy.

I glance around the course quickly to see if anyone is nearby. Spotting no one, I tilt my head up to him. Harry grabs my chin with two fingers, staring into my eyes before he brushes his lips over mine. The moan that emits from my throat is heartfelt and demands more from him, but he steps back, his hand dropping to his side.

Hooded eyes rake over me, and he smirks. “You’ve never met a golfer with a more delicate stroke than me.”

“Promises, promises,” I tut, holding out the flag for him to take so I can putt.

A few holes later, and all pretense has dropped as Harry rests his hands on my hips while I’m lining up my shot. “Are you sure you know how to hold a shaft correctly?” His voice in my ear is so gravelly that I want to drop onto my knees right there on the fairway and show him exactly how skilled I am at handling a shaft.

“Be careful there, Harry,” I murmur, “You’re like a water hazard. You’ve got me soaking wet.”

“Fuck.” Stepping back from me, he shakes his head. “How many holes?”

“Three,” I comment, and my eyes bat of their own accord, I swear!

“Jesus!” He runs his hand over his face. “You’re like a fairway: short, well-groomed, and a pleasure to hit on.”

“Are you saying you’d like to improve our stroke game together?”

“I’m saying that I’m not going to make it back to the clubhouse at this rate.”

“Well…” I approach him, again searching the nearby greens for golfers, “...my golf coach says I have a firm grip. Do you want to see if it’s true?”

“Birdy…” His voice is strangled as I ease my hand over the front of his trousers, feeling his length where it’s tucked safely high and to the left. The air exits his lungs at a faster velocity than a golf swing. “Get your clubs,” he commands, roughly replacing the putter he’d withdrawn and grabbing my hand.

Yanking me behind him, Harry leads the way towards the parking lot where he uses an electronic key to open the vehicle and throw in his clubs before grabbing my golf bag and more gently placing it on top of his so that the two golf bags look to be spooning.

“Get in,” he insists, and I don’t hesitate to scurry to the passenger side.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my hands in my lap after I’ve buckled the seatbelt. The quivering in the lower part of my body will only be appeased in one way.

“Shit. I’ve no idea,” he sighs, not putting the car in drive. “My hotel is too far.”

“Switch places with me,” I suggest, knowing exactly where we can go.

With a single nod, the two of us climb from the vehicle and pass each other silently and aggressively on our way to opposite sides. Buckled in, I back the car from the lot and drive the two miles to my grandparents’ house.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I state. “Open the garage before the neighbors spot us.” I share the code, and Harry follows my directions. Without drawing too much attention, we’ve sequestered ourselves in the garage, with Harry waiting impatiently for me to get out of the car.

The moment I step from the driver’s side onto the pavement of my grandparents’ garage, Harry approaches me, his hands cupping my face as he devours my lips. I do not hesitate, opening to him as my fingers fumble for the bottom of that fucking blue sweater I’ve been jealous of all afternoon because it gets to hug his curves. As I draw the sweater up, he releases my face to raise his arms over his head, and I don’t hesitate, repeating the gesture with his white turtleneck.

As soon as his skin is free from the clothing, his mouth crashes back onto mine as his long lush fingers make short work of my white polo. He’s backed me almost to the stairs that lead to the house, and he wraps an arm around my nearly naked back just as I’m about to topple over onto them.

“Where?” His breath is scented with the mint from his gum, and I feel the waft of it across my cheek.

My brain scrambles. My grandparents’ house. Quickly I discard the master bedroom and the sofa in the living room. Grasping his hand, I haul us both to the only room that makes sense. Stopping to frantically kiss this amazing man, I reach behind me to unhook my bra, his fingers brushing over my boobs as soon as they are bare.

When I open the door to our destination, Harry pauses, his eyes widening as he takes in the golf trophies, photos of my grandparents with famous golfers on the paneled walls, and the putting green. Shaking his head, he laughs, and the crinkles at his eyes make my panties even wetter.

“I like my men like a sand trap: dirty, challenging, and unpredictable.” Although I’ve attempted to make the joke with a straight face, I fail miserably as I dissolve into giggles.

With a face palm, Harry laughs too, glancing at the putting green. “No way am I fucking on that fake turf. One of us would end up with scraped knees, and I don’t know if I would prefer it be you or me.”

“No question there,” I purr as I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for the button and zipper on his trousers. “I’ve been drooling for this shaft all afternoon.”

“Well, I am known for my lengthy club.” The smirk on his face drops away as I free his cock and give it a few strokes before sliding my lips over the end and applying light pressure. Pushing his pants and underpants down his thighs, I reach for his balls. “Oh, fuck,” he sucks in air. “I had planned to wash my balls after the game today, but you’re welcome to….ahhhhhh.” The way the sound escapes his mouth when I do as he suggests and lave his balls with my tongue has me hotter than a July game at a Miami course.

Returning to his cock, I slide his length as far as my throat will allow, practically unhinging my jaw as I take him in. Closing my lips, I use suction until he grabs my head, pulling my hair to remove me from my current activity.

When I look up at him, I can see the scar under his chin as he’s staring at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and I cannot resist scraping my teeth lightly to see his reaction. It’s instant, as his jaw drops and his eyes connect with mine. Just as I get to the end of his cock again, I make a humming sound, knowing he can feel the vibration on this sensitive body part.

“Birdy…” he gasps. “I need…”

Releasing him with a popping sound, I sit back on my knees and grin, rather proud of my ability to reduce this cheeky flirt to two-word sentences.

“What?” I demand.

“I need to feel your fringe. Taste it even.”

Closing my eyes, I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with his golf pun, but it honestly gives a zing to my private parts.

“Fair enough,” I comment, using my current location to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothing so that he stands before me, naked but for his socks.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘fairway’ enough?” He giggles, his shaft pointing straight at me.

I groan. “Oh, man. If I weren’t so hot for you, your bad jokes might just turn me off.”

“Good,” he smiles, and the dimple deepens until I’m confident I could fit a thousand golf balls, each with their own 381 dimples, inside it. That many dimples all in the same space would be overwhelming. “Now let’s put my wood in your golf bag, shall we?” He holds his hand down to me, and I grasp it so that he can pull me upwards, our tongues tangling like a dust devil.

Fingers fumbling with the buttons on my skort, Harry moves his lips to my neck. “Why ‘Birdy’?”

“Seriously?” I scoff. “You want to talk about my nickname now?”

His luxurious fingers shove my panties and my skort down to my ankles, ignoring my shoes completely as he encourages me to kick off the offending clothing. “Yes please.”

Nude, I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him from where he’s squatting on the floor after removing my outfit. “My grandfather scored a birdie every time he took me out with him on the golf course when I was a baby.”

“Oh,” he pouts.

“Not as sexy as you thought it might be?”

“As a story, you really should work on it.”

“I promise I’ll spice up the story with the next single that joins our foursome,” I simper. A look crosses his face that could be construed as jealousy if one were so inclined. Which I’m not. Because he’s just an afternoon fuck.

As I start to step past him to the leather sofa, he grabs my thighs and buries his face in my crotch, sniffing deeply. Flabbergasted, I pause, my balance off.

“Widen your stance,” Harry demands, and when I follow his direction, he uses both hands to part the petals at my entrance. Just before his tongue dives in, he blows a puff of air, and I shiver at the sexiness of the move.

“Fuck, Harry,” I grab for his shoulder so I don’t sink to the floor. Between his tongue and his teeth, I nearly tip over the abyss, but when he uses both hands, inserting one finger in each of my body’s lower entrances, I come, screaming his name as I yank his hair, accidentally dislodging that damn hair clip which skitters across the wood floor. My orgasm continues as Harry rises, one finger still teasing my clit.

“You were right,” he whispers to me as I gaze at his glistening face, “three holes left. Now taken care of.” Capturing my lips, he delves inside my mouth, his tongue and finger below taking turns, setting a rhythm that would do well in one of his songs.

Fuck. I’m weak.

When my body stops shivering, I use both hands to shove him onto the sofa where he lands with both feet out and his driver in the air.

“Birth control?” he asks.

“Taken care of,” I grin. “IUD. But if you want double protection or you don’t trust me…” I gesture towards the rest of the house, trying to figure out where a condom might be hidden in my grandparents’ house.

“I trust you. No one with that nickname and those grandparents could lie about something like that.”

With a grin, I concede his point. Besides, my grandparents would flip their lids if I got pregnant without a commitment.

Slowly, as if I’m lining up a putt, I slide onto him.

“Mmmmm…that’s a hole to be respected,” Harry murmurs as I descend, and I would laugh if not for the fact that I’m gearing up for my second orgasm.

“Are you up for some stroke play?” I query as I settle completely on him, my insides stretched but happy.

“Stroke that stroke, babe.”

With the steady beat of that Billie Squier oldie in my head, I follow his instructions, lifting myself off his shaft before plunging back down as hard as I can. Just when I’m getting closer, panting as I look to the skies, Harry taps my butt cheek. “Turn around here, love.”

Settling on the sofa with my rear in the air, I am startled when Harry’s finger circles my asshole, and I wonder if I’m in for a different experience than I had originally expected. He’s too big for my back door without a lot of preparation, and it’s clear he knows it as he settles on wedging a finger there while his cock invades my vagina. Between his cock and his inserted finger, I’m so close to exploding that I slam my body backwards into his until he finally removes the finger, grabs my hips, and pounds into me.

“Drive into me, Harry!” I scream, recognizing the golf pun after it’s already left my mouth. Biting my lip, I reach in front and play with my clit just as Harry shoots his load into me, and I writhe with my second orgasm, his name on my lips as he falls onto my back.

Seconds, minutes, decades later, Harry disengages from me.

“That was pleasant,” he smiles, and I wonder if this is it. He’ll leave me here, his cum dripping from me onto the furniture in my granddad’s golf room. “We should probably get dressed and get back to the course. Otherwise, they’ll send out a search party. If we get back quickly, they’ll think we just took our time on the 18th.”

Agreeably, I laugh. “I can see it now.” Imitating my grandma, “‘But our baby girl is out there with a handsome stranger! They must be exhausted after 18 holes!’”

Together, we dissolve into giggles at the innuendo as we sort through the discarded clothing and dress ourselves, making our way back to the garage as we locate our shirts.

“You better drive us back. I’m likely to get lost in your tall bush.”

“Oh, please,” I roll my eyes. “My grass is perfectly trimmed for the game.”

“Mhm,” he smirks, “Who’s your caddy?”

We pull into the parking lot, laughing at our ridiculous puns. Removing our golf bags from the trunk, we make our way into the clubhouse where we quickly locate and join my grandparents.

“How were the last few holes?” Gramps asks.

“Pretty good,” Harry grins, glancing over at me. “I got both a Birdy and a hole in one.”

I want to laugh at his comment, but any suggestion that we did anything other than play golf would get me in trouble, so I simply smile, nod, and announce, “It was quite the round. The best I’ve had in a long time, by par.”

When everyone at the table howls with mirth, I feel Harry’s hand on my knee as my grandfather speaks up with, “Harry? I think you might be missing a number on your scorecard.” When he winks and gestures towards me, I groan, but my latest lover takes advantage of the moment, holding out his scorecard to me.

“If you wouldn’t mind…I might need another hole in one the next time I come to town.”

Reblogs are love. Thank you.

#harry styles #my writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles golf #original writing #harry styles reader insert #harry styles imagine

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seoafin · 1 year

Text

dog days are over | chapter three

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): beginnings of a panic attack, mentions of implied dissociation and depression, slight nsfw word count: ~7.7k

fic masterlist read on ao3

There’s a wedding.

You know this because Satoru is holding a pristine white invitation with elaborately floral borders and calligraphy so curled it’s difficult for you to read it when for all intents and purposes, you are used to handling and deciphering historical accounts and journals.

That’s not the only thing.

The invitation had been addressed to both Satoru and Suguru.

The two of them are getting invitations sent as one. It means something. It’s an acknowledgement. Unspoken, but palpable.

Satoru flicked the invitation open, indifferently scanned the contents, and threw it on the nearest surface (the desk in front of him) with a lazy flick of his wrist. In his words: a higher up’s daughter was getting married to some big shot young politician. Their honored presences was humbly requested. They’d be delighted to have the strongest in attendance for the joyous occasion.

You picked up the invitation and scanned the date. Next month, on the sixteenth. A Friday. You have off on that Friday. You know that because there is an exhibit one of your professors is curating at the Tokyo National Museum you had planned on asking Satoru and Suguru to.

Satoru doesn't really respond well to invitations. You could still ask him—

“Friday’s going to be a real pain.” Satoru texts away on his phone. You watch as Suguru replies in real time. You wonder if the two of them have resolved all of their problems if they’re texting normally.

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “You’re going?”

Satoru’s gaze momentarily flicks up at you, holding your gaze for a few seconds, before returning to the screen. “Might as well.” The words come out begrudgingly. Satoru makes a face at his phone, presumably one of Suguru’s texts, and types out a long response.

You suppose that means that they have plans already. You don’t mind. You had been intending on going alone anyway.

Your own phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Shoko.

Ieiri Shoko

[4:31] there’s a wedding

[4:32] i have been invited to a wedding

[4:33] Satoru and Suguru too. Satoru said he’s going. Suguru too. Probably.

[4:33] ? Those two? lolololololol

[4:34] I didn’t think Satoru was going to go.

[4:36] your guess is as good as mine.

[4:36] how about you come with me? be my plus one

[4:36] say yes

You stare at Shoko’s text. Come…with her? To the wedding? You hadn’t expected to be invited. Either as a person or a plus one. You wouldn’t know anybody. The thought of being surrounded by people somewhere clearly didn’t belong makes you nervous. You won’t be able to rely on Satoru or Suguru or even Shoko’s presence. They’d be busy, too busy for you. You’d stand in a corner and stay quiet, and people would brush over you, a nameless person of little importance and significance.

If you’re being honest, it doesn’t sound like a good time. If Shoko really needed you it’d be one thing. But you’re sure your presence wouldn’t be missed.

You’d let her down gently.

You press out of the chat just as Satoru stands up to peer down your head and squint at your phone. You wonder what has him so curious, and shut your phone off and look up.

“We should go meet up with Shoko and Suguru, shouldn’t we?”

Satoru only sighs, rubbing at his neck with a faintly irritated look on his face. That’s not good.

He takes your hand and leads you out the door.

----

Dinner is fraught with tension. You look from Satoru to Suguru who are pointedly refusing to look at each other, which is difficult, considering they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder in a crammed yakitori restaurant.

You’re…unsure what exactly is going on. You thought your worries about Satoru and Suguru were a worry for the past, but now, it’s impossible to ignore the pointed silence, Suguru’s cool silence, or even Satoru’s increasing agitation. Without the usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, it’s even easier to tell Satoru's patience is running thin.

You look to Shoko, whose head rests on your shoulder as she idly scans the menu, unbothered.

“We should share the chicken meatballs,” she says. “And the squid. I’ll order two draft beers, and maybe some plum wine…”

You make noncommittal noise. Then look back to Satoru and Suguru, wondering what you can say to dissolve the tension and make them look at each other again.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Excited for the wedding?”

You smile encouragingly when they look at you.

“No,” Satoru says, unhappily. “Not really.”

You wonder why he’s even going in the first place. Is it because of Suguru? Are they fighting over attending the wedding? That sounds wrong. Satoru doesn’t like to put up with troublesome things, but for Suguru, a four hour wedding was nothing.

“Only children think the world bends to their whims,” Suguru remarks pleasantly, despite the sharp edge of his words. “Adults should know better. Even Mimiko and Nanako know better. Tsumiki and Megumi—”

If there’s one thing Satoru can’t handle, it’s a lecture from Suguru. That hasn’t changed since high school.

“Yeah?” There’s a dangerous challenge on Satoru’s tongue as his eyes narrow in accusation. “I know what I want. If that makes me a child, then fine. At least one of us does.”

“Shoko,” you whisper to her. “Something’s wrong.”

Contrary to your own panic, Shoko’s watches the two, amused. “The only thing wrong here is that I don’t have a beer.” She waves a waitress over just as Satoru and Suguru fall into stony faced silence.

A young, fresh faced waitress with her hair tied up in a ponytail bounds up to the table. Shoko lists half the menu, ordering for the table. Then she orders drinks. Alcohol for you and her, a melon soda for Satoru, water for Suguru.

“Make that three,” Suguru interjects. “I’ll have a beer too.”

She flushes prettily when Suguru gives her a polite smile, slyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. Satoru’s face darkens.

“How is medical school?” You ask Shoko. “You’re taking care of yourself, right?” You hope she’s taking breaks in between her studies and her work at the school, eating well, and sleeping a good seven hours every night.

She faces you, cheek flattened on her open palm. “I should be asking you that. Do you even remember to eat if I don’t remind you?” She pokes your nose.

“I eat,” you say, a touch defensively, but you already know Shoko knows better. Sometimes, you forget to eat. Sometimes it’s too much of a bother. You're fine though. Healthy enough.

“Hmmm.” She turns her attention to Satoru and Suguru. “This wedding is going to be awfully awkward if you two don't kiss and make up soon.”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says civilly. He softens at your concerned look. “It’s fine.”

You don’t believe him.

Satoru’s gaze is flinty. “Who says we’re even going together?”

“You’re free to go by yourself,” Suguru replies, serenely unbothered.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go with Shoko.”

“Absolutely not,” she says immediately. “I’ve already got a plus one.”

Your stomach drops, put on the spot. You hadn’t had the time to think of an adequate excuse to avoid the wedding as Shoko’s date. It’s too late for excuses if Shoko’s already told them you’re going. You can’t let her look the fool by backing out now!

They look at you. Your lips curl in an automatic smile.

There’s the beginnings of a playful grin on her face. “We’re picking out dresses tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…”

Well, if any good came out of this wedding, it would have to be getting to go dress shopping with Shoko and helping her pick out a formal dress. You’d like that. You always thought she looked good in bold colors, and if the occasion warrants it, she’ll wear her bright red lipstick. You already feel lighter, excited at the prospect of seeing her in all different types of dresses. You’d take the job seriously, make sure you help her pick the best—

“Kimono,” Satoru states.

“Dress,” Suguru asserts.

You blink. Their gazes clash, and you can feel a chill come over you. What are they fighting over now? This might even be worse than the several occasions they fought in high school. Never had they fought about anything that couldn’t be settled with a good fistfight. Something tells you this runs deeper. It’s more than a trivial burst of high tempers, more than juvenile attitudes at work.

“What?”

A lazy smile hangs from Shoko's lips. She is thoroughly amused, taking everything in as if she’s at the theater. “I asked them whether or not I should put you in a kimono or a dress for the big event.”

You didn’t even think about what you’d wear to the wedding. You assumed Shoko would give you something. And if not, you could just go shopping. If Shoko was too busy to come, then Ijichi usually had a good eye for silhouette and fashion. You worry about your kouhai once more. He really is too competent for his own good. You hope you won't be troubling him too much in the future.

You are discomfited. You don’t want the hypotheticals of something as inconsequential as what you plan to wear to an event to be another point of contention between them.

“That’s…I don’t really care what I wear.”

“Whatever you want to wear,” Suguru says reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll look perfect regardless.”

You warm at Suguru’s words, unexpectedly abashed as you lower your gaze to your lap. It’s hard to think of yourself as perfect, especially in terms of appearances when you’re anything but. You determinedly meet Shoko’s eyes. “I’ll do my best not to embarass you,” you say deathly serious.

You’ll do your best to be sociable, speak when spoken to, and try not to let yourself get caught up in all the important people you’re sure are going to be in attendance. You figure if anything this could be practice. Making new friends. Although all you’ve known for the last years of your life is Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. Occasionally Utahime when she visits down from Kyoto. Mei Mei too, even. You can’t rely on them forever, you know this. It’s easy to forget the monotony of the days before you entered high school. Days passing while in a trance, food tasting bland, the perpetual buzzing in your ears. You slept and slept and slept. You spent more days asleep than awake until you were inevitably needed for another mission.

You don’t think you had known what it meant to live, in those days. You didn’t know that the salty breeze of the ocean was a sensation in your nose that felt akin to the seconds before a sneeze. You didn’t know that the colored disco lights in a small karaoke room could bring you so much joy. You didn’t know that hot summer days could be idle, that eating a popsicle with friends could be a momentous occasion. All of these moments, engraved on your heart. You’d take them to the grave, and you’d be content.

You still occasionally experience these fits of sadness so encompassing you drown in it. Especially around certain times in the year. Sometimes, you find it difficult to wake up. There’s a boulder in your chest, pressing on your lungs and weighing you down. You sleep for days. Wake up to remind yourself that you still exist, and close your eyes. Other days, you feel your body move on auto pilot, from one destination to another, cursory smiles and words. You don’t remember much of anything. Just that when you wake up, you feel yourself again. And if you don’t, you sleep and repeat until you do.

It’s a troubling matter to articulate. Something you’ve never quite put into words. If it’s an inconvenience to you, it’d be an annoyance to others. So you keep quiet, and hope it stays a secret, where it won’t bother anyone.

“As if that matters,” she sighs, eyeing you warmly. “ You’re not that one that needs to worry about embarrassing me.”

She side eyes the two men seated across from you, and sighs. "Hopeless.” She flings the word at them.

Your waitress returns with skewers of meats and vegetables and more. Shoko gratefully takes her drinks, and downs half of it down. Then she takes a chicken skewer.

The rest of your meal continues in either silence or short lived conversation. Suguru asks about your thesis. About Shoko soldiering through medical school. Shoko orders more alcohol. You ask him and Satoru about Kyoto, since the two of them have been spending more and more time at Kyoto tech for one thing or another. Meetings, clan visits, Satoru visiting members of the Gojo clan, etc. You stick to safe topics of discussion, and decide that any talk about matchmaking ceremonies or arranged marriages is dangerous.

It’s only so often that the four of you can meet up like this. Adult responsibilities and all. You hope Satoru and Suguru make up soon. To you, this time is precious. And even with Satoru and Suguru refusing conversation with each other, you’re happy to be with them.

The night goes by in a blink of an eye. Shoko orders another round of drinks. Soon it’s twelve in the morning, and Shoko calls for the check. You’re getting ready to leave when your waitress approaches apprehensively.

“Excuse me,” she says, fingers curled around a piece of paper. You watch eagerly, excited at being able to watch a confession unfold. But the storminess in Satoru’s expression creeps back in and you sweat. She hesitates, gaze flicking from Satoru, back to Suguru, and draws back with a shake of her head. The scrap of paper clenches in her hand. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“Oh, I am,” Suguru smiles. “Single.”

Shoko chokes on her laughter. Satoru doesn’t look amused in the slightest, jealousy as palpable as a strike of lightning and the aftermath smell of burnt grass. You stare down at your lap, willing yourself to be as small as possible, discomfort prickling at your chest.

“Oh…Oh! Then I—” she flushes, looking back at the gaggle of other waitresses towards the cash register, two of whom give her a thumbs up. She extends her arms, bowing her head, piece of paper tucked between her fingers. It looks like an offering. An offering of Valentine’s day chocolate. “I wanted you to have this! Just—just in consideration of me!”

It’s undoubtedly endearing. You’ve never been in love. You wonder if you were normal, if it’d come more naturally to you. If you were a normal girl without the occasional bouts of terror and sadness and the all consuming exhaustion. Without the need to hide away every once in a while. Someone who could lead a happy and guiltless life. You wonder if you had ever had a chance. A possibility for you to be loved. Or if it had been the inevitable circumstances of your birth that had condemned you to a lonely, forgotten existence.

Shoko takes you by the arm, excusing the two of you for fresh air, before you can hear or see Suguru’s response.

Outside, snow is beginning to fall. You stare at it as it lazily floats onto buildings, Shoko’s head, the ground. You brush the white off her head as she lights a cigarette and inhales with a gusto.

“I needed this!” She rests against the brick of the restaurant and exhales. “Those two love to make their business everyone’s problem, huh.”

Your lips twitch, despite the gravity of the situation. “I’m worried about them.”

“They’ll be fine,” she briefly stares at the lit end of her cigarette, the ashes flickering to the floor, before meeting your gaze. “They always are, aren’t they?”

----

You immediately feel out of place as you and step into the hotel’s banquet hall for the wedding reception. It’s beautiful, decorated with flowers, vines that hang from the ceiling and down the columns, and ice sculptures set up around the floor. Round tables with designated seating and personalized name cards set atop the plates fill the venue while leaving the middle of the room, the dance floor, open. Not a single yen wasted.

You scan the crowd of faces for Shoko, or even Satoru or Suguru. There’s not a single recognizable face. You swallow down your growing unease, adjust the silk skirt of your dress, and try your best to inspire confidence in yourself.

You slowly take in the rest of the grand room, take a glass of champagne offered, and then realize you’re too nervous to drink. There seems to be an unusual amount of people concentrated around the main entrance. Your skin prickles uncomfortably. Years later, you still don’t do well around consistent crowds of people. Sometimes, it feels like if you’re slowly suffocating, boxed in where the walls are slowly closing in on you.

It’s not a pleasant feeling. You walk in the opposite direction and try to tune it out, careful not to grip the champagne glass too tightly. You hadn’t been invited to the actual wedding procession. You wouldn’t be invited to the Shinto ceremony either. That was reserved only for a special group of guests. You’re glad for it. You don’t know if you can survive in close quarters with people important enough to run the country of Japan.

“There you are,” a familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts, a hand on your shoulder.

You turn, brightening. “Shoko!”

She looks stunning in the dark crimson gown she picked out when the two of you had gone dress shopping, and you can already see a few interested glances in her direction. Her hair is braided up, exposing her slender neck, and you can smell the cypress of her favorite perfume. You catch yourself staring at the red lining her lips, a few shades lighter than dress. If anything, you think being able to see Shoko like this is worth all the troubles of pretending to be… somebody.

“How was the wedding?” You hand her your own untouched champagne. She lifts it to her lips and it’s gone.

That gets a grin out of her. “Interesting.”

She tells you that it had been an arranged marriage, and the bride had staunchly resisted the match, to the last second, which explained the closed, intimate ceremony. Furthermore, the bride refused to write and recite her vows, which had made for an entertaining scene on the altar. And that when the groom had leaned down to kiss her, she had angled her face away, so that his lips had collided with her cheek instead of lips.

The story is entertaining. Though you can’t help but feel bad for the bride, forced into a marriage by forces outside her control. What if she was already in love with somebody else? What if she had no interest in marriage? What is she didn't want a husband?

Shoko draws back a step, looking you up and down with a nod of approval. She smooths out the neckline of your dress. “I thought you’d look good in this one. It makes me want to show you off.”

You glance down at the silk dress adorned on you, so soft it ripples with every movement. It’s a pretty dress, although you’re sure you don’t do it justice.

“How are Satoru and Suguru?�� You ask hesitantly.

Shoko tilts her head towards the main entrance. “How about you ask them yourself?”

Upon closer inspection, you realize the crowd of people around the entrance had been gathered around Satoru and Suguru. Huh. You didn’t originally notice them. You must have been too caught up in your head.

“No thanks,” you say, not wanting to intrude, but you take the time to watch them for a little longer.

Suguru’s face is animated with a bright smile as he converses with several other older guests, head slightly inclined in a politely deferential stance. They’re both in Kimonos. Matching colors. That brings a smile to your face. Still united in some way even if they may be in the midst of a long standing argument.

Satoru’s face is shaded with sunglasses, a suspiciously blank expression in the indifferent set of his lips. You aren’t sure you’ve caught his eye, but he perks in your direction, and when you raise your hand in a slight wave, he straightens.

Shoko weaves her arm through yours. “Alright, let’s get more drinks!”

You catch the frown forming on his lips just as Shoko tugs you away.

Shoko manages to get an entire bottle of champagne. Then she leads you to the largest table in the room, towards the front of the banquet hall, and gestures to your seat next to hers before taking a seat and filling her glass back up.

“I healed the bride’s father a while back,” she says, taking a sip of the champagne. “Stage 4 kidney cancer.” She makes a face. “I hate making house calls, but the higher ups insisted. I’m not trying to become a private doctor.”

“He must have been grateful.”

“He was,” she snorts. “He tried to buy me into his employ.” She leans back into her seat, looking at the banquet hall. “The man certainly has the money.”

“You like it at jujutsu tech,” you say with a bright smile. “You’d never leave us.” You’d like to think she’d never leave you.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” she says, matter of factly. “How could I leave you with those two insensitive jerks?"

You’re so pleased you don’t think your smile can contain it all. She said she wouldn’t leave you. The champagne you took one sip of sits bubbly in your stomach. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad. Less work, more money…” you shrug. “If it made you happy, I wouldn’t mind.” Jujustu tech would probably fall apart without Shoko, so you leave that part out. You just want her to be happy.

She exhales. “I’m happy where I am right now.”

The two of you share a smile.

Shoko’s bottle inevitably runs empty while she recounts a funny incident in medical school involving a cadaver, and you offer to get her another one.

When you come back, there’s a man you don’t recognize in your seat, conversing with Shoko. You wonder what they’re talking about, for Shoko to look so unusually engaged. You’ve observed her in all her varying degrees of disinterest and moods to be able to read her well. You don’t want to disturb her. So you drop the bottle on the nearby counter of the open bar and turn on your heels to do another lap around the room. Once again, you spot Suguru and Satoru, who have relocated to underneath one of the glass stained windows running the length of the wall of the room.

Satoru is with the groom, a tall man with handsome features dressed in a tailored black suit. The rising star politician, you assume. Next to him, his sullen bride stands, surly disposition visible all the way from your place in the room. A stunning emerald dress is draped across her figure, ending at her ankles. Her arms are crossed. Satoru’s lips move in response.

Next to him, a couple feet away, Suguru is talking to a woman dressed in a silver colored heavy furisode, the two of them deep in conversation. Your interest is piqued. You can’t quite see her face, her back towards you, but you think she may be Suguru’s matchmaking attendee.

You should give them privacy. Well. You shouldn’t be gawking at them. You turn just as someone else steps behind you, colliding into them. The ensuing collision has you precariously teetering back. Before you can regain your balance, a strong hand wraps around your upper arm, another around your waist, steadying you at once.

“You alright?”

The man you bumped into you gives you a dirty look, before continuing on his way. You look at the man. There’s something familiar about the set of his cheekbones, the curl of his lips in an easy smile, his dark green gaze, like the clearing of a forest. You’ve had this thought before, long ago. When the green of a boy’s eyes made you remember there was color in the world.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, waiting for him to let you go. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ve been watching you.”

You stare at him, unsure of how to take his comment. Watching…you…? You hope you haven’t done anything embarrassing. “Excuse me…?”

He promptly drops his arms and steps away. You slowly move to take a step back. Maybe you could pretend someone was calling you over—

“Wait a minute! That made me sound—” he shakes his head. “Wait.” He extends his hand, a wide grin on his face. “Let's start over! Shirokami Hideo.”

It clicks. Oh. You know this man. Well, you knew the boy. You don’t remember much from your time at the Kamo compound. It’s a series of blurred faces and muffled voices. Long stretches of darkness. You slept a lot back then too, you think, because the only thing you do remember in clarity is the sandalwood scent of your comforter, and your preference for sleeping on futons.

“Hideo-kun,” you say, as you remember a shallow brook deep in the forest, and the boy who had taught you to catch fireflies with his hands. You wonder how and why you had forgotten in the first place. You left the Kamo compound, and forgot it all in the monotony of the ensuing years. His voice is deeper, and he’s grown into his face, but if nothing else, his eyes are the same. “I remember you.”

He beams. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Do you still like stargazing?”

---

The surprise must be evident on your face because he sheepishly scratches his face. “The first time you talked to me, it was to tell me that I was looking at the Canis Major, not the Crow.”

You don’t remember it, but it touches you just the same. To think that someone remembered you, even when you didn’t. You had left a piece of yourself in someone.

You take a bite of your lobster, nodding. “I do. I try to go when I can. But I’ve been so busy lately…” You’ve also been meaning to take the kids with you one night. When the weather warms up, you’ll bring them to the mountains. They’d like that. You know Tsumiki was delighted when you gave her a book that illustrated the constellations. You had bought it for her with Megumi on one of your outings.

Hideo nods in sympathy. “It’s tough being a jujutsu sorcerer. Trust me, I’m taking advantage of the low season to take time off to relax!”

The two of you sit at a table tucked away in the far corner. Hideo’s table. There had been an empty seat which he offered. You gratefully accepted, especially when you managed to catch a glimpse of your original table. You had seen Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru. Along with the bride, groom, and a couple other distinguished people seated at the table. You’re glad to escape from the scrutiny. You do much better in obscurity.

You spent the last hour catching up. Hideo was mainly located in Kyoto, with his clan, a Kamo branch family, but he had been preparing to move to Tokyo for a change in scenery.

You knew him for a brief three months, before his return to his clan for his mother’s funeral. He regretted not being able to leave you a note, or tell you that he was leaving. He tried to contact you after, but nobody knew your whereabouts, especially since you moved back to Tokyo and was subsequently lost in the system.

Currently, with his father on bedrest, he was preparing to take over the clan from Tokyo. The move to Tokyo is an effort to bridge the gap and relationship between the Tokyo and Kyoto jujtusu societies.

In return, you offered your own mundane and uneventful recollection of your life up to this point. Compared to Hideo’s, you didn’t have much to offer. You moved to Tokyo after studying the katana at the Kamo compound. Undertook missions as expected of you, and lived alone up until high school. Then you enrolled in jujutsu tech. Now you’re in school for your masters, and then hopefully, a PHD.

It feels odd to talk to someone other than Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. You don’t know Hideo nearly as well, despite a brief history together. Where you can search for familiarity in the softness of Suguru’s smile, the mischievous curl of Shoko’s lips, Satoru’s straightforward demeanor, there’s nothing here to cling to. You don’t remember what it ever meant to be without them. It’s alarming. It’s frightening.

But you think this is what it means to start anew.

The room quiets as a spoon taps glass. Attention gathers towards the table in the middle of the room where an older man in a tuxedo stands. It’s a five minute speech that you don’t really give much thought to, your thoughts with the bride who looks precariously close to storming out of the room.

Hideo tilts his head towards you, his lips in your ear. “She doesn’t look too happy, huh.”

You have to agree.

There are three more speeches. You don’t recognize anybody. Soon after, conversation fills the room once more.

During a lull in a conversation, you excuse yourself to the restroom for a few minutes to yourself. Upon entering the brightly lit room, your gaze is directed towards a woman seated on one of the loveseats in front of a large, wall length mirror, fixing her makeup. You recognize her silver kimono immediately, and when the small, compact mirror slips from her hand and onto the floor by your feet, you bend down to hand it to her. There’s a lotus engraved onto the back of the mirror.

“Thank you,” she says delicately, fingers brushing yours as she takes back her mirror. Up close, you take in her full appearance. The delicate contours of her light makeup to her exceptionally beautiful hazel eyes. Her brown hair is shoulder length, brushing her shoulders, bangs immaculately cut across her forehead. She looks like a doll, even more so when she gives you an inquisitive look, a polite smile curling her lips.

“Is something the matter?”

You realize you’ve been staring. Your face burns. “I’m sorry,” you say, voice reedy, unable to articulate how lovely you think she looks, or how you had seen her talking to Suguru earlier, and whether or not she is who you think she is. So you simply awkwardly look at her. Nod your head in a curt goodbye and turn back around, intent on not speaking to anyone but Hideo for the rest of the evening, lest you embarrass yourself further.

You run right into someone’s chest, and hear a familiar voice say your name, the familiar scent of sandalwood in your nose, as a hand on your upper arm rights you back up.

“Suguru,” you say happily, looking at him. Up close, you think he looks especially handsome in his dark blue kimono. His usually pulled up hair is down, flowing down his back. You like it when he lets his hair down. You didn’t think you’d get to see him, or even talk to him today. “I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today…”

Concern immediately colors his face as he smooths your hair down and fixes the shoulder of your dress. His hand stays on your shoulder, thumb tracing your collarbone in comforting motions. “Everything alright?”

“Yes!” You reply immediately to assuage his concern, if anything. You hope he's alright. Or at least making nice with Satoru for the duration of this event. You're sure they've grown past making a public spectacle of their arguments, but one can never be too sure. “I’m no good at these types of events. I guess I’m just a little nervous…”

“I was looking for you,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Shoko said you were…” his features grow taunt, lips tugging into a slight frown, “fine. But you weren’t in your seat.”

Shoko must have seen you with Hideo. Which meant she looked for you. Your smile grows wider. However, even the thought of returning to your designated seat surrounded by the most important people at the event you’d be expected to converse with makes your stomach twist. Embarrassing yourself was one thing. Embarrassing Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko was another.

“She’s right,” you confirm, doing your best to reassure him. “I found an old friend!”

His lips reflexively twitch into a smile, maintaining an amiable expression, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “An…old friend…?”

“I’ve been with him the entire time, so you don’t need to worry. I’ll introduce you,” you say eagerly, excited at the prospect of being able to introduce Hideo to Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. “He—”

“Are you cold?” Suguru suddenly asks you lightly, hand slightly squeezing your shoulder. “The air condition is cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” you blink. “...Are you cold?” That wouldn’t do. Maybe you could ask the hotel receptionist—

“Geto-sama,” a voice interrupts, “I didn’t think I’d find you out here.” You turn, seeing the woman in the silver kimono, once more, smiling, a fresh layer of red painting her lips. You straighten, resisting the urge to smooth out your dress.

“I was on my way to get some air,” Suguru answers with a smile of his own. “I ran into a close friend.” He chuckles goodnaturedly. “I’m trying to convince her to come back with me.”

Come back with him?

Her gaze slides to you. If she remembers you, her expression is unreadable. Her eyes slightly widen. “Oh my,” she lifts her hand to her mouth. “Is it your seat I’ve taken? My apologies—”

“Oh, it’s fine!” You wave her off. She looks genuinely apologetic. “Please, take my seat. I’ve found another with an old friend.”

“Is that so…” She trails off, glancing up at Suguru. “Forgive me, we haven’t been properly introduced.” She lowers her head. “Sasaki Kumiko. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You reply with your own name, and an encouraging smile.

“Speaking of,” you step away. “I’ve kept Hideo-kun waiting long enough. Why don’t you take her with you to get fresh air, Suguru?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Kumiko says, eyes brightening at the idea, giving a face a certain type of incandescent joy. “I would love to accompany you.”

You don’t wait for his reply to make yourself scarce. You give his hand a little squeeze, before making your way back to Hideo.

The two of you fall back into easy conversation and talk until the moon is high and bright in the sky. Plates are cleared and guests start to rise once again, mingling and talking as the dancefloor begins to fill up.

You’re unsure of what to do. Should you look for Shoko again? You’re not much of a dancer. You don’t want to hold her back with your discomfort. Hideo lightly taps on your arm, bending down to whisper into your ear: “There’s a garden outside. Do you want to walk with me?”

You are instantly relieved. With everybody crowded around the dance floor to witness the bride and groom’s first dance, the two of you would be able to slip outside. Nobody would be there. You could get away.

You nod, and he takes your hand, leading you towards the exit leading to the hotel lobby, and then outside. As the two of you step out into the pebble lined path, lit up in anticipation for the wedding, you can still hear the strings of the quartet playing from the ballroom. Immaculately tended flowers line the path, flowers of every color and shape. You sigh, feeling the tension slipping from your body.

“I’m sorry if I scared you. Earlier.” Hideo laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to you earnestly. “I saw you earlier, and I spent so much time thinking of what to say to you that I completely forgot what I was going to say!”

You laugh, despite the outside chill trailing over your body. You relate to the feeling of your tongue not working at times. “You didn’t scare me. But I did think you mistook me for someone else at first,” you admit. You were initially perturbed, that was true. You’re glad he cleared the air before you managed to escape. You’re glad that you’ve met him again, after all these years.

The path opens to a small clearing with an empty fountain as Hideo fondly details his short lived time at the main Kamo estate with you. At the Kamo compound, he was one of many boys, left alone to his own devices in favor of the more elite sons of the family. It was the first time he had ever tasted freedom away from his own clan estate, where he was coddled by servants and his sickly mother.

Upon your silence, he looks at you, concerned. “Is it cold?” He moves to take off his jacket but you stop him.

“It’s not that,” you blurt out. The cold feels good on your skin. Calms you down. “I don’t remember much from back then. It’s all…hazy.” Any recollection of your childhood draws a blank. It makes you feel bad that you can’t dignify his memories with your own. “But I know that…” you trail off, staring at your feet. “You were kind to me. Back then.” Even you know that you hadn’t been in the right state of mind so soon after your father died. You wanted to leave the past behind. You didn’t want to remember. You had to forget to survive.

You sit down on the cold surface of stone, and exhale. You didn’t realize Hideo’s appearance would dredge up the past like this. You feel tired all of a sudden. You want to go back to the apartment you’ve made a home, curl up in your bed, and let sleep claim you once more.

A weight settles on your shoulders as the warmth of Hideo’s jacket envelopes you. He takes a seat next to you, gaze searching yours.

“You were a child,” he says gently. “It’s okay to forgive yourself—”

You don’t hear the rest of his words as blood rushes to your ears. You can’t swallow the lump in your throat, and your face feels hot to the touch. Your fingers curl into the skirt of your dress. Forgiveness . You have no right to forgiveness. You allow yourself just enough happiness, and that’s enough.

“—it was only three months.” His gaze turns a touch concerned. “Are you alright?”

Panic bubbles in your chest as you manage shallow breaths, staring at him in increasing discomfort as your vision begins to go spotty.

Forgiveness? Your father died before he could forgive you. He died resenting your birth. He wished you had died instead of your mother. The forgiveness to absolve yourself isn't yours.

“There you are.”

You’d recognize the sharp cadence of Satoru’s voice anywhere. You focus on it. He’s unhappy. You wonder if he got into another fight with Suguru. You turn to where he stands, arms crossed, jaw set into a hard line. In the moonlight he glows otherworldly, a piece of divinity on earth. If only his expression matched.

His eyes are piercingly alight as he approaches. “Shoko’s looking for you.”

“Oh.” You perk up. “She is?” In your momentary elation at the prospect of seeing Shoko again, the anxiety dissipates enough for you to collect yourself. You almost forget to make introductions, but Hideo beats you to it, standing up.

“Gojo-sama,” he says, inclining his head. “It’s an—”

“Like I care,” is Satoru’s clipped response. A dismissive glance in Hideo’s general direction, before his gaze is focused on you again. You stare at him, taken aback at his rudeness.

He pulls you up, not roughly, and examines you with a keen eye. He takes in the coat on your shoulders, and irritation shrouds his face once more. He swipes it off your shoulders and throws it back on the fountain. Then he takes off his haori and sweeps it over your shoulders. Without another word, he takes you by the wrist and away.

You give Hideo one last glance over your shoulder. He waves, a good natured smile on his face.

You eye Satoru’s back, trying to tug your hand back to your side to no avail. His fingers are locked around your wrist. Despite his annoyance, you’re happy to see him. There’s so much you want to tell him, about all the small details about your shameful past you tried to hide, about the small things you did remember about your time at the Kamo compound, even about Hideo—

You are backed into a wall, Satoru looming above you, eyes flashing. “Who the hell was that?”

You blink at him, looking from Satoru’s left arm caging you into the wall, to the other with slight disbelief. “Shirokami…Hideo…” We lived together when we were younger. Back when I had nobody. Back when I was a ghost. He taught me how to catch fireflies. I don’t remember much about those days, but I think he made me happy.

You hold your tongue.

You hope you aren’t being presumptuous. “He’s a friend—”

Satoru’s fingers dig into your chin as he lifts your face up. You look into his eyes, brighter than the moon hanging in the sky, and you think there’s something disconcerting in the way he looks at you. Like you could ask him to defy the laws of the world. For you, he do it. And if you asked him to bring down a star, he’d lay it on your palm.

The world stills, just as it usually does when you meet his gaze. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you stare at him, daring you to pull away, to drop your gaze back to your feet.

You feel his hand curl around your nape, pulling you to him with a squeeze that feels branding. He takes your lips with a bruising kiss, pressing you back into a garden shed. A startled noise leaves your open lips, and Satoru takes advantage, teeth sinking into your bottom lip with a distinct viciousness. You feel his tongue dragging against your own, hungry. Your eyes widen, never leaving his lidded stare that could be a glare. His hands come up to cup your face, angling you to his whims, effectively keeping you still against the onslaught of his lips as he steals your breath away.

He’s all you can see and feel. The heat of him, his palpable desire, so feverish it eats you alive. You push at his chest, feeling the lack of oxygen muddle your brain but he only holds you tighter. When he finally pulls away, a string of saliva briefly connects your lips, broken when Satoru’s tongue runs over his lips. Your hands are fisted into the fabric of his nagagi so tightly that you’ve pulled it open, exposing more of his chest than necessary. You let go, hands falling limp to your side.

His eyes lower back to your lips, and you startle. You’d take a step back if you could, but instead you push back into the wall. Somewhere in between, Satoru had lifted you up, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist, dress hiked up. Satoru’s hand is resting on your bare thigh with a grip that has no intention of letting you move, and a shiver rips through your body as you inhale gulps of air. His leg rests between your thighs, reminding you of the uncomfortable wetness staining your panties.

He leans forward and you unknowingly tense, but instead of your lips you feel a sting on your neck. Teeth. You wince, but Satoru holds you in place, fingers curling into you like a warning. You feel his tongue tracing the bruise, before he straightens with a finality. You might be shaking but you’re unsure if it’s from the cold or…

You stare at him, stunned, while he meets your gaze unrepentantly.

“I…” your voice trembles as the awful reality slowly sets in. “Could you…” you struggle with the words. “...Please put me down.”

For one terrifying second, you see the beginnings of the stubborn set of his eyebrows, as if he might refuse.

Then, wordlessly, wearing a frown, he lifts you down.

You don’t think. You bend down on unsteady legs to pick up his fine haori that had fallen to the ground, and neatly fold it. You hand it to him. He takes it.

“Good night,” you intone.

You stiffly walk back into the hotel lobby, where everyone has gathered, ready to leave for the night or take taxis to the invite exclusive after party. You think you might walk to the train station. Nothing feels real.

You should text Shoko. Tell her that you didn’t feel good and that you took a taxi home. Yes, you’ll do that.

You accidentally meet Suguru’s searching gaze from across the room. You register surprise across his face. Then he slowly makes his way through the crowd. There's something wet on your lips, and when you raise your hand there's a smear of blood on your fingers. You take a step back, stomach twisting into knots. You’ll walk.

You’ll walk.

You turn around, starting through the hotel lobby where cabs have begun to line the entrance and the streets outside. You'll feel bad later. You walk through it all. Once you get far away enough, you manage to flag an empty taxi down.

You don’t remember the car ride home. You enter your apartment and make it to your bed just as your legs buckle. You fall asleep in daze, wondering if the night was all just a bad dream.

#geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #m.jjk #ddao

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