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#happily ever after
natolesims · 2 days
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Winter's finally here
And so are the winter shenanigans. Bash is adjusting to his new life, and Ella keeps on working on her studies. She nailed her first term and we're proud.
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gleafer · 4 months
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To make up for the possibly trauma I have caused with the ANGSTAGEDDON comic.
And They Lived Happily Ever After.
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dilly-oh · 1 month
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Old man ninjas in love <3
Drawn for @kakairu-rocks KakaIru Valentine's Week 2024, Day 7 Prompts: Happily Ever After and Valentine's Day.
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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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the-modern-typewriter · 3 months
Text
And so they all lived happily ever after.[1]
Theodore could finally breathe.
The two of them had bought the quiet, peaceful cottage that they had always talked about[2] and filled it with things[3] because they were allowed to do more than simply need now.[4] They were allowed to want, and build a home because home no longer had to be wherever the resistance had camped up for the night. Honestly, Theo had thought he’d be dead before that ever happened. Being born the chosen one, nobody had ever expected him to survive fate long enough for the aftermath, least of all him. [5]
Didn’t that mean he had the earned the right to be happy, now?[6]
“Theo.” She sat opposite him at the kitchen table, and took his hand, and looked at him like the world still needed saving, like he hadn’t done enough. “This isn’t working,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
It came out of nowhere.[7]
***
“I don’t have nightmares,” he said.[8] “We won. I killed the Shadow King, if anyone should have nightmares-”
He forced his expression to ease. He shouldn’t resent Adina her nightmares, if she had them. He knew the battlefield they had met upon. In a world of blood and conquest and power that made him feel like he was going to sizzle from the inside out, she had been a cooling balm. She had made him a man, instead of something out of legend.
“I know you were there too,” he continued, because she was acting like he’d somehow forgotten that. “But it’s over.” Didn’t she see that it was over? “Whatever nightmares you have, we’ll get through it together, yeah? They’re only dreams.”
“Memories.”
His jaw clenched. “They can’t hurt you unless you let them.”[9]
Her mouth clicked shut and she swallowed hard. At some point, during the argument, they’d both surged to their feet. Her arms were crossed against her chest, defensive, like either of them should have any need for defences anymore. They were safe with each other. She knew that! Before she started this conversation, they had been fine. Hadn’t they been fine?
“If there was a button that could make me feel differently,” she managed. “I would hit it in a heartbeat. God. I’m not – I know this isn’t your fault. I’m not saying that. I know you’ve gone through enough. I know this isn’t fair, but I—”
“You just need time.”[10]
They had time now, didn’t they? Walking through the woods filled him with a calm he’d never known before. The green trees, dappled by sunlight, made it impossible to dwell on the cold feeling of bloodied stone against broken bones. Everything was light, and air, and the freedom to run.
There were no people to be responsible for, no important envoys to encroach upon the time they managed to snatch together, always wrenching them apart. It was him, and her, and they didn’t have to live in a stolen moment anymore. Wasn’t that enough?[11]
“How can you be so okay?” Adina’s voice crumpled on the question, so small, and it felt like a knife between his ribs because it sounded like an honest question too. “After everything…” Her eyes were big and desperate - he recoiled. He could finally breathe, and she would have him drown.
After everything, he was allowed to be okay. Was he supposed to live forever feeling guilty for everything he could have done better? Was he supposed to have died too?[12]
Maybe, yes, in her story he should have.
It was easier to love a legend than a man. It was easy to make promises to someone who wouldn’t live to hold you to them. For a second, he hated her, more than he’d ever hated the Shadow King. He didn’t want to be a thing of hate anymore. He didn’t want to fight anymore.
“Everything?” He repeated, oh so softly. His fists curled, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood and he didn’t want to ever draw blood again either. He stopped.  He relearned how to breathe. “You do not get to hold ‘everything’ against me, Adina. I did everything you asked of me. That all of you asked of me. For you. For this.”
“Theo…”
“We love each other.” He turned away because he couldn’t look at her. “That’s all that matters. We’ll get through this. Happily ever after.”
She flinched in the corner of his vision.
“Please.” He closed his eyes. “You want to talk about everything? After everything, let me have this. Give me this. It is the only thing I ever asked of you.”[13]
She exhaled a shaky breath. The silence stretched. Then, she kissed him sweetly, gently, like everything was okay. She whispered the words against his lips:
“I’ll try.”
***
It was better again, after that. Their fight became another battle of the past to be buried with their dead and forgotten. 
In the mornings, they would paint the sunrise that they had once spent hours trying to picture, when the endless night of the Shadow King’s reign felt like it never might never break. The first time Theo had seen that the sky could truly be pink he thought maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t made it through after all. But he had.  In the afternoons, they would walk hand in hand through the woods and he would tell her about all of the new growth he was learning about. He liked the names. The colours. The hope.
It wasn’t perfect. Now that she’d pointed it out, he stirred sometimes in the night to find her awake still. When he caressed her face in the dark his hand would come away wet with silent tears.[14] On those nights, he would kiss her honeyed and slow because he didn’t have to kiss her like she was oxygen anymore, until she melted in his arms and smiled again. [15]
The weeks turned into months, which turned into years.
She stopped crying, with time. She healed.[16]
The shadows were gone.
And so, they all lived happily ever after.[17]
----
[1] Happily ever after! It was just another bloody thing to fail at, wasn’t it?
[2] He’d always talked about it. He was happy. The cottage was perched in the middle of the woods, far enough away from civilisation that she could pass days without seeing another person. Sometimes, it felt like they must have lost, because the world that she knew wasn’t there anymore.
[3] She shouldn’t resent him his clutter. He deserved clutter. She knew he deserved clutter, his houseful of little wooden figurines he carved, after everything. 
[4] She hated the clutter.
[5] It was a terrible thing to want happiness, but not know what to do with peace; she’d learned to love him fighting. But now, he loved gently, sword forgotten, armour laid to rest, and that was not the version of him that she’d fallen love with.
[6] She missed the man she’d fallen for.
[7] She couldn’t do this anymore.
[8] Because he was the only one who had truly suffered.
[9] Was it so simple? Had she got it wrong? Was she merely not trying hard enough to move on? His expression told her that, yes, she needed to try harder. They were supposed to be a team but, to his mind, when it came down to it…he’d been the one alone against the Shadow King, hadn’t he? So, if he could heal then why couldn’t she? She hadn’t been the one buckling under the weight of prophecy. She had no right.
[10] That was the other thing everyone always said, along with happily ever after. Time healed all wounds. She just needed time. But how much time was that? Too much, it seemed. There had been a woman she met in the aftermath of the battle at Sunburst fields. She had lost her lover. Adina couldn’t remember the woman’s name, only what she had confessed when no one else was there to hear her.
[11] The woman said, “I’m not allowed to mourn her. No one knew we were together, you see. She had a husband. But she loved me, and I… no one will ever know now, and I must mourn her like she wasn’t mine to mourn. Like I might mourn a stranger.’ The woman’s voice dropped barely audible. "And I think it might just kill me. How do you heal a hurt when you have to pretend it’s not there? Like it’s a papercut instead of a bullet wound?"
[12] He fought to protect her. To protect all of them. In his story, she was the victory he came home to. She was his happy ending. She was not supposed to be broken.
[13] He had fallen in love with her when she was selfish. A good, selfless girl did not love in a stolen moment, after all. Stolen moments had to be taken from someone. But he didn’t want selfish now. He didn’t want someone who had done battle, who had hurt, and been hurt. He didn’t want a woman with a shadow in her heart.
[14] And, so, he fell out of love with her in the way that a person forgets their wallet on the train – with that stabbing sense of panic, of leaving something vital behind, without yet being able to place what was gone.
[15] Instead, he fumbled and groped for the debris, the receipts, the bits of change and dust at the bottom of the bag of them that had meant something important once. He began to look at her like a stranger when she reminded him that she was sharp. That he had loved something sharp, once.
[16] He looked for clues for what was missing.
[17] He would never find her.
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tomorrowxtogether · 5 months
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231026 txt.bighitent tiktok update
쩡국이형과 함께라면 영원히 행복해에에 💜 with #정국 선배님 
#JungKook@AB_______JK_M____RST____Y_#BTS@BTS#TXT#FREEFALL#HappilyEverAfter#NewMusic
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the-unforgivenn · 5 days
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Waking the Fallen AO3 Link
Summary: November 1986, three years following the strange disappearance of Will Byers, Eddie Munson returns... changed. That is obvious. That... you don't so much mind. What you do mind is the grim fact that Vecna's returned, stronger than ever; and it appears that your vampire boyfriend is a bit of a double-crossing vampire boyfriend with a message: The time is NOW. With the help of the party, you formulate a plan to defeat the monster that tortures Hawkins once and for all.
The path to saving the world is paved with monsters, magic, and more twists and turns than you can fathom.
OR:
Stranger Things Season 5, if the Duffers were to ask me to write it.
Word Count: 4100
Relationships: Eddie Munson x Elder!Mayfield!fem!Reader, Gareth Emerson x Elder!Mayfield!fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Gareth Emerson x Elder!Mayfield!fem!Reader
Tags: Explicit Sexual ContentExplicit LanguageEddie Munson as Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons)Canon-Typical ViolencePost-CanonPost-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2Time SkipsThe Upside Down (Stranger Things)Vecna's Curse (Stranger Things)Rough SexDirty TalkDaddy KinkPraise KinkEddie Munson LivesEddie Munson SmutShameless SmutAngst with a Happy EndingBlood and InjuryMajor Character InjuryPenis In Vagina SexHuman/Vampire RelationshipVampire SexMonsterfuckingVampire BitesBlood DrinkingBlood LossBlood PlayBasically a Lot of BloodOther Additional Tags to Be Added
Chapter Count: 1/20
Chapter List:
• one • two • three • four • five• six• seven • eight • nine • ten • eleven • twelve • thirteen • fourteen • fifteen • sixteen • seventeen • eighteen • nineteen • twenty •
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pursuitseternal · 10 days
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“Beginning Anew:” graveyard intimacy in “Our Blood is Thicker”
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(Ascended) Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 3.3K
🎨 By official illustrator @marimosalad
Summary: After the fall of the Netherbrain, the Vampire Ascendant and the Bone Picker have worked to help rebuild in the aftermath. But now, in the night, they seek a moment for them, burying their pasts and embracing their future, side by side until the world falls down.
CW: Graveyard sex, semi-public sex, Cocky AA gloating he teeeechnically killed her, Cordehlia having none of that, sub/dom switching, hope for the future side by side.
Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist
Chapter 21:
Beginning Anew
💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞
Fires still burned, the filth of battle not unfamiliar to Cordehlia as she walked the Lower City after dark. But what was unfamiliar this time, was the warm hand laced in hers, the gentle sway of his body so close beside her. She sighed, loving the way they brushed every other step over the cobblestones.
It was done, over. Enemies defeated and villains put to the blade.
Some of her friends were lost to other places, other realms and destinies already determined to be their ends. Her heart ached for the fallen, for faces that she could easily see again and others… not quite so easily. But that was battle, loss and heartache lacing the sweetness of victory. Only this time, she wasn’t alone in her triumph.
She had him.
They had barely slept the last two days, rebuilding and guiding the citizens of the City, not to mention escaping every prying eye that wished to see the Vampire Ascendant and the Bone Picker, the stuff of legends, the pair of them. But for now, they walked in the quiet silence of night through mostly empty streets. Heading back to the Elfsong, thankful it was still standing.
From the corner of her eye, she saw his lip twist in that rakish smirk for the briefest of seconds.
“Come, my love,” he pulled her into the adjacent alley, deeper into the shadow, black so dark, she could see that faintly lingering glow in his eyes. That tingle of his new magic tickled over her skin, leaping from his touch to dance up the back of her hand.
“Now where, Ancunín?” Cordehlia hissed, teasing but gleeful as she hurried in his wake. Pulled by him, hand in hand. A gesture they had shared along elven paths and shady glades, only this time it was down rubble-filled streets. But she was just content to be following him at all. To follow him, her heart in his chest, for eternity.
He gave that teasing giggle low in his chest. “That should be Lord Ancunín, my sweet, but I’ll let it slide for you…”
Her hand, like lightning now that she mastered her new vampiric strength, flew for the curve of his ass, giving it a punishing squeeze through his suede and leather trousers. “Behave,” she smirked up at him as he gave her a mocking scowl, “my Lord.”
“Yes, dear,” he shook his head, a sultry, sinister smile that showed all his teeth caught in the dim light as he led them to make one final turn. He took note of the way her cool hand clutched harder in his as they entered under the gate of the cemetery.
She knew right where he was headed, begrudgingly, she looked into his softly smirking face as they stood at the foot of his headstone. “Why?” was all she could say.
His palm caressed her cheek, that warm touch grounding her even as her undead heart began to pound hard, if slowly, in her chest. “Now that our enemies have fallen, it’s time to start anew, don’t you think? The Ascendant and his Raven?”
“You mean the Bone Picker and her devoted husband, don’t you?” she snickered, a bit irked and yet…. Something about being his made her stomach flutter and coil with that constant need for satisfaction.
“What about, Lord and Lady Ancunín, hmm?” he pulled her flush against his body, that damned beaded jacket again, now his new favorite, scratching through the silk of her new chemise. “What we were always wanting to be… destined to be, don’t you think?”
Hand braced in the center of his chest, her every new sense could hear his heart thumping, feel the blood rush in his veins again, smell it beginning to race and pool in certain parts of his anatomy.
As if she didn’t always know the instant he grew hard for her.
“Are you seriously thinking about…” she arched her eyes wryly at him, words failing her as she chose to just grab for his erection instead. He just grinded that thickening length through his leathers into her palm. A laugh in her ear as she felt his warm breath inhaling her scent. “You know we are in a graveyard?” she taunted.
“Yes,” he chuckled louder.
“And that we are standing at your gravesite, as much of a lie as it is…”
His tongue trapped the soft bottom of her ear to suck it gently into his mouth. “Yes,” he rasped, a bit rougher in his throat.
“And you do know this is a place where I now have not one, but two horrible memories of laying near unconscious, my head near your own… headstone, right?” She shuddered under his warm lips, pulling him tighter into her hand on his cock by the small of his back.
“Yes,” he replied, “and don’t you think we grieve those poor memories to make a new one here… together?” His words were honey-sweet, balm on her wounds. His nose nuzzled against her neck, breathing in her scent, she knew.
“I’ve been… yours… for a tenday, and you’re already an absolute freak, wanting to fuck on your grave…”
“You love me, though,” he smirked, shaking his head. “It’s not like you wouldn’t do the same, little love.”
“Not my grave, not my name in stone,” she shoved him by his cock, making him grunt so sweetly as he withdrew just a breath.
“It can be arranged you know,” he forced his voice steady, trying so hard to keep that silken seduction in his tone. “After all, I did kill you.”
“Please,” she huffed, rolling her now crimson eyes as she stilled her hand and eased it off his erection. “In a fair fight, I would still kick your arse, Astarion… good thing you Ascended, just to even the odds.” Cordehlia grinned, lips twisting to one side as she let her touch fall. His eyes widened in hurt, or panic, or desperation as he caught her wrist to replace it there between his legs immediately.
“My love, I am the Vampire Ascendant now,” he purred into her face, “every fight is fair… for me.”
Cordehlia let out a very loud, nasally, and ugly noise, cracking into that smile that warmed his heart and showed all her teeth, fangs included now. “Great,” she rolled her eyes, a show of petulance, “As if you need the entitlement or fodder for your arrogance, my love.”
“Just what I’m due,” he brushed his lips against hers, her own so eager for another taste. Her breath forced its way into his mouth, her teeth nipping gently one his lips, longing for a taste, he knew. “Hungry?” he rasped into her kiss, and she was only able to nod and bite just a bit harder with her blunted teeth.
“Famished,” she whispered, licking her tongue over the roof of his mouth.
“Then kneel, my darling…”
She flashed him a look of narrowed eyes and twisted mouth, irritated but intrigued. Suspicious but aroused. Her fingers slid with tantalizing lightness down the sinews of his thighs, her knees bending as he smirked with tickled delight. The sight of his love, playful minx she was, looking for any chance she could to bend his rules. That glint in her eye, ancient and youthful, said as much.
She loved this. But she wouldn’t let him know that entirely. Not yet. For now, she was happy to taunt and gaze at his forever-ethereal beauty. The moon lit the night air behind him, those silver curls fairly glowing, kissed by the stars, just as they alway had each evening they would find one another. Perhaps he gazed with slightly more hunger down at her now, perhaps he craved having his way more than before… but not so much as he had once, the spoiled son of a noble family, destined for greatness.
And greatness finally found him, she could see he thought as much. He sighed contentedly, eagerly, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw to gasp so carefully under her chin.
To tilt her mouth just right for his kiss.
Ravenous, she arched upwards for his lips, working her mouth with all heat and fangs and mouth-watering desire. Until something warm dripped from their lips, the coppery tang of his own blood coating his tongue before he even felt the ice-cold prick of her own fang at the corner of his mouth. “Tch, naughty,” he hissed as she sucked the blood that seeped more with every lick.
Cordehlia only laughed from her throat in reply, hand gripping mercilessly at the outline of his cock, making him swallow another grunt. Laughing and sucking, she freed those small brass buttons down the supple leather of his breeches.
A sigh of pure and heated contentment in his throat, he stood to watch. Those crimson eyes gleamed at him, bright with her own lust, sparkling with mischief. Her lips twitched, waiting to catch his cock the second it sprung free.
Her fingers, warmed from even the littlest drops of his blood in her belly now, she rubbed his length. All silken skin and risen veins, she stroked him in one hand and palmed the smooth, tight skin of his balls in her other. A gentle thrust of his hips, he could feel her breath as she inhaled his musk and salt from the v of his waist. But those lips didn’t aim for his pulsing, seeping head.
Oh no, his bride wrapped her warming lips fully around one of his balls. The groan he made echoed off the walls behind her, he needed to lean one hand on his own headstone just to steady his legs. She licked, first one then the other, tongue swirling over him as he could feel them tighten, as his cock twitched against her ear, resisting her gently hold around it.
“Gently,” he hissed, the cold drag of her fangs threatening the soft velvet skin in her mouth. And she just laughed.
“Afraid?” she murmured rubbing her nose into that hard plane of his hips.
“Mmm, I will only ever admit that to you, my treasure…” he braced himself for more. For another scrape of her teeth over his most sensitive of parts. The rush of fear and lust, of pleasure and pain sent arousal like molten heat right to his core.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” she purred, aiming those fangs for the side of his thigh buried inside the gap in his trousers. A small snarl reached her ears from above, muscles under her mouth bunched as she lapped the blood that flowed.
His hand moved into her fiery hair, guiding her blushing face back before him, but instead of shoving his cock between her plump lips, he sank to his knees too, her lips too tantalizing not to consume for his own. Her body too precious to keep at his feet for a moment longer.
Those strong hands, all too familiar with blade and bow, gripped into the collar of his jacket, twisting him and pulling him to crush her into the earth, their heads almost knocking against that aged stone. He growled, his thumb prying open her jaw to dive his tongue in deeper. “Cordehlia,” his voice dripping like honey and brushing like silk, “I love the taste of you… after you’ve tasted me.”
Her smile answered as it pressed into his mouth. Cordehlia only wanted more, wanted to glut on his love for her, to feed until she was drunk on his lust and his cock and his desire. She bucked and wriggled and slid her own sensible trousers free. One of his free hands worked them off as well, until she could kick them to the side, her supple boots joining them. Satisfied at last, she slunk a hand to touch her own slickness. But Astarion only growled, a push of his mind against her own, desirous and disapproving. Instead he chuckled into their working mouths. He grinded heavily into her hips, hooking his knee into her own.
Spreading her.
Straining her apart until he could glide his length through that pool between her thighs. Her craving was palpable, her hunger filled his own stomach. One warm palm at the back of her head, and he placed her panting mouth on his own throbbing neck.
Fangs sank into his skin, his cock thrusting deep into her dripping folds. Swallow by swallow as she drank from him, she grew warm, igniting little by little from within, around him, under him. Just a bit more, he split her by her thigh. Making her gasp with a mouthful of his blood. Making her arch just right to take him in so deep, that throbbing head of his cock pressed against the end of her channel.
For laying on a patch of land to hold the dead, he had never felt so alive. Not with his pulse raging through his veins, from the tips of his ears to the twitch of his cock buried deep inside her.
Always eager, ravenous for more, demanding and needy… it didn’t matter if it was their first time
By that ancient stream or the current time, here and now by his headstone, she wouldn’t have him any other way.
Buried to his balls, eyes fixed into hers, one heart and one breath between them. Lovers then and now and for eternity. “Until the world falls down…” he had said before. And that glimmer in his moonstruck, crimson eyes now as he fucked into her repeated it over and over again.
Nails dug into the small span of his back, wherever she could reach his flesh. Her touch gripped hard beneath the band of his trousers to pull him in. As if he needed the enticement. The way their foreheads pressed tightly, their mouths slack and eyes locked… Cordehlia groaned, her own strength clutched hard around him, legs around his waist, fingers dug deep enough for blood as she bucked in bliss. He grit his teeth, savoring the way she pulsed around him, trying to to be undone at the same moment. Biting his tongue, closing his eyes, he forced himself to last through it, even as her ecstacy swept him away. The weight of her hand at his nape pulled his mouth to her tongue. Instantly she lapped at the blood that dripped from where he nipped himself.
Of course she would sense it, hunger for it. He just laughed as he stilled inside her at that moment. Letting her feast on him. “Enough?” he purred, a little unbidden roll of his hips through her extra-slick folds now.
“Never,” her grip already pulled at his collar, mouth pressed sharply into hers. He hissed, the pressure of her tight walls, the rock of her hips to take him deeper… the taste of his blood on their tongues. It was everything he ever wanted.
Well… maybe… one more thing…
Cradling her head in his palm, he sank his fang into her working lower lip, that floral taste that was so truly hers alone filled his mouth. One swallow of her essence, and he burst. Pulse after pulse, he erupted and shook as he came. His breath stifled by her mouth, it was all he could do to close his eyes to the moonlight in the graveyard and let his body ride hard and fast.
Until the only sound in that vacant yard was their rapid breathing, the slick of their sexes, and the racing of his one Ascendant heart.
He kept his voice soft, fingers stroking over that arch of her cheek, those crimson eyes fluttering and filling with tears unshed to catch the starlight. Almost like the silver they once were. “Do you remember what I promised you that last night before I… left you?”
Cordehlia gave a wet laugh, just the one. “Do you remember, Ancunín?” she teased through the surge of tenderness that warmed her inside and out.
He quirked his brows, mock offense darkening his sharp features even as he smiled. “How dare you…” he taunted back, pinching her earlobe as if she were a naughty little elfling. Which she always would be to him, deep down. “I recall promising you wardrobes of silken dresses, notoriety as the beautiful bride of a powerful man… that the City would kneel at your feet, my darling…”
Now she sniffed back her tears as they flowed for real, turning her head to hide them from him. “That was so long ago, Astarion…. I, I don’t even know if I am the same. I don’t know if I belong in a world of luxury and finery and butter-soft dresses…”
His fingers just kept stroking her face. Waiting.
She sighed. “I think she died when she thought you dead, when she saw you all those years ago in the tavern…”
He silenced her with a kiss, tender and tasting and soft as he could. His thumb wiped off a single cool tear as it trekked down her face.
“We are both dead and remade you know,” he whispered as he looked down at her again. “I’d like to still give you whatever you desire. Your delight is mine. Your sorrow, mine.”
Her eyes struggled to meet his gaze, but once they did, she grinned gently. “And yours mine,” she swallowed through her crying.
Astarion swept his hand to her hair now, soft and fiery. Just like her. “I would like nothing better than to spoil you for eternity, to rebuild this city or travel or battle or return to our home country to remember or seclude ourselves in a palace… as long as we do it together.”
“I’d like that,” she smiled wider, her own hand cupping his fiercely grinning face. “As long as we do it together.”
Lips brushed, sweet and chaste, a kiss of promise and hope and future—a caress of one breath, one blood, one heart. As they broke apart, she shoved him in the chest, trying to sit up.
A smirk on his lips, he let her, busying himself with arranging his clothes back properly as he stood. Lost in the moonlight, gazing into the sky, he only turned once he heard the scratch of a dagger into stone.
She was a sight, burnished hair spilling over her shoulders, barely clothed again, and that shining dagger in her hand. With every scratch, she carved into the headstone beneath his name.
With her own.
Cordehlia Aquilae, followed by her own years of life, far exceeding his inscribed above.
He just watched until she was done, standing to return her weapon home, dusting off her hands as she turned. “Don’t let it get to your head you killed me, Astarion,” she teased and drew closer. “You really don’t need to inflate your pride any more.”
He answered with that same wicked look, all smirking lips and devouring eyes. “Our little secret then,” he purred, pulling her close once she was within reach. “My eternal lover, beyond the reach of time… Cordehlia Aquilae…”
She shook her head, raising on her toes to kiss him again. “No, she’s dead.” The words rang with a hint of sadness. But then he looked into her eyes. Bright with the stars, her cheeks flushed with his blood in her veins. “Cordehlia Ancunín, that is if you’ll have me…”
“Forever,” he interrupted before she could say anything else disparaging, “in every position, in any place… Never again from my side.”
“Promise?” she rasped, a grind of her hips against his that ignited his body again. So soon
“I promise you Cordehlia, my bride, my love…” he pulled her close, close enough to feel her body still warm from their first coupling. The first of many tonight, he smirked so assuredly. “We have a beautiful if probably bloody future ahead of us, my love.” His finger brought her rosy lips, her glinting fanged-smile against his own. “I can hardly wait.”
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Thus ends the Pale Elf Quest AU for these romantic heroes. Thank you for enduring the angst to get to the happy ending.
But….. it’s not really an ending. There will be more for Corstarion 💞🗡️. I mean, now they’re both powerful, happy, menaces of a vampiric nature. I will add on epilogue chapters, but for now this chapter does mark the “end” of the Quest in canon.
Watch this page for their Ascendant and Raven adventures however. And yes, they will be even hornier and bloodthirsty now.
♥️ Pursuits
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ramavoite · 10 months
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mynonah · 1 month
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"WE. ARE. MARRIED!! WEEEEEHEEEE"
"Aren't you bored of this yet?" "We just got married a few hours ago, Kurt." "What...? Not the marriage, silly, THIS." "You said I could do it." "Yeah, of course, but that was 20 minutes ago." "HE SAID YES!!" "I said yes 1,5 years ago, sweetheart. You should also shout that out to the universe so people don't think we were just that drunk last night." "HE SAID YES 1,5 YEARS AGO AND NOW WE'RE MARRIED!" "Wow, I was just kidding, but okay..." "WE JUST GOT MARRIED!!" "They know. Trust me. Everyone knows. It's literally written all over us." "WE ARE MARRIED!!" "You're crazy, you know that, right? This is insane." "But you love me." "I do, honey. That's why I married you. Now, would you come back here, please, sit down and---" "HE. MARRIED. MEEE!!!" "Oh, God... It's going to be an extraordinarily long journey." "Yep. I plan it to last forever."
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There are few things as satisfying to me as a classic “happily ever after.” i don’t care how cliche it is. Ever. Seeing characters I’ve grown attached to grow old and live their life in a home they love with a family they grew and being told “after everything that happened to them, they can rest. they’re happy” will get me every single time
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natolesims · 13 days
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Ribbit.
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gleafer · 3 months
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Okay! I’ll share one more page from my Patreon because it was too much fun to draw! 😄
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auteurdelabre · 3 months
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A Secret Kind of Pain (one-shot) FrankieMorales x f!Reader
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Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n) (No descriptions other than hair he can move behind your ear. She’s you, babe!)
Rating: 18+
Words: 7.0k
Summary: A poker night over at Benny’s tests the amazing burgeoning relationship you have been hiding with Frankie Morales.
Warnings: secret relationship, friends to lovers, angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, sweet Spanish nicknames, Frankie is a jealous lil’ thing, miscommunication trope.
a/n: I love Frankie Morales and realized I needed to write him up a honey. Y’all can blame my muses for this. I keep tryin’ to update my other stories and the damn muses keep starting new ones! At leas this is a one-shot!
Also if you like my stuff I'd really love a follow, a reblog, a comment (those especially make me smile!) would be real appreciated!
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"We're gonna be late," you whine, even as your back arches against the springy mattress. Your breathing is shallow, your forehead dotted with perspiration. 
"I don't care," he replies breathlessly from between your thighs, dark eyes fixed on yours as his pouty mouth goes back to work. 
You've been like this all afternoon, touching, kissing, fucking. You're both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the fan in the corner of the room no match for the balmy weather. 
"Frankie," you whine, feeling his hands on the globes of your ass, pulling your dripping sex more fully against his mouth and tongue. He won't let up. He's eating you out like his life depends on it and has been for the last forty minutes. 
Your legs are spread wide over his broad shoulders and his hands move over the crease of your thighs to hold you in place as he devours you. He feels so impossibly good, you can't help but succumb, your hands fisting in his curls, your body quaking with every swipe of his deft tongue. 
His mouth begins giving your pussy sloppy kisses, groaning as he does. You don't know who loves this more - you or him. You whimper out his name again, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
"C'mon cariño," he purrs, smiling up at you. "You can give me one more."
And you do. You come crying his name as he gently laves your clit. As you come down you reach blindly for him, sighing contentedly as he crawls up the length of your body, pressing glossy kisses up your naked flesh before he positions his cock at your entrance. 
"Don't make me wait," you beg, urging your hips towards him. He smiles down at you before his mouth is on yours, his cock sliding into your slick cunt. It's not long before he's emptying himself into you and moaning into your neck. 
You lay tangled in the sheets afterwards, your head on his arm, looking at his hawkish profile. He looks almost angelic with his hat off and his curls on display. 
"We're gonna be late," you repeat giving his bristled cheek a swift kiss. You go to move off the mattress and to the shower but he holds tightly to you, his leg lacings between yours. 
"Let's not go," he says, nuzzling against your neck. "Let's just stay in."
"How is that going to look?" you counter, not oblivious to his hand which ventures to brush over your chest. "We both don't show up to poker night? The week after we both mysteriously don't make it to the pub for drinks?"
Frankie sighs, knowing that you're right. You're always right. The second that the guys find out you're together it's going to be a nightmare. 
They'll have opinions, so many fucking opinions on Frankie dating Tom's cousin. The one that Will had a crush on for years. The one Pope flirted with every time she came back for family visits. The one they all promised Tom they'd never fuck; a pact they reminded themselves of when she moved back to town a year ago for her job. 
The one Frankie had fallen for the second he'd met her at one of Benny's shows. The one he'd sat next to, thighs touching as they laughed and talked between rounds as he stole bits of her popcorn. The one he'd told himself he couldn't want, but then found he couldn't stay away from. 
So when he'd thrown a memorial party for Tom's birthday months ago and you'd stayed behind to help him clean and you confessed your burgeoning feelings for him it seemed it was inevitable he would take you in his arms telling you he felt the same. It felt fated that he would be kiss you before carrying you to his bedroom and making love to you until the sun came up. 
You'd both known it had to remain a secret. Couldn't come out. Not when things were still so new, still so fresh. Not when Tom was gone, the promise his friends had made still very real. 
Didn't matter that Frankie hadn't met you before he made that vow because he was always away flying or with his ex when you were visiting Tom. Didn't matter that he didn't just want to fuck you. 
Pope hadn't been stupid. He'd known Frankie was seeing someone in the following months. In a panic Frankie had confessed over drinks one day that he was seeing some girl from the coffee shop near his place. This had placated Pope enough to drop it. 
But he and the rest of the gang still teased Frankie about it for weeks, insisting he bring his "imaginary girlfriend" to poker night while you sat back in the booth, hiding your grin behind your beer bottle. 
And so you snuck around, slipping into Frankie's bed and into his life without hesitation. Nights and weekends were spent making meals together, watching TV, going to try new coffee shops, kissing and fucking everywhere in his house. 
He craved you when you weren't around, more than coke, more than flying, more than anything. He loved that his pillows smelled of you, that your variety of shampoos and conditioners lined his shower floor. 
"I gotta shower and then we gotta go, Morales."
Frankie finally releases you, but not before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. You smile before rolling off his bed and towards the shower. Frankie watches your naked body sauntering away and he holds in a grateful sigh. 
///
"I'll go in first," you tell him, grabbing the bag of pretzels from the back seat of the truck.
Frankie has parked around the corner from Benny's, knowing you both couldn't show up together at Benny's infamous poker night. 
You'd made yourself part of the group soon after moving back. Part of you wonders if it's because you're filling a void left by Tom or if they really like your company. You decide you don't mind when it means more time with Frankie. 
"See you in there." 
You go to leave, hand on the door before you shoot him a sweet smile. You lean over to give him a peck on the lips. You glance over the t-shirt that strains over his biceps, the jeans that mold over his long thighs and you give a crooked smile.
"Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight, Morales?"
Frankie blushes up his neck, his face growing red as he gives a bashful grin at you from under his baseball hat. The kind of smile that makes his dimple pop out. You give him a wink and then you're gone, heading into Benny's place, carrying a comically large bag of pretzels. 
Frankie watches the clock, waiting a whole five minutes before grabbing the shopping bag from the back seat. 
He ambles towards Benny's front door, noting the SUV with the space invaders bumper sticker. Will is here already, probably the first to arrive at his brother's event. 
By the time Frankie arrives the group is loudly chatting, the kitchen full of food and noise. Benny and Pope are opening beers for their dates and you're nowhere to be seen. 
"You didn't bring your girl?" Benny observes with a frown when Frankie enters the kitchen holding the shopping bag of chips and salsa.
"Uh we broke up," Frankie says with a shrug, accepting the coke can his friend passes him. Pope pulls out the chips and salsa, dark eyes trailing inside the bag before he's pouring the chips into a bowl. 
"You don't seem too upset about it," Pope says with a quirked brow, his arm going to sling around the shoulders of his date. Frankie is about to reply when you both hear your laugh from the next room. 
The two of you glance over to see you and Will on the couch, knees almost touching as Will says something else to make you laugh. You have a great laugh, the kind where you tilt your head back and you just let go. The kind that makes Frankie smile when he hears it. 
But he doesn't smile now. In fact it's quite the opposite. He watches as Will's light eyes trace over your face warmly. 
"Seems like Will is foregoing the pact," Pope says amused, his eyes on Frankie's face. 
Frankie feels his hand curl into a fist. Who the fuck does Will think he is? Will could have any girl he wants; he's handsome and successful. He's not a recovering addict who can't legally fly anymore like Frankie. 
Doubt, the ugly insidious snake creeps into his mind. Why are you with him? What could be possibly offer you?
"Hey Fish," Will calls out with a wave to Frankie when he notices the man in the kitchen. "No girl tonight?"
"They broke up," Pope says, coming to rest on the edge of the couch. 
"Sorry to hear that," you say airily. Frankie can't look at you. He knows he'll see the amused glint there and he can't risk it.  
"He doesn't seem too upset about it," Pope smiles. 
Frankie focuses his attention on Benny who claps him on the back before announcing that it's time to start the poker game. Everyone moves to the table that Benny has set up with chips and cards. 
Frankie's chest warms when you slide into the chair next to his at the table but he holds in a grimace when Will takes the seat next to yours, smiling at you.
You nudge his thigh under the table and he slips a hand under the table to give your knee a squeeze, watching your lips curl into a subtle smile at the contact. 
Frankie feels idiotic for being jealous when you're obviously his girl. But the thing is he hasn't said you're his girl. It's just silently implied. He wonders if he needs to tell you, in words. 
"Alright," Benny announces, breaking into Frankie's thoughts. "The game is Omaha and-"
You tune Benny out as he explains the rules for the large group around the table. You throw in your two ten dollar bills along with the rest of the group to the center of the table. 
All you can focus on is Frankie's hand still resting on your knee, so wide and warm.
You're so into him it's ridiculous. You love the way he curls around you in bed, the way he makes you coffee to take to work, the way he looks at you when you talk because he's really** listening to what you have to say.
He removes his hand as the game starts and you immediately miss the contact. You look across the table at Pope and Benny and their girlfriends, jealous that they get to flaunt their relationships while you have to keep yours hidden. 
But at the same time you don't want anything to spoil this beautiful thing you have with Frankie. It's too precious to you, too beloved. So you'll keep it a secret for as long as you need to. 
The game is a long one and considering the entire group is ridiculously competitive the air is tense. Pope and Benny's dates are the first to be knocked out, both shrugging and leaning against their boyfriends, watching them play. 
You stand after you fold your latest hand, stretching and announcing that you need a drink. 
"Can you grab me a Coke, baby?" Frankie asks without thinking, his focus on his cards. It's an innocuous comment, one he's made to you at home dozens of times before.
Immediately he realizes the fuck up. Your eyes are blown wide, your features contorted into horror as you look down at him. He snaps his attention to the group abruptly, his face blanching and his shoulders rising. The men nearby give puzzled looks in your direction. 
"The fuck did you just call her?" Pope laughs, amusement clear in his handsome features. 
"He called her baby," Benny says with a grins, taking a swig of his beer. 
"He didn't!" 
"Asked her to get him a drink!" 
"The fuck?" you say forcing a laugh and giving Frankie a look of disdain. "I know your girlfriend dumped you but I'm not throwing you a pity lay, Morales. I'm not really into guys who wear baseball caps past the age of twenty."
The group erupts into drunken laughter that you both join in on. But you don't see the hurt in Frankie's soulful eyes.
"I'm gonna grab that drink," you tell the group, needing some air and a chance to stop the pounding of your heart. 
"Can you get me one, baby?" Will teases.
"Of course honey," you tease right back with a wink.
You don't even cast a look in Frankie's direction. His stomach twists when you return to the table with a bottle of beer for yourself and Will and no drink for him. 
"When are you gonna bring a guy around for poker night?" Benny slurs from the other end of the table.  "You been single too long."
"Maybe that's how I like it."
You swallow nervously, your cards growing slippery in your damp hands. They've never asked you things like this. Why now?
"C'mon," Pope urges, pressing a kiss to his girlfriends' shoulder. "I bet Yovanna can set you up with one of her friends, couldn't you, bonita?."
"Oh yes!" Yovanna nods, smiling. 
"I dunno about that," you say, your face heating. You force your attention back to your cards. "I'm pretty busy with work."
"Too busy to date anyone?" Will says, trying to say it lightly but failing miserably. You can feel irritation radiating off of Frankie beside you. A quick glance out the corner of your eyes tells you he's clenching his jaw as he looks at his cards. 
You want to squeeze against Frankie, bury your face in his neck and assure him that he's the only man for you. That you think about Frankie more than you think about yourself some days. That you've imagined an entire life with him, a future. That Will is perfectly nice but you're utterly besotted with Frankie. 
"Not really into dating right now," you chirp, grin widening. "I'm more into winning all your money. That’s a full house, bitches!"
The group groans as you pull the money towards you, slipping the winnings from this round into your jeans pocket. The game continues on for several more rounds, until it's late and you feel yourself drifting. 
"I should head out," Frankie says with a sigh, tossing his cards into the center of the table. "Don't have any more money left to lose tonight."
He stands, moving out the door without a backwards glance at you. You know the drill, you can’t leave at the same time. You stretch after the folding your cards.
"I should head out too," you say forcing a yawn. "Gotta be into work early tomorrow. Night guys."
The group bids you both drunken goodbyes, their focus on the remaining pot of cash in between them. You wave, heading out the door in search of Frankie around the corner. You see him leaning against his truck looking delicious. His broad arms are crossed in front of him, but his customary smile is replaced by a look of sullen displeasure.  
When you're safely away from the house inside his truck your hand reaches for his across the bench seat. You're confused when he pulls out of reach, his hand going to the wheel. This confuses you because you’ve never taken a drive with Frankie where his hand wasn’t on your knee.
You pull on your seatbelt, convinced you must have mistaken him pulling away earlier as he starts the car. Maybe he just needs both hands to drive tonight. The weather has taken a turn, raining lightly in the darkness.
"Benny's new girl seems nice," you offer in the quiet of the drive. You glance over at Frankie when he doesn't reply. "You okay?"
"Hated how you looked at me tonight," Frankie finally gets out, his voice rasping. "Like I disgusted you."
Immediately you feel your heart sink. 
"You know I didn't mean it," you say, reaching for him and again Frankie shrugs out of your grip, his dark eyes somber as he drives. 
"Seemed real easy for you to say that shit," Frankie says tightly. "Pity lay?"
"Frankie we agreed we didn't want anyone to know," you reply, irritation rising in you that he seems to be blaming you. "That we didn't want our relationship under a microscope. I'm only doing what we both agreed was right."
"Yep," Frankie nods sharply, his dark eyes on the road. "Guess I didn't realize that meant flirting with Will all night." 
Jealousy coils in him, twisting between his ribs and pulling angrily, causing his temper to flare, his body to tense up. 
"I wasn't flirting, Frankie."
"Could've fooled me."
He's at your house now, pulled up to the curb with the engine still running. You swallow the frustration in your chest, turning to Frankie. You really like him and you don't want to fight. You can work this out; you just need to discuss it. 
But Frankie still isn't looking at you. His hand is just curled around the steering wheel and his face is partially hidden in shadow. All you can make out is the sharp of his jaw under his scruff. 
"You wanna come in so we can talk about this?"
"I'm tired," Frankie replies with a soft shake of his head. "Gonna head home."
"Tomorrow then?"
Frankie shrugs. 
This was a fun dream. A sweet illusion. But there's no way it can continue. No way that you're gonna wanna stick with Frankie for the long haul. Not when men like Will want you. 
"Right." You give a disgusted scoff, pulling the seatbelt off of you. "I think I'm gonna be tired for the next week or so, so I wouldn't bother calling."
"I won't."
"Good."
You jump out of the still running truck, slamming the door behind you and making your way to your house. You're thankful he can't see the tears that slip down your cheek as he drives off into the darkness.
///
Frankie has a brutal stubborn streak and a temper to match. The problem is so do you. No one is willing to be the first to wave the white flag. Instead you both give each other the silent treatment. It goes on for over a week, neither of you bending. No texts, no calls, no nothing.
But it's Frankie who breaks first when one evening he finds his pillow no longer smells of your shampoo. The panic of knowing that like the faded scent, you're disappearing from his life. 
He throws himself into his truck and begun driving over to your place. He doesn't even want to waste time texting or calling. He just wants to see your face, to take it between his hands and kiss it. To apologize to you because he's been a fucking idiot. 
How could he have been so pissed off at you for something you both agreed on? Something that he'd fucking suggested? So insecure when you've never given him reason to be?
He drives to your place and when he sees Will's car parked out front he feels like he's going to be sick. He thinks maybe he's made a mistake but then he sees that fucking space invaders bumper sticker.
Will is inside your house, in there with you. 
Images of the two of you fucking immediately flood his mind. Will fucking you in the bed Frankie helped you to set up the bed frame for. You making the same noises for Will that you do for Frankie. 
It takes all his willpower to keep driving, to swallow the lump that's formed in his throat at the thought you could move on so quickly. 
But that dark part in the back of his head insists that this is for the best. That he was never worthy of you anyway. That he needs to let you move on with Will.
Frankie is friends with the group so he doesn't miss a poker night or drinks out or going to the batting cages. When your absence is commented on by the group he pretends to be equally perplexed until Will comments that he thinks you're busy with work. The same kind of shit Frankie used to say to cover up that you were together. 
He doesn't let Will see his irritation. He doesn't ask Will about you. He wants you to be happy. 
He doesn't let anyone see his heartbreak. 
///
When the third week of silence from Frankie ends you feel your resolve dissolving. Yes, he'd been an asshole, but Frankie was also delicate at times. More delicate than you gave him credit for. 
He'd been through a lot and perhaps this reaction was out of fear not anger. This is what you told yourself as you sent off the text to him. 
Hey. Busy tonight?
Yep. Got a date. 
You feel as if you've been punched in the gut. You're breathing sharply when his second text comes through seconds later.
Tell Will I say hi. 
You frown at the message, confused. But you don't parse it. You're too upset. Too hurt. He just ... Moved on? One fight and he's fucking met someone else?
You were so fucking stupid to do this. To fall in with one of Tom's friends. He'd warned you off all of them and given you good reasons for why none of them were dating material. 
But then you'd met Frankie Morales. The man with the shy smile and dark curls peeking out under a faded ball cap and all warnings had been forgotten. 
You allowed yourself to fall head over heels, quickly and without protecting yourself. Like a skydiver jumping eagerly out of the plane without a parachute. 
But now you wish you'd listened. Because the pain of losing Frankie is worse than anything you could have anticipated. 
Your phone chirrups with a text from Pope. 
Where the fuck have u been?
Work is busy. 
Not too busy to come have drinks with us tomorrow night.
Sorry can't. 
Either you come out or I'll send Will and Frankie in to drag you out of your office in front of everyone. 
...
What pub?
///
Frankie watches you walk into the pub from under the brim of his hat. You've obviously just come from work; you have that serious look about you. It dissolves slightly when you see the group calling your name. 
It's been weeks since he last saw you and it's like you've only gotten more beautiful. Your smile brighter, your eyes luminous. You give a wave to the group, eyes sweeping over Frankie as if he's just another one of the guys. 
He's confused when Will greets you casually, no standing up and kissing when you waltz over.
"We've missed you," Benny says sliding you over a drink as you take the free spot next to Will in the booth.
You feel warmed by the realization that these men are your friends. That you're not just a placeholder for Tom. 
"Works been so busy," you explain with a shy shrug. "Tell me what I missed."
"Hmmm well Benny and Carmella have started a couple's pottery class," Will tells you smiling as Benny rolls his eyes, his eyes on his phone as he texts his girlfriend. "Catfish here officially got his license back and Pope here is still annoyingly good looking."
"Obnoxiously so," Pope agrees, tapping his beer bottle against Will's in cheers.
You force a smile to your face as the group laughs but all you can hear is Catfish got his license back. 
You'd talked about what you'd both do when that happened. That you'd bake him a cake and you'd go celebrate with the biggest steak at the nicest restaurant. That you'd ride him before he took you for a ride in his friend’s helicopter. 
You'd made these plans giggling in bed, warmed by each other's bodies and smiles. 
Now it seems like a lifetime ago. 
"Congrats," you say to Frankie, looking at his ear and not his eyes. "I'm really happy for you."
He probably doesn't even remember what you'd planned. Or worse he's gonna do it with his new girl. 
"Thanks," Frankie replies in a soft voice, no malice left in it. His eyes are on your face, the longing clear in them, not that you're looking at his eyes. 
He misses you something terrible. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and cover your face with kisses. He's so fucking furious with himself for letting you get away. 
Will leans back in the booth, arms sliding against the back of your seat as he stretches. Frankie's face immediately darkens and he's sullen as the rest of the group laughs and jokes. 
A short while later someone suggests darts and you all agree, going to stand around the only free one left at the side of the pub. 
You go first, you're usually very good. But you can feel Frankie's eyes on you, burning through your clothes. You falter, your darts barely making it into the circular cork. 
"She's lost her edge," Will jokes, slinging an arm around your neck companionably. "Spending too much time at work, not enough time at the pub."
You laugh up at him, eyes disappearing into half moons. Frankie watches this and feels his stomach churn. Its one thing to move on with Will, but it’s quite another to rub it in Frankie’s fucking face.
"Move," he says gruffly to the two of you. You look at him shocked, hurt at how he's spoken to you both.  
"Someone's got their panties in a twist," Will says smirking at the rest of the group. "I'm gonna get another round."
Frankie ignores him, tossing his own darts. They don't even hit the outer circle; they just careen off into the nearby wood. He grimaces and turns to see you watching, your face unreadable.
"What?" Frankie challenges, his neck going red. His dark eyes narrow on your face. "Like you did so much better?" 
His voice is so dark and spiteful Pope and Benny turn from their conversation at the sound of it. 
"Dude, calm down," Benny says looking from you to Frankie. 
Pope says something as well but all Frankie can focus on is the way your eyes are filling up with tears. He feels all his frustration and anger leave him, replaced with icy shame as you murmur about going to the bathroom, shouldering past Will as he returns with the drinks. 
He barely waits ten seconds before he's following you, not caring how it looks, not caring that you're with Will. He needs to talk to you, to touch you. 
He gets to you just before you're heading into the women's bathroom. He grips your wrist.
"We need to talk."
You allow him to tug your limp arm as he pulls you outside the pub along with him. It's drizzling and cars are driving by but neither of you care. You pull back from his grip, eyes on the wet cement. Frankie gazes at you, wishing you would look at him. 
"Why are you being so mean?" You suddenly ask in a quiet, hollow voice. "You're a lot of things, Frankie. But mean isn't one of them."
Frankie feels his heart sink at the accusation, mostly because it's true, and also because he never wanted you to think of him as anything less than. 
Irritation and hurt flash on his features now, his arms crossing in front of his chest.
"Hard not to be upset when the girl you were seeing moves on with your friend." 
Your head raises, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"You and Will," Frankie says, trying to act like it doesn't hurt him just to say the words. "I'm happy for you both but doesn't mean I wanna see it every time we all hang out.”
"What the fuck are you talking about?" 
You're really going to act dumb? He sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck, smoothing the curls there.  
"I drove by your house a couple weeks ago," Frankie finally says, mouth in a frown. "After the poker night. I was coming to apologize."
Hope blooms behind your rib cage, a bouquet of desire and genuine need for Frankie overtaking the weeds of your previous devastation. He came to see you? To apologize? 
"You did?"
"Yeah." Frankie's normally sweet, soft eyes are hard. "Saw Will's car out front." 
Your face is confused, your eyes scanning the air as if you're trying to recall. And then suddenly you do. Your hope crumbles to dust. You realize now what all of this was. Possessive male bullshit. The kind of thing you thought Frankie was above.
"He came to borrow my portable BBQ," you tell him flatly. "He mentioned that he needed it for camping and I offered mine since I never use it."
Frankie feels his face slackening in disbelief. He blinks rapidly a few times, his posture going from rigid to loose.
"He wasn't there to-"
"To fuck me?" You shake your head with a sneer. "No, Frankie. You see, I was really into this other guy at the time so fucking someone else never even crossed my mind. But thanks for assuming that I’ll just fall into bed with someone every time we have a fight."
Frankie's heart hammers and shame suffuses him. He feels like a fucking moron. How could he ever have thought you’d do it? How could he have thought so little of both you and Will? He takes a step towards you as you hold out a hand between your bodies, your gaze turned icy. 
"Don't even think about it."
You slip past him, heading inside and grabbing your purse. You're flustered and give the group a sharp goodbye, ignoring their questions as you dash from the pub, your second beer untouched. 
Frankie returns to the group moments later, his eyes red-rimmed. He's confused when the group just stares at him in disbelief. 
Benny is twisting the dart in his fingers, Pope has his arms crossed and Will just looks abashed. They all shoot each other confused looks when Frankie reaches for his dart. 
"Aren't you going after your girl, Fish?"
Frankie feels his stomach twisting at Pope's words. "Huh?"
"She just left here looking really upset," Will adds. "I think she was almost crying."
Frankie looks at the concerned faces of all his friends and he leans against the wall in disbelief. There’s a heavy silence there, pitying looks from all of them. No menace, no anger. Just overwhelming sadness for their friend.
"You ... You all knew?"
The men nod, smirks on all their faces. 
"And you aren't pissed?"
"Jealous? Yes," Will laughs. "Not angry though. Why would we be?"
"The promise to Tom -"
"Tom isn't here and you're both adults. And I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time," Pope says, looking thoughtful. “Maybe ever.”
Frankie can barely believe what's happening. All the sneaking around, the stress of being caught, all for nothing. He could have been holding you, calling you his girl in public this whole time. 
"How long did you know?"
"After the poker night," Pope says. Frankie feels his body deflating. 
"How?"
"Saw the receipt for chips, salsa and pretzels. Saw how you were when Will was flirting with her." Pope shrugs. "Put two and two together."
"I never knew until later that night," Will says looking apologetic. "I never would have chatted her up if I knew you were with her, Fish."
"We felt like assholes after talking about setting her up on dates and all that shit," Benny adds. 
"Yeah, well, we're not together anymore," Frankie mumbles, hating that he has to tell them this. Hating that he's fumbled the best thing that ever happened to him. 
"But you were, right?"
"Yeah."
"How long was it going on?" Pope asks.
"Four months."
"But you and that coffee shop girl-"
"Wasn't real," Frankie sighs, putting his forehead in his hand. "Just didn't want you guys to catch onto us."
The men share an amused look. 
"Well your girl sold it," Benny confirms. "You not so much."
His girl. His girl. Frankie is almost elated at the sound of it. Then devastated when he realizes that he’s fucked it all up.
"Every time she came into the damn room you'd stop talking," Pope points out. "You'd get all squirrelly."
"We thought you just didn't like her or something," Will shrugs. "Didn't realize you were in love with her."
"In love?" Frankie says, dark eyes fixed on Will's. He's never said those words aloud in regards to you.  Thought them, whispered them at home alone as he thought of you, but never spoken them to you.
"Yeah," Will nods, brows furrowed. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"
///
You decide to make pancakes that night, a comfort food because you are desperately in need of comfort. You've been trying not to cry since you drove home, trying to forget Frankie's face as you left him in the pub.
He thought you were with Will? He thought that your feelings could so easily be swayed? 
All you can see is the Frankie’s beautiful eyes of his that you'd fallen in love with first, followed quickly by his laugh, his smile, the way he runs his fingers through his hair when he adjusts his cap. The way he loves fiercely and his first instinct is to protect. 
You pull into your driveway with your grocery bag, confused when you see Frankie's truck already there. He's standing on your porch, face eager as he watches you park. Frowning you take your shopping bag from the car and stalk towards your front door, ignoring Frankie entirely.
"Go home Frankie."
He watches you approach, his heart hammering in his chest. You look so fierce, so strong, so fucking beautiful. He hates that he's wasted time not being with you. 
"Can we talk?"
"Had three weeks to talk," you bite back as you look for your house key. He watches you search through your purse until you find it. 
"I know," Frankie insists, voice low. "I'm so sorry." 
The emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You don't glance at him when you unlock the door but you do wait for him when you push it open. 
"You've got five minutes."
He walks in after you, watching you head to the kitchen. He closes the door, watching as you take down bowls and bring out the whisk. He can see that you're making pancakes, your comfort meal and this tugs at his heartstrings. 
He normally makes you pancakes for dinner on the days you text you're having a tough day. When your boss is on your ass and you want to cry in the ladies room. On those nights Frankie would be there at your place with flowers on your kitchen table and pancakes flipping in the pan. 
He watches you measure the dry mix into the bowl, followed by the egg and milk. He knows it's going to taste like shit because Frankie always makes his from scratch with vanilla and a pinch of cinnamon. 
"Down to four minutes," you snap at him, breaking him from his trance of watching you mix everything in the bowl. He stands on the outside of the kitchen, framed by the arch leading into it.
He feels awkward, his broad shoulders too-wide for your small space, his body out of place here in the warmth of your home. A place he normally felt so at ease in, suddenly gloomy and foreign.
"The guys know about us."
You stop your mixing to look over at him, your face pinched. "Why would you tell them?"
"They already knew," Frankie says, stepping further into the kitchen, feet soundless against the tiles. "Turns out I'm not so great at being subtle."
You turn back to your batter, mixing with a soft hum. 
"Can't say it's one of your strong points," you say with a small curl of your lip. A smirk. That small motion gives Frankie enough encouragement to keep walking towards you. 
"Were they upset?"
"No."
"Really?" You've stopped mixing long enough to see Frankie is beside you now, leaning against the counter, his eyes tilted to your face. You don’t dare look at him when you shrug. "Well, guess that doesn't matter now anyway."
Your mixing resumes again as you glance to see that the butter is melted in the pan on the stove. You try to ignore the way Frankie is staring at you. 
"They asked me if I was in love with you."
He sees your body tense at this proclamation. He sees the way your eyes dart to his face only to leave once more. Your breathing is increasing, your hands completely stilled over the bowl. From here he can see some of the mix that has dribbled onto your wrist.
"What did you tell them?"
"That I was," Frankie admits almost breathless. "That I'd been a fucking insecure idiot because I was so terrified at how much I loved you." 
Your body starts to thrum. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.
"Terrified?" you ask gently. You turn off the stove, pancakes forgotten for the moment.  Frankie’s eyes, those beautiful eyes capture yours and you can’t look away this time. You can only stare up at him as he speaks in that shy, rasping way of his.
"Last woman I cared about got pregnant by another guy and tried to convince me it was mine," Frankie tells you. "Only then I had coke to keep me from falling apart."
You nod, knowing this story of Frankie's past. He knows that you know this, but he has to remind you. It explains the next part, even though he hates bringing it up in front of you. He doesn’t like you to see his weaknesses. But he needs you to and he knows that you’ll accept them.
"But now I'm sober, I don't have any way to escape when I feel... I've never...." Frankie looks concerted, taking off his cap to nervously run his fingers through his hair before replacing it. "I've never felt about someone the way I do about you. Never. It scares the fuck outta me."
You want to leap into his arms. You want to kiss him until you're both breathless. But the text, the girl, all of it flashes into your mind. The relieved smile that had started in your cheeks quickly dies, the light in your eyes dimming. Frankie sees all of this, confused at your sudden withdrawal.
"You liked me so much you decided to start dating someone new a week after we'd had a fight?"
Frankie's cheeks flame and he gives a nervous smirk. "That uh... was kinda because I thought you were with Will."
Your jaw clenches at how amused he seems. "Didn't stop you from going on a date."
"Cariño," Frankie says, his voice low. "She was as real as the coffee shop girl."
"What?"
"I thought you were with Will," Frankie shrugs, neck reddening. "I wanted to look like I'd moved on too."
You blink up at him and then you can't help it, you laugh. A loud, melodic thing that Frankie can't help but join in on. 
"You fucking liar," you grin, both amused at the situation and so fucking relieved. 
Frankie's eyes are damp, unsure if from laughter or what he's about to tell you. You let him cup your face in his wide hands, nuzzling against the warmth of them. 
"I wasn't lying about what I said before," Frankie says, his thumb grazing your cheek. "I love you, querida." 
You don't hesitate. You can't. Not when it's been bubbling up within you for weeks. 
"I love you too, Morales."
Frankie hears those words and feels his entire body lightening. As if just your voice could soothe every ailment, your mere presence purge every bad feeling from his body. It also scares the shit out of him. To know that what you both have is real. To know that it isn't casual. That both of your hearts are on the line. 
He knows he will have to be better for you. To learn to communicate, to bring you close when he's scared instead of trying to push you away. It starts tonight.
He lowers his mouth to yours, kissing softly. You melt into him, warmed by the strong arms that encircle you. By the only man you want warming your arms and your bed. The only man you want for the rest of your life even if its dizzying in its proportion.
"I'm scared."
"Me too."
Frankie is comforted by this. That is not just him that feels the enormity of the shift. He pushes your hair behind one ear, taken entirely by how beautiful you look in the low kitchen light.
"My pillow doesn't smell like you anymore," you tell him and his eyes blow wide.
"Mine doesn't smell like you either," he admits, a small crooked smirk on his face. "That's why I drove over that night."
You make a humming noise, stroking his face, fingernails rasping over his stubbled cheek. He watches your eyes crinkle in amusement. 
"I can't believe you thought I'd go for Will."
"He's handsome, smart, has his life together," Frankie shrugs. "What can I offer you compared to him?"
Your face goes serious, your eyes searching his. 
"You're everything I want, Frankie."
His mouth finds yours once more, his hands skating down your back until you're arched against him and it isn't long before the kisses turn heated, his hands coming to stroke you through your shirt. 
When Frankie begins licking into your mouth you decide that the pancakes can be saved for later. You move your mouth to graze his earlobe. 
"Do you remember what we said we'd do when you got your license back, Morales?"
Frankie smiles against your mouth, his voice dropping to a soft purr as his arms bring you tighter against him. "I do."
"Should we go to the bedroom then?" You arch a playful brow. "You get your ride and then I get mine?"
"Anything you want, cariño," Frankie says, kissing you deeply. "Anything you want."
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hairmetal666 · 1 year
Text
Steddie Notes Part 7
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
He’s looking up at the most beautiful face in the world, all hard-planed jaw beautiful moles sensual mouth. There are bloody fingerprints on the strong chin and agony warps those sharp features. Eddie loves this face more than anything, so if this is the last thing he sees before he dies, he can’t be mad. Except, he doesn’t understand why Steve is so unhappy. He tries to open his mouth, to ask what’s wrong, what happened, but he’s engulfed in a pain so acute, so mind contorting, that everything goes black.
✏️✏️✏️✏️
He sees two men holding each other. Crying? His ears are thick, stuffed with cotton, no sound penetrating. One of them moves, his face now visible, and Eddie’s heart contracts. Uncle Wayne. 
Sound rushes in at the shock of seeing his uncle. His uncle crying. He can hear them now, Wayne’s partially stifled sobs, and a cracked, rough, wavering voice saying through tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried to keep him safe. I tried—"
“Shhh, my boy, you did your best. I know you did. You brought him back, Steve.”
“But he might—The doctors say—it’s all my fault, Wayne. I did this. I didn’t keep him safe.”
Eddie wants to yell, to get their attention. Can’t stand to see the two men he loves most in the world crying when he’s right here. 
✏️✏️✏️✏️
Wayne, asleep with his arms crossed over his chest, in a plastic chair. And Steve—Steve still here, still with him, still waiting for him to wake up. Steve’s left hand twines with one of Eddie’s and he’s propped up just so that he can write and hold a notebook steady at the same time. That’s briefly confusing before he recognizes that it’s a black Composition Book, one of Eddie’s own with a dragon inked in red on the front. 
He allows himself to watch Steve, admire the curve of his cheek, the sharpness of his jaw, the lovely moles and freckles across his skin (the nights Eddie spent thinking about kissing each and every one of those marks). His hair is deflated, falling limply over his forehead, but he’s still so beautiful, Eddie almost can’t take it. 
✏️✏️✏️✏️
This time is different. He senses it immediately, his head less fuzzy, his fingers able to twitch. He’s like awake awake. There’s a tube in his throat, which fucking sucks, sort of hurts. He wants to claw it out, but that seems extreme. 
He doesn’t see Wayne, but he’s not alone, his fingers twisted into someone’s hair, the silken fine strands soft against his palm. Eddie’s eyes drift down to find Steve, head cradled on his arms against the edge of the hospital bed, snoring gently. Eddie can’t stop himself from pressing the flat of his hand into the chestnut locks.
Eddie’s touch has Steve blinking sleepy hazel right before he springs to his feet, “Eddie??” he yelps. Eddie, for his part, opens his mouth to respond, remembers the tube down his throat, and settles for waving. 
“Holy shit,” Steve says. He slams the “call” button, then says, “Fuck this, be right back,” and flees into the hall. 
Later, when the doctors all leave, Eddie can’t stop the tears that slip free, but Steve is there, holding his hands, crawling into the narrow bed with him to hold him close until they fall asleep, Eddie’s head on Steve’s chest.
✏️✏️✏️✏️
A week later, Eddie wakes up in an empty room. He hasn’t been alone, even once, since regaining consciousness and he has a second of panic before he hears the soft murmur of Steve’s voice from just outside the door. It’s relaxing, and Eddie’s gaze falls to the shockingly blue sky out his window. 
He's lucky, he knows. He lived, the murder charges were dropped, he found a group of people to call family. 
And Steve. Even if they’re just friends. It’s okay. He’s okay with that. Steve saved his life, stayed by his side, gave Eddie the most love he’s ever had. And that’s good.
He’s so locked into his thoughts he doesn’t realize that Steve’s come back into the room until there’s a Hawkins General branded notepad and pen thumping into his lap.   
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Just thinking.”
“Good stuff?”
Eddie smiles as he writes. “Yeah.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Just that I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”
Steve’s face flushes a pretty pink and maybe Eddie takes it back, being okay with just friends. 
“Best friends forever, right?”
It’s Eddie’s turn to blush. “As long as you’ll have me.”
“Forever then.”
He looks at Steve, then, at the flush of his face and the brightness of his eyes and wishes.
“Eds.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I like it.”
“Steve,” he whispers. His heart’s going a mile a minute and Steve is looking at him, gazing at him, his whole fucking heart in those hazel eyes. 
“I have something for you,” Steve says. It’s careful, like he’s afraid Eddie will spook. He pulls a crumpled sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, smoothing it out, handing it over.
Eddie looks at the note. 
“You ever been in love?” it says.
“No, but I think I’m falling,” is the answer
“I love you, Eddie,” is the follow-up. It’s accompanied by an atrocious sketch of a sailor boy and a rockstar holding hands, little asymmetrical valentine’s hearts between them.
Eddie can’t help it, he laughs even as tears fill his eyes. His heart is all twisted up, his mind reeling. This can’t be real. How can this be real.
“Eds?” Steve asks. He’s nervous now, breathy, and oh, he really meant it. 
Steve Harrington is in love with Eddie Munson. 
Jesus Christ. 
“Stevie?” Eddie can’t quite get air into his lungs; he’s so overwhelmed with fondness. “Baby, I love you so much.” 
Steve’s crying now. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he writes.
 “You took as much time as you needed, considering I thought you were straight.”
“Me too. Until you.”
“Come here?” Eddie shifts as far over in the hospital bed as he can. He has to have Steve close, has to touch him, has to make sure this is actually happening. 
Steve climbs up, gentle in a way that only Steve Harrington can be, and Eddie curls into him, holding the man he loves as tight as he can. 
“Can I say that I’m sorry?” Steve asks, mouth against Eddie’s ear. 
“Again? I don’t think you have anything else to apologize for.”
“Kissing you that night.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow and Steve seems to catch the misstep, quickly says. “Oh, shit. No, I’m not sorry for the kiss, but for when it happened. You were upset and I thought it might help?”
Eddie giggles, can’t stop it, but cups a hand around the contours of Steve’s cheek. 
“It did help. But mayyybe the circumstances weren’t the best.” 
“That’s why I’m sorry.” His eyes flick to Eddie’s mouth. “You think I can make up for it now?” 
“Please,” Eddie answers, can hardly get the words out, too shocked at how this is his life; that the boy he loves, loves him back.
One of Steve’s hands winds into the hair at the back of Eddie’s skull, and then they’re kissing, soft and slow, and he can’t think of anything aside from Steve Harrington’s gentle chapped lips and the stubble on his jaw and the way his mouth feels around Eddie’s tongue.  
They pull apart after a couple of minutes, Eddie already feeling the strain on his battered body. Their foreheads rest against each other, still sharing air.  
“I love you,” Eddie whispers. 
“Love you more than anything, Eds,” Steve answers, his hold on Eddie tightening, like he'll never, ever let go.
✏️✏️✏️✏️
On a napkin from the Hideout, imprinted with the ring of a glass and half-formed song lyrics:
“What if we owned this place, Stevie? I’ve got ideas.”
“You want to?”
“Been thinking about it. As much as I’m shocked to admit it, we could have a life here. A good one, I think.”
“Whatever you want, babylove. Whatever makes you happy. You know I’ll go wherever you are.” 
“Even if we stay in shitty old Hawkins?”
“Even then. Best friends forever, yeah?”
“God, you’re a dork, Harrington”
“The dork you’ve been in love with for three years.”
“I’m having second thoughts.”
“Like hell you are. You’re obsessed with me.”
It ends with a cheeky little sketch of a devil.
On a Hawkins Middle paystub for guidance counselor Steve Harrington:
“Wanna do the one-shot with us when the kids are home for Christmas?”
“Sure”
--
“What?”
“Sure. Sure says Steve Harrington like it’s nothing, like I haven’t asked you to play almost every week for YEARS.”
“Calm down, Munson. Let’s just say you wore me down.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“Paladin, do you think?”
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
“Hmm, what race, though? I want to be something cool.”
“Steve.”
“Huh?”
“Take your fucking clothes off right fucking now”
On a wedding invitation addressed to Steve and Eddie (return address Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair):
“Why didn’t you get more milk???”
“Oops, sorry, Stevie. Forgot”
“Well???’
“Oh, you want me to go now. Okay. Back soon.”
“Love you, Eds”
“Love you more, Stevie.”
On scattered bits of paper and detritus across the Munson household:
“Love you, baby”
“Love you more”
“Love you most”
“You’re everything, Munson.”
“Kiss me”
“Always”
“You’re beautiful, Steve Harrington. Can’t believe I get to have this.”
“Love you”
“Love you more”
(BONUS PART)
This is the end of the Steddie Notes saga (though there may be a Steddie Notes-verse surprise coming soon 😈) This part took longer than usual because I wanted to make it perfect. I hope you love it as much as I do!!! I'll be posting this on ao3 soon, if you want to check it out there too (I'll be adding back pieces I cut for length). Thank you all so much for sticking with me! It's been such a pleasure to write and share with you all! 💜💜💜
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tomorrowxtogether · 5 months
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231103 txt.bighitent tiktok update
우리 둘이 행복해에에~ ⁽🐧⁾◟(=^._.^=)◞⁽🐧⁾ #YEONJUN#TAEHYUN #TXT #HappilyEverAfter
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