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#slice of life fic
nburkhardt · 6 months
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begging for a full version of your celeb secret relationship Mpreg au
Idk if I could do a full version of it right now buttttt I do think about it quite often. Hope this is slice of life moment is enough for you 🥰
(Quick recap of the idea. Steve’s social media/internet famous doing baking/cooking videos. While Eddie’s famous with Corroded Coffin. They keep the relationship out of the spotlight, only their inner circle know about it. Everyone knows they’re both mated, just not with who. It comes out via Steve making weird cravings on one of the videos along with Eddie appearing/speaking in it)
🖤🎸🎂🍼🎂🎸💛
Steve finding out he’s pregnant when Eddie’s out doing press for the newest album.
They both just assumed he was coming down with the flu and so Steve just pushed him out the door and promised to text him what the doctor says.
It’s not the flu, he’s just pregnant.
Deciding not to be a little shit, Steve just sends a text saying he’s fine and at dinner he’ll explain more. He doesn’t realize that despite saying he’s fine, it still makes the alpha panic.
The band and the interviewer notice immediately, Eddie was on edge at the start and even more so after reading his phone. His best friends are already in the know of the relationship, so they talk more in the interview instead of Eddie. Gareth and Jeff keep up a nice back and forth with the interviewer, while Frankie peeks at Eddie’s phone and steals it just to keep Eddie from checking it every five seconds.
The minute the interview is over and they’re making their way back to the car, Frankie hands the phone back to Eddie. Who immediately calls Steve, “Honey?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the interview?”
Eddie sighs and dives into the car, “Finished it, the boys and I are heading back now, should they come over still?”
Steve hums, “of course. Bobs and Dust are already here, Chrissy’s on her way with food. Can’t have a family dinner without the rest of the family”
It calms Eddie down just a little, but, “Even with how you’re feeling?”
“Yep! All good, Bambi. Stop that worrying” Steve laughs and it brings a smile to Eddie’s face to have that sound in his ear.
The drive isn’t very long and as soon as the car stops, Eddie’s out of it and rushes inside. Relaxing once he sees his mate sitting on the couch with Robin and Dustin.
He drops down next to Steve before pulling him onto his lap, further calming down. Scenting him and pressing a kiss to his temple. They stay like that for a few minutes, Eddie needing it and Steve never gives up being close to him.
“Come on, Eds, I’m okay. Let’s set up the table before Chrissy gets here”
Steve gets up, holds out his hand before leading him into the kitchen. Stopping at the cabinets furthest from the other room, “I really am fine, I’m great even.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been feeling sick for the last few days, Honeybun”
It brings a smile to Steve’s face and he nods, “you’re right I have been, but that’s because I’m pregnant.”
Steve watches as Eddie processes the words and the moment it clicks into place, Eddie’s eyes are wide and tearing up. His arms wrap around the omega, holding him close and Steve melts into him.
“Really?” Eddie whispers, “pregnant?”
He nods against him, his own eyes watering at the hopefulness in Eddie’s voice. Their scents are strong with happiness and this is something they didn’t think would honestly happen. Steve shifts enough to scent Eddie, Eddie humming softly and pressing his lips against the omega’s neck for a second before swaying them.
“Steve, did you decide to start baking before even- what’s happening right now?”
They look over and find their friends standing there, Dustin being the one who spoke. All of them look confused. Jeff knocks Dustin up side the head, “they’re just happy, dumbass. Set up the table”
Dustin grumbles and throws up a middle finger, while the rest of them move further in. Eddie rolling his eyes, but not moving away from Steve.
“I think that was sweet, wish my partner did that with me” Chrissy chips in while setting the bags down, giggling when Jeff pulls her away and pressing kisses all over her face before holding her close in a hug, “okay! Okay! Stop now, Jeffery please!”
It makes everyone laugh and they all get settled in before making plates and enjoying each other’s company and the food, small chatter and laughs only.
Eddie bumps Steve’s shoulder, a silent question, and Steve just smiles and nods. “Hey, Honeybee and I wanna tell you something”
Everyone looks over and Steve’s face hurts with how much he’s smiling.
“I’m pregnant”
🖤🎸🎂🍼🎂🎸💛
Okay so. Maybe this might have to get more love from me. This kind of thing is so fun to write, especially just building up the world without actually writing it out before hand, just start typing and figuring it out as I go. Like that bit with Jeff and Chrissy? Yeah that came out of no where and now I need more. Anyway, hope that was enjoyable for everyone ☺️
Idk if everyone in my permanent tag list is a fan of a/b/o and mpreg. So uh, sorry for that. Please let me know and I’ll make a note to remove the tag from any future fic with those things.
@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon
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onthesandsofdreams · 1 year
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One Autumn Day
Fandom: The Sandman (TV) Pairing: Morpheus x f!Reader Rating: G Summary:  "Your hair is really soft, you know?" Words: 700 Warnings: None Notes: For @mousedetective Prompt(s): 13.- I don't want you to do that from @fictober-event
Read @ AO3
It is a lovely autumn day.
You and Morpheus were having a small picnic in the park during one of those days he came to visit you in the waking world. Your back against a tree as he rested face up, his head comfortably lain on your thigh.
You were reading poetry out loud, relishing in the quietness of the moment. Your hand occasionally running through Morpheus' hair. It was soft, very much so. Like the finest silk that you'd ever touched. You stopped reading, placing the book to the side of you and looked at him, "Your hair is really soft, you know?"
Morpheus smiled, "Is it now?"
"Yes." You said still teasing his strands. "I am sure that whether long hair or not, it would always be soft and I would have troubles keeping my hands out of it."
"I have worn it long," Morpheus said, lifting a hand to softly caress your cheek. "I could alter it, should you want me to."
Leaning into his touch, you blink. I mean, sure, you knew that he could do that. It shouldn't have come as a surprise but. "I don't want you to do that," you said. It was your turn to cup his cheek. "And by that I mean that I love you. Long hair, short hair, no hair," Morpheus laughed and you winked at him. "However you want to look, I'll always love you. You don't have to change your appearance for my sake alone. Do it if you want to look different, do it if it pleases you, if it makes you happy. But just because you think I would like it more? No."
Morpheus sat, breaking the contact you both had and he lifted a brow, one corner of his lips, not quite a smile, and you could have sworn that the stars in his eyes shone brighter. "I will keep that in mind." And then, "So, you think I would look good with long hair."
You lifted your hands to cup his face. "Morpheus, darling... you always look good." Leaning forward, you kissed the corner of his lips. "Your eyes leave me breathless, and please, don't get me started on your voice. I love your lips, ever so soft, your hands that could break me and yet hold onto me as if I were made of crystal. I am jealous of your cheekbones, your skin almost seems to shine. You're beautiful, no matter how you look. But I will not deny that this appearance you have taken is quite pleasing to the eyes and..."
Morpheus didn't let you finish as he leaned forward and captured your own lips with such a kiss, you saw stars behind your eyes and were grateful that you were sitting down, else your knees would probably have given in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, returning the kiss with all the passion that you felt for him. And did not part until you had trouble breathing.
"God..."
"Not quite so, darling."
You chuckled, "Close enough. Also, I think you just ruined me. I doubt that I'll ever kiss anyone like that ever again."
"Good," The smugness that was radiating from Morpheus was near tangible. "Because I do not share."
"Neither do I."
With a swift movement, Morpheus changed positions so that he was the one with the back on the tree trunk, pulling to rest in his chest. You let it happen, finding comfort in the circle of his arms. You two stood still for a while, only moving when you got thirsty.
Reaching for the apple cider and turnovers, you offered them to Morpheus and got some for yourself. Morpheus took them, "Am only eating this because you made them."
You beamed, relishing in the small victory. "Thank you, my love."
And with a calm sense of serenity, and in the comfort of knowing that you were loved, you let go of worries and allowed yourself to simply enjoy the picnic. And you knew, that for all his protestations, Morpheus was at peace in the moment. And you could only hope that you two would be able to have more moments like this in the waking world.
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"Wrong one, Nanami-san!"
Welp guess who the cat done dragged back out of hell and outta her shell. Quick lil post, and yes I did just get braids.
Rating: PG | warnings: cursing probably, one asscheek squeeze, poorly edited
introducing Bambi, my newest reader stand-in
"Wait, you said you took zelle?! I didn’t bring cash.” Bambi looked back at the woman, bewildered. It was 3:40 pm, and she had been in the small braiding shop since 7:30 am. Her head hurt, her leg started cramping, her stomach been growling since noon, and her ass was numb like she got injected with novocaine on both cheeks. 
The struggles of being a bad bitch.
“No, no, no. my sister does zelle, but she is not here. I only do cash.” As she spoke through with accented tongue, the braider had begun retracting her hands, resting the tools of her trade that had been working non-stop all day. Bambi could feel her irritation grow. As much as this whole situation peeved her off, she would be damned if she returned home with half her hair done. 
“Okay, lemme call my boyfriend. He’ll bring the money.”
“Okay, honey. Call him now. I take break now.” Bambi nodded, getting out of the worn stylist chair to get her blood circulating while her fingers tapped on the phone screen. The call was brief, all she had to do was ask for him to stop by with the money. A question from him had Bambi call out to the braider, who had moved to the front of the shop to check in with her family and other clients. 
“Gena? What time will we be done?” The woman paused her vivid storytelling to respond to Bambi. 
“Two more hours. Remy, come help me finish and we’ll leave after. Okay?” Called to attention, a little girl no older than 12 removed her earplugs and put down her iPad. 
“Okay, momma.” Bambi relayed the message to the receiver, smiling, and pressed the red end button when he promised he would personally come to deliver the money.
“He coming with the money, hunny?” 
“Yes.”
“Good, good. Okay, let’s finish.” 
Two hours passed torturously, her focus spit between pressing down on whatever braid was being tugged on to relieve pain and prevent her follicles from getting ripped out, and watching the foreign romance drama playing on the mounted tv via the mirror’s reflection. In the two hours, Bambi watched with envy and scrunched nose as two of the seven other clients leave, the scent of hairspray and small drips of boiling water showing their trail. 
“Stay still, hunny.” With a minute nod, Bambi did as she was told, steam licking the fine hairs of her ears and neck. “Almost done. Where is your boyfriend?”
“He’s-” the sound of the old bell above the door being ringed silenced Bambi. Call her crazy, but she likes to think her senses were acute when it came to her boyfriend. She could tell by the summer breeze that filled the room he was in the room. 
“Bambi?” Yuji’s upbeat voice reached all the way to the back where she, Gena, and Remy were stationed. 
“Here.” He followed her reply into the back, pushing beads that separated the front from the back out his way. He gave a soft smile, in awe of seeing her in such a state. It wasn’t often anyone got a glimpse of her primping and preening. Most of the time the group only got the end result, hair and accessories already perched in place. The Bambi in front of him looked vulnerable, unease written clearly in her expression. 
“Who do I give it to?” he looked at the other two people in the corner, fighting the muscles in his face wanting to keep his expression neutral. 
“Gena.” Without hesitation, Gena got up from the chair, hand out, ready to accept her payment for almost twelve hours of labor. 
“Thank you. Your boyfriend is very handsome, Hunny.” Gena quipped as her fingers ripped open the sealed envelope. 
“He’s not him, Yuji, where is Nanami?” She could feel young eyes peep up to her, to Yuji, towards the front, before refocusing on dipping the ends of the braids. Remy’s mother gasped, done counting her payment. 
“Too much! Almost ten thousand.” She uttered, mind frazzled at the amount in her hand. Bambi gave a scrupulous glance at the braider before looking at Yuji, who had turned a soft pink. 
“I’m sorry, give me one second!” Ripping the money out Gena’s hand, the young man flounced back to the front, ringing the bell as he opened the door to talk to his boss. 
“Wrong one, Nanami-san.” The occupants of the shop went hush, waiting on how the mysterious man that had been pacing back and forth like a predator, talking swift and curt on the phone, would respond. A few still chirped on though.
Bambi heard the bell ring once again, ignoring the whispers between mother and daughter trying to speculate who the hell was in their shop. Bambi liked Remy’s guess of ‘conman’ the least. Nanami would never do something so lowbrow as conning. 
That was her territory. 
He came in with the next gust of wind, trenchcoat flowing behind him like a cape. The conversations come to a full halt then, all the patrons and workers fixated on his simple movements. Bambi swore even the beads moved out of the way for the man as he crossed over to the back, the phone still pressed to his ear, the ticked-off expression he wore morphing into a fonder one. He tapped the mute button on the screen to address the room.
“Sorry, ma’am. My mistake.” He said nothing more, producing a new unopened envelope for Gena. This package was noticeably less dense. Just as she accepted her payment, Remy squeezes the last of the boiling water out of the fibers of synthetic hair. Bambi can’t control the groan released from her spirit. 
Yuji followed his boss back in and was about to offer a hand to help her out of the chair until Nanami gave him an unreadable expression. She got her boyfriend’s hand instead.
Bambi smiled cheerily as he gently pulled her out of the chair, raising their joint hands towards the yellowed fluorescent lighting. He looked at her like a king does his god. Her long braids flew behind her when she fell into his embrace. Letting go of her hand, Nanami wrapped his arm around her waist, securing her to him. 
“Absolutely stunning.” His low tone sent shivers down her spine. Already she could feel skin melt and stick to his aura. He didn’t care about the others in the room with them, he only had eyes for his Bambi. 
“Thank you,” Swallowing the lust in her throat, Bambi turned to Gena and her daughter. “Thank you, see ya’ll next time.”
“Okay, hunny. Goodnight.” Gena spoke automatically, her focus refusing to move from the stack of money in her hand. It was still twice as much as she charged. She didn’t even attempt to cover her daughter’s eyes or admonish the couple when Nanami gave a quick but strong squeeze to his girlfriend’s ass. 
“Let’s go. I have to make another stop and get a new envelope and-” The voice on his phone increased its volume, reminding everyone he was on a call. Kissing Bambi’s gleaming forehead, he mouthed a sorry as he pressed the mute button again. 
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Bambi waved as she left the shop, happy to be free from the pain and suffering. The door hadn’t even closed all the way when she heard the explosion of conversation they left in their wake. She turned to Yuji and poked him in the cheek, right under his scar. 
“Make a stop at Whataburger, yeah? I’m craving a shake.” 
“Sure thing, boss.” 
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The Chain, The Magic Circle, and Us
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Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff
Relationship: Stucky x reader (gender/appearance nonspecified)
Summary: You, Steve and Bucky share a hobby, and a learning curve.
A/N: Continuing in my supersoft supersoldiers theme, this is Stucky x reader fluff and I am wholly unashamed. Headcanon format
It started after a long, and frankly frightening mission. Casualties, both team and civilian, weighed heavily on Cap’s mind, even after he removed the uniform. 
He came down to the common room after cleaning up to grab some snacks and noticed you on the couch watching tv. 
You were both in the same place of wanting to be near people but still left alone, so when he sat down at the far edge of the sofa from you, you acknowledged him with brief eye contact and nothing else. 
The movie on tv was JAWS, the original version. It was one of those movies that you could enjoy but not pay close attention to while your mind went through its decompression cycle. 
On the couch next to you was your craft bag, the giant bag of yarn, crochet hooks, and whatnot that you carried with you on every mission to keep your hands busy on the flights. It helped manage your anxiety. It was something you could do that didn’t require you to look at it, necessarily, but the repetitive movements gave you focus so you could keep your mind sharp and free of the brain kinks that came with panic. 
Your hands were going, making a seemingly infinite number of granny squares while vaguely watching the carnage unfold on a beach in a fictional New York town. 
Steve found you infinitely more entertaining than the tv. Your quiet nature after missions was so at odds with your personality the rest of the time. 
You were so loud, affectionate, ‘ebullient’ according to Jarvis. Unfailingly kind to everyone, relaxed and nonjudgmental, you had a warmth that just drew people to you. 
And by people, he meant himself, and probably Bucky. 
He says ‘probably’ because while they haven’t discussed that part of things, he knew his best friend was more than a little sweet on you. He could relate. 
As he picked at his tasteless food, he watched you generate square after square from the yarn, the bright colors and style reminding him of a large, warm-looking blanket he’d seen in Wanda’s quarters. 
“You wanna learn?”
Your gentle question brought his eyes to yours in shock. He wasn’t expecting interaction, but, to his surprise, he didn’t find it unwelcome. 
“Sure, if you want.” 
You patted the seat next to you and passed him a hook and ball of blue yarn.
Your teaching style was like you: laid back, relaxed, and gracious in the face of his many beginner’s mistakes. You took it all in stride, and when he finished his first square, lopsided and curled from inconsistent tension, you cheered him on and encouraged him to do it again. 
So that was how it came to be that after missions, you’d seek each other out, sit on the couch in the common area, and quietly make granny squares while watching movies or listening to music. 
He loved the nights with the music most of all. 
Listening to you sing softly under your breath to whatever’s coming through the speakers brought his heart a deeply cherished joy. 
You didn’t sing in public, he knew that from Tony’s numerous karaoke nights, so it made it more special that you shared that intimate piece of yourself with him. 
The ritual moved from the common room to his and Bucky’s quarters, with Buck joining in from time to time. It was a sliver of peace and normal in a chaotic world for them. 
You bonded over stories shared and movies enjoyed. Yarn and food consumed by the three of you together, you growing closer to both men over time. 
The relationship… it had an air of inevitability around it, at least according to Sam and Tasha. Like you all found each other right when you were supposed to, and came together as you needed to. 
You three think that it might have just been the yarn. 
With his ever-growing pile of granny squares, you showed Stevie how to sew them together, starting him on a path to a blanket that would slowly fold in squares from both you and Bucky. 
In the end, the blanket was large enough to accommodate all three of you on the couch, curled up together, happy. 
And that was as it should be. 
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pers-books · 11 months
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Original Work Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) Characters: Stigr the Halfling, Wulf the Werewolf, Elvish Kin Additional Tags: secondary world, Fantasy, Halfling, Werewolf, Trans Male Character, Non-binary character, Magic, Prompt Fic, Friendship, Gratuitous mentions of fantasy food and drink, Slice of Life, POV Second Person Summary: Heading to the little-known Hildebeorht's for refreshment after a long day of exams Stigr the Halfling discovers the cafe's owner being menaced by a couple of Elvish Kin mercenaries. They are not impressed.
I wrote the opening of this the other day in response to a prompt Tweet from Tales and Feathers Magazine. The concept and the main character hung around in my head and the following day I wrote nearly 4k words more.
To be honest, I was surprised because the Bitch Muse doesn't usually cooperate with regard to writing original fiction - she'd far sooner write fanfic. However, I'm so relieved to have been able to write anything at all after weeks of stress surrounding two major life events that I'm just glad I got any words down at all.
Thanks to @thisbluespirit for the very helpful beta! 💙
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teazingsassy · 1 year
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A slice of life about three roommates. A minor league baseball player who moonlights as a professional competitive eater. An Olympian hopeful who loves to sleep. And a meteorologist who is surrounded by idiots both at work and at school. They share one car and live in the city of Rogue with their friends.
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smilindesperado · 2 years
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A rainy day in the Fire Nation reminds Mai to move a little slower.
Written for Spring Maiko Week
While I finish things up on my long fic, I wrote a little something for Spring Maiko Week - my one and only fic I was able to crank out for this.
Anyway, I love older domestic Maiko and I like to think they get a little bit of piece and quiet later in life.
@idonthatemaiko
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aithilin · 2 years
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Dancing Lights
I challenged @milo-makes-art to a kiss meme challenge: I write a fic based on a kiss meme I found and she draws the same challenge.  Also at AO3: Here
--
Caleb did not pray. Not the same way that others did— that nearly everyone in his motley little family did— with words and rituals and the expectation of a response. Or the understanding that a response may not be forthcoming or immediate, or even what was expected in the long run of pleas and conversations. But he enjoyed the meditative quiet that came with the perceived ritual of it. He liked the quiet that let him try to focus, the peace that came with touching the arcane that he had grown to know as a part of him. The warmth of the light around him as he lined up the ritual components and traced symbols, runes, and circles from his spell book in chalk or charcoal depending on what he needed it for. 
Jester had once asked if the ritual spells were like prayers, or if the talisman for Corellon he carried was like a sigil to focus prayer. 
He hadn’t the heart to tell her that it was one of the few mementos his parents had sent him to school with. 
In the quiet of the rented room, he settled into the familiar habits of flipping through his spell book as if it would ease his mind. 
Identify spells were the easiest. He knew them like he knew his mother tongue. The gestures, the words, and the arcane energy all flowed like the breath from his lungs. The gestures left traces in the air as he pulled the information from the first of the items the others had given to him to sift through. 
He no longer needed the book set open at his side, but after a long day when he would rather climb into bed, the pages were as much a part of the ritual as Frumpkin purring at his side.
“How’s it coming, magic man?” The smell of something rich and meaty followed Mollymauk’s voice into the room. “Anything good?”
“Four done,” Caleb traded his notes for the stew the tiefling had brought him. “Take that potion of healing, ja? You used the last one on Beau.”
“You say thet likes it’s a bad thing,” but Mollymauk accepted the vial to tuck into his belongings all the same. 
“I say it like a reminder that you often need it more,” setting the bowl of stew in his lap, Caleb conjured the four little globules of dancing light rather than fuss with a candle to light the room. He hadn’t realized that the room had grown dark during his work, despite the awareness that the forty minutes that had passed would have taken him past dusk. 
Mollymauk smirked and leaned over Caleb, hair and decorations falling forward until the gold and silver was gleaming in the changing, moving light. Caleb leaned back to ask what he needed, and the tiefling took the opportunity to let his hands move over narrow shoulders until he could stroke his thumbs along Caleb’s throat. “Take a break to eat, darling. You already look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”
“So you would rather not know what else we have found?”
“Oh, do tell, please. What do you have for me?” There was a quick kiss as the lights started their slow, lazy loops around the room. Mollymauk nearly threw himself to the bed and into a lounge to look over the pile of looted goods and trinkets that had been separated into piles. 
“You said to eat first,” Caleb smiled and turned back to the bowl that the tiefling had delivered. “But I recommend the ring.”
“The ring? What does it do?”
“Looks very fetching on you. It is not magical.”
Mollymauk’s grin lit up the room just as much as the lights in their gentle, dips and weaves around the room. While he enjoyed the quiet and routine of the work for a few moments to breathe after a trying day, Caleb found that he had started to prefer the tiefling’s easy company and quick smiles. 
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"I think we should break up," is what Eddie blurts the moment Steve opens the front door to reveal him.
Steve's first reaction is anger -how dare he?- but he doesn't do anything with that anger. Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, crosses his arms, and looks Eddie over.
He's breathing heavily yet his van is parked along the curb. He didn't run here. His hair, while never tame, looks rougher. He is fidgeting but in a nervous way, not his usual too much energy way. His eyes are wide and scared. It's the last bit there that drains Steve's anger.
Something's happened.
He drops his arms and says, "well, you're not dumping me on my porch. Get in here."
This doesn't seem like the response Eddie was expecting. Even though he has been looking at Steve this whole time he still manages to do a double take at him. Steve just shoves the door open a bit wider when he turns and heads back to the kitchen, where the dishes are not washing themselves because he doesn't have a dishwasher.
"I-I'm serious, Steve," Eddie is stammering behind him, which is good. Means he did follow. Steve hears the door shut and the shuffling sound of what he assumes is Eddie trying to pull off his combat boots without untying them, like the animal he is.
"Don't shout at me in my own home! Get in this kitchen," Steve shouts, then smiles and relishes in the offended huff Eddie lets out because Steve is the one shouting. Steve picks up the dish towel he'd deposited on the counter and throws it back over his shoulder, then get back to the dishes. There's just a couple bowls and a pot left, might as well get them done.
The sink is perpendicular to the doorway, so he watches Eddie slink into the small galley kitchen, stopping just inside the doorway to frown at Steve. "I'm breaking up with you and you're just, what, gonna wash dishes?"
"You're not breaking up with me, but yes. Look, one bowl down already. Just two more dishes."
"I- what. Yes, I am!"
"Edifer, you are 24 years old. That's much too old to just show up, yell 'we're over' at someone and run away. We're going to talk about this," he's not sure if it's the nickname, or the scolding parent voice he's put on, but it gets a huff of laughter from Eddie, and he counts it as a win.
"Alright, dad."
Steve grins, "I'll be dad if you be Daddy."
There's some sputtering from Eddie, and Steve gets the final dish done before Eddie says, "you can't just say that when I'm breaking up with you! That's- that's manipulative!"
He shrugs in response. "Seems fair. You're messing with my feelings; I'm messing with your feelings."
Those words freeze Eddie, and Steve can see him processing the words. Did Eddie really not consider that Steve had feelings involved? "I- that's... um."
He takes his time to unplug the sink, rinsing away the left-over bubbles before drying his hands and turning around. Eddie looks less wild and scared, now. More conflicted and uncertain. Which could be a good or bad thing. "Did you think you would just come over, break up with me, and I'd be, like, completely fine with it?"
"No," Eddie is quick to say, "Not completely fine but like, fine enough. It's- we've only been together for a month."
Steve frowns at that. He's not going to take offense to the 'only' added in there, because he's grown a lot over the last four years. He's mature now. "Sure, but beyond that, we've been friends since the world almost ended. I don't understand. I thought we were on the same page, here."
Eddie's fidgety again, in the bad way, pacing up and down the length of the kitchen. "What if this was a mistake?"
"What if it wasn't?"
That stops Eddie in his tracks, whipping around to look at Steve. "What if this goes bad? What if you meet someone else and they can give you everything I can't? What if-"
"Whoa, Eddie!" Steve shoves off the sink and gets to Eddie in two steps. His hands come up, hovering. He wants to touch, comfort, but... well, if he allowed to? "I- where's all this coming from?"
"Dustin and Suzie broke up!"
"What?"
"Dustin and Suzie broke up!! They were the forever couple! Perfect for each other! If they couldn't make it work, how am I supposed to be able to?"
Ah. The root of it. Eddie, afraid he's not good enough. Fuck it. Eddie can shove him off if he doesn't want Steve to touch him. He slides an arm around Eddie's waist, his other hand going up to caress his cheek before cupping it, a move he knows makes Eddie melt like cotton candy on the tongue. "Eddie, baby, we make it work by working on it. Not just giving up."
Eddie does melt into Steve, his own arms wrapping around Steve (probably against Eddie's will). "I- I don't know what I'm doing. I'm gonna fuck this up and you'll hate me, and everything will be ruined."
"Well, that's melodramatic."
Eddie glares at him even as he nuzzles into Steve's palm. "Rude."
"Baby, so long as you just talk to me, we'll be okay. Don't just show up and declare you're gonna break up with me. I think there's some steps we can take before it gets to that."
He watches Eddie swallow thickly before he nods his head. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
"So, we okay? You aren't gonna break my heart?"
Eddie whimpers at that, throwing himself forward to shove his face into Steve's neck. Steve settles his hand on the back of Eddie's head, idly scratching it while his other arm tightens its hold. When Eddie speaks, it's muffled and directly into his skin. "No. No breaking hearts."
"Hmm, good," Steve says, content to hold his boyfriend in his kitchen for however long Eddie wants to be held.
He'll call and check in on Dustin a bit later, too.
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triona-tribblescore · 3 months
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They meet at some stupid house party~
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auteurdelabre · 4 months
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Something to Fight For (SERIES) Part 20
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Something to Fight For Chapter 20 Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria, Bill x Frank Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. Loves of cheese. Extra cheese with a side of cheese. Love and more love. Happy ending. All the happy shit.
masterlist here
a/n: Ya'll this feels so strange. Even though the epilogue is on its way sometime soon, writing this chapter felt very final. Its a bittersweet feeling. After this story I won't have all of us together again. It's been a journey for us all, hasn't it? You've felt like real friends, caring for this story I invented. Sorta surreal, huh? And I TOLD YA'LL THE ANGST LED TO A HAPPY ENDING. I really hope that if you've never left a review, you decide to do so on this chapter. I also hope if you have left reviews before, you do so now. Detailed ones, ones where you tell me your favorite part cuz It was so beautiful to write, but it was also hard. I feel like I'm sayin' goodbye to a part of me. Also, SMUT WARNING. Sorry, I am not a smut writing professional. It's just sorta the icing there on Bill's cupcake. It doesn't come naturally to me, but these two deserved i t don't you think? I love ya'll. See you in the epilogue.
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Joel is finishing up watering the front lawn when he hears a car coasting down his street. He doesn't pay it any mind, turning off the spigot and heading towards his front door. 
He's thinking about you. How warm you felt curled against him this morning. How your puffy eyes and gentle smile makes his heart sing even now. He wipes his damp hands on the back of his jeans. 
You must be breaking things off with Paul, right? Joel saw the ring box. He saw your bare finger. 
And your eyes, your eyes said so much. Even as he was leaving he saw the dueling emotions there. The quiet anxiety from your mom's incoming call mingling with the open desire to have Joel stay. He felt it coming off of you in waves. 
He would have. He would do anything you wanted. 
He'd help you build that sanctuary with his own bare hands. He'd move you box by box into his home tomorrow if you gave the word. He'd hold you every night and make love to you every morning if that's what you said you needed.
He'd even figure out how to travel back and forth from home to Chicago and Austin for the next six months without it disrupting Sarah's life too much, if it's not a permanent move on your end. A combination of odd weekend visits and daily phone calls seems manageable. He'd even learn how to text properly. He doesn't want you back in Chicago, but he'd do it. He will continue to fight for you.
He needs to tell you this, he decides. He needs to spell it out. The word love was sputtered last night, without thought. But he needs to say it with clear eyes and your body against his. He needs you to know exactly what he's offering. He'll call to see if you’re free before the wedding to talk.
This can't wait. 
He pulls the front door open, his hand reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He hopes you answer. 
"Joel!"
He spins in the door frame, his eyes widening. It's you. You're here, pulling yourself from the driver’s side of a car he doesn't recognize.
You're wearing some green dress that has far too many bows but Joel doesn't give a shit, all he can think is it's you it’s you and your here for him. You have a blazing look in your eyes, sharp and focused all on him as you march to his front door.
He feels a pull at his abdomen, a delicious sensation because there's no indecision in you anymore. It's there written in your face: you want Joel. You're here for him, to claim him. 
Because he's wanted. 
Joel feels a smile break over his face, his teeth a slab of white against the tan of his face that has you laughing and sobbing in equal measure. He steps away from the door because you're running to him the rest of the way, your face breaking into a smile as you launch yourself into Joel's arms. 
"Honey-"
He doesn't get another word out because you've launched yourself into his chest, circling your arms around his neck. He grunts as your body collides with his and grips you in surprise. He holds fast to you against him, staring down at your tear-streaked face.  
And then you're gripping his face, pulling it to meet yours. Kissing him with a ferocity that he's not expecting but is oh so responsive to. There on his doorstep you kiss him, your mouth hot and needy as Joel kisses you back, pulling you against him before panting as brings you inside the house, almost carrying you over the threshold. 
You're frantic, needing to touch and kiss and make up for lost time. To show him through your passion just how much you've missed him, how much he means to you. He's still got you in his strong arms, his hands skating down your back. Your hands are coming to his collar, desperate for him to press you against the wall as he did not so long ago at your place. 
Whoa slow down.
You need to talk. To get things right. You break apart from Joel slowly, your mouth reddened. Joel smiles so widely you're concerned he might pull a face muscle.
"Too much?"
You shake your head as he begins lowering your feet to the floor.
"Not enough."
Then the silence descends as he stares at you. Joel has this uncanny ability to remain so still he almost looks static. His fingers drag the strand of  hair caught on your damp lips, but his finger stays at your cheek, frozen. The moment feels heavy, thick with tension and you second guess everything.  
Maybe now is a bad time. This seems like one of those things a person does when they look and feel perfect. And you don't. You're sweaty and dressed ridiculously and you're pretty sure your hair still has grass in it. 
Joel seems to sense your indecision and responds by reaching out his broad hand and taking yours. You immediately relax, the warmth of his grip guiding you to the kitchen. 
You look up his arm, your eyes sliding to his strong profile and his full mouth as he leads you. He feels your eyes on him and he turns, smiling sweetly. 
I love this man.
His hand presses you gently into the seat at the kitchen table, urging you to relax into it. You look up at him and hold in a sigh when he traces a forefinger along your cheek again. 
"I'll be back in a sec."
He leaves the room and for a moment you sit there in the kitchen of so many memories you feel so incandescently happy that it brings tears to your lash line. Coloring with Sarah. Decorating cupcakes. Joel's dinner, the dropped salad. Laughter, tears, so much is just in this single room of the house. 
Joel reappears seconds after you wipe the tears away. He sits across from you, his broad shoulders flexing as he places something on the table. 
He clears his throat, finally dragging his eyes to meet yours and now suddenly he looks nervous. This makes your anxiety flood your senses, starting to creep up your spine.  
Then you realize the time. How Joel is dressed. How you’re dressed for fucks sake. The wedding is only a few hours away and Sarah is probably still getting ready. Why did you think now was the best time? This is something you should have done when you could take your time, not rush. You’d just been so excited to see him, to tell him.
"Shit I'm sorry. You're probably still getting Sarah ready," you say wincing and preparing to stand. "We can talk about this later, tomorrow or -"
Joel raises his hand in your direction, just his palm between you, stilling your ascent. His eyes are troubled by your reaction. 
"Stop. Honey, just sit there a moment, please." 
Honey.
How is it that words or nicknames that sound so trite coming from other people sound so perfect coming from Joel? You nod, planting yourself back into the chair and taking a deep breath.
"Tommy took Sarah about an hour ago. Maria wanted her to get her hair done with the bridesmaids, a little something special for being the flower girl."
You smile. That sounds like Maria. 
"I was just getting ready here, but I got time." Joel's eyes tell you he's sincere, that he always has time for you. And then suddenly he's so earnest. "I'm real glad you're here."
"Me too."
"Be lyin' if I said I haven't been thinking about you since I left."
"Same here."
"Yeah?"
You nod and Joel's face is like the sun breaking through clouds. But in life rain always does fall, and as if just remembering this, Joel's face tenses. That familiar tic in his jaw is back at he gazes at you. 
"Paul?"
"Gone. Done. Over."
You spare him the details. You have a feeling if Joel knew even a hint of what went on today he would personally drive over to Paul's house and finish what Bill started. And you don't want that. Right now you just want this happy, hopeful joyful warmth. 
Joel swallows and you can see he needs the clarity. To know that he's not imagining this. "This a permanent thing or-"
“I called off the engagement," you explain plainly. "I couldn't marry him. I couldn't be with him. Ever. Not when I feel how I do about you."
Joel tries to hide the smile, but it blooms all over his face all the same. His mouth curls, his eyes squint and you have to physically restrain yourself from leaping across the table and kissing him senseless. 
You think he's going to ask you to explain in more detail. To tell him exactly what you mean about how you feel about him. But his eyes are on the pink paper at his elbow. Joel taps it with a forefinger before sliding it towards you, his eyes on your face. As it approaches you see it's an envelope. 
"Open it up," Joel tells you softly, even though you can see that this envelope has been opened and closed a multitude of times, creased and folded.
You open it with shaking hands, unsure of what to expect inside. He wrote you a letter? When? Large crooked letters greet you. 
"Joel I wunt u to bee my Vallentane. I love Sarah. I love you. I wint to be yr wife. LOVE - "
You read your name aloud, your eyes flicking to his. "What is this?"
"You don't recognize it?" Joel taps the card with a forefinger. A familiar Snoopy sticker greets you and suddenly your face breaks into a confused smile. 
The Valentine that Sarah had made all those months ago, the one she'd insisted you personally give to her father. 
“Sarah…”
"When I asked her about it the next morning she said that you had written it." 
You laugh out loud in disbelief at the shrewdness of Sarah. Joel chuckles along with you. 
"She loves you. She thinks you hang the moon," Joel drawls. 
"The feeling is mutual," you say with a soft smile.
"You're wanted in this house, in this family," Joel says motioning to the letter. "You make us better."
You weren't expecting this. You actually can't speak. 
Joel is thinking, clearly displayed in the lines between his brows, the way his dark eyes scan in front of him as if he's trying to recall something very specific. After a moment you sober, closing the card because you need to say it before you lose your nerve. You need to tell him everything.
"Joel -"
"I'm in love with you," Joel tells you bluntly, beating you to it. "Have been for a while. Thought it was kinda obvious but I'm realizing you're a woman that may need things said out loud a couple times before she believes them. So just to be sure there's no misunderstanding, I'm tellin' you plainly as I can: I love you. I don't want anyone else. I just want you."
The sound of Joel telling you he loves you may just be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Better than any song. Even the one he sang to you. He reaches across the table to take your hands in his.
It makes your eyes water and a smile to break out over your features. It also creates a knot in your throat, making it impossible to speak. But that might be for the best because Joel is still going. 
"And I don't just love you because of how you love my daughter, though I'd be lying if I said that didn't have some part in it," Joel admits. "I just don't remember the last time I wanted someone to share my day with or wake up next to as much as I do with you. I go to sleep thinkin' about you. I drive by a shitty Italian restaurant and I think about you. I see a fucking dog at job site I'm working and I think about you. Something happens to me and it's you I wanna talk to about it."
You want to believe these words, you want to believe them so badly but then just as your heart starts to glow, something holds you back. Something that always seems to grip those threads of joy only to slice through them. An ugly, twisting thing that makes you wince and curl into yourself when you remember what Paul said. When you think about your phone call with your father earlier. How can you be so happy when you’ve just been so cruel?
Selfish.
Joel's eyes scan your face, immediately picking up on your agitation. He drops your hands and your eyes slide closed because suddenly you feel so weak. Your head drops forward and all the good feeling, the sweet burst of joy is gone, leaving you drained.
"Honey."
His voice is so tender, so gentle. He's there at your side within seconds, kneeling beside your chair. He's gripping you loosely by the waist, the other hand cupping your face. 
"I can tell right now that you're having trouble hearing this because somewhere along the way you were taught you didn't deserve to be loved," Joel says, his eyes searching your face. "And you're wantin’ to tell me you're a horrible, selfish person. And that I should just forget about you."
He knows. He knows my worst self. He knows everything.
You feel so vulnerable but his eyes are blazing so brightly right now you can't look away. 
"But I'm never gonna do that," Joel says, his thumb grazing along your cheekbone. "'Cuz I think you're the best thing to happen to me since Sarah was born. And if I have to spend my whole life convincing you of that, I will. I will fight every fucking day because what we have is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for."
If falling in love had a specific moment it would be this one. Joel Miller, all muscles and wet eyes staring up at you as he kneels at your side promising you a love and life you could only dream of. 
"So that's all I wanted to say," Joel finishes with eyes so luminous you could cry. "I love you. Be with me. Just... just let me fucking love you."
His last sentence makes your heart seize. You're so overcome you can't speak right away. Instead you slide off the chair to join him on the floor, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and embracing him, head balanced on his shoulder. 
Joel reciprocates immediately, pulling you against him tightly. There you sit with arms around each other as Joel rocks you. This moment, this deep serenity works its way through your tight muscles and increment by increment you go boneless against him. 
I love him.
With a tremble you pull back. It's still too overwhelming to look at him directly so you just balance your forehead against his, the two of you breathing deeply. You breathe slowly, you matching Joel’s steady tempo.
I love him so much.
And then finally you tilt back from him, needing to see the warmth of his dark brown eyes. He's there, present, his eyes fixed on yours. 
"I want a cat."
Joel nods without thinking before his face contorts into surprise and then confusion.
"Wait, what?"
"A kitten, actually," you decide. "An orange one. Sarah was saying she wants a kitten anyway. "
A grin has broken over Joel's face. It makes him look younger, his entire disposition vibrant. It matches yours. His hands are coming to cup each of your cheeks. 
"Anything you want," Joel breathes. "Anything."
You smile, no, you beam up at him. You can tell him. You can. You can trust Joel to hold your secrets and not hate you. You can trust Joel with your love because it doesn’t come with receipts or price tags or debts to be owed. Your love for him will be cherished, not a ransom so you can be plucked apart piece by piece.
"I came here because I needed to tell you in person that I'm not going to Chicago," you say with a tensing inhale. "I spoke to my dad today."
Joel's thumb is stroking your cheek and for the first time since you've entered into his home, he looks scared. His dark eyes are suddenly pensive and you can see the way the wheels are turning. You’re confused by this reaction.  
"Don't do this for me," he murmurs. "I can't be the reason. Even if I want it more than anything. You'd resent me if you did."
"I didn't," you promise him. "I did it for me. I did it because I want to be happy. I don’t want that life back in Chicago. And I did it because I can't go another day without you, Joel."
Hope blooms there in the dark brown earth of his eyes. It grows beautiful and brilliant but under glass. It's too good to be true; he's so eager, so desperate but past experience has humbled him. 
"Waking up in your arms this morning was one of the best feelings in the entire world," you explain with open honesty. "I want that every morning. I want to have coffee with you and go to the park with Sarah. I want to read her to bed every night and then crawl in next to you. I wanna make pancakes on Sundays and go to trivia nights with you and Maria and Tommy. I want a life with you."
Joel's heart is rapid and staccato the more you spill forth because what you're saying sounds dangerously close to what Joel desires. Is it possible? 
"I'm absolutely crazy about you, Miller," you confess without hesitation now, wanting to take the tentative insecurity from his gaze. "I'm done pretending I don't want you. I'm tired of not holding you. I'm tired of being away from you and Sarah. I want a family with you, I want a future. I want it all but I only want it with you. I-I love you Joel."
The smile is broad on his handsome face, bringing out the dimple that makes your heart hiccup. 
"Really?"
"Yeah." 
He's got a forefinger tilting your chin so you face up to him. 
"No runnin'?"
"Only to you." 
That does something to Joel. Like a snap to his spine. Only to him. Because he's yours and when your lips press against his it's like every wall that exists comes tumbling down, shattering spectacularly. 
You’re his.
It's here, its happening. He's so grateful, so overcome he can't hold it in. 
It's only when you feel damp warmth against your cheek that your eyes fly open. You see another tear slip down Joel's cheek, his eyes still closed as he kisses you tenderly and you feel something within you burst. 
You didn't expect to be crying but here you are, sniffling with hot tears slipping your face. Joel is all glassy eyed trying to wipe your tears from your cheeks as you do the same for him, both your thumbs gliding over each other's cheekbones.
"What a pair," Joel says with a sniffle. 
You both give big watery laughs at this, giggling like you had only a day ago as you walked down the aisle. His thumb is lingering along your lower lip when the laughter slowly ebbs.  
Then his face is tilting towards you and you don't have to turn away. Because there is no Paul, no Tess. Because Joel is taking something for himself and so are you. 
Mine.
Your lips join once more, your eyes falling shut as he brings you back into his arms, sighing against you. He rocks you slowly in his arms, moving his mouth to your temple and murmuring sweet nothings, promises, loving verse. 
Slowly you tilt your head back, your heavy lidded gaze on his. Your eyes trail over his mouth, then back to see him watching you intently. His dark eyes flicker in understanding. His mouth is on yours once more for a scorching kiss and then Joel is standing, holding a wide hand to you. 
You take it without hesitation, rising to your feet and walking hand in hand to the bedroom. You smile softly at each other as he gently pushes the door open and as he does all you can think is that you're finally here with him in his bedroom properly. 
He looks nervously around, as if he’s expecting everything to fall to pieces.
“What are you thinking about?”
“That I wish I’d cleaned the fucking room.”
You see the bedroom through his eyes now and hold in a chuckle. The scattered clothes on the ground, the belts slung over the treadmill in the far left of the room, the bed haphazardly made. The empty water glasses on the nightstand, the CD’s scattered atop the dresser.  
“I can work with this,” you assure him, giggling nervously as he leads you to the bed. He assures you with relief that the sheets are clean before you both sit at the edge of his bed. His hand is on your knee, thumb tracing small circles on the soft inner, leading to your thigh.
You watch this hypnotized, breathing unsteadily when his hand begins to drift upwards, under your skirt. He says your name once, seeing the uncertainty in your features. When you don’t reply he says it again, and now you glance up at him. His brows raise, a silent question. What’s wrong?
"I'm scared," you whisper, your mind suddenly going over everything that could go wrong with this relationship. 
What if you break up? What if Joel turns? What if you run again? It feels too good, too perfect already and time has taught you not to trust the calm times. Time has taught you that calm times come before tidal waves. That calm times are a harbinger of greater carnage.
"Me too." Joel kisses the corner of your mouth. “But I got you, baby.”
You nod, still pensive, even though the pull below your navel is debilitating at this point. Joel urges your gaze to his, seeing the lowering of your lids and the gentle shuddering of you. You can see him there, thick and waiting in his jeans.
“We could wait until tonight,” Joel offers, grazing your arm with his knuckles. “Or tomorrow.  Hell, I’ll wait as long as you need. I just want you here is al-”
No. You don’t want to wait. You need Joel in a way you’ve never needed anyone.
“I can’t wait,” you inform him before the sentence leaves his mouth. You’re on your knees on the bed, your body pressed against his as your mouth tilts towards him.
“Well alright then,” Joel chuckles, his hands going to either side of your neck, his thumbs resting on the architecture of your jaw. You melt into his kiss, your hands gripping his shirt by the front.
Joel shifts back against the headboard, bringing you along with him to straddle his thighs. He kisses you languidly, slowing your frenetic motions. He can feel your movements, quick and sharp like a hummingbirds as you kiss him, tongue sliding between the seam of his soft lips. He pulls back gently, amused.
“We got time, baby,” he breaths against your trembling mouth. “Don’t have to rush anything.”
For some reason that hits you directly below the navel. The knowledge that Joel wants to take his time with you. No rushing, just the lazy pursuit of mutual pleasure. It’s so opposite to what you know of sex.
He's tender, his movements slow, his touches light. But that's not what you want right now. You want to feel it, more heavy tactile reality that this is happening, your body with his. You're straddling him, licking into his mouth as he holds your thighs, his mouth moving over yours as he groans. 
I want to take care of him.
Joel has spent so much of your time together taking care of you – doctor’s appointments, kennels, that night of the Christmas party . . . Joel is always looking out for others and you want to take care of him for once.  It’s not expected or forced upon you, it’s got you slick between the thighs just thinking about it.
“Take my dress off,” you whisper. Joel’s hands come to the hem of your dress with zero hesitation and he peels the unflattering dress from you, lifting it up over your arms stretched high over your head. It’s tossed gently to the other side of the room, making a soft flutter as it descends. You sit astride Joel’s lap in nothing but your lacy green underwear that you’d bought specifically for the wedding.
No bra, you’d decided. The dress fit better without it. Seeing Joel’s eyes darken you’re so fucking glad you decided on that.
“Jesus,” Joel breathes, mouth coming to circle your left nipple without pause. You moan into his mouth, feeling as his hands span your middle back, pushing you into his greedy mouth. You feel him grinding against your core, his jeans rasping against the gusset of your panties.
“Clothes off, Miller.”
He grins up at you, shimmying out of his jeans, kicking them down his legs as you bracket above him. You take your time pulling the shirt over his head, marvelling at how he looks as he disrobes. His skin is gold, his body a mixture of strength of softness. His hair tousled his mouth full and parted. He looks delicious.
You see his eyes snap back to your bare chest, getting ready to claim another straining nub between his teeth when you pull back, smiling. He tilts his head curiously as you begin backing up, sliding your body down his.
He’s breathing shallowly, quickly as your cheek brushes past his boxers, grazing his length there. He gives a sharp grunt, watching as you pull down his boxers, releasing his cock with a spring. You tug them off completely, tossing the boxers over your shoulder with a flourish before nestling yourself between his legs and admiring the rosy head of his cock.
Like you said. Joel Miller looks delicious.
You trail a finger along his length, fascinated by the rigid yet silken texture. It twitches at the contact. You smirk up at him from between his legs, your pupils blown wide at the view. 
Joel is so fucking sexy. Laid back, legs tilted to give you space to lay between them, his cock is there waiting for your mouth and this time it’s happening. No distractions, no delays. You have been aching to get your mouth on him. You dip your head forward, eyes closed as your mouth brushes the head. You hear Joel give a low gasp, thighs twitching.
"You don't have to do this," Joel moans, even as you give kitten licks along the tip.  You smile as his fingers brush your cheek, sweet and affectionate.  
Your mouth moves over the head, flicking with your tongue and then taking it into the wet warmth of your mouth. You begin to suck, delicately at first, just enough to hear the first shuddering groan from Joel.
Joel Miller is a giver. Joel Miller doesn't know what it is to take from the people he loves, to have something for himself, a secret treasure of only his. But you'll show him and starting now because you have so much you want to give to him. If you could carve out your heart and carry on living you would do it, present it to him to safeguard.
"You don't have-"
You pull your mouth off of him slowly, watching him quiver. His eyes are open and he's looking down the length of his body to see you. 
"Joel, I love you but please shut the fuck up and let me do this," you say fake crossly, wet lower lip grazing his tip. "Just let me make you feel as good as you've made me feel."
Joel's eyes are glossy. "Say it again," 
"Shut the fuck up?"
His head jerks so slightly you're not sure you caught it. "No. The other thing."
You smile slyly before your flattened tongue slides from base to tip, your eyes on him the entire time. "Let me make you feel good?"
"The- the other-"Joel makes a strangled groaning noise and you move over the head again, kissing gently as it twitches before taking in his thickness deep into your warm mouth once more. 
As you lay there between his legs in the bed you're struck by the realization that you feel so relaxed. The bed is warm and Joel is warm and when you hear his groans you feel so impossibly good. 
You shut your eyes and just feel and taste and enjoy Joel. You've never wanted to do this for a man so much. Never wanted to take your time and explore them like this. With Joel every piece of him feels sacred, every part of him worthy of your intimate attention and every time he lets out a little moan or grunt you feel yourself grow giddy. You love making him feel good. 
Joel is squirming, his grunts hitting you right at your core. He can't think now, his entire body poised. Your mouth feels so fucking good, he needs more of it. 
Joel never thought that a blowjob could feel loving, but this does. He lays there watching you; your eyes shut so softly, mouth moving achingly slow around him. It feels tender, it's you wanting to take care of him, sweet and soft and oh fuck ... Joel feels his breath come out in a shudder. You feel so fucking good around him. Too good. 
Your hands are palm flat on his thighs, bracing there as you take more of him into your mouth, sighing happily and hollowing your cheeks. Before long you can hear the sound of him whimpering. Soft, gravely whimpers that make you feel heady because you're making Joel fucking Miller whimper. 
"Don't wanna finish in your mouth, baby," he rumbles, pressing your cheek gently. "Not tonight."
You understand, pulling gently off of him. Without pausing you crawl the length of him, coming to rest in his arms beside him. He pulls you flush against his chest, your hips meeting. He’s breathing in soft pants and you can feel him hard against your thigh your own lower half aching with need for him. 
He stares at you for a long time, a curiously long time considering what you'd just been in the middle of doing. His eyes are warm and open as he takes in how your face looks flushed and needy. Yet it's you who says it. 
"You're beautiful."
Joel immediately feels himself flush at your compliment. A guy being beautiful? He's never been called beautiful, and it makes him feel shy. You notice the shy way he looks away, tips of his ears pinking. 
"No," you insist, gripping his face in your hands. "Don't. I love looking at your face. Your beautiful, perfect face."
He smiles, all teeth and dimple which sets your heart racing. He props his head up with one hand, the other going to the back of your neck. He holds you there, one thumb stroking the side of your neck as he stares at you.
As you lay there, face tilted into Joel’s pillow you smile, inhaling gently. The scent of his shampoo and just him. It makes you feel calm, but it also makes you pull a face, cringing as you recall something from months ago. Joel can see it immediately in your face, his own features turning concerned.
"What?"
“Nothing.”
You feel Joel’s eyes on you even with yours closed.  You give an embarrassed smile. "Promise not to laugh?"
"No."
You bark out a surprised laugh, drawing an amused chuckle from Joel. You love making him smile like that, in that unguarded, playful way.  
"Never mind then," you say with a smug smirk, rolling away from him.
"C'mon," he needles you, nose brushing against your neck to tickle, drawing you back to face him again. "Don't be like that. No secrets."
He says it smiling, but you hear that underline in the last sentence. No secrets. No, you don't want any between you either. 
“It’s just a bit embarrassing.”
“I don’t mind,” Joel insists. “I’ll trade you an embarrassing story for yours.”
“You go first.”
“Once when I was eight I got caught stealing baseball cards from one of my friends at school. My mom got called down to the school and I had to apologize in front of everyone.” Joel looks so sheepish recalling this memory you want to laugh.
“Joel that’s barely embarrassing,” you say rolling your eyes.
“Ah ah, deals a deal,” Joel insists, gently tilting your chin so you face him. You sigh.
"Fine. It’s stupid. It's just. . . Back before, when you and I weren't together. . ." You trail off, this story not feeling funny anymore. If anything it makes you sad. 
"What?" Joel looks nervous. "Tell me."
"I snuck in here one time when I was babysitting,” you say in a rush, eyes closed. “And I uh, touched myself on your bed."
Joel looks like he's been electrocuted. He physically jerks. "What?"
You feel yourself going beet red all the way to your roots. Why did this seen like a good story too share? It's humiliating. You pull the sheets over your head, your voice coming out muffled. 
"I told you it was embarrassing!" 
"Jesus Christ," Joel growls. "You were touching yourself in my bed?"
You're silent under the sheets, your breathing unsteady. You'd expected him to laugh at you or even pity you. Neither is happening. His voice drops an octave. 
"Did you come?"
Your toes curl at the husky tinge in his voice. You're powerless when you feel him dragging the sheets down your face, exposing your face to him. His eyes are like furnaces, desire licking the edges. 
"Did you?" 
"Mhmm," you manage. 
"Show me," he rasps and it's like you're back in the kitchen, hands down your pants as Joel begs you to touch yourself for him. You feel him peeling off your panties under the sheets, rolling your hips so that he can remove them entirely.
"Please baby," Joel whispers, kissing your shoulder. Then he pauses to kiss you gently, so gently, reverently on the mouth, eyes searching yours. 
"But only if you want." 
Joel doesn't want what you won't give him freely. He has no desire to take and take like Paul and James. And because of this you want to give him everything. 
And so you nod, flushing when Joel removes the blankets from your body leaving your naked body tingling and exposed to the cool air.
He makes a  low sound in the back of his throat. He takes your hand gently in his, raising it to his mouth. You think he means to kiss you knuckles when his pillowy lips circle your fore and middle finger. Not breaking eye contact he sucks them into his wet, warm mouth, trailing his tongue over your digits, coating them in his spit. 
Satisfied, Joel drags them from his mouth, urging the damp digits along the seam of your throbbing pussy and gently pushing inside. You whimper at the contact, your eyes stuck on his as you begin to work your fingers on either side of your clit. You don't look away from Joel as you do. You simply flush under his heated gaze, your toes curling as you moan at the sensation of not only touching yourself, but by being watched by Joel as you do. He's thick and aching as he watches you but he makes no attempt to touch himself.
He rests his palm over yours loosely. He's not guiding, not moving, he wants to feel you touching yourself, wants to learn what turns you on. 
"I can't believe you're real," he whispers as you begin to rock against your hand. "So fucking perfect."
You're not perfect. Your body has flaws, many that you could point out to him. But when Joel looks at you, dark eyes melting along your curves you know he believes what he says. 
He removes his hand from over top yours, wanting to just watch you. He memorizes the way your lower lip quivers, the way your brows saddle as you stroke yourself. He’s never been so turned on in his life.
"What were you thinking about when you did it?" Joel asks you huskily. 
"You," you murmur, eyes lazily closed as your fingers work between your thighs. You can feel his eyes on you, raking over every part of your body.
"Yeah?" You can hear the smile in his voice. You both already knew the answer, but his ego likes hearing it out loud. 
"Fucking you," you groan, fingers working hurriedly over the pearl of your clit. "Your mouth, fuck your mouth is so sexy Joel."
Joel's (very sexy) mouth moves over your nipple, kissing there. His eyes are on you as he does. 
"And your tongue," you whisper, arching further into his mouth. 
His tongue laves at your straining nub, his teeth coming to graze and then gently nibble. That sends electric currents running through your entire body, your legs jerking out without thought or control.
Then he pulls back, his eyes roaming your flushed and naked body. Your eyes crack open to see him; mouth parted and fixed on your face as you squirm. You whimper his name, the taste of it sweet. He drops his head forward to kiss you, a tender thing. 
"C'mon baby," Joel urges against your temple. "Show me how you made yourself come on my sheets."
You cannot form words. When Joel talks like that, filthy and low and growled it hits directly between your legs. You can offer only a symphony of grunts and mewls and whimpers and you feel your entire body tighten and then blissfully release.
"Oh that's it," Joel murmurs lazily as he watches you come. "Oh fuck. ... Yeah baby... Just like that... All for me."
Always for you, you want to tell him. But you're too far gone, the bliss overwhelming you. And finally you come, coating your fingers as your head is thrown back into the pillow. 
Before you can say anything, Joel is between your legs, gently prying them apart. You make a surprised noise as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders, opening you to him. You watch as his fingers part you.
"Fuck if I'd known," Joel murmurs, licking a stripe up your pussy. He doesn't finish the thought, simply begins to kiss your cunt with wild, open mouthed kisses that have you arching back into the bed.
"Joel I -"
"C'mon baby," he groans, sucking on your clit languidly. "My mouth and my tongue remember? Be good and come on 'em now."
Jesus Christ. You’re already there. Already so close when he sucks your clit into his mouth, humming in delight as your thighs tremble around his head. And its only seconds when you feel yourself cresting. He feels it too, making encouraging humming noises as his hands come to hold you in place, spanning over your lower abdomen.
And then you feel your entire body release against his tongue, punching out groans as he laps between your legs, murmuring how good you taste, how much he’s missed your pussy, how he can’t believe how lucky he is.
You murmur his name, arms outstretched in his direction. He crawls to you, up the length of your naked body pressing glossy o’s on your exposed flesh as he ascends. Then his face gets near and you can see his eyes are unfocused. You sigh softly as his mouth finds yours. 
He kisses you long and slow, his tongue dancing with yours. It's not long before you feel his free hand sliding down from your neck, over your straining nipple, along your lower belly and then coming to cup your sex softly. 
You let out a small choked noise when his fingers slide down the seam, parting you. Brushing against your aching core. 
"Want you inside me," you urge, impatiently, his mouth still moving over yours. Joel chuckles, a warm, loving sound that feels like a cracking fireplace. 
"You nice and wet for me?" he asks even though as his fingers slowly curl around your swollen bud, he can tell you're absolutely soaked. He sinks the first finger in, finding absolutely no resistance. You're so ready, so open and you take him to the knuckle without hesitation, moaning. 
He watches the emotions flicker across your face as he adds a second finger, slowly working them in and then out. Sees the shuttering of your eyes as you lean into his hand whimpering. Your exquisite, your here, your his. 
"All mine," he rumbles against your jaw. 
It feels so good. His wide fingers hit those perfect spots that you're fingers can never seem to reach. You crack your eyes open to see Joel staring at you, his eyes so dominated by his pupil they look black. He moans softly when you're eyes meet his. He's taking his time, so fucking slowly. 
"Please Joel," you whisper breathlessly. Your eyes are heavy with need, matching his. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”
He nods and the bed creaks as he rolls gently over top of you. Another deep kiss is pressed to your mouth as his hips find yours. He notches himself at your entrance and instinctively your thighs go to bracket his hips. 
I love him. I love him. I love him.
Your entire body is trembling, and this is only soothed when you realize that Joel's is as well. His entire body has broken into small, shudders of aching need. Your eyes drift open and his heart swells as you grin up at him.
You need him. No more waiting. You lean forward, kissing him gently. He responds in kind, one hand against your lower back pulling you tighter to him. You think that you could spend your entire life kissing Joel and it wouldn't be nearly enough. 
He's braced on his forearms above you, one wide hand coming to brush the hair from your face. 
"Wanted this for so long," he tells you in a murmur and you know he doesn't just mean the sex. Your eyes are glassy as you nod up at him. 
"Me too." 
He moves slowly into you, your shifting hips leading him into your waiting core. You hiss slightly at the intrusion. He's bigger than Paul or James. 
"Easy," Joel whispers against your temple. "Don't have to rush it."
You nod as his mouth comes to meet yours, his body moving languidly against yours. His left hand finds yours gripping the sheets. He slips his palm over yours, lacing your fingers in his and holding you there. You feel your entire body melt into his. 
"Fuck, honey ... So good," Joel groans as he continues to sheaths himself in you, his head falling forward against your shoulder on the pillow. You whimper, needy and desperate for more. He feels so good. So right. "Those sounds."
He licks into your mouth, groaning as your hands come to rest under his arms, gripping his broad back as you urge him deeper and deeper.
“You’re so deep,” you groan, body jerking against his. The bed creaks gently, rhythmically as he fucks you. No, not fucking – he makes love to you. As if he thinks your body is as sacred as you think his is.
"Say the other thing," Joel whispers against your neck. "Please."
You feel his hips surge forward, filling both your body and heart. You smile, tilting your cheek so he looks at you. You won't say this next part until your gazes are locked. 
"I love you," you say, rolling your hips up against him, your body in communion with his. You see his eyebrows saddle, his eyes watery. 
"Again, please," he groans, his eyes never moving from your face. He didn't even need to ask because the words are already there, offered to him as they will always be offered to him. 
"I love you, Joel."
His mouth is on yours, and his hips plunge deeper into you and now he's rambling between deep kisses, speaking against your mouth. 
"I love you... so long... F-fuck, feel so… Wanna make you feel good, fucking l-love you so much."
His hips are snapping, his resolve unravelling as you cry out. He feels so good, so perfect between your thighs. You wonder if it is always supposed to feel this good, this easy. Desire licks at your belly, your hand coming to cup his cheek so he's looking at you. Something about his eyes, seeing them vacillate between dreamy and sharp makes you lose control. 
"You gonna come again baby?" Joel murmurs to himself, his body coiled. Joel is, as he was not so long ago that time when you rode his thigh, amazed at how quickly you do. How perfectly in synch your bodies are.
His voice is tinged with lust obviously, but also a deep affection that borders on awe. It makes your pulse spike and your body begins to spasm because you’re so fucking close, the pleasure building to an almost uncomfortable level. 
"J-joel-"
"S'okay," Joel tells you with a kiss. "I've got you. I've got you, baby, just let go."
These words, these gentle urging words are what send you cresting and you come with a sharp moan. Your body moves in time with his and you don't realize that you're crying until Joel's hips slow and he's peering into your face. 
"Do you want to stop? Are you okay?"
"What?! Don't stop!" You gasp, urging his hips with a small tap of your hand. It feels so good, you’re already on the precipice again.
He seems to understand because his movements restart in earnest and his mouth is kissing your tears away. You’re hiccup-crying but only because it feels so perfect, the bliss so intense and you're just so thankful for him. For existing. For loving you in a way you'd never thought possible. And you’re crying because you get to be the one to love Joel.
And soon you do come again; your cries are loud, jagged and needy as he thrusts against you over and over. You chant his name, kissing his mouth, arms around his shoulder for purchase as he seeks to bury himself further inside you.   
"I love you," you cry, your hips rolling against his, wanting to make him feel as good as you do. "Love you so fucking much, Joel."
He spills into you, his groans sharp in your ear as he groans out your name, long and low. It seems to go on forever, filling you so deeply. His body is still wrapped around you as his hips finally stutter to a stop. 
You stay like that, tangled against one another until Joel presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and gently eases himself from between your slick thighs. You both sigh as he rolls to your side, pulling you into his arms as if he’s terrified to let you go.
You want to go to sleep, snuggled like this in the warmth of his arms but you’re far too aware of the time.
"We should shower," you say with a pant. 
"Together?" Joel murmurs, raising a brow over the eye peering in your direction from the pillow. 
"Christ, Miller," you say with a breathy laugh. "If we do that we're never making it to the wedding."
And while there isn't time for a communal shower there is time for a soft "I love you". It’s whispered against one anothers' lips, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, before you leave hand in hand for the wedding a short while later. 
There will always be time for that.
///
Sarah has always been a grateful child. She's always been quick with her thank you's, never found it difficult to share her toys and loves seeing those she cares for happy.  
So when her fifth birthday wish of a mama had come true so perfectly in the form of you, she thought it only fair to use her sixth birthday wish for something more philanthropic. 
That day with her father at her side, whispering to make a wish she had done so with thought of Joel and he alone. 
I wish my daddy had a wife.
And now as she stands looking up from her basket of real flower petals to see you and her daddy walking hand in hand towards her, gazing at each other and then her. 
The two of you are trying so hard not to be too obvious and failing spectacularly. Daddy is smiling so widely Sarah actually smiles just looking at him. He's staring at you as the two of you walk, making your way to the ranch. 
You're all blushing, laughing at something Daddy said. You both look so beautiful with you in your dress and him in his suit. 
The two of you both look over and see Sarah at the same time and it's hard to say who looks more excited, you or daddy. 
"Hey bug!" "Hi babygirl!"
The two of you laugh at your mingled pet names as you reach her. You're the first to drop to your knees and Sarah doesn't miss the way her father stares at the back of your head with a sweet little smile. 
Sarah feels her tiny heart hammering as you look to her with arms outstretched and she runs into them, her tiny arms wrapping so tightly around your neck you give a grunt.
Sarah looks over your shoulder at her Daddy. She's confused when she sees his eyes are wet. But his smile is right, so she doesn't think much of it. She pulls back and is confused that your eyes are wet too. 
But maybe it's just allergies? Sarah heard one of the other bridesmaids talking about how an outdoor wedding was hell on hers at the salon earlier today. 
"Daddy can we have pancakes tomorrow morning?"
"'Course, babygirl."
"And you'll be there right?" Sarah says, looking to you imploring. You seem momentarily taken aback, glancing up at Joel suddenly anxious. 
"Yeah, she'll be there," Joel assures you both with a smile. "She's actually gonna be over a lot more often."
Sarah looks at your face breaking into a smile again. Sarah grins, wanting to scatter all the flower petals in the world right now. But then you sober, taking both of her little hands in yours. 
"If that's okay with you, Sarah," you say seriously, your eyes searching her face. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable."
Sarah can tell there's no guile there. If Sarah told you no, you'd respect it. She can feel that. 
"S'okay with me," Sarah says. "I like you there."
"Thanks bug," you say and press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Like a mom would. Sarah feels warmth blooming through her body. 
"Maybe you could have a sleepover at our house." Sarah looks over at her Daddy. "Daddy can she sleep over?" 
You give Daddy a funny look when he barks out a laugh.  
"Yep," Daddy says trying not to grin too wide. "She can sleepover whenever she wants."
You stand, taking his hand again, smirking and Sarah wants to say more but then the mean wedding lady is there. 
But Sarah doesn't care, because she's looking at Daddy kissing your head and all she can think is that she's so happy that her birthday wish came true. 
///
"You're late," Abby snaps as she approaches the three of you. "And are those grass stains?"
She looks over your dress with distaste, holding your bouquet and Sarah's flower girl basket. 
"Probably," you say giving her a level gaze. "Had to kick the shit out of someone before I got here."
You wince only when you realize Sarah might have heard that. But she looks distracted by the basket. 
Joel gives you a surprised look that matches Abby's. Abby thrusts the bouquet into your arms and murmurs an order of going to the barn as she hands Sarah the basket. 
You hold the bouquet at waist level, turning to Joel with an expectant look. He offers his arm and you take it. Sarah goes dashing excitedly ahead and you follow as Joel gives you a curious look. 
"Do I wanna know?"
"I'll tell you about it sometime," you with a wink. "Maybe."
You never will though, because if Joel knew half of what Paul did there would be a fine dusting of Paul scattered all over his new apartment in Leander. Your eyes scan for Maria and Tommy. 
"Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?" Joel murmurs, distracting you.
"Bullshit," you bite back with a smile. "I look like a sad piece of lettuce."
"Well, I always liked eatin' my vegetables," Joel whispers back. 
"Joel!"
You clap a hand over your mouth, holding in the bubble of laughter. You refuse to walk down this aisle collapsing into laughter again. You turn your head into his shoulder as you walk, hiding your laughter as Joel chuckles. 
He feels his heart swelling as he looks down at you tucked up against him, face pink. 
"I love you so fucking much," Joel whispers against the crown of your head. You look up, smiling bright. 
"Ditto, Miller."
///
When the two of you walk down the aisle, you try not to be too obvious. This is Maria and Tommy's day. You make sure you don't look at each other; you don't graze hips as you walk, you don’t smirk. You simply link arms, walking at the right pace for the band.
Tommy is at the end of the aisle with a new haircut looking at you and Joel with an inscrutable look. 
You've done well, you think. But then Joel gives everything away when you drop linked arms. Because instead of just walking in separate directions you feel his wide hand skate down your back, hitting your lower back, fingers curling before pulling slowly away, as if he can't stand not touching you. 
Just that contact is enough to have goosebumps rising all over your body. You duck your head, unable to meet Tommy's gaze as you walk past him. 
You stand across from one another on either side of the aisle, forcing yourself not to stare at one another. 
But you feel Joel's eyes on you, and you relent, dragging your gaze from the sea of faces and over to him. From here you can see just how good Joel looks. Dark navy suit, tailored, crisp white shirt underneath. He looks so sexy you actually have to force yourself to look away. 
You feel eyes on you and you glance over to see Frank smiling up at you in the crowd. You feel your face pink as he shoots you a waggle of his eyebrows. Bill isn't watching you, his eyes are on Joel. 
Maybe Frank isn't the only one to think your boyfriend is cute.
Your boyfriend. Joel is your boyfriend.
It seems like everything and yet not enough.
Then the sound of the band starts up again and you both quickly look up to see Sarah with a serious look on her face. With amusement you watch as she delicately takes one petal from the basket, crouches and places it on the aisle runner atop the grass. She does this with the next petal. . . And the next one. . . Moving an inch at a time.
You see Joel giving a smirk accompanied by a wince as the crowd titters. At this rate you're all going to be here for hours. Inspired you call out to her over the music. 
"Make it colorful, bug."
She seems to understand, her face breaking into a wide smile. She nods, thrusting her hand into the basket and tossing handfuls of colorful petals into the air, moving quickly down the aisle.  
The crowd cheers as you and Joel laugh, watching her dance down the aisle tossing the flower remnants in every direction. Finally she reaches the end of the aisle, looking up to you expectantly.
"Was I good?"
"The best.”
Maria enters on her father's arm. You can see Sheila crying in the front row, blowing her nose as you hold in a giggle at this.
Maria is ethereal. The dress made for her. Ethereal isn't even enough to describe how angelic she looks in the off-white dress that clings to her hips and dances down over her knees. The sun is setting, casting everyone in the golden hue of the day. It feels magical. 
She double winks at you as she nears the end of the aisle and you return it. A code from your club days.
Two winks: you good?
Two winks back: I'm good.
She smiles and nods, handing you her large brides bouquet before turning to face Tommy who is staring at her in quite the same way Joel stares at you. 
The Minister waits for the band to conclude the last strains of the song before he begins. 
"Dearly beloved..."
///
You and Joel have done very well at keeping your hands to yourselves for the duration of the wedding. It was a bit difficult during wedding photos, but there were so many orders of where to stand and how to pose that you were both distracted.
It's easy during dinner because you're seated on either side of the couple at the head table. You're squished between Maria and an annoying cousin of hers that won't stop talking about her manicure. 
Joel is next to Tommy with Sarah next to him, her tiny feet kicking the air as she eats her pasta. 
The speeches are lovely with lots of laughter, lots of wine and lots of good food. The music is amazing as well, upbeat and fun and it gets the crowd dancing. When you look at the band you feel a little thrill go through you when you remember Joel singing to you. 
You watch him now, Sarah's hands in his as they dance together. She's giggling and saying something that makes Joel laugh. In a motion as old as dance itself, Sarah's tiny feet are atop her father's and he shuffles them around the dance floor. 
Bill and Frank are dancing, well, Bill is shuffling while Frank goes full out, arms in the air as he sings along with the vocalist.
Maria and Tommy are very good dancers, shockingly so. You love seeing the affection they have for one another, even when they're laughing and doing silly dances. 
It's the slow dance that brings a halt to your plans of restraint. You sit at your table, falling more in love with Joel every second.
You watch him stride to your table, popping Sarah into her chair with the coloring book and crayons Maria made sure were there for the kids attending the wedding (she thinks of everything!) she happily goes back to the Disney princess she was coloring. 
Then he's come to your chair and holds his large hand out to you.
"May I have this dance?"
As if you could refuse.
You beam up at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. You admire the breath of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. And he's all yours. Because you are never letting Joel Miller go. 
Ever. 
The song is slow and sweet. You glance over to see Maria and Tommy kissing gently before her head nestles in the crook of his neck. 
You long to do the same with Joel, but you don't want to draw the extra attention. 
Instead you try and remain stoic as Joel's hand spans your lower back. One of your hands goes to curl over Joel's shoulder, your free hands in clasped in one anothers. 
You dance like this a while, trying so hard not to make it obvious that you're desperately in love with the man that holds you to him, swaying you gently to the music. You hear him gently humming the tune of the song under his breath. 
Joel is trying his hardest not to stare at you, but it's impossible. He's wished for you so long that it still seems surreal that your here in his arms and your staying.* it makes his stomach twist pleasantly. 
He looks down at you, mouth hitched in a boyish grin. 
"So, you still like me?"
"Nah," you reply, your eyes dancing. "Pretty sure I'm in love with you." 
"That's a relief," Joel murmurs, aching to kiss you. "Because I was thinking I'd like to marry you sometime pretty soon."
You feel your heart jump at this. Your entire body breaking out into a delicious shiver as Joel stares down at you.
"That's convenient," you reply just as smoothly. "Because I was thinking I'd really like to be your wife someday soon."
Joel grins widely, so handsome and so sexy that you feel overcome. The song ends and with reluctance you pull back. You can't go several more hours without feeling him against you. You tilt forward, dropping your voice.
"Outside. Five minutes." 
Joel nods, pretending to part from you. You walk back from the dance floor on your way to grab a drink when you spot Bill making his way back from the drink station. You call him over.
"Thank you for earlier," you tell him, heart swelling. "Both you and Frank. I don't know what I would have done."
"Was nothing," Bill says shyly. 
"It was everything," you correct gently. "But I think you know that." 
Bill's shrugging. "Saw you arrived with the contractor."
Now it's your turn to give a shy shrug. "Yeah."
"You told him," Bill observes. There's no emotion in his voice, good or bad. You suppose because then he'd feel responsible one way or the other. But his eyes give everything away.
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I'm really glad I did." 
The corner of Bill's mouth curls ever so slightly under his beard. 
"Good."
You feel so much affection for Bill in this moment. Watching him stride over your lawn to protect you this morning. The advice he's given you. Baking cupcakes for Sarah. The way he's just there when you need him. Glowering or sullen yes, but he's there. 
"Bill.... I just... My dad was never... I just wanna," you're stumbling over the words, trying to find them. To thank him for being the father you always wanted without even realizing. To thank him for his steady, calming presence even when it didn't come naturally to him.
And in a move you'll swear was a dream, Bill pulls you with one arm into his barrel chest. He holds you there tightly only a moment and releases you.
"You know we're always here if you need."
And then he's gone before you can say more, striding away from you and back to Frank who is deep in conversation with Sarah. 
You're in a daze when you feel a hand glide over the small of your back. You watch as Joel moves past you and out into the warm night. 
He glances back just before ducking around the corner, just long enough to give you a sultry wink that hits you so hard you actually stumble walking.  Jesus, your entire body is thrumming. You need to get Joel back into bed as soon as possible. Maybe you won't ever leave it. There are worst fates.
You wait a few moments, trying to be discreet before you slip out from the loud party and outside. The cicadas reach you, the warm breeze dancing along your face as you step out the barn doors. 
"Hey pretty lady," a deep voice sounds from your left. "You single by any chance?"
You turn, giggling when you see Joel leaning against the outer wall of the barn. His jacket is off, his white button down sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looks delicious. 
"Nah I've got this big, strong boyfriend," you tease as you slink towards him. "And you better be careful ‘cuz he's got a real bad temper. He punched a guy in a McDonald's once."
Joel holds in a sharp laugh, reaching for you. "Yeah but he had it coming."
"Couldn't agree more," you nod, allowing Joel to pull you into his arms. 
You go boneless against him as he kisses you, his hands on either side of your face. He pauses only when he feels you tense up, his large eyes scanning your face.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm scared at how good this feels," you confess to him without hesitation. "I've lived a whole life of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This feels too good. I'm too happy."
"You don't have anything to worry about," Joel promises you. "No shoe droppin' with the Millers. We take care of each other."
"I'm not a Miller."
"Just a formality," Joel assures you between kisses. 
You grin through a watercolor blur and wrap your arms around his neck. 
"I love you," you say against his jaw, just because you can say it. You get to say this to Joel anytime you want. 
"Ditto."
Joel wedges a finger under your chin and tilts your face to him. He presses his mouth over yours once more. You sigh, arms wrapping around his neck. He's so wonderful.
His mouth finds yours again and again and your hips find his and before long he has you pressed against the barn with one of your thighs wrapped around his waist. His tongue is slipping slowly against yours as you whimper. 
You can't help it; kissing Joel is like a drug and you always want more. Your hands are at his collar, his hands at your lower back pressing you into him. 
"You gonna sleepover tonight?" Joel laughs, kissing you down your neck. The sleepover comment from earlier still amusing him.
"If you'll have me."
"Anytime," Joel promises, his body flush with yours against the side of the barn. "Need you in my bed as much as possible. Wanna take you there right now." 
If Joel has it his way you'll never leave his bed again. 
His kisses grow more insistent and he feels your body shuddering against his. Could you make it to his truck? Just for fifteen minutes? 
"Save it for after the cake cutting, would ya?"
The two of you break apart sheepishly at the sound of Tommy's voice. You glance behind you to see Tommy and Maria smirking at you as they come through the back of the barn. 
Joel feels Tommy's eyes on him, twinkling and merry. Joel's mouth twists into an embarrassed smirk. 
"Shut the fuck up."
Tommy moves over to his brother, somehow seeming to know that you and Maria need a quick chat. 
Maria's eyes are wet, and she's trying so hard not to grin too wide, for fear of creasing her very heavy wedding makeup. 
You think back to all the times she tried to warn you off Paul, all the times she tried to push you to Joel and you feel your face crumple. You wrap your oldest friend in your arms.
"Maria, I'm so-"
"Don't you dare apologize," Maria tells you firmly, pulling you back so she can peer into your face, wiping the tears that have escaped down your cheek. "Not for this. Never."
"Okay," you nod, knowing that this is what your friendship is. No recriminations, no long-standing grudges. Just two friends who want to see the best for one another. 
"I just wanted you to be happy," she says, eyes welling. "That's all I ever want for you."
"I am," you whisper, voice breaking. "I'm so fucking happy."
Sarah dashes over to you, wanting to show you and her aunt all the flowers from the tables she's collected into her flower girl basket. You hoist her onto your hip so you can all marvel at the colorful arrangements inside. 
"Next time listen to me when I tell you something," Maria says with faux irritation over the basket. "I'm never wrong."
"Except when you tried to tell me I looked good in leather pants," you reason. 
"I'll give you that one," Maria relents and you both dissolve into laughter. Despite having no idea what's so funny, Sarah joins in, one arm around your neck as she giggles. 
At the sound the Miller men glance over at you with stars in their eyes. Tommy places a hand on his older brother's shoulder, shaking his head as if you're the silliest bunch he's ever laid eyes on.  
"Well, that's our future, Joel."
"Yeah," Joel says, grinning at you as you catch his eye beaming.
"Yeah it is."
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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months
Text
Keith doesn’t miss Earth the way everyone else does.
He does miss it, of course. He had a few months early in their journey that he stubbornly insisted he didn’t, but he’s grown enough now to admit that yeah, wifi was nice. So was non-recycled air. And a yellow sun. (God, it’s so weird to genuinely miss a yellow sun. He never thought that shit mattered.) None of this even covers how much he misses, to his grand shock, the culture of Earth — it’s strange and humbling to have to explain what a car is. Or a country. Or the concept of global warming, which is an embarrassing thing to have to put into words to someone who’s never really heard of it. (Like genuinely very humiliating. Explaining to someone that they very nearly shortened the life span of humanity because of consumerism, essentially, is something he still thinks of and just shudders.)
Mostly, though, he’s happy to be in space. Space is weird as shit and so is he, so he feels like he has an easier time just functioning, really. He likes the untethered-ness of it all, the lack of general structure. He doesn’t spend a lot of time wishing things were different.
Except for right now.
His sword, which he has been boredly slashing and poking at the wall of the Empire ship, gets stuck in the tiny crack where two sheets of metal panelling are pushed together. He huffs grouchily at it, pulling it out, then has to plant his boot on the wall and yank when it refuses to do so. The tip of the blade gets unstuck quicker than he’d expected and the change in force startles him, sending him sprawling on the floor.
He scrambles to his feet, bright red, clearing his throat and trying to roll his shoulders casually, as if he was intentionally on the floor. He looks like a huge massive dork, so thankfully no one was looking his way anyway.
“Are y’all almost done?” he calls, trying really hard to sound like he’s just innocently inquiring and not whining. It is no easy task — he’s bored and he’s hungry and he’s restless and this stupid ship smells like a stale refrigerator and he’s really really bored, in case he forgot to mention.
He scowls when no one answers, sticking out his tongue at the green and yellow paladins, both of whom are hunched over a control pad, wires everywhere, trying to hack in or out of something. Keith’s not sure. They told him and Lance to keep watch at the door and then stopped responding, basically.
This is the part of Earth that Keith has missed. Back home, Keith got to do all the investigative shit, too. Don’t get him wrong, he likes being the stabby one, as Shiro has so patronizingly put it; he likes being the one to run head first into conflict with a smirk on his face and a sword on the ready. It’s fun to be the impulsive one and be rewarded for it. It’s fun to be able to wreck Empire shit and practice witty one-liners to shoot off at annoying generals and sergeants or whatever the Galra equivalent is, just to watch their eyes twitch in rage before Keith cracks them one. All missions are two parts, essentially, fucking around and finding out, and Keith loves having free reign to fuck around.
He just wishes he got to be part of the finding out, too.
He sighs, long and loud and petulant because obviously no one is listening. He knows that his investigative research with Blue was at a very different level than all the stuff Hunk and Pidge do. He understands that on an objective level. If he wants to be part of the find out portion then he has to be prepared, has to put in the effort to learn and keep learning, to know how to recognise red flags and read code and all that nerd shit.
But computer science is just so boring.
Keith is a science person. Duh. He went to pilot school. Physics was eighty percent of that whole spiel, and he’s always had an affinity for chemistry, even if said affinity caused a lot of explosions and also Adam’s blood pressure condition. Science is cool as shit.
But coding is fucking boring. He has tried and tried to sit down and learn it, but every time Pidge tries to explain the basics his eyes glaze right over, and it’s not fair to her to waste her time.
He sighs again. He gets to wait, then.
Deciding that he’d rather not slash a hundred new scratches in the ship’s wall, lest the damn bridge feel more like a prison cell than it already does, he starts to pace, swinging his sword back and forth randomly. He could try to practice a few of the techniques and swordplay choreo he’s been learning, but that’s no fun without a partner. He’s become spoiled with the castle’s training bot. With Shiro hanging back with Coran and Allura, there’s no one around to clash swords with.
He perks up. There is, actually. He forgot that Lance had unlocked a sword when he first got switched to Red.
He spins around, trying to find where Lance ducked off to. He expected to find him leaning on Hunk’s back or pestering Pidge, like he often does — they’ve long since learned to work around him — but he’s nowhere to be found. Keith walks around the area, poking his sword at piles of sentry parts he cut up a few hours ago, peeking behind control panels and various big important chairs. Nothing.
“Lance?” Keith calls softly. Something like worry sours his stomach.
Please, for the love of all things good and holy, don’t let Lance have been hurt or taken this whole time. Keith will never forgive himself.
Thankfully, a hand sticks up by the far end of the bridge, blue armour glinting in the ugly purple lighting. Keith heaves a huge sigh of relief, jogging over. He thought he’d seen Lance before Hunk and Pidge had hunkered down to get info. But in that brief moment of panic, he wasn’t sure.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks as he comes close enough to Lance to speak. The red paladin has wedged himself between some kind of steel storage bin and the wall, in an impossibly narrow sliver of space, which explains why Keith missed him when he was looking.
Lance doesn’t answer right away, instead nudging a roll of wire with his foot. He has something resting in his lap, and wire is looped around his fingers, sliding back and forth as he carefully weaves it into a pattern. Keith watches, intrigued, for several passes of the craft.
“Nicked it from Team Punk when they really started to get wrapped up in their nerd corner,” he explains, finally looking up at Keith to shoot him a wry grin. Keith grins back. “Standing guard is boring as hell, especially when we took out all the sentries and barred the doors. And the castle is parked outside, so hell if I know what we’re guarding for.”
“Fuck, I know,” Keith groans, sitting down in front of him. Honestly, there is no real reason for them to be here. He half suspects Shiro has sent them all out for some peace and quiet, which is rude.
He grabs the spool of wire by Lance’s feet, inspecting it carefully. It’s very thin, and flat instead of a round tube-ish shape that wire usually is. There are two wrapped around the spool, too, one red and one blue. Keith curiously looks back over to Lance’s lap, trying to get a better look at what he’s doing with the wire. He doubts it’s anything mechanical — Lance gets as bored as he does when Hunk and Pidge try to explain stuff — but he’s intrigued on what has kept Lance’s interest for so long.
He’s surprised to find that he recognises what Lance is making, or at least sort of. It’s a long, spiralling chain, like the wire has been woven together to make some kind of mini spiralled staircase. He remembers, although vaguely, seeing other kids at recess in elementary school, sat down all over the place, clambering all over each other with flat plastic string, making boxy keychains or scratching spiral bracelets.
“Oh, hey, I know that stuff,” he says. He scrunches his face, trying to recall the name of the craft and coming up completely empty. It’s not friendship bracelets, the string was too stiff for that. Not that loom elastic thing either. “I don’t know the name, though.”
Lance chuckles lightly, sliding a last piece of string through a loop before tying it all off. He hooks it next a growing collection of them that Keith just notices, with a wide array of colours and patterns, hanging off his utility belt like leaves from a branch.
“I don’t know the name, either.” He tilts his head in consideration. “Well, I do. I googled it once, and I got some strange French name that didn’t fit, so I never used it. No one ever, like, sought it out or anything. Someone just came to school with a pack of the thread and everyone was obsessed with it for a week before forgetting about it.”
Keith tilts his head in acknowledgment. That’s what he remembers, too, but he doesn’t remember ever having any friends who would give him any of the string to try, nor was he ever comfortable enough with whatever foster parents he had to fumble through a request for the string.
“…Can I try?” he mumbles, after watching Lance start and weave a new one. He’s not entirely sure why, but suddenly his cheeks are red, and shyness pricks at the back of his neck. He’s suddenly nervous that Lance is gonna laugh at him, gonna tell him no, gonna give him a weird look for asking at all.
It’s ridiculous. Lance wouldn’t do that, and there’s nothing wrong with Keith asking. But he feels the nerves anyway.
“Sure,” Lance says easily, tugging on the strings and setting his chain aside. He smiles brightly at Keith, brown eyes crinkled and soft, and although the shyness fades away his blush goes nowhere. If anything, Keith feels his face get hotter. “What colours do you want?”
Keith clears his throat, wishing the flush away. He points to the red and blue spool he’d seen first. Lance quickly unravels thread to the length of his arm, matching up both colours before cutting. He sets the spool to the side then carefully lines up both threads, folding them in half and wrapping them over his thumb too quickly for Keith to see what he does exactly.
“I’ll start it for you, ‘cause it’s hard.”
“Hey,” Keith protests immediately. “I can start my own.”
Lance raises an eyebrow. He blinks at him, slowly, for several moments. Keith huffs and looks away.
When he looks back, Lance is grinning, and he holds out the carefully started craft.
“It’s genuinely very difficult to start them,” he promises. “I’m the only one of my siblings who knows, they used to ask me to start theirs all the time. It’s way easier to do rather than start, trust me.”
That mollifies Keith a little. He does trust Lance, and now that he thinks about it he can vaguely recall how one person on the playground would hold court while a million people crowded around them, fielding dozens of requests for starts.
“Okay, watch me first, then I’ll walk you through doing it yourself.” Slower than he was moving before, Lance loops and weaves the thread, taking great care to keep his hands open so Keith can see the entire process. The chain he’s making looks different from the one he made earlier, and Keith says as much.
“Yeah, this one’s a box chain, it’s way easier. The spiral one is hard.” He snorts at Keith’s pout. “Don’t give me that look, doofus. You can work your way up to spiral. Try this one for now, okay?”
He hands the started chain off to Keith, then scoots out from his little nook, settling in beside Keith to help guide his hands.
Right beside Keith. His entire left side is pressed against Keith’s entire right, and he slides one hand under Keith’s arm, accidentally brushing across Keith’s ribs, to help guide his hands. Keith tries everything he can to stay still, breathing shallowly out his mouth, determined not to move even a muscle, either so Lance doesn’t move or does he’s not sure. He’s not sure what’ll make him feel less like he’s going to explode, less like every spot Lance touches isn’t going to burst into flames.
“Okay, start with the loops. See how there’s already kind of a square shape? Flip the red thread in either side of it, yeah, like that. There should be two loops and the extra string should hang opposite of each other. Okay, now take the blue string, and weave it over and under — yeah, just like that! It should create four mini squares in a big square, you nailed it.”
Lance looks up at him to shoot him that big beaming grin again, and Keith tries to muster a weak smile back at him, realising for the first time that he has yet to breathe and he should probably do that before the spots in his vision get any worse and he passes out.
This is fine, this is normal, Lance touches people all the time. He is a touchy person. This is so not worth him going batty about, what is his brain’s deal.
“Alright, now loop the extra thread around your fingers and pull it away from each other. It’s kind of a pain because it’s super smooth so it doesn’t really want to stay together, and it takes a learning curve, but — oh, hey, you got it! Good job. Now do it again.”
Trying to remind himself to breathe every few seconds, Keith repeats what Lance taught him, over and over again until the chain starts to look like an actual chain, to Keith’s pleasure. He’s fascinated by the quick way the squares build, how the layers are so thin but it doesn’t take long at all for them to stack into something longer than his pinky finger.
Keith blinks, startled, when Hunk and Pidge clap their hands, calling out that it’s time to go. He realises that there’s a bit of a crick in his neck from hunching over, the tips of his fingers feel raw, and the chain has become as long as his hand. Although it hasn’t felt like more than a few minutes, he’s clearly been doing this for a while.
This is amazing. A boring mission has never flown by this fast before!
“Looks great,” Lance says, genuine pull of his brows belying the truth to his words — he’s not just saying that at all. “You picked that up fast.”
Keith coughs, standing on wobbly, half-asleep legs. “Uh, yeah. I’m good with my hands.”
Lance makes a strange noise as he bends down and tucks the spools of wire away, a muffled, kind of derisive snicker. “Yeah, I bet you are,” he mumbles to himself, turned away, as if he didn’t mean for Keith to hear it.
Keith stumbles. His jaw drops. Lance is out the door and on his way to his lion before Keith can react.
He twirls his chain in his hands when he finally remembers how to do other things rhan have Lance’s words repeat in his head a bajillion times, walking slowly to his own lion. His right side still tingles ever place Lance touched it. He grins a little to himself, remembering the easy way Lance guided his fingers, smiled at him.
Maybe these boring missions aren’t so bad after all, actually.
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onthesandsofdreams · 1 year
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Encouragement
Fandom: The Sandman (TV) Pairing: Hob x f!Reader Rating: T Summary:  "How about this, love. You finish your book manuscript before January, and I will sweep us away into a nice vacation of your choice. Words: 1023 Notes: For @mousedetective & @8e-h-e8 Prompt(s): 19.- “Do we have a deal?” from @fictober-event
Read @ AO3
"How about this, love. You finish your book manuscript before January, and I will sweep us away into a nice vacation of your choice.
You mulled at Hob's words. Yes, your manuscript was giving you trouble, but the prospect of a vacation with Hob was tempting. All that time alone, without any interruptions sounded like bliss. You took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, "Do we have a deal?"
Hob leaned to kiss your nose. "It's a deal."
"Very well," you said and opted to place a soft kiss on his lips. "My book will be done before January the 1st."
Hob smiled, "That's my girl."
"Watch me Hob, that book will be done and you and I are going to relax somewhere nice. Alone with no one to bother us at all. No work duties, no phone calls, no texts, nothing. Just you and me... alone."
A wicked glint came into Hob's eyes. "Alone, in a nice hotel, you and I. Sounds... titillating."
"Oh, it will be. It will be." You swore, because there was something about Hob that made you struggle from keeping your hands to yourself. It was like you were a hormonal teen. But at least you were not alone on that, Hob could be quite... enthusiastic about it. "I'll make sure of it."
*
And that is how you returned to your manuscript with fury. You made a plan on how to tackle it, you found livestreams that appealed to you (so you could pretend that you were in a writing group), made music playlists and ambiance playlists and just dove into your work as you had not done before.
Soon enough, your efforts and Hob's promise began to pay off. You wrote more in two weeks than what you had done in months. "I can't believe that I wrote four thousand words yesterday," you told Hob as you both were having dinner. "My own personal record."
Hob toasted you with his glass, "I'm so proud of you, love. I knew you could tackle that writer's block."
You smiled, "Well, I have good motivation."
Hob laughed.
*
"Come back to bed, babe, it's..." Hob's voice broke your concentration. "It's two in the morning. I'm sure that can wait until there's sunlight?"
"Just give me a moment, let me finish this paragraph and I'll come back to bed, promise." You told him. But you did hurry up and wrote faster to join your partner back in bed. "On the bright side, you now know how I feel sometimes."
"And I can see how annoying it can be, I promise not to do it again, unless there's a deadline I have to meet."
"That's fair." You shut your laptop and climbed the bed into Hob's arms, giving him a kiss that started soft and tender and turned hungry. You shivered as you felt Hob's hands exploring your exposed skin. "Well..." you said when you parted to take in necessary breath. "We are awake now."
Hob did not waste a moment to pounce.
*
Between the promise of a vacation and Hob's... encouragement, your manuscript came together faster than what you would have thought possible. By the tail end of November, you were two chapters away from finishing.
"You know, I'm almost done."
Hob looked up from the book he was reading, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "See, I knew that you had it inside to finish it quickly."
"Well," you said as you sat next to him, leaning on his arm and resting your head on his shoulder. "I do have an extra source of motivation. And besides, four months to finish a manuscript without a formal deadline is not as impressive. There are people who finish it in a month."
Hob snorted, "Yes, perhaps. But that doesn't mean what you did is no less impressive. Specially since you still have a job that takes time away from you, so don't put yourself down by comparing yourself to those fortunate full time writers. You'll get there I'm sure, but celebrate your victories love."
You turned and kissed his cheek, "Look at you, my own personal motivational speaker."
Hob laughed, "Nothing so lofty, love, just someone who believes in you."
*
You finished your manuscript the beginning of the second week of December. The moment you typed 'The End.' came with a deep sense of elation and the feeling of victory. You had conquered writer's block and self-doubt.
The first thing you did was rush to where Hob was and all but throw yourself in his arms and kissing him soundly. "I finished it," you whispered against his lips.
Hob beamed at you and squeezed you tightly, then kissed you again. "See, told you could do it, love."
"And all because I had you cheering me on," you told him, closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. "I don't care if we anywhere, just let's be alone and ignore the world for a bit."
"Oh, absolutely not. I promised a vacation, and a vacation you will have. Because if I going to be honest, I could do with one myself. So, any ideas as to where you want to go."
You thought for a moment, "How about a beach. I don't care where, but I would live to swim in the ocean, what do you think?"
"I think that's a fantastic idea. We'll brainstorm places, how does that sound?"
"Sounds like a plan."
"And speaking of plans," you grinned wickedly, straddled him and whispered, "since I am done... how about some quality time?"
You did not had to say it twice for Hob to begin kissing you.
*
The hotel's bed was soft and it felt absolutely divine. Hob had chosen well as to stay when you two had decided to run off to the Seychelles. And true to both of your words, you barely left the room.
"This is nice," you said as you rested against Hob's chest as you two watched the sun set on the horizon at the beach. "I love this. And I love you, so very much Hob."
Hob squeezed you tighter, "And I you."
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calihoney · 3 months
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AT MIDNIGHT. jjk slice of life, wc860. nanami miniseries
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“Kento,” you say softly, fingertip ghosting the bridge of his nose. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as the tip of his nose twitches in his sleep, his brow furrowing when you do it for a second time. He doesn’t wake, though, and you're given a moment's pause as you once again realize how much he trusts you to sleep so soundly at your place.
“Kennnto,” you say again, this time letting your fingertip ghost his lips. He pouts a bit, the sight cute in a way you don’t typically consider him, forcing you to resist the urge to shake him awake and kiss him senseless.
“Baby?” You kiss his cheek this time, lips featherlight against his scars. “Come on, wake up.”
He moans, the sound shocking you frozen for a moment as it seems to root into every inch of your existence. It’s followed by a sigh as he turns onto his side, his hand lifting from his chest as he throws his arm over you and drags you into him. He breathes your name, each letter carefully uttered despite the fact that you know he’s still sound asleep.
And it’s wonderful, it really is, the feeling of tenderness that overtakes you at the moment. It causes your eyes to close for a few minutes, letting him enjoy whatever little bit of nirvana he’d discovered upon falling asleep, before you shift enough in his arms to sponge kisses along his throat.
“My sweet girl,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek as he blindly takes hold of your face. “Let’s sleep a little longer.”
“Are you bidding for most kawaii of the year in these last few moments of 2023, or what?”
“What?”
“You tell me. You asked me to wake you in thirty but you're being so cute right now.”
He chuckles, kissing your forehead before he lets you go. Another sigh escapes him as he lays flat on his back, his hand finding yours after a few seconds. “I get better sleep with you then I do alone.”
“Just tell me you love me.”
“I love you, my love.”
You huff out a laugh, looking up it him and feeling your face go hot when he winks. “I…love you too, my love.”
“Sorry for being difficult.”
“Not difficult. Sooo cute.”
He smiles at you, kissing your knuckles before he sits up and stretches. “Most kawaii of the year.”
“Oh my god-”
“How embarrassing,” he admits. “The things that come out of my mouth for you.”
“I think we’ve been dating for too long,” you pout as you sit up, too. “You’re stealing all my lines. I’m supposed to be the sassy one in this relationship.”
He laughs, eyes closing for a moment. “I’ll make a deal with you: never describe something I say as sassy again and I’ll let you claim the title.”
“You’re literally the sass master, though,” you admit. “I got good to be your equal.”
“That isn’t how I remember it.”
“Think about any conversation you’ve even had with Gojo and reconsider.”
“I don’t want to revisit any conversation I’ve ever had with him,” he deadpans, causing you to laugh this time.
“Ok, ok. Let’s call it even. We need to sort out dinner, anyway.”
“Sort out what exactly? We have a reservation at 8:30.”
“What?”
“You said you wanted to mix it up this year.”
“Well, yeah. We’re at my place instead of yours. I was going to suggest we eat chimichangas.”
“Ok…we’ve got one of those two things covered. But, I realized that we haven’t done anything special-”
“Special to whom?”
“Maybe you need a nap before we go, hmmm? Mrs. Grumpy Gills- why are you pouting now? Because I’m soooo cute?” He asks, the seriousness of his voice causing you to laugh despite yourself.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. But, I pulled the Spider out for you, so you can’t be too upset with me. Next year, I promise we can have chimichangas…
“Although, if I’m perfectly honest with you, I have no idea what that is.”
“Ok, ok. I’ll follow your plan.”
“Thank you. I believe you’ll enjoy it. I even picked out a dress for you.” He takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles again before saying, “It matches your nails.”
“It matches my- Ken. You- you aren’t going to do anything obnoxious are you? Like propose to me this evening?”
“I have no plans to do anything obnoxious this evening. Altho, I’d like to point out that it’s 123-123. Impeccable.”
“Would you like to know something else impeccable?”
“My use of the word?”
“Yes, exactly.”
He opens his arms to you and you don’t hesitate to crawl into them, throwing your legs over his familiarly. “Just a nice dinner and a walk. Fireworks from your roof at midnight.”
“Romantic, hmmm? Sounds perfect. You know I want to do anything you want to do,” you remind him. “Thank you for taking the time to consider it all.”
The smile he offers you is too handsome and disappears too quickly as he leans in to kiss you. “Thank you for making me want to.”
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(Female) Danny being an older sibiling to Jazz (2 years younger than her), he goes into the portal at 12 instead because she had a crush on Sam and wanted to impress her, at 13 she gets cloned by Vlad, at 15 she meets her alternative future self(featured by trans! Dan) and soon after fights the Ghost King by wich she doesnt become the next heir (yet) but it does end up weakening his bindings, whatever shenanigans in A Glitch in Time happen, bringing a to be reabilitaded Dan into her life (in a female clon body much to his dismay) and then the GIW attacks the town, tha Nasty Burger explotion happens and Maddie and Jack die, but not after Maddie realizes her daughter is Phantom and apologizing to her, Danny was in the explotion so he gets injured, captured and vivisected, rescued by Dan and Vlad, destroying his headquarters and runs them outof town.
Phantom team decided with Clockwork interferance that Amity Park is currently not safe for Danny so they choose Gotham (again, thnx Clockwork) for her to move to, but obviously Danny doesnt want to go so Jazz intervines and transfers herself with help with Vlad to Gotham Academy and Danny doesnt have other option tan to follow. And thats white the story begins, Danny in senioryear and trying to be a good older sister to Jazz while also trying to enjoy her first year ghost free since she was 12 but this Wayne kid is suspitious of her for some reason and honestly itwould be better of he would just chill (get it?) but then Robin saves her from a mugger and OH MY ANCIENTS WHY DOES HE SOUNDS JUST LIKE HIS CLASSMATE??! HE EVEN HAS THE SAME SCOWL
Ill probably be a female Danny x Damian, and yesill already have art, even if ends in just an idea im already commited to at least write what happens in the end.
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stories-and-chaos · 28 days
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Shrike: Slices of Life
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[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Something a bit different, some silly snippets that don’t fit into any particular fic]
[Word count: 350]
———
“She’s five feet tall, how can she put away that many whiskeys?”
“Oh this is nothing. You should have seen her during Mardi Gras.”
“Makes me wish we survived until Prohibition ended.”
———
“My dear, what in the nine circles is that?”
“Charlie treated everyone to something called ‘boba tea.’ Here, try a sip.”
“Well?”
“Where did Charlie acquire this?”
“Oh, if you want one, cher, they’re in the parlor.”
“No. I need to destroy the source of these.”
———
“Okay toots, I know my boss sucks, but you really seem to have it out for him. What’s your beef with Val?”
*inarticulate growling, cursing like a sailor, and destruction of multiple throw pillows*
“Personality differences, got it.”
———
During a manicure session, all the girls snag one of Angel’s hands to do his nails. He ends up with six different colors of polish. He poses to make a rainbow with his fingers every now and then for the following week.
———
Playing eye spy:
“I ssspy with my little eye, sssomething beginning with ‘T’”
“Tits!”
“Table?”
“Tequila.”
“Termites, eheheheee.”
“Noisy picture box.”
“He means television dears. Teacup?”
“Troublemakers, all of you.”
“Ya sure it ain’t tits?”
“…It wasss telephone…”
———
“I’ve always wondered what happens at Overlord meetings. Mom and Dad barely ever get invited and they won’t tell me what goes on.”
“With good reason, cher. We have important work going on that we can’t let all of Hell know about.”
What goes on at Overlord meetings:
*debates if rock-paper-scissors can be played for souls, bickering over a favorite coffee shop at the edge of two territories like a divorced couple sharing custody, regulating how late a pizza delivery can be before you kill the driver.*
“Very important work.”
———
“Charlie dear? I hesitate to mention this, but your handwriting could use some work. It is rather difficult to read the crayon sometimes.”
“Oh, that’d be great! Can you show me your handwriting Y/N?”
“Gladly!” *writes out an introduction in perfect copperplate script* “There you cher.”
“Ummmm, it’s beautiful but…err, I have no idea what it says.”
“Fine, stick with crayon.”
———
Taglist: @whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry
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