summary: everybody wants him, everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, but he loves you. (inspired by taylor swift’s gold rush!!!)
warnings: lil bit of angst, self-pity, mentions of alcohol, FLUFF <3
words: 1.8k
what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?
cedric diggory. the prefect of hufflepuff. the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team. your best friend. but that was all he was... a friend.
the secret you bore that you had fallen in love with him along the way of your friendship had burned a hole into your heart, believing that deep down that he was never destined to fall for you.
sure, you'd hoped things would slowly work out in your favor. but in your eyes, it didn't seem very likely.
but to (almost) everyone else, his eyes were only on you.
everyone knew from the moment you and cedric were seen running around the halls together on the first day you were both sorted into hufflepuff that the two of you were completely enamored with one another. it could be seen in many other ways throughout the years.
cedric was a gentleman to everyone of course, but to you? he was an absolute angel. the way he'd listen to every word you had to say even if it was the most ridiculous, hold your books for you in between classes, skip his classes and take care of you if you were sick, just the way he looked at you… you swore the glint in his eyes had felt so much different. but you’d also considered that you’ve just gone completely mad…
you noticed his gestures of course, but you thought that was just cedric's nature. he was a hufflepuff wasn't he? well, he was practically the face of hufflepuff. at hogwarts, mostly everyone wasn't 100% of their house, but you were convinced cedric was the only true hufflepuff.
the girls hoarding around cedric never helped, but you never noticed the way he acted around them. uncomfortable. and not so much entertaining them, but more-so feeling guilty for them (and also because he's a a major pushover).
with the tri-wizard competition and with cedric as a champion, the crowds piled around him. not just girls, but hufflepuffs who wanted to bash around in his glory.
you missed him. you didn't even want him to put his name in the stupid goblet to begin with, but you couldn’t bare the look of disappointment on his face when you didn’t approve of it. he thought the world of you. he wanted to do this for you, to prove that he could finally make the house you shared worthy of the limelight, to make him worth of you…. but you didn’t know that yet.
but now, every chance you had to spend with him was always ruined by the crowds stealing him away. everyday for a week since then he’d been pulled away from you. his usual spot next to you in the great hall remained empty and no one else had come to claim it, your friends knowing it was his spot. well other people tried… like when ernie didn’t make it time to be cedric’s little side-kick, he’d try to squeeze himself in beside you, but everyone hollered him off when you didn’t have the heart to.
you’d seen cedric make the effort. every single time he did, but he would be pulled away by his growing posse. sometimes you’d just wish you were able to scream, yell, or even simply ask him to stay loud enough to be heard over the boys and their banter, but alas, it never worked in your favor. you also wished that he would tell his friends that he wanted to stay back and just have at least one second with you. just one conversation. but every time he managed to get out a word of retort, his cheeks had gone so red and his voice in a fit of stutters that he’d just let his growing group lead him elsewhere.
you noticed the girls. of course you did. how could you not?
it’s not like girls had never craved the attention of cedric diggory, but after his name shot out of goblet of fire, it’d almost been too much for you.
the girls, especially those from beauxbatons, stared and erupted giggles every time he’d passed by and sent glares at you whenever he’d try and stop to talk to you, but those were always quickly interrupted by his herd of new friends. even anthony, his bestest friend, had grown tired of the crowds and relinquished back to his normal spot the great hall, matching your sighs whenever you’d hear the crowd boast over him.
one night, when you had just managed to finish hours worth of work on a history of magic paper, once you were satisfied, you let yourself bury into the covers of your bed. it was a friday night and there was a party in the hufflepuff common room to celebrate cedric once again, but you were exhausted. you’d purposefully planned to be cooped up in your room all night while the rest of your school mates partied away. no one would miss me surely.
knock knock.
you were tempted to just lay there, pretend you were asleep in hopes they would leave you to your solitude, but the fits of knocks didn’t stop and they soon turned to mutters that would make your heart almost stop completely.
“y/n? y/n/n? you awake?” cedric. even in his slightly drunken state, he was soft-spoken, only gently knocking and whispering in case you hadn’t been awake.
any other time, you would’ve gotten up immediately. but after this week, you were hesitant. it wasn’t his fault. really, it wasn’t. you couldn’t help the built up insecurities and the fact that cedric didn’t have time for you anymore. he always did before, but this time, there was just too much in the way, too many people watching his every move and wanting every bit of attention just as you did.
just as you were sure he’d left, you heard a soft huff and an odd noise hitting your door.
when you finally made your way to open the door, you slid it open gently, seeing cedric leaning up against it, sliding alongside it while you cracked it open.
you gasped at the site, grabbing cedric’s hand with the two of yours and hauling him up. “ced?” you grunted, struggling as you pulled him. “why are you here?”
“wanted to see you.” his cheeks were flushed red. he’d been drinking. not quite a lot. you knew when he’d gotten to his breaking point. right now, he’d only had a couple shots in fire whiskey him, otherwise he would’ve been completely knocked out and unintelligible. “why didn’t you come down?”
his speech was hardly slurred, he just seemed really tired.
“um…” the paper excuse sounded lame. were you really holing yourself up in your dorm all because a boy hadn’t given you his undivided attention? that excuse would never hear the light of day, but even then, you knew it was pathetic. “was tired…” now that was even more pathetic.
you sat over on your four poster bed and he followed in suit, but instead of sitting, he fiddled with the curtains, as if he’d seemed more interested in the velvet fabric than you. no. he was distracting himself. he was just as nervous as you were.
your eyes went to his, then to your twiddling hands. a moment of silence had aired throughout your dorm. then you felt a dip on your bed.
“y/n/n ‘m sorry.” you looked up, his cheeks reaching even deeper level of pink. once your eyes met his, he was a stuttering mess. “it’s just—the tournament. i-i know you didn’t want me doing it and-and i don’t know i didn’t think i’d really get picked you know? then…” he made an explosion sound with his mouth and you struggled not to stifle up a giggle. you loved when he was so nervous that he just rambled on to no end and you didn’t dare to stop him just yet.
he continued on, “and i just got caught up in it? like i’d won a quidditch match, but times a hundred. maybe a thousand? and-and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone… even if the crowds are a lot. overwhelms me a bit… just wanted to hang out with you.” you looked up at him, debating whether to speak up yet. you didn’t.
“merlin, i feel horrible…” he got up from your bed and started pacing around your room. “you didn’t even want me to put my name in that cup to begin with, but my dad… he’d sounded so proud in his letter when i told him about it. i couldn’t let him down. but then you… i shouldn’t have put in.”
he continued on, “i just thought… that perhaps… i could make your proud. you always talk about how hufflepuff gets no recognition.”
me? but why?
“and i know that you didn’t even want me entering the stupid thing in the first place… but i didn’t wanna let you down.” he huffed, finally sitting back down, his fingers still fidgeting.
“you could never do that.” you simply said. it was true. there was nothing he could do that would ever disappoint you. it was quite infuriating.
“i feel like i-i already have.” that’s when you placed your hand on his, grasping his fingers to stop his nerves.
“it’s not your fault.” it really wasn’t. but you struggled to find the words as to why as you found as fingers playing with your own.
“it is. the crowds… i wanted to tell them to shove off, but i just didn’t wanna let anyone down. it’s stupid…” one of his hands found its way to his hair, tending to one of his nasty habits. once he nervously pulled at his hair and squinted his eyes shut, you finally found the words.
“it’s my fault too.” you said, he shook his head in defense. “no. i mean… i know how overwhelmed you get and i feel terrible for not realizing that soon enough. look at you! you’re a mess and i-i wish i could’ve been there. but the crowd and the people and i just-i just thought..” you felt even embarrassed to say it out loud. “you didn’t need me anymore.” you finally let out.
you could feel his eyes on you. that’s when he used his other hand to lift up your chin, bringing your wandering eyes up to his.
“i’ll always need you. look at where i’m at without you.” he chuckled, his cheeks flushing an even brighter red.
“yeah… drunk and crawling up the girl’s dormitory stairs.” you giggled. “how’d you even manage the counter-spell?”
his eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion on his face. “i don’t quite remember…?”
“you’re not even that drunk!”
“and how do you know that?” he challenged.
“well, first of all, you managed to make it all the way up here. and second, you’re not completely incoherent.”
“yeah…” he admitted. “party’s no fun without you. i’d much rather stay here with you.” your cheeks reddened.
“well, then stay. i’ll make you a tea.” you were surprised you didn’t make a complete mess of your words.
you swiftly got up off your bed, grabbing a mug from your shelf and then a kettle, using aguamenti and then a simple water-heating charm afterwards.
“chamomile and honey?”
a/n: anyone up for a part two???? he was a lil drunk so i didn’t feel comfortable about any confessions and kissing </3 BUT I DO HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE SOOO !!!
tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mystifiedgrace @ladybirdbeetle7 @celi-xxmoon (i don’t rmr how many of u wanted to be tagged for cedric </3)
Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader
Summary: You and Cedric were childhood best friends – growing up side by side, close as can be. When 5th year came around and Cedric began dating, you watched but never picked up the same habits, preferring a more independent life. When you begin developing feelings for your best and closest friend, after he goes back on an important promise, its nothing short of complicated.
Your childhood was amazing.
It was full of candy, toys, love and affection. It was full of luck, good marks in class, and playing tag until you were utterly breathless. And mostly, it was full of Cedric.
You did everything together – you had the same classes, the same goals, played the same sports, even had the same bloody wand when you got into Hogwarts. You were inseparable. You were never seen without the other, and every sentence where one was mentioned, the other was too.
"Yeah, Ced and Y/N.."
"Well, Y/N and Cedric were.."
You were certain it would last forever. You were certain that the two of you would never separate, even into adulthood.
When you got into your 5th year, you accepted peacefully that your thoughts were simply based on comfort, not reality. Cedric began to take a different path – girls, parties, popularity. You were very different, though you never resented him.
You were quiet, kept to yourself, and stuck to Quidditch and your studies. You had no use for the company of boys or the consumption of Firewhisky. You preferred a quiet life, wrapped up in a blanket by the Hufflepuff hearth and reading a book.
The first time you noticed the shift, it was a Tuesday.
Cedric had always been the type to linger after Quidditch practice —helping to stow brooms, chatting with teammates, tossing an arm around your shoulders as you both trudged back to the castle, still buzzing with adrenaline. But that evening, he’d disappeared before you could even unbuckle your knee pads.
You found him in the courtyard, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling fourth-years, his head thrown back in laughter at something you hadn’t heard. His hair was still damp from the showers, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He looked happy.
You turned on your heel and left before he could spot you.
Not because you were bothered by it, but because you had no interest in interrupting.. whatever that was. You blew your hair out of your face, walking to your dorm.
The common room was quiet when you arrived, the fire crackling low in the hearth. A few first-years huddled near the warmth, whispering over a game of Exploding Snap, but they paid you no mind as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm.
You told yourself you weren’t bothered.
So what if Cedric had ditched you after practice? So what if he’d rather entertain a flock of admirers than walk back with you like he always had? It didn’t matter. You weren’t the clingy type. You had better things to do than stand around waiting for him to remember you existed.
(Except you had waited. Just for a minute. Just long enough to realize he wasn’t coming back.)
You shoved open the door to your room harder than necessary, startling your roommate, who glanced up from her Potions essay.
“Rough practice?” she asked, eyeing the dirt smudged on your knees.
“The usual,” you muttered, tossing your gear onto your trunk.
You could still hear the echo of his laughter in your head — bright, carefree, so different from the way he laughed with you. With you, it was softer, quieter, like he was letting you in on a secret.
The jealousy you felt (you were very emotionally aware) confused you. So what if Cedric was entertaining girls? You didn't have to be into the same exact things anymore. It wasn't your scene. Doesn't mean it wasn't Cedric's, you rationalized.
Biting your lip, you gathered your toiletries and clothes and went to shower. The hot water ran over your sore muscles, but you couldn't even acknowledge the pleasurable feeling.
You couldn't ignore the burning feeling in your chest.
Groaning, you just washed up and got out.
—
Dinner in the Great Hall was a subdued affair.
You sat at the Hufflepuff table, picking at your shepherd’s pie, half-listening to the chatter around you. The seat beside you — his seat — remained conspicuously empty.
“Diggory’s late,” someone remarked.
You didn’t look up. “Not my problem.”
But then the doors swung open, and there he was, striding in with that effortless confidence that made half the Hall turn to look. His hair was still slightly damp, his cheeks pink from the cold, and he was grinning at something one of his teammates had said.
You tried to keep it down, you really did. You knew it wasn't right to be irritated. You didn't even know why you bloody felt this way.
He spotted you almost immediately, his smile flickering for just a second before he made his way over.
“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat beside you like nothing had happened.
You didn’t answer.
He nudged your shoulder. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” you said flatly.
A beat of silence. Then, quieter: “You left before I could find you after practice.”
You finally turned to look at him, arching a brow. “Oh? I figured you were busy. I wasn't going to sit there and look stupid while you giggled to your posse.”
His expression faltered. “It wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”
“Relax, Ced,” you said, forcing a smirk. “I’m not your keeper. Do what you want.”
His jaw tightened, but before he could respond, a group of fourth-years called his name from further down the table, waving him over.
He hesitated, glancing at you.
“Go on,” you said, shoveling a bite of pie into your mouth. “Wouldn’t want to keep your fans waiting.”
For a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, pushing back from the table.
“We’ll talk later,” he murmured.
You didn’t watch him walk away.
Your fork clattered against your plate, the sound sharp in the hum of the Great Hall. You stood abruptly, ignoring the curious glances from nearby Hufflepuffs as you carried your half-eaten dinner toward the enchanted trash bins at the end of the table.
You knew you were being ugly.
The thought gnawed at you as you dumped your food, the remnants of your shepherd’s pie vanishing with a soft poof. That wasn’t you —snapping at Cedric, tossing out petty jabs like you were trying to wound him. You weren’t the jealous type. You weren’t.
(So why did it feel like your chest was full of broken glass every time he laughed with someone else?)
You exhaled sharply through your nose, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes.
“You’re being ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself.
With that, you left the Great Hall and headed straight for your dorm. Without a word to anyone, you changed your clothes and headed straight to bed, throwing the covers over your head frustratedly.
Maybe some sleep would curve whatever the hell was wrong with you. Jealousy? Over Cedric?
You scoffed to yourself under the covers.
It wasn't like you loved him or something. Well, you did, but not like that.
Did you?
A pang of anxiety hit your stomach.
You rolled over and forced yourself to sleep before you could throw up.
—
You woke to the sound of hushed whispers and the rustling of robes. Sunlight streamed through the windows, far too cheerful for the storm brewing in your head.
Your roommate peeked over at you as you sat up, her eyebrows raised.
“You look like hell,” she said bluntly.
You groaned, rubbing your face. “Feel like it too.”
She tossed a piece of toast at you, which you caught on reflex. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”
You doubted it.
The Great Hall was already buzzing when you arrived, students clustered together in excited chatter. You hesitated in the doorway, scanning the Hufflepuff table for a familiar head of tousled dark hair—
No.
You weren’t doing this. You weren’t looking for him.
You squared your shoulders and marched to the opposite end of the table, as far from Cedric’s usual spot as possible.
“Have you heard?”
A third-year leaned across the table, eyes wide with gossip. “They’re announcing the Triwizard Tournament today!”
You blinked. “What?”
“It’s true!” another student chimed in. “Dumbledore’s making the announcement after breakfast. They’re bringing back the tournament!”
A murmur of excitement rippled through the Hall. You barely registered it.
Your gaze flickered, against your will, toward the other end of the table — where Cedric sat, surrounded by friends, his face alight with the same eager curiosity as everyone else.
Of course he’d want to compete.
Your stomach twisted.
The entire school had gathered, students packed shoulder-to-shoulder as Dumbledore stood at the top of the marble staircase, his arms raised for silence.
“This year,” he began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the crowd, “Hogwarts will play host to a event not seen in over a century…”
You barely heard the rest.
Your attention was fixed on the back of Cedric’s head, just a few rows ahead of you. He stood tall, his posture straight with anticipation, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh.
You knew that tell. He was already planning his entry.
“—the Triwizard Tournament!”
The crowd erupted into cheers. Cedric turned slightly, scanning the sea of faces behind him — searching.
Your breath caught.
Then his eyes found yours.
For a heartbeat, the noise around you faded.
He grinned — bright, boyish, yours — and your traitorous heart stuttered in response.
You looked away first.
After the festivities, you almost floated out of the castle, moving too quick for anyone to notice. Or so you thought.
You needed air.
The pitch was empty, the stands silent, the only sound the wind whistling through the goalposts. You sat on the grass, your knees pulled to your chest, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.
“Knew I’d find you here.”
You didn’t turn. “Go away, Cedric.”
He ignored you, dropping onto the grass beside you with a huff. “Not until you tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Bullshit.” He plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. And don’t say you haven’t,” he added when you opened your mouth to argue. “I know you too well.”
You swallowed.
Tell him.
Just say it.
But the words stuck in your throat.
Instead, you nodded toward the castle. “You’re going to enter, aren’t you? The tournament.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. I think so.”
Of course.
The tournament was unsafe. In some cases, it could be fatal. You and Cedric had both agreed that if you were presented the chance, you wouldn't enter. You'd stay safe, side by side.
You forced a smile. “You’ll win.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” you said softly. “Because you’re you.”
Cedric studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly: “Would you hate me if I did?”
The question caught you off guard.
“What?”
“If I entered.” His voice was careful, like he was treading on thin ice. “Would you hate me?”
Never, you wanted to say. I could never hate you.
But what came out was: “I don’t know.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Cedric stood, brushing the grass from his robes.
“Right,” he said stiffly. “Guess I’ll find out.”
And just like that, he walked away.
You wanted to slap yourself. Why were you being such an asshole? You didn't know.
Yes you did.
You loved Cedric. The thought made you want to jump into the black lagoon and be eaten by mermaids. Or admit it right away to Cedric, like one of the secrets you'd never been able to keep from him. Or hide it forever and live in misery.
You chose to hide it.
The days blurred together after that.
You threw yourself into classes, into Quidditch, into anything that would keep your mind off the growing chasm between you and Cedric. It was easier this way—safer. If you didn’t think about him, you wouldn’t have to face the truth.
(But you always thought about him.)
The night of the selection came quickly.
The Great Hall was packed, buzzing with anticipation as the Goblet of Fire flickered in the center of the room. You sat with your housemates, your fingers drumming restlessly against the table, your gaze fixed stubbornly on your lap.
You hadn’t spoken to Cedric since the pitch.
“Champions will be chosen momentarily,” Dumbledore announced, his voice echoing through the hall. “Once selected, please proceed to the adjoining chamber for further instructions.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
The Goblet’s flames flared—once, twice—then spat out the first name.
“The Durmstrang champion is Viktor Krum!”
Applause erupted as Krum stood, his expression unreadable, and disappeared through the side door.
Another burst of fire.
“The Beauxbatons champion is Fleur Delacour!”
More cheers. Fleur rose gracefully, her silver-blonde hair shimmering under the candlelight as she followed Krum out.
Then — silence.
The Goblet flickered, the flames licking higher, twisting violently as if struggling with its final decision.
Your chest tightened.
Not him. Please, not him.
The fire roared, and a third slip of parchment shot into Dumbledore’s waiting hand.
“The Hogwarts champion…”
A beat.
“Cedric Diggory!”
The Hufflepuff table exploded. Whistles, shouts, the thunder of hands pounding against wood — all of it faded into white noise as you watched Cedric stand, his face a mix of shock and dawning pride.
He didn’t look at you as he passed.
You weren’t sure why you’d expected him to.
The rest of the day was a blur, until the party.
The party had been going all afternoon, but later into the night, it became alcoholic.
Only 16 and older were allowed — you came with your roommate. You don't know why you allowed her to convince you. Maybe you wanted to torture yourself with seeing Cedric. Maybe you just wanted to drink the pain away. Both probably.
When you got there, uncharacteristically of you, you immediately dove into a shot of Firewhisky.
"Damn! L/N is finally loosening up?" One of your classmates whooped. You managed a halfhearted smirk as cheers erupted.
Another shot. Another. After another. You were encouraged, cheered on by your roommate and your friends. They'd never seen you like this — but they couldn't detect the inner turmoil. Only Ced could. And he was nowhere to be found.
You were probably just too drunk to see him, to be honest.
The world had taken on a hazy, golden glow — the kind that made everything feel slightly unreal, like you were floating outside your own body. The firewhisky burned its way down your throat, settling warm and heavy in your stomach, but it did nothing to dull the ache in your chest.
“Another!” your roommate crowed, slamming a fresh shot in front of you.
The crowd around you erupted in cheers as you threw it back without hesitation. The taste was sharp, bitter, but you welcomed it. Maybe if you drank enough, you could forget the way Cedric’s face had looked when he walked away from you at the lake. Maybe you could forget the way your heart had splintered when he didn’t even glance at you after being named champion.
Pathetic.
You reached for another shot, but someone snatched it away before your fingers could close around the glass.
“I think you’ve had enough.”
The voice was low, familiar, and it sent a jolt through you despite the alcohol clouding your senses.
You turned your head — slowly, too slowly — and there he was.
Cedric.
His grey eyes were dark in the flickering candlelight, his jaw set in a hard line. He looked unfairly good, even now — his hair slightly mussed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the faintest flush high on his cheeks from whatever he’d been drinking.
You scowled. “Since when do you care?”
His expression tightened. “Since you’re about two seconds away from passing out.”
“I’m fine,” you slurred, waving a hand dismissively. “Go back to your adoring fans, Champion. And give me my fucking shot back.”
The word came out sharper than you’d intended, laced with a bitterness you hadn’t meant to let slip.
Cedric’s gaze flickered over your face, searching for something. Whatever he saw made his shoulders tense.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
“No, we don’t.” You pushed yourself up from the table, swaying slightly as the room tilted around you. “I’m going to bed.”
You didn’t make it two steps before his hand closed around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
“Y/N.” His voice was rough, urgent. “Please.”
Something in his tone made your breath catch.
You turned.
For a long moment, you just stared at each other — the noise of the party fading into the background, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
Then, without a word, Cedric tugged you toward the door.
The cold night air hit you like a slap, sobering you just enough to realize what a terrible idea this was.
You yanked your arm free. “What the hell, Cedric?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You’re drunk.”
“And you’re ruining my buzz.”
“Because you won’t talk to me!” His voice cracked, raw with frustration. “Merlin’s beard, Y/N, what do you want from me? You’ve been pushing me away for weeks, and I don’t even know why!”
The words hung between you, heavy and suffocating.
You opened your mouth — to snap, to deflect, to lie — but the alcohol had stripped away your defenses, leaving nothing but the truth.
"Something's changed. With me, with you, I don't fucking know." You cracked, eyes welling up with frustrated tears. You fought the slur in your words. "I can't stop being an asshole."
Cedric stared at you, stunned into silence.
The kind of silence that wasn’t angry or judgmental — just broken. Hurt.
“You think I care about that?” he finally said, voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “You think I haven’t noticed something’s been eating you alive? You think I’d ever walk away from you just because you’ve been… distant, or angry, or—”
“Cold?” you cut in bitterly. “Sharp-tongued? Emotionally stunted?”
“Human,” he said firmly. “And scared.”
You laughed — a bitter, ugly sound. “Don’t flatter me.”
“I’m not.” He took a step closer, voice cracking just slightly. “You’ve been different, yeah. But I stuck around because I know you. And I care about you. And it’s driving me mad that you won’t just tell me what’s wrong.”
You could feel it bubbling up — all the confusion and pain and fear — the thing you hadn’t dared to admit even to yourself.
"Look," you said, squeezing and loosening your fists, "I'm drunk. I'm tired. I'm going back to the dorm."
With that, you tried to march away.
But you didn’t get far.
Cedric caught your wrist again — not hard, not forceful, just enough to stop you, just enough to make your breath catch.
"Please. Don't walk away from me. Not again. You're my best friend and you're treating me like a stranger."
You froze.
The words hit harder than they should have — best friend — and yet, they cracked something deep inside you. Not because they were untrue, but because they used to be everything. Because somewhere along the way, being his best friend had stopped being enough, and you’d hated yourself for it.
You didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. Not yet.
"Maybe that's the problem." You almost sobbed out, looking up at the sky. "I don't want to be your best friend, Cedric. Not anymore. I fucking love you, okay?!"
The confession tore out of you like a storm — raw, unfiltered, soaked in every ache you’d tried to drink away.
Silence fell.
The kind of silence that made your ears ring, that made the world feel like it had stopped turning.
A tear fell from your eye. You sniffled.
"I'm so stupid. And so drunk. Goodnight, Cedric."
You marched away. You didn't hear him ask you back. You didn't hear a response at all. Just pure, blank silence.
When your reached the dorm, you cried yourself to sleep.
The weeks that followed were hollow.
You avoided him at all costs — skipping meals if he was in the Great Hall, changing routes between classes, ducking into alcoves or behind statues just to avoid seeing his face.
And the worst part?
He let you.
Not once did Cedric chase after you. Not once did he corner you in the hallway or try to pull you aside after class. No notes. No explanations. No apologies.
It was like you’d ceased to exist.
Your friends didn’t understand. Hell, you didn’t understand. You’d confessed your feelings, humiliated yourself — handed your heart to him — and he hadn’t even had the decency to break it properly. Just silence. A gaping, agonizing silence.
You buried yourself in schoolwork, tried to find distractions, but nothing stuck. Nothing made the ache fade. You’d never felt so invisible.
Not even Firewhisky could touch it now.
You'd even tried. You were drunk at every party, desperately trying to forget how embarrassed you felt and how much you missed Cedric.
And then came the day of the final task. The Maze.
The air was electric, thick with nerves and anticipation. Everyone buzzed about Cedric and Harry, Fleur and Krum — four champions entering the unknown. You stood on the edge of the crowd with your arms crossed, shoulders tight with dread. You hadn’t spoken to Cedric in weeks, hadn’t even looked at him if you could help it… but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified.
He might not care about you anymore — if he ever did — but that didn’t stop you from caring about him.
The Maze loomed like a breathing thing, its hedges impossibly tall, its rustling leaves whispering secrets. You watched him walk toward it, flanked by cheers and camera flashes, and for a moment, just a moment, he looked back over his shoulder.
At you.
Your breath caught.
Then he was gone.
The chaos came later.
Screams. Shouting. Rumors flying like hexes. Harry was back, clutching the Triwizard Cup and Cedric’s arm — but something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Cedric wasn’t moving.
You pushed through the crowd, frantic, not caring who you elbowed or stepped on. Harry was screaming something about Voldemort, about portkeys, about Death Eaters — and all you could see was Cedric lying in the grass like a discarded doll.
But then — then — he moved.
A shallow breath. A twitch of his hand. A groan.
You fell to your knees beside him as Madam Pomfrey and the professors swarmed, your shaking fingers brushing over his cold one before they ushered you back.
He lived.
Barely, but he lived.
You didn’t sleep for two nights.
You hovered outside the Hospital Wing, waited for word, snapped at anyone who told you to rest. You weren’t sure why — he hadn’t spoken to you in weeks — but some part of you needed to know he was okay. Even if you’d never speak again.
It was late when Madam Pomfrey finally relented and let you in.
He looked pale, drawn, but awake. Eyes open, hazy with potions and pain, but still that same warm, stormy gray.
You stood in the doorway, frozen.
He blinked. “Y/N?”
You hated that his voice still made something deep in your chest crack.
“I… shouldn’t be here,” you said. “I just wanted to see if you were—if you—” You turned, heart hammering, already retreating.
“Don’t,” he rasped. “Please. Don’t go.” His voice cracked. Tears glossed his eyes over — not quite gathering, but still there.
You hesitated, back still to him.
"I'm begging you. I just want to hold your hand. To touch you. Just for a second, yeah? Please, Y/N."
The rawness in his voice undid you.
Not the words — those you could have ignored. But the way he said them. Cracked and trembling, like a boy clinging to a ledge by his fingertips. Like saying your name was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.
You turned, slowly.
Cedric looked so unlike himself it hurt — his golden skin washed out, the sharp cut of his cheekbone shadowed and sunken, that usual quiet confidence gone. But those eyes…
They were still his. Still stormy. Still yours.
You came back slowly. His pale hand outstretched — you placed yours into it, like he'd asked. The entire room flooded with the aura of relief. Cedric squeezed his eyes shut, an exhale leaving him.
He didn’t say anything right away.
He just held your hand like it anchored him. Like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment, to the world, to you. His fingers were cold — not deathly, just lacking the usual heat you remembered so well. But they wrapped around yours with the same gentleness you’d missed more than you could bear.
When he opened his eyes again, they shimmered.
“I thought I’d dreamed you,” he said, voice low, rough. “That night. After the maze. I thought… maybe I’d imagined the sound of your voice.”
Your throat tightened. “I was there.”
“I know that now,” he said, giving your hand a light tug, just enough to pull you closer to the bed. “You were always there. Even when you weren’t.”
You were silent again. Then you spoke.
"What the hell happened?"
Cedric’s jaw tensed. For a moment, he didn’t speak. His thumb kept brushing over your knuckles — a grounding motion, or maybe just something to do with his hands so he wouldn’t fall apart.
“I don’t remember all of it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Not clearly. The maze — it was dark, and twisted. Everything felt wrong. Like it was watching me.”
You moved closer without thinking, perching on the edge of the bed now, still clutching his hand.
He swallowed hard, gaze distant. “There were enchantments, creatures, traps… things meant to disorient us. I was doing okay. Then—” He paused, breath catching. “Then the Portkey. I didn’t know what it was, just that it wasn’t part of the maze.”
You nodded slowly. “We were all watching. Then you vanished.”
“I landed in a graveyard.” His voice went flat. “I wasn’t alone.”
You felt your heart stutter in your chest.
Cedric looked at you now. Not through you. Not around you. At you. “There was someone there. Someone powerful. Masked. I—I couldn’t fight him. He cursed me. Said it was a warning, not a killing. Said I was just the ‘first stone in the avalanche.’ Then he left. Just like that. Like I was… insignificant.”
Your breath shook. “Cedric…”
He gave a small, humorless laugh. “I wasn’t brave. I just got lucky.”
You touched his cheek before you could stop yourself. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Downplay what you survived. You weren’t lucky, you were strong. You’re here, aren’t you? You made it back.”
“Barely,” he murmured.
“But you did.” Your voice cracked now. “And I’m so—so glad. I was terrified. Every day you didn’t wake up, I thought…” You blinked rapidly, unable to finish.
His hand covered yours now, anchoring it to his cheek. He leaned into your touch.
“I’m sorry you went through that,” he whispered. “Alone.”
“You’re not alone now.”
He nodded. “Neither are you.”
You sat in that fragile stillness for a long time. No longer strangers to the silence, but companions to it. Letting it speak where words couldn’t.
Finally, Cedric shifted slightly. “Stay?”
You looked at him — pale, trembling, but alive — and nodded. “Of course.”
You curled into the chair beside his bed, still holding his hand.
He didn’t let go.
Hours later, Madam Pomfrey returned. Surprisingly, she went into a soft smile when she saw you sleeping silently in the chair — arm still outstretched to Cedric, who was sleeping soundly finally — his hand clutching yours tightly.
She didn’t wake you.
Madam Pomfrey, for all her grumbles and strict rules, had been at Hogwarts long enough to recognize the kind of sleep born from exhaustion and heartbreak. The kind of sleep that stitched two fractured souls back together, thread by trembling thread.
With a gentle flick of her wand, she dimmed the lights and conjured a blanket, draping it over your shoulders. She didn’t touch Cedric — just checked the potions levels, made a quiet note on her chart, and slipped out of the room.
When you stirred hours later, it was still quiet. The world hadn’t ended, though it had come close. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the gray morning light streaming through the hospital wing’s tall windows.
You were still holding his hand.
More importantly — he was still holding yours.
You turned your head, just slightly, and saw Cedric watching you. His eyes were clearer now. Tired, yes — but calm. Solid. Real.
“Morning,” he whispered.
Your voice came out hoarse. “Hey.”
“Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
“I said I would be,” you replied quietly. “You really think I’d leave again?”
“No,” he said, his thumb brushing over your hand again. “But part of me’s still scared I’ll wake up and this will be gone.”
You sat up straighter, brushing the sleep from your eyes. “It’s not.”
A long pause.
“I thought about you,” Cedric said. “When I was stuck in that maze. When I was hurt. When I woke up alone in here. I kept thinking—‘I didn’t tell her.’ Not really.”
“Didn’t tell me what?” you asked gently.
“That I love you.”
Your breath caught.
“I love you,” he repeated, firmer this time. “And I’m sorry it took almost dying to say it. I should’ve said it that night. When you did. But I panicked. I—I couldn’t believe you’d actually—”
“I did,” you whispered. “I do.”
Cedric’s expression broke into something fragile and luminous, something that made you feel like you could finally breathe after weeks underwater.
He squeezed your hand again.
“I think we’ve wasted enough time, don’t you?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Soft sunlight broke through the clouds beyond the windows, casting a pale gold glow across the room. And as Cedric smiled up at you, tired but whole, you realized this wasn’t the end of your story.
"You said you'd never date. Now look at you.. Loser." Cedric snorted weakly.
It was true. You'd said that at the beginning of 5th year.
Rolling your eyes, you smirked.
"I wouldn't call it dating. I'd call it unlabeled, pure devotion."
Cedric laughed, a low, broken sound that still somehow managed to sound like music. His thumb brushed yours as he held your hand a little tighter.
“Oh, that’s what we’re calling it?” he murmured, smile lazy, eyes gleaming just a bit. “Unlabeled, pure devotion?”
You shrugged, that smirk playing on your lips again. “It’s more romantic that way. Tragic. Poetic.”
“Right,” he said with mock-seriousness. “So when people ask, I’ll just say I’m in a deeply emotional, undefined entanglement with a sarcastic cynic who pretends she doesn’t love me stupid.”
You shot him a glare, but your heart fluttered.
“And I’ll say I’m spiritually tethered to a bleeding-heart Hufflepuff who almost died just to make me realize I’m in love with him.”
Cedric’s eyes locked with yours then — no teasing now, just a quiet, overwhelming sort of tenderness. Like everything had shifted and finally, finally landed right where it was meant to.
“Then I guess we deserve each other,” he whispered.
You nodded. “Unfortunately for you.”
He thought for a moment.
"C'mere." He muttered, opening his arms.
You raised an eyebrow. "But Madam Pomf—"
"She'll be fine. She loves me."
You huffed a laugh, trying to hide the fact that your chest had just caved in a little.
“She loves everyone,” you said, but you were already rising from the chair.
Cedric gave a weak but triumphant grin as you carefully slipped into the narrow hospital bed beside him, minding the bandages and bruises. His arms wrapped around you the second you were close enough — warm, shaky, and maybe a little too tight, like he still didn’t quite believe this was real.
You melted into him anyway.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t comfortable. The mattress was stiff, your knees bumped, and his shoulder was still sore — but somehow, it was perfect.
“You smell like antiseptic,” you muttered into his collarbone.
“You smell like regret and firewhisky,” he murmured back.
You snorted. “Fair.”
For a while, you both just lay there, tangled in silence. His hand moved slowly across your back, your cheek pressed against the beat of his heart. There were a hundred conversations left to have — about the maze, about what came next, about the weeks of silence and the confession you still weren’t sure he’d heard properly.
But for now, this was enough.
Safe. Warm. Alive.
“I’m not letting you go again,” Cedric whispered suddenly, so quietly you almost missed it.
You lifted your head. “Then don’t.”
He looked at you like you’d just given him the answer to every riddle he’d ever been asked.
It happened without fanfare.
No dramatic music. No roaring winds or trembling ground.
Just the two of you, breathing in the same space, your foreheads touching as the late-afternoon sun traced gold across the white sheets and Cedric’s bruised knuckles.
He looked at you like he had all the time in the world — like he was memorizing every curve of your face, every flicker of doubt behind your eyes. His hand came up, fingers brushing your cheek, reverent. Almost disbelieving.
“I'd like to seal our 'unlabeled, pure devotion'' with a kiss, yeah?” he murmured.
You swallowed, heart thudding. “Then do it.”
His lips found yours gently — not rushed, not hungry, just soft. Certain. A question and an answer, all in one breath.
It was warm and a little shaky, a kiss you could feel in your ribs, in your fingertips, in every inch of skin that remembered what it meant to be close to him.
When he pulled back, barely an inch, his eyes were still closed.
“I'm an absolute fool for you,” he whispered, voice a little hoarse. “But it was definitely worth almost dying for.”
The Last Story Ever {Arthur x Reader Oneshot; Part 2}
Requested by: Anonymous
Wordcount: 4701
Summary: Arthur meets you one on one, and then his next time going into your dreams was more ... interesting.
Notes: SMUT. Oral, penetration, kissing, nipple play.
Arthur could not get that dream out of his head. Even though he had been the one to engineer it, to make it go exactly how he had wanted it to go, there had been some surprises. The comfort that he had felt. The way that your hair had felt beneath his fingers when he brushed it out of your face. The way you looked so happy when he returned home from ‘work’, like you were just elated to not have to be alone anymore. Enthusiastic like you finally had someone that you could talk to, someone you never had before. It affected a lot of his thoughts throughout the day. It affected his own dreams at night. Whenever he felt the loaded dice in his pocket, he thought of you.
He was still stationed at the house across the street from yours, looking out for you. While Cobbs and Eames had already handed over the information that he had secured, there was more to get. And on top of that, Arthur was worried about your well-being. If your dangerous boss even suspected that information was getting out - it could lead to you. Normally, he would not care. He did his job and then he left but this time - this time, he couldn’t just walk away.
Every morning, he watched as you went off to work. And every evening, he watched you come back. Eames had started to make jokes, calling Arthur obsessed and a stalker. And every time, Arthur would smartly come back with, ‘If I was a stalker, I would be following her to work. I just make sure she comes home safely.”
Apparently, more had happened. For another job came through. It was extremely similar to the first one, Arthur just had to extract some more information. For the first time, it felt like he was going to be intruding upon something. It felt almost wrong to be in your head without you knowing about it. But Arthur was going to step up to the plate tonight. Better him than Eames, right?
Until you went to bed, there was not much to do except for wait. He prepared for an afternoon of planning, getting his story straight, until there was an interruption. And that interruption had, unfortunately, been you.
The doorbell rang, at quarter past three in the afternoon. He was going over the notes that he had written down of things to engineer, to design, when the sound went through the nearly vacant home. It echoed throughout the rooms, finding him in the living room, where the only furniture was a couple of lawn chairs, and a third-hand table. Only the necessities. Though he could have done with a more comfortable armchair, but Arthur didn’t complain.
Curiously, he went to see who it was, peering through the peephole, only to see you on the other side. This was certainly unexpected and - well, you truly looked so beautiful, even through the fisheye lens. You pressed on the doorbell again, looking towards the car that was in the driveway. Right. Damn. There was no excuse now.
Running his fingers through his hair, he psyched himself up. This was a good thing, he thought. If you saw him - it wouldn’t be as odd that he appears in your dreams. You wouldn’t be as confused when you woke up. Yes, good, excellent, now to actually open the door. His hand still hesitated when it got to the knob, feeling like this moment wasn’t good enough. It should be something special, shouldn’t it? The moment when he finally comes face to face with you?
One more deep breath, and then he opened the door.
You stood there, a little startled, because you had been ready to turn around and head back to your own home, figuring that despite the car in the driveway, your new neighbor wasn’t home. But here he was, and there was something just so completely familiar about his face. Something that made you feel safe, and - adored, somehow? You weren’t sure. But you had started to feel warm, and felt the blood rush into your face, and felt your smile go mega-watt even though you hadn’t told it to.
“Sorry, I was just - doing something,” Arthur said, unable to come up with an excuse in time, tugging his vest down a little. “Hello.”
“H-hi,” you said, remembering your purpose for being there. “I just stopped by to welcome you to the neighborhood. My name is y/n,” You introduced. “I brought you some cookies. I - didn’t know if you were allergic to anything so they’re gluten-free, dairy-free oatmeal.”
“Oh,” he said, looking at the plate that you held out. He recognized it, the blue design on it, because it was the same plates that you had eaten pizza off of in your dream. He took it from your hands, looking at the delicacies through the clingfilm that it was wrapped in. “That’s really kind of you. I’m Arthur, by the way.”
Despite Cobbs not being here, he could feel the man’s displeasure as his own name slipped out of his mouth. He could have said anything. He should have said something else. But so caught up in looking at you up close for the first time, he could only remember his own name, not anyone else’s.
“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” you said with a friendly smile. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?”
Your eyes seemed to go over his body, taking in the formalwear that he was currently wearing. The long-sleeved shirt, pressed trousers, matching vest. Arthur casual, as Eames would say. He held the plate a little closer to his body, as if attempting to shield himself.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just - working on - renovations,” he said on the fly. You blinked up at him, took a look at his outfit again, and then back up towards his face, your smile fading just slightly into something akin to confusion.
“Right,” you said with a nod, clearing your throat. “Well, I just wanted to come and introduce myself and welcome you. I live right across the street there, if you need anything. It was a pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”
“You too, Miss Y/N. I’ll be sure to return the plate,” he said, and waited for you to take a step back before he closed the door again. He leaned against it, after turning the lock into place, trying to catch the breath that he had been holding.
Shit.
He really was a goner.
He was, perhaps, a little too eager to go into your dreams tonight. He had spent the last hour or two pacing, driving his colleagues half-mad as he did so, and then was more than ready to jump in there tonight. Eames was staring at him, like he knew something was up, though Arthur was being far from inconspicuous about it. “Is it time yet?” He asked. Eames shook his head. He sighed, and then sat down, feeling a little jittery. He’d already eaten half of the cookies that you had made. The sugar - it had to be the sugar that made him feel this way.
“Keep your arse down,” Eames said, putting his legs up on Arthur’s lap and crossing them at the ankles. “You’re making me antsy.”
Arthur pushed Eames’ legs off of him and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I just want to get this over with. That’s the job, right?”
“Sure,” Eames said, folding his arms in front of himself. “This job’s getting to you though. I should be tellin’ Cobb about that-”
“No-” Arthur said, quickly. “I mean - it’s not. It’s not getting to me. It’s fine. Is it time yet?”
He avoided everyone’s eye until it was time, closing his eyes and entering into your dream space.
It was much like the other dream that he had constructed for you - your cute little house, him getting out of his car, walking up towards the front door, coming home from work. Only this time, he had a bouquet of flowers - orchids mainly, roses was coming on too strong - in his hands for you. As he went to unlock the front door, you opened it, greeting him while wearing the same outfit he had seen you wearing earlier. It had quickly become a favorite for him. Your style was just - exactly what he loved in a woman.
“Are those for me?” You asked, your eyes lit up in surprise, in happiness. He nodded, any words getting stuck inside of his throat. “Oh, they’re beautiful. What’s the occasion?”
“I was just - thinking of you, and my feet kept going until I found myself in a flower shop,” he said, stepping inside of your home as you took the flowers gently from his hands. “Do I need an occasion to bring my beautiful wife flowers?”
“Of course not, thank you,” you said, and you pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips, one that made him finger the dice in his pocket to make sure to keep himself grounded. It felt real. He was the one making it feel real. He reached up and caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, ever so softly. When you pulled away, you were still smiling, and he had to wipe the look of bewilderment off of his face.
“You’re welcome - anytime,” he said with a half-smile. You gave him a full-on grin and then turned to go and find a vase to put the flowers in - which of course seemed to magically appear in the kitchen, right when you needed it. You didn’t question it at all. Dream logic and everything.
He followed you into the kitchen, and wrapped his arms around you from behind as you were adding water in with the flowers. He kissed the side of your head, taking every opportunity to just touch you. Dream you had skin as soft as silk, which he couldn’t help running his fingers across. Especially if this was going to be his only opportunity to do so. “How was your day?” He asked, mumbling it into your ear, sending happy little goosebumps across your flesh.
You sighed, despite the glee that your ‘husband’ made you feel. “It was alright, all things considering.”
“All things considering?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow, his face just behind your head, taking in the smell of your hair.
“It’s the boss,” You admitted. “He’s been - acting oddly lately.”
How were you this perfect? How were you so pliant? He didn’t have to mention your boss, he didn’t have to mention your work and there you were. It was like you knew exactly what he had wanted to hear and you were oh so willing to divulge it. His arms tightened around your waist, holding you protectively. “How so?” He asked, keeping his tone neutral.
You hummed, trying to think of how to put it. “I went into his office the other day to get some of the files that I needed and he completely erupted at me. I’ve never seen anyone get that mad in my life. You would think that he had caught me shredding things rather than just grabbing them! Oh, and do you remember my friend Kathryn, from accounting? She just had had the most gorgeous wedding, the flowers were - oh, never mind, you were there with me, of course you know. But she just got fired! Right there, when her husband had come by to bring her lunch. The boss saw Officer Howard standing there, bringing her a sandwich and he just ups and lets her go! I thought it was absolutely ridiculous. She’s one of the hardest workers there-”
Although he was listening to you attentively, Arthur couldn’t help but put some of the pieces together. Your boss hadn’t wanted you in his office to collect documents. Why? Because he was hiding something, no doubt. His reaction, just from what you had told him, pointed to that. And firing your friend - Accounting, was it? It probably had nothing to do with her job performance, but everything to do with her marrying an officer. She could let something spill, the way that you were doing with Arthur right now. So there had to be something going on there. This was good intel.
“- plus, I feel like he’s been getting cheaper with the lunches,” you said, concluding your rant. “It used to be sandwiches and usually a crock pot filled with something. But now, it’s a bowl of fruit and some microwave ramen. Anyway, I’m sorry. I’ve just been going on and on. I don’t mean to ruin your day...”
Your fingers were sliding across his arms, feeling both comforting and slightly arousing. Your touch was so gentle, so intimate. “You could never ruin my day, even if you tried,” He hummed close to your ear, swaying with you ever so slightly. “Besides, I like listening to you talk. I could hear you talk all day.”
“Even if it’s complaints?” You asked, leaning back against his strong chest.
“Even then.”
“You’re just amazing,” you said, and turned around so that you were facing him now, draping your arms over his shoulders, clasping your hands behind his neck. “I didn’t even ask - how was your day?”
“It’s a lot better now that I’m with you,” he said, looking into your eyes. He was really turning into a sap here; he could look in those eyes all day. Or rather, all night. “Let’s just relax the rest of the night. You can complain away about anything that you like and I’ll hold you, how does that sound?”
“Like a dream,” you said, making him chuckle. If you only knew.
Rather than go back into the living room, like you had in your last dream, you took his hand and you walked together towards the bedroom. Dream logic had made the day suddenly become night, only flickers of starlight coming in through the windows, a slight breeze rustling the curtains. It was quiet, peaceful, serene.
You unbuttoned his jacket and removed it, only to reveal the same vest that he had been wearing when you met him earlier that day. “I always did think you looked most handsome in this,” you said and began to unbutton that too. Arthur’s breath started to catch in his throat, his hands hanging down by his sides as he watched your fingers move dexterously. When he had suggested holding you - he had meant with clothes on. But you had other ideas. And you always thought - which means that today, you had thought he looked handsome? His mind was just spinning with that possibility.
“Really?” He asked you, letting you peel the vest off of his body. He felt so exposed in just the long-sleeved shirt and trousers that he wore - and of course the undershirt. He was an old-fashioned man, and he always wore one of those. You smiled at him coyly as you started to then unbutton the crisp white shirt.
“I remember you wearing it when we met, when you moved in,” you said, undoing each button carefully. “Feels like it was only yesterday.”
He chuckled a little again, leaning forward and kissing your forehead. “It does, doesn’t it?”
You hummed your agreement, untucking the shirt from his trousers and slid it down his arms. He let you, he let you reveal his shoulders and his arms and the clean white undershirt that he always wore. You giggled, a sound that he couldn’t get enough of and gave that a tug out of his trousers as well. “You always wear so many layers. How do you not sweat like crazy during the day?”
“Just a talent,” he said, the corner of his mouth going up in a smirk, his hands starting to trail down your waist. He hoped you couldn’t tell that his heart was racing. No, of course you couldn’t. It was only a dream. But you - you felt so real right now. The fabric of your clothing beneath his fingertips, the soft womanly body that was underneath. A woman’s soft. There was nothing else even remotely like it. You let out a soft little moan just at his touch like that and he couldn’t help but do more. He brought his hands up your ribs, up your side, then over your back, down to your ass. He squeezed it through your clothing and could imagine what it felt like without it being in the way. You moaned again and leaned in to start kissing his neck, bringing your hands up underneath the undershirt, feeling his body beneath. He really could feel you. He could make out the very grooves on your fingertips.
He could feel himself growing hard, his trousers starting to feel a bit too constricting. But he leaned his head back and let you continue your soft assault on his Adam’s apple with your tongue, swirling it around. “I thought you - wanted to talk about work,” he said, attempting to catch his breath. “Get some things - off of your chest?”
“I don’t want to spend my time complaining when I can be with you,” you said, pinching his nipple, making him hiss. No one had ever done that before, so it was a new experience, a new feeling. And he found himself enjoying it more than he thought that he ever would. “No more work talk. I just - I want to be with you.”
“Okay,” Arthur agreed without a second’s hesitation, lowered his head, and met you in a kiss. It started off gentle, but then turned into something more passionate, steamy. Like a married couple in heat, rather than unfamiliarity. Your tongue was the first to initiate contact, swiping at his lower lip, making him moan again, his mouth opening, granting you entrance to explore. To taste. You took advantage.
Your hands wandered down his torso, down to his trousers. Nearly pressed, pristine, just like he wore in real life, and you were fiddling with that button as well, with the zipper, tugging it down. The anticipation was more intense than anything he had ever felt before. He had never guessed that you were this bold. This hungry.
His pants fell down around his ankles then, and you went with them, looking up at him from your knees. He groaned at the sight alone. Never in his own wildest dreams -
And yet this was YOUR dream. He may have constructed the scenario but you were doing your own actions, saying your own words, adapting to it. This was all your idea. This was what you wanted. He swallowed heavily, nearly choking on his own spit as he felt the air start to touch his bare skin - and more of it as you lowered his briefs.
He gasped out your name when he felt you slide him into your mouth. He was girthy but he fit so perfectly inside of your mouth like this, like it was meant to be. You enveloped him, making him feel things that he had not felt - ever. Arthur had always been a serious person, a serious child, a serious teenager. He didn’t do high school flings, or college one-night stands. So, this was a new sensation. This was a night full of them. And if this is just what it felt like in a dream, imagine real life - oh, he was imagining it alright.
He was looking down at you, your eyes closed, eyelashes creating a gorgeous curved line against your skin. He wished that you would open them again. There was no sight that he could imagine wanting more. But then you moaned around him, tongue circling, and the thoughts flew out of his head again. All he could do was concentrate on not climaxing right then and there. It would be embarrassing, even in dream form. His hands rested them on your cheeks, lightly stroking with his thumb, admiring the way that you looked. Admiring the way that you felt. Admiring your very talented mouth.
Your head was moving back and forth in earnest, and you truly looked like you were enjoying yourself, which excited him even more. He moaned your name again, moving his hips, pushing himself further into your mouth, which you took with gusto. You pulled back after a moment and licked him from base to tip, causing a shiver to go down his spine.
Once you were off, he took ahold of you and brought you up to your feet, and made quick work of ridding you of your clothes. He felt like he was losing control. He never lost control. But this was one of the few times that he was fine with it. It didn’t even occur to his mind right now that his dice were in the pocket of his fallen trousers and he had nothing that he could ground himself with right then.
Once your body was exposed to him, he was the one who lowered himself to you, taking your nipple inside of his mouth, biting it ever so gently with the tip of his teeth, making you cry out. It wasn’t in pain though, your hands starting to mess with his perfectly styled hair, the gel falling apart beneath your fingers, pulling him even closer to you as you fell back onto the bed. He didn’t stop. His tongue was flicking at the end of your nipple inside of his mouth, suckling on it softly, arranging his weight so that it wasn’t on you too heavily.
Watching how well you were enjoying yourself, he took initiative, his hand coming up to grab your other breast, his thumb rubbing against the nipple, first slowly and then growing more aggressively. He felt it harden under his touch and that just made him all the more aroused. He was having an effect on you.
You were having a wet dream about him.
What he also noticed was the fact that your thighs were squeezing together, trying to give yourself some friction. Oh, just the thought of what heaven might lay between there - he was quivering with anticipation.
You were moaning his name now, making these cute little humming noises. These sweet little mews. He suckled a little harder, and to his complete surprise, heard you stammer -
“I - I love you-”
He froze for a second there. The fact that you said that made it real. This was a dream. You probably didn’t have any feelings for you. And he was taking advantage of a weird situation. Did you even want to have a dream like this? Did he need consent in a dream for this to happen?
“Stop thinking and come kiss me,” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulders. Another freezing shiver. How did you know that he was thinking? How could you have known that he was the kind of man who lived inside of his own head far more than he did the outside world? But this was still your dream so he did what he was told to do, moving upwards, his lips catching onto yours.
You were so damn soft. His hormones were starting to ravage at him, causing him to suck your lower lip into his mouth, nibbling at it softly. It had been a long time for him. Dream or no dream. He hardly even allowed himself to jack off so this was feeling like pure bliss and torture at the same time. His kisses grew a little more frantic, causing you to moan again underneath him, your hands moving towards his hips, pulling him closer. You weren’t just hitting at what you wanted, but you were leading him there. There was no room for any miscommunication or understanding.
He was finely kept. Everything was trimmed, neat-looking. His skin was soft beneath, and there was almost no friction as he pressed his hardness against you. He fit between your thighs oh so perfectly, pushing little by little until he felt the pressure of the tip going in, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat.
He felt like he had a deadline. The dream could be over any moment now but he didn’t want it to be. He pulled away from the kiss and looked into your eyes as he pushed himself forward, felt you arching your back underneath him, penetrating without hesitation or struggles. He came back down, kissing you, setting a slow pace, sliding in and out deliciously. Now that he was in you, there was something about it that felt so special, so intimate - you weren’t just a dream anymore.
His hips thrust slowly, circling, and then started to speed up, finding his rhythm. You broke off the kiss to moan, to whisper his name, to tell him time and time again that you loved him, which made him feel absolutely exhilarated. It felt so real - that he had even started to say it back. Your name left his lips in the most loving way. And he found that he adored saying it. His pace picked up more, moving faster, feeling you squeezing him from the inside. You were so wet, so warm, he couldn’t get enough. His lips played at your neck, breath growing faster - making it all seem so real.
He could feel the tension starting to build in that way that was familiar and yet felt like it had been out of his grasp for so long. He pushed himself towards it and was getting closer when you seemed to break, the loudest moan out of you yet, an extra wetness flooding around him as your body started to squeeze more, refusing to let him go. That just propelled him the extra way there, his forehead against yours, sweat almost acting like an adhesive. His hips were no longer in any sort of rhythm, just moving, just going, just -
Bliss.
He felt every millisecond of it, as if prolonged by the dream, stretched out, powerful. And then he rolled onto his side ineloquently beside you, kissing your cheek as you both fought to catch your breath.
After a couple of minutes, he found himself spooning you, running his hands against your upper thighs. It was comforting, being this close to you, and he knew this was one dream that was never going to fade in his memory. He’d be keeping it alive by thinking about it as much as was humanly possible.
“I need to tell you something,” you said, which drew his attention back to the dream he was living in rather than the one he’d be thinking about later.
“You can tell me anything,” He breathed, kissing your bare shoulder.
“I think my boss is-”
Arthur’s eyes shot open just as he found himself landing hard on the floor. His hands didn’t shoot out in time to break his fall, and he had landed right upon his shoulder, causing a groan to come out from his lips.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Eames’ very annoying voice carried over from the other side of the couch. One look at the shit-eating grin on his face told Arthur that he had been the one to push him off of the couch. He sat up and rubbed at his shoulder, glaring up at Eames. “Thought you might want to clean up before the day starts.”
“Clean up?” Arthur grumbled, stretching the muscle which now ached. “I was just about to get more information about her boss-”
“You were getting something alright,” Eames continued grinning, motioning his head towards Arthur’s body. His own eyes trailed down to his lap and saw the very evident went spot on his bottoms. What happened in the dream didn’t just stay in the dream, apparently. The tips of his ears started to turn red in embarrassment, and he got up onto his feet and stalked towards the bathroom, ignoring the laughter that echoed through the walls.
summary: draco malfoy? smash. except you say those words a little too loud.
wc: 0.9k+
Immersed in the magazine in front of you, you only caught bits and pieces of the conversation Harry, Hermione and Ron were having around you, the great hall otherwise mostly empty. It wasn’t everyday the three of you had free periods together, but when you did, the conversations were always entertaining.
Especially when Harry started complaining.
You halted your focus on the magazine at the sound of Harry’s sassy and oddly loud voice. It was as though he wanted himself to be heard. Hermione scoffed from in front of the boy and you pulled the corner of your page up slowly, pretending to still be immersed in your reading.
“At this point, Malfoy is just following in his fa-” “Malfoy?” You asked, humming apprehensively, “Smash.”
From the slytherin table, sat right behind you, Draco’s head snapped backwards, his mouth parting in surprise before he forced his features into a confident smirk. Theo, Pansy, Mattheo and Blaise held matching looks at the bombshell you dropped so shamelessly.
A silence overtook your three friends at your comment, jaws slack and faces frozen in shock. “What!?” Harry spluttered. You flicked over to the next page, shrugging your shoulders as you scoffed carelessly. “Yeah, you can complain about him all you want, but that is one attractive man.”
“If you felt so strongly about the matter, you should’ve spoken sooner.”
Your head shot up and you slammed your magazine shut at the familiar voice, your eyes widening in panic. Ron, who sat facing you, grimaced at you softly. Clearing your throat, you spun around on the bench, kicking your legs over its side. Leaning your elbows back on the table cooly, you replied “Why would I have spoken sooner if you weren’t around to hear it?”
Draco grinned and you cocked your head to the side, holding eye contact, challenging him to keep your gaze. It was silent as you stared at each other, apart from Theo’s loud exhale and Mattheo’s chuckle before he turned his attention back to his cup of tea. Finally, Draco gulped thickly, eyes momentarily flickering to look back at his friends.
Humming apprehensively, you stood up, tucking your magazine under your arm and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Makes sense you’re not a gryffindor,” You started, eyes trained on Draco as he stiffened up. You leaned closer to him, bringing your voice down to a whisper. “Find me when you’re brave enough to do something about it, Malfoy.”
And with a toss of your hair over your shoulder, you strutted out of the great hall, grinning as you heard a clatter of things behind you. Draco rushed to catch up to you, tripping over his feet as he followed you all the way from the great hall to the girls’ bathroom you dragged him into, pushing him against the wall and pressing your lips to his.
Draco groaned, immediately flipping your positions around so he had you cornered between his body and the stone wall, and he separated himself from you momentarily to ask you “What was that you said earlier?” before moving his kisses down your neck and instantly sucking on your skin to leave bruising hickeys that Harry will most definitely question.
“What? Find me when you’re-”
“No, before that.”
“Um, smash?” Draco chuckled against your skin, trailing his kisses back up your neck and towards your lips. “Would you let me take you on a date before that?” You felt your cheeks go hot at the embarrassing whimper that escaped your lips at his question, but nodded your head nonetheless.
Draco pushed himself off you with a satisfied smile, smoothing his uniform down as he stated “Good. Now, I believe you have a lesson.” You gasped deep in your throat at the realisation that he was correct, hearing the halls outside fill with chatter as students were released from their classrooms.
“Sunday. Hogsmeade.” He told you, pushing the door to the bathroom open and walking past the group of girls who were coming into the room, giving him judgemental looks as he passed them. But then they turned to you, and they were immediately gasping at the revelation of you and Draco being together. You giggled nervously, slipping out of the bathroom when they turned to look at each other, the gossip already beginning to spread.
Meanwhile, in the great hall:
Harry’s jaw dropped lower than he believed possible as he watched Draco stumble to reach you. He shook his head “We cannot let that happen.” Hermione scoffed, “Oh yes we can, and we will. I want all the details when they’re done.”
At the sounds of disgust both Harry and Ron expelled from their mouths, Hermione sighed disappointedly. “Right. I forgot you’re not girls.”
“Hey, Granger!” Hermione turned to the voice that had called out her name and she stared back nervously at Pansy Parkinson, who had a surprisingly welcoming smile on her face. “You can come discuss it with us, if you’d like. I’m a girl, and you’d think they are too based on how much they love the drama.” Hermione laughed whole-heartedly as Pansy nodded her head towards the boys around her with a joking roll of her eyes.
“Will that work if we’re getting different sides of the same story?” Hermione questioned, crossing her arms over his chest in mock rivalry. Pansy hummed, standing up and gathering her belongings. “I get his side of the story, you get hers, then we exchange?” Hermione grinned.
“Perfect. But I think she’ll want to join.”
Pansy winked. “Even better, I want all the filthy details.”
a beautiful little lie. [chapter 5] l Harry Castillo
Summary: you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand
Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), some alcohol (a few glasses of wine and a beer), a few ambiguous situations, some kissing (?!), Mr. Murphy and his wife show up
A/N: i wrote THIS. i'd love to read what you think about it, or the whole story. calm down, i'm getting closer to drama and angst. i didn't feel confident writing this, because i was making a presentation and notes for school at the same time. multitasking! i'm glad so many of you liked this story, it's honey to my heart. thank you for being here.
your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes
[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]
“I brought you some coffee.”
You looked at the paper cups Harry was holding in his hands and smiled. “You’re saving my life.” You replied, taking one in your hands and quickly bringing it to your lips.
It was really early, but the airport was already bustling with activity. You had already checked in, but there was still a lot of time before your flight. A few days after the unfortunate party with your friends, you and Harry found yourself at the airport to fly to Los Angeles. Mr. Murphy had his way. He promised to sign a contract with Castillo, but forced him to personally show up at his house for dinner.
“It’s a business trip,” Harry stated as he told you to book tickets for the both of you. “I’ll get to meet a few more people, so you can spend your time however you want.”
You’d never been to Los Angeles before, so once the initial surprise wore off, you figured you should take the risk. You packed your bags and let Harry pick you up at an ungodly early hour so you could spend the next few hours on the plane.
Despite a few sips of coffee, you didn't feel more awake, unlike Harry.
Dressed in a dark green sweater and dark jeans, he curiously watched the other passengers as they made their way through the airport to find their gates. If he looked immaculate, then you were one of those people who traveled in sweatpants and sneakers.
It was only when you were waiting for the plane that you started to wonder if they would let you into business class in what you were wearing. Your worries were unnecessary though. Maybe it was Harry's charm, or maybe the staff was used to this type of passenger and no one paid any attention to you. The flight was really pleasant and you managed to doze off, but most of the time you spent watching movies and talking. The next few hours passed and you were surprised to see that it was time to leave the plane.
Without much trouble, you caught a cab to your hotel and an hour later you were relieved to be thrown onto your perfectly made bed. Your phone buzzed and you looked at the screen.
Harry Castillo: “Breakfast in half an hour?”
You quickly replied and got up to take a shower and change into something more appropriate. When you took the glass elevator down to the lobby half an hour later, Harry was already there waiting for you. The cream linen shirt fit him perfectly as he stood up from the couch and walked over to you.
“You look really pretty,” he said, his eyes adjusting to your dress. “I should have taken you on the trip sooner.”
“You mean I didn’t look pretty before?” you laughed, trying to hide the effect his words had on you. Harry was so casual that sometimes you weren’t sure if you were taking his words and actions correctly. Your brain could be playing tricks on you, and it certainly wasn’t professional.
It all came naturally, too naturally. Talking or being together was like being in a natural environment for both of you. A year of successful working together certainly had an impact on that, but Harry was just an easy person to like. You didn't want to exaggerate his behavior towards you because you knew it wouldn't lead anywhere. Castillo was your boss and that should definitely put a stop to any bold thoughts that were entering your head. But in reality, it wasn't that easy.
“Susan sent an email.” You said, clicking something on your phone and carelessly putting your cup down so it almost fell over. “Mrs. Kruger called to say… Hey!”
The phone was snatched from your hand and the same hand, Harry’s, placed it on his side of the table. “We’re not working right now.” He said with a smile. “I bet you’re hungry and what you ordered looks really good, so – eat.”
You rolled your eyes. “And if it’s important, what? Mrs. Kruger…”
“You’re important now. And your breakfast.” Harry interrupted you and took a sip of his coffee. “Everything else can wait. Besides, I’m your boss, not them, right?”
You smiled, but you had to admit he was right. The area you spent the day in was really beautiful, and the chance to look away from your phone and look around was tempting.
Mr. Murphy wasn't expecting you until the evening, so you didn't have to rush anywhere. Harry took the time to show you around Los Angeles, pointing out all the places he thought you should see. You drank your iced coffee, watching the people stroll along the beach, the sun warming your skin. If Harry hadn't checked his watch, you probably would have been late for your meeting.
"You're irresponsible," you laughed, stepping into the hotel elevator. "You should have gone to him yourself."
“Nuh-uh. Murphy made it clear he wanted you there too.” Harry replied. The smile hadn’t left his face the entire day, and he wondered if he still had control over his facial muscles. “We’ve got an hour, but if we’re late, he’ll forgive us.”
“I’ll do it in an hour.” You announced as the elevator stopped at your floor.
Before he could open his mouth, you slipped through the doors and headed down the soft carpet of the hallway. He watched you for a moment longer before the doors closed and the elevator started moving again.
He liked you. It was obvious to Harry. You were the only woman who had been this close to him for a long time and hadn't disappeared, made excuses or explained anything as "it's about me, not you". You didn't expect gifts or to indulge your whims. Yes, you worked for him. But outside of the time spent at work, Harry had the feeling that you really liked him.
Like today, when you surprised him and bought ice cream for both of you, which you brought while he was on the phone with Mr. Murphy. It was just nice and so natural that Harry didn't even notice when "Thank you, sweetie" slipped out of his mouth.
When he knocked on your door an hour later, he wasn't prepared for what he saw. You were wearing a modest but elegant black dress, your hair nicely done and you had applied lipstick.
"I'm almost ready," you said, entering the room and leaving the door open, which Harry took as an invitation.
The room wasn't chaos, but rather the pleasant mess that people rushing to dinner make. A few colorful magnets that you bought that day were lying on the table next to a cup of tea, and a pair of your heels were lying under the table. A few seconds later, you emerged from the bathroom.
"Can you help me with the zipper on my dress?" you asked, turning to Harry.
"Sure."
As he approached, he caught the pleasant scent of your perfume. Damn, he would have taken you to a thousand other places so he wouldn't have to take you to Murphy's manor. But you didn't notice the change in his gaze. You put on your shoes, grabbed your bag and were ready to go.
Mr. Murphy's house was located outside the city center and was surrounded by a beautiful garden full of trees and trimmed bushes. He and his wife greeted you with joy and led you to the spacious dining room, whose large windows overlooked the city bathed in the glow of the setting sun.
"I'm so happy you brought this wonderful person with you." Murphy said as dinner was served. "Traveling is always better when you have nice company."
"Indeed." Harry replied and you smiled faintly at him. "We spent the day walking around the city. It was really nice."
“You should go to the beach. There’s a beautiful place not far from here and there aren’t that many people there.” Mrs. Murphy took a sip of her white wine and looked at you. “You should go there. Nothing is as relaxing as spending the whole day in a place like that.”
“I would. If time permits.” you replied.
“Harry!” Mr. Murphy called to the man sitting next to you. “You have to take this lovely lady to the beach!”
You could barely contain your laughter when Castillo muttered, “Yes, sir.”
The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere. Mr. and Mrs. Murphy told you about their travels and completely ignored business topics. In their company, you didn’t feel like Castillo’s assistant, but a welcome guest. When you left their house after midnight, you felt pleasantly satisfied with the day spent this way.
“Did you have a good time?”
You turned your head and looked at Harry. His shirt was already two buttons undone, exposing his neck. After a few glasses of wine, his eyes sparkled, the lights of the passing taxis reflecting off them.
“It was really nice.” You replied honestly. “Thank you for taking me here.”
“I had no choice.” Harry grimaced, but the corners of his lips turned up. “Murphy insisted you show up. If I had refused, he probably would have broken the agreement.”
“You’re awful!” you laughed, patting his shoulder. Harry took your hand and before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips across the back of it. Your heart stopped for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, carefully pushing your hand away. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine,” you replied, feeling warmth creep up your neck. Thank God it was dark and Castillo couldn’t see how his gesture affected you.
You couldn't take your eyes off him all evening. Maybe it was his fault, but you couldn't deny that there was something about his mannerisms that drew people in and magnetized them. When you looked at Harry, you didn't see the balance in his bank account, but a nice man who made those around him feel noticed.
Just like you. You were looking for a job over a year ago, and now you were coming back from a delicious dinner with someone who used to be your friend. It would have been easy to fall under Harry Castillo's spell, and you were too weak for that.
The sand beneath your feet was warm and the wind was playing with your hair. You turned your face to the sun and closed your eyes. Even though you had your sunglasses on, you could still see the light shining through your eyelids. You took advantage of Castillo's meeting and went to the beach that Mrs. Murphy had mentioned. You found a nice spot, rented an umbrella, and then set up your things.
You pulled out your phone and took a quick picture, then sent it to Harry. The reply came almost immediately.
Harry Castillo: I'm jealous. Will you be there long?
You: All day, I hope.
Harry Castillo: Okay. ;-)
You had brought a book with you so you wouldn't have to worry about boredom. Time passed and you stopped reading in favor of short swims in the ocean or trips to the fruit and smoothie stand. You couldn't remember the last time you had been on vacation, but this few days away could easily be written off as "vacation." Harry had made sure you worked as little as possible and you weren't about to fight it.
“Maybe I should move the office here. What do you think?”
You looked up to see Harry standing over you. He was holding a pizza box, still wearing the clothes you saw him in this morning, but the sleeves of his shirt were already rolled up. He looked a little weird standing in the middle of the hot sand in such an outfit.
“I don’t think we can work here.” You replied. Harry sat down next to you and took off his shoes, pushing his feet into the sand. “How was the meeting?”
“Good. Boring, but it went well. I thought you might be hungry.” He pointed to the box. “Pizza. The one you like.”
“Thanks.” You opened the box and took a slice. “So... Two days and we’re back?”
Harry nodded, looking around the beach and watching the people. A few children were running around, playing with a beautiful golden retriever, while someone else was building a giant sandcastle.
“I could stay here longer.” Harry mumbled. “A completely different life than New York.”
“I’ve relaxed more in the last few hours than I have in the last year.” You replied, swallowing what was in your mouth and reaching for a bottle of water.
“That doesn’t say anything good about me.” Harry snorted with laughter.
“Sorry, boss.” You shrugged, but smiled back.
“You know what? I think I’ll go for a swim.” He stated after a moment, and before you could answer, he was already unbuttoning his shirt.
“W-what? If you tell me you’re wearing swimming trunks…”
“Black boxers will do.”
Harry stripped down without any embarrassment, revealing his broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin. You tried to look away, but it was really hard. He looked really good.
"Are you coming with me?" he asked, giving you a quick glance.
"Yeah, I think so." You replied, getting up from your towel and you and Harry headed towards the water.
The waves weren't big, and the water felt nice and cool on your hot skin. You quickly lost sight of Harry as he dove in and swam a bit. When he surfaced, he brushed his wet curls away. You couldn't help but smile. You hadn't seen Harry as relaxed as he was that day in a long time. The water and the beach seemed to be his natural habitat. You spent the whole day at the beach and it wasn't until the sun set that you gathered your things and headed to the hotel.
“Want to watch a movie?” he suggested, walking you to your room. “I know it’s late, but…”
Your lips moved completely unconsciously. “Yes, I’d love to.”
“Fantastic.” Harry beamed. “I’ll take a quick shower and be right back. We can order something to eat.”
“Sure. I’ll be waiting.”
The quick shower washed the sand and salt off of you, but didn’t cool your head. You had no idea what you were doing. However, when you heard a knock on the door after half an hour, your heart pounding, you opened it. Harry had already changed into comfortable sweatpants and entered your room without much embarrassment.
“We could watch the second part of the movie we saw on the plane,” he suggested, sitting down on your bed and reaching for the remote.
“Sure, no problem. Want a drink?” You grabbed two beers from the hotel fridge. Harry nodded and a few minutes later you were both comfortably sitting on the bed, watching the movie, drinking beer and waiting for the food you ordered.
“I like it,” he said. His voice sounded like he had been thinking about something for a long time.
“What exactly?”
“That. Us. I like spending time with you,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen, even though the movie probably didn’t interest him that much. “I feel good around you, you know?”
You didn't know what to say, or maybe you did, you were just afraid. But you couldn't hold it back any longer and the words spilled out of your mouth. "I like it too, Harry. You're a really nice guy."
Harry turned his head and looked at you. "Nice guys finish last, right?"
"That's not true!"
"Sure!" he snorted a laugh and took a sip of beer.
"Harry." You sat up and looked at him as if you wanted to explain something obvious to him. "I've been working for you for a year, I know what I'm talking about. You always make me feel important and heard, you value my opinion, and even outside of the office, like here and now, we can just be together and have fun. It was a really nice day, thank you."
He watched you for a moment, considering your words. They stirred something in him and he felt he couldn't hold it back any longer. There was something about this moment, or maybe between you. Something that wasn't fleeting anymore, was starting to take shape and was more than a boss-employee relationship. You had long since stopped being just an assistant.
He shouldn't have done that. It was definitely the drink he had with his friend and that beer, or the sun. You looked so comfortable and natural that Harry couldn't help himself. You didn't pull away when his fingers brushed your cheek and jaw, you didn't run away when they rested on your neck, you didn't push him away when he sat up and brought his face closer to yours, kissing you a moment later.
It was completely new and so different from that brush of your lips that you both experienced just to make Daniel believe that there was something more between you. Your lips were soft and gentle as you kissed Harry back. But when you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue between them, he believed that this was actually happening. His fingers slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The kiss was deeper, more intimate and made you sigh, which he gladly accepted.
The hand that was resting on your waist pulled you closer and again - you didn't protest. Jesus, what a relief it was for Harry! He wanted to kiss you, he wanted you to feel that he really cared. But as soon as your hand touched his face, a vigorous knock on the door echoed through the room.
In one short second, everything was interrupted. You pulled away from Harry, your gaze frightened. He tried to stop you, but his fingers only slid down your wrist as you jumped out of bed and took a few steps to the door.
“Good evening. I brought you your order, ma’am.” A polite male voice said.
“Thank you. I’ll take this. Good night.”
You pushed the small cart with the ordered food inside and when your gaze landed on Harry, despite his concerns, you didn’t look like someone who regretted what had happened. Quite the opposite, your eyes were sparkling and your face was glowing. You looked simply beautiful.
“I hope you’re hungry, because I can’t eat all this by myself.” You joked.
“We’ll manage somehow.” He replied. “Do you have any more beer?”
“Of course.”
And when a few minutes later you were sitting next to each other, eating the ordered food, watching a movie and drinking cold beer, you both felt that something had changed. It was exciting, new. And you just hoped that the next day you’d feel the same.
summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.
author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.
content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended
word count — 4.5k
You knew him better than anyone.
From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.
Really, Harry should just marry you.
…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.
He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.
He did trust you with his life, though.
More importantly, his love life.
“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”
“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.
Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.
“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.
“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”
“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”
“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”
“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”
And fortunately, all you had was time.
It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.
“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”
“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”
“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”
He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.
He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial.
Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.
He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.
That was the problem.
“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”
“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”
“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”
And he knows it.
–
The gala is a bust.
So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.
You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.
It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.
They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.
You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.
It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.
“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.
He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.
“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.
“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”
“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.
“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”
“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”
“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”
“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”
“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”
He’s silent, but attentive.
“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”
“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.
“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,
“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”
“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”
It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.
You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.
You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.
The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.
Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.
But, that was because you knew all of them.
You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.
His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.
Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in.
But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.
“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”
You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.
“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”
“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”
You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”
–
It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.
“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”
“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”
“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”
“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”
He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.
“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.
“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.
“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”
“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”
“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”
He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”
There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.
“Can we grab dinner on the way?”
“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.
It was a constant go-to for you and him.
You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”
–
“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.
The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.
Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.
“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”
“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”
The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.
You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.
“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.
Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”
“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.
“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”
“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.
“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”
Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.
“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.
–
The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.
Eventually, he looks at you.
“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”
You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”
He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.
That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.
His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.
Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.
“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”
You swallowed. Hard.
The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”
And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”
The sincerity caught you off guard.
You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer.
And he keeps looking at you, checking.
The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.
Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless.
Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.
It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.
You’ve done it a hundred times before.
Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.
His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.
You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.
The contact was thoughtless, nothing.
But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.
The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.
And it definitely wasn’t professional.
Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.
Then his thumb moved.
Up.
Barely.
A soft drag along your pulse.
It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.
Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.
“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.
“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”
“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.
Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.
That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.
“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”
“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.
“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”
He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.
You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.
Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.
Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.
Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.
“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”
“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.
“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”
“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”
Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.
You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.
It was fucking beautiful, really.
You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.
Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.
It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.
He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.
You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.
“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”
“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.
You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,
“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.
And you listen.
He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.
He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.
Needs more.
“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.
He shakes his head, “Are you?”
“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.
Still, you nod in understanding.
–
He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.
Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin.
He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire.
This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.
You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.
You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.
It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.
He fucks you slow, too.
It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.
You don’t talk, neither does he.
But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.
If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.
You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.
“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.
You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.
“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.
The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.
And damn, does the praise work.
Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.
“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.
He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.
You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.
It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.
No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.
You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.
Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.
“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”
So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.
Your life, your job, your relationship with him.
He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.
You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.
“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”
“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”
“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”
You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.
It couldn’t be you.
“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.
The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job.
You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.
You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”
It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.
But, you couldn’t deal with this now.
Or ever, even.
Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.
The soft glow of Pedro's phone illuminates the dimness of his bedroom. He viciously scrolls through the headlines, the words stabbing like daggers as he reads the tabloid's sensational claim: "Y/N L/N Pregnant with Rumored Boyfriend Henry's Baby!" With a frustrated sigh, he throws the phone onto his bed, resentment and heartbreak coursing through his veins. It was bad enough that he was jet-lagged. Reading this basically confirmed he wouldn’t be getting sleep tonight - or any night in the foreseeable future.
It had been months since your fateful reunion at the awards show and neither of you had spoken or run into each other since then. But that once a year promise of hope in Pedro’s heart was about to turn into two. The theatre company that you and Pedro were patrons of (along with a few other notable names in Hollywood) was launching a new program and you were both invited to the gala.
Pedro wasn’t sure if you’d turn up. To be honest, after reading the news, he didn’t know if he even wanted you to show. Knowing that you were pregnant with another man’s child cut deeper than he thought it would. Throughout his whole life, Pedro never saw himself as a father, adamantly believing that he was content without fatherhood. That all changed when he fell in love with you.
A week later, Pedro found himself getting ready for the gala. He was nervous, hands shaking as he fixed his tie. “You’re going to be fine. Just breathe and if you ever need an escape, call me and I’ll come rushing in saying your cat is having a medical emergency,” his assistant and close friend Andrew quips. Andrew knew everything about the two of you, and he was the first one Pedro confided in after that run-in at the awards show.
“Thanks man. I’ll be fine. Please don’t harm any imaginary cats for my sake,” Pedro smiles. “I think maybe this will do me some good, you know? Closure and all that."
Andrew claps a hand on his shoulder. “If you need anything, I’m one call away.”
He enters the venue where the gala is being held, and as always with these events, he felt worlds away from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. One of the things he missed about being with you was that you were the only person who made him feel like he had a place in all of this.
He mingles with fellow attendees, his smile masking the turmoil that churned within him. His gaze wandered for a bit, and there you were with a group of other guests, your laughter mingling with the tinkling of glasses.
Pedro's heart skipped a beat, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He watched as you hold a champagne flute, your lips curving into a smile as you converse. The weight of the tabloid's claim hung over him like a storm cloud.
Summoning his courage, Pedro approaches you, a forced nonchalance in his tone. "Hey you. You supposed to be drinking that?" Damn. He forgot his hello’s and hi how are you’s.
"Huh?" your eyes flicker with confusion, brows knitting together.
Pedro's cheeks flush as he realizes his reference to the tabloids. "I mean, you know.. With the um..” He makes a vague gesture towards your stomach region.
You laugh with genuine amusement. "Really, Pedro? Since when do you read the tabloids?”
He chuckles nervously, the tension between you momentarily eased. "I have a lot of free time these days.” (Lie) “I just happened to see it while scrolling around." (Another lie) “So you and Henry aren’t expecting–”
“Henry and I aren’t anything. Other than friends and co-workers.” You smile at his floundering.
“Oh. Sorry. I– yeah, the damn tabloids.” Pedro huffs at his foolishness, maintaining a facade of nonchalance on the outside. Internally, all his tension and anxiety from the last few days washed away and he finally felt himself breathe easily for the first time since reading the article.
As the night unfolds, you and Pedro eventually retreat to a quiet corner of the event, away from the prying eyes and the hum of conversations. The stars cast by the chandelier glitter above you, a mirror for the spark of emotions that still bubble within you both.
"I lied. I was looking for articles about you," Pedro finally admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
Your gaze was steady, eyes holding a mixture of understanding and slight amusement. "I know. And you believed them?"
Pedro shakes his head, his fingers toying with the edge of his glass. "No, not really. It's just.. I used to know everything about you and now the only way I get any news about you is from the fucking tabloids. I miss knowing what you’re up to. It’s just.. Old habits die hard I guess.” Pedro swirls his glass, the alcohol loosening his lips and easing the weight on his heart just a little.
You sigh softly, features softening. "Pedro, this past year has been hard on me too. We were best friends and I’m sorry for the way we ended things. We could’ve stayed friends. It wasn’t a messy break-up, right? We could’ve stayed in contact.”
“No,” Pedro denies flatly. “No we couldn’t have because.. I’d have always wanted more.” Pedro knew that this was the God’s honest truth. As much as he loves you and wants you to be happy, he knew that having to watch your life from the sidelines as a friend would never be enough for him.
You reach out, placing your hand over his. "You deserve a relationship where neither of us has to fight each other for attention. You deserve more than 5 minute hello’s and goodbye’s in the dead of night.”
You stand in companionable silence for a moment, the world around you fading into insignificance. The year apart seemed to dissolve as you shared a quiet moment, the barriers melting away.
"I've missed you," Pedro whispers, his voice barely audible. “I know I shouldn’t say this but I have. And the truth is, you’ve spoiled dating for me. I’d take that 5 minutes with you every day if it means I get that 5 minutes with you every day for the rest of my life.”
Your gaze meets his, eyes glassing over. "I've missed you too. Of course I have. But we can’t do this to ourselves again. It was never about love or a lack of it, you know that. If we could’ve made it work, we would have. It’s just.. our lives and our careers."
As the night grew older, you remain in your secluded corner, not talking, just enjoying each other’s company in private for the first time in a year. Both of you silently fantasizing that this night would never end and that you’d be here in your little bubble forever.
When the gala finally comes to an end, you and Pedro make your way outside, the cool night air washing over your skin. He takes a deep, audible inhale and turns to you, voice cracking with the weight of parting from you again. "You’re it for me, you know? If it’s not you, it’s not anyone else.”
“Pedro…”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He places a soft kiss on your cheek and turns to leave, his car and driver already waiting for him, leaving you with a face reddening from the alcohol and... something else.
-
I wasn't gonna do a sequel.. but my first ever fic (Just Once A Year) hitting 100 notes is something to celebrate so I hope you enjoy! Tagging @just-some-random-blogger because this is gonna surprise you and @cinnamon-todd because your comment was honestly the motivation for me to write a sequel!
The soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, painting the room in golden hues. Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, as the hazy remnants of your dreams clung to your mind. You reached for your phone instinctively, wanting to check the time, but… you couldn’t move.
“What the hell,” you murmured groggily, your voice barely above a whisper. And then you froze.
Joel’s arms were wrapped around you.
Not just resting near you—wrapped around you. His tanned, strong arms, were draped securely over your waist. His hand rested lightly on your hip, his grip loose but grounding.
Your breath hitched as you risked a glance at his face. You shouldn’t have. God, you shouldn’t have.
His features were softened by sleep, the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones now relaxed, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. The faint shadow of scruff on his face caught the morning light, giving him a golden glow. His lashes—thicker and darker than you’d noticed before—rested against his cheeks, and his hair was slightly tousled, like he’d spent the night chasing dreams instead of reality.
He was warm. So, so warm.
And it felt too good.
His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm against your back, his quiet, even breathing filling the silence of the room. You shook your head at yourself, remembering what he’d said the night before about not being able to handle snoring. Now, he was the one snoring softly, the sound barely audible, almost endearing.
Of course, even when he was unconscious, Joel Miller was insufferably charming.
You gulped, the subtle scent of him wrapping around you like a second blanket—something earthy and clean, with a faint hint of whatever cologne he’d worn the night before.
Your pulse raced as you became painfully aware of the weight of his arm, the firmness of his body pressed lightly against yours, the way he smelled, the way his hair looked just slightly too perfect for someone who had just woken up.
“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, a mix of disbelief and something far more dangerous stirring in your chest.
He stirred slightly, his grip tightening for just a moment before loosening again, his breathing never faltering. You held your breath, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts but unable to settle on a single one.
You had to move. You needed to move.
You managed to slip out of bed, carefully and quietly maneuvering Joel’s arm off you, your movements slow and deliberate. He stirred slightly, his brows furrowing as he rolled onto his back, but he didn’t wake. His breathing evened out again, and you exhaled softly in relief.
Padding across the room, you grabbed your things and made your way into the bathroom. The warm cascade of the shower was grounding as you stood beneath it, trying to shake off the flurry of emotions from waking up next to Joel Miller.
You washed away the lingering tension, dressed quickly in the steam-filled bathroom, and emerged feeling more composed—at least outwardly. Back in the room, you paused, your eyes drifting toward the bed. He was still there, sprawled on his side, the blanket half-tangled around his legs.
You told yourself you weren’t staring—this wasn’t creepy, not like a serial killer lurking in the shadows. This was… curiosity. That was it. The kind of fleeting, harmless observation a single woman might have when sharing a room with a very, very gorgeous man.
Joel stirred, his head shifting on the pillow as he stretched slightly, his muscles flexing in a way that was entirely unfair. His brow furrowed for a moment before his eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused as he adjusted to the morning light.
Why was he so damn cute? He turned toward your side of the bed first, his brow knitting as he registered your absence, before his gaze shifted and landed on you, standing awkwardly near the dresser.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep, like the rasp of a warm summer breeze against your skin.
You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were staring. “Hi,” you breathed, your voice quieter than you intended.
Joel stretched again, his movements slow and unhurried as he propped himself up on one elbow. His eyes were still heavy-lidded, his hair slightly mussed in a way that made him look annoyingly perfect. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice softening into something warm.
“Good,” you said, moving toward the bed and sinking onto your side, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as his gaze followed you. Joel shifted, rolling onto his side to face you fully, his smile lazy but genuine. “Good,” he echoed, his grin widening just a touch.
You couldn’t help but smile back, the tension of the moment giving way to something lighter. He had that effect—a way of disarming you with just a look.
“You, uh…” you began, a laugh escaping you before you could finish. “You snore in your sleep.”
Joel’s grin vanished, replaced by a mock-offended expression. “I do not,” he said, grabbing the nearest pillow and tapping you lightly with it.
“You do!” you countered, laughing as you swatted the pillow away.
He shook his head, his grin returning as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dipping into a playful drawl. “You’re makin’ that up. Tryin’ to tarnish my good reputation.”
You rolled your eyes, biting back another laugh. “Trust me, Joel. Your reputation’s safe. But you do snore.”
Joel chuckled, leaning back against the headboard, his arms crossing lazily over his chest. “Well,” he said, his tone warm and teasing, “guess that just means you’re payin’ way too much attention to me, roomie.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat as his gaze lingered on you, soft and amused, like he was savoring every second of this moment.
And damn it, you thought, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
A loud knock echoed from the door, followed by Maria’s unmistakable voice, sing-song and far too chipper for this hour. “Wakey, wakeyyyy!”
Joel groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “Christ,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he covered his face with one hand. “Thought vacation meant sleepin’ in.”
You laughed, the sound light and easy as you turned toward him. “You’re lazy.”
Joel’s hand dropped from his face, revealing a grin that was equal parts playful and dangerous. “Take that back.”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you sat up straighter. “Or what?”
“Or,” Joel said, shifting suddenly, his grin widening as he leaned toward you, “I’ll tickle you.”
Your eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His gaze locked onto yours, the challenge sparking between you like a live wire. Before you could move, his hand darted toward your side, his fingers brushing lightly against your ribs.
“Joel!” you shrieked, twisting away as laughter bubbled out of you uncontrollably.
“Take it back,” he said, his voice low and teasing, though his grin betrayed just how much fun he was having.
“Okay, okay!” you gasped, squirming as his fingers lingered for just a second too long, sending a thrill up your spine. “You’re not lazy! Happy?”
“Very,” Joel replied, his voice softening as the laughter between you ebbed into a quiet hum.
You froze for a moment, suddenly acutely aware of how close he was. His hand was still on your side, his thumb brushing gently against the fabric of your shirt. His face was just inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek, and his eyes—God, his eyes—held a depth that made your pulse race.
Neither of you moved.
The room felt smaller, the air thicker as Joel’s gaze flickered briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. His expression softened, the teasing grin fading into something quieter, almost hesitant.
“I should, uh…” he began, his voice low and rough. He cleared his throat, his hand dropping back to his side. “I should shower.”
You nodded quickly, your breath catching as the spell between you broke. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little too high. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Joel stood, running a hand through his hair as he grabbed his things from the dresser. He paused by the door for a moment, glancing back at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with the sound of the shower starting and the lingering heat of his presence still crackling in the air.
You let out a long, shaky breath, pressing your hand against your chest as if that could calm the wild fluttering there.
What the hell just happened?
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
The breakfast table was a colorful mosaic of buffet plates piled high with everything the resort had to offer. Maria had gone for a perfectly Instagram-worthy selection: fresh papaya, golden pineapple slices, and a delicate croissant resting on the side of her plate. Tommy, on the other hand, had opted for the classic “pile it on” approach—eggs, bacon, pancakes, and what looked like a heap of hash browns drowning in syrup.
You’d chosen something light—ripe watermelon slices, a dollop of creamy yogurt, and a sprinkling of granola. Meanwhile, Joel, seated beside you, had a more straightforward plate: scrambled eggs, toast, and a generous helping of crispy bacon.
The morning sunlight spilled across the outdoor dining area, painting the terrace in soft gold. Beyond the railings, the ocean shimmered, waves lazily rolling onto the shore, the sound mingling with the faint rustle of palm trees swaying in the warm breeze.
It was the kind of day that felt too perfect to be real, the sky impossibly blue, with just enough fluffy clouds to look like a postcard.
Maria set her fork down with a soft clink, her face bright with excitement. “Alright,” she said, clapping her hands lightly. “Today is jam-packed!”
She pulled out her phone, scrolling through their itinerary. “First up, we’ve got canoeing, which’ll take us out to a great snorkeling spot. Then,” she continued, ticking things off with her finger, “we’ve got some leisure time to relax by the pool or whatever. After that, there’s a massage situation booked for all of us. And then, another break before dinner.”
“Christ,” Joel muttered, leaning back in his chair and reaching for his glass of orange juice. He took a slow sip before raising an eyebrow at Maria. “You sure this isn’t boot camp?”
“Hey,” Tommy interjected, pointing his fork in Joel’s direction. “We paid for this shit, so we might as well get our money’s worth.”
Joel rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a faint grin.
“What d’you think, sweetheart?” Tommy said, turning his attention to you.
You smiled, spearing a piece of watermelon with your fork. “Sounds amazing,” you said, taking a bite and savoring the burst of sweetness.
“Good,” Tommy said with a triumphant nod. “See, Joel? Why can’t you be more like this one?”
Joel let out a quiet laugh, his gaze sliding over to you as he reached for his coffee cup. As he took a sip, your gaze flicked to the lineup of drinks in front of him: orange juice, coffee, and what looked like a bottle of water.
You couldn’t resist. “Jesus, Joel,” you said, tilting your head as you gestured toward his array. “How many drinks does one man need?”
He glanced at the table in front of him, then back at you with a playful shrug. “What can I say? Gotta stay hydrated. It’s gonna be a long day, remember?”
You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Hydrated or caffeinated?”
“Both,” he said with a wink, taking another sip of coffee. “Gotta keep up with you.”
Maria, clearly oblivious to the banter, was already chattering about how excited she was for the snorkeling.
Tommy chimed in occasionally, but your attention was stuck on Joel—the way his grin lingered just a little too long, the way the sunlight caught the faint scruff on his jaw, the way he seemed to make the most mundane things—like sipping coffee—look effortless.
You shook your head, turning back to your plate. It was going to be a long day indeed.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
Joel lay sprawled across the bed, his red swim trunks low on his hips and his bare chest catching the sunlight filtering through the curtains. His phone was in one hand, the other resting lazily across his stomach as he scrolled with a contented sigh. “Jesus,” he called out, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the room. “How long does it take to put on a swimsuit? Maria’s gonna kill me, then you, if we’re late.”
“Shut up, Joel,” you called back from the bathroom, your tone sharp but not without a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, a grin audible in his voice as he returned to his scrolling.
You exhaled slowly, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The bikini fit perfectly, its fabric hugging your curves, but you found yourself adjusting the straps for what felt like the hundredth time. Why were you so nervous? It was just a swimsuit. It wasn’t like Joel hadn’t seen people in far less before.
Your gaze drifted down, taking in the lines of your body with a critical eye. The curve of your stomach, the way your hips flared, the softness in places that didn’t quite match the airbrushed perfection you’d seen in magazines. You bit your lip, suddenly self-conscious.
“Hey,” Joel called out again, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. “You sure you’re all good in there?”
“Yeah,” you answered quickly, pulling on your swim cover-up and giving yourself one last glance.
As you opened the bathroom door, Joel glanced up from his phone. The way his eyes lit up, his lips curving into a slow, genuine smile, made your pulse falter for a second.
“Alright,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and standing with an easy stretch. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
You tried to ignore the warmth spreading up your neck as he grabbed his towel and gestured for you to follow.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
The beach was postcard-perfect, the sand a soft, powdery white that stretched endlessly under the vibrant turquoise sky. The waves lapped gently at the shore, their rhythmic sound blending with the occasional laughter of other vacationers. The salty tang of the ocean hung in the warm air, mingling with the faint scent of sunscreen as the sun kissed your skin.
Joel walked beside you, his towel slung over one broad shoulder, his gait unhurried, as though he owned every step he took. His confidence was maddening, casual in a way that made it seem effortless.
Ahead, Maria and Tommy stood near a row of brightly colored canoes, their chatter punctuated by Maria’s bubbly laughter as Tommy wrestled with his life vest straps. The canoeing instructor, a lean man with sun-bleached hair and an easy smile, waved you over.
“Finally!” Maria called, her hands on her hips. “What took you guys so long?”
Joel smirked, his hand brushing lightly against the small of your back as he stepped ahead of you. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but enough to send a ripple of warmth through you.
“Blame the roomie,” Joel said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Takes forever to get ready.”
Your jaw dropped, and you turned to glare at him. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”
Maria laughed, rolling her eyes. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get moving before we miss our spot.”
Before you could correct her, the instructor approached, his grin wide and welcoming. “Hello, beautiful couple,” he greeted.
“Oh, we’re not—” you started, but Joel cut in smoothly, stepping forward with a hand outstretched.
“Hi,” Joel said, his voice easy and confident. “Name’s Joel.”
The instructor—Kai—shook his hand, smiling. “Pleasure to meet you, Joel. And you?”
You replied with your name whilst Joel slid his arm around your waist like it belonged there. “But you can just call her perfect. Isn’t she?”
Your mouth fell open, a mix of disbelief and embarrassment flooding your chest.
Kai smiled warmly, nodding. “Yes, very.”
“Thanks, man,” Joel replied with a wink. “Two years together, and she still keeps me on my toes.”
“Alright,” Kai said, handing you both life vests. “Pop these on, and I’ll guide you to your canoe.”
“Yes, sir,” Joel replied, saluting jokingly as he took the vest.
You turned to Joel as Kai walked back toward Maria and Tommy, your voice low but sharp. “Seriously, Joel?”
“What?” Joel shrugged innocently as he pulled on his life vest. “It is a couples vacation.”
You rolled your eyes, fumbling with your straps when you realized something: you still had your swim cover on.
“Shit,” you muttered, biting your lip as your fingers hovered at the hem of the light fabric. You hesitated for a moment, but there was no avoiding it. The life vest wouldn’t fit properly over the cover.
You shook off your doubts, pulling the cover over your head in one swift motion and stuffing it into your bag. Grabbing the life vest from the ground, you were too focused on fastening the straps to notice Joel’s gaze.
But Joel noticed everything.
His hand froze mid-buckle, his gaze fixed on you, tracing the way your red swimsuit hugged your body. The way the fabric dipped and clung to your curves, the soft swell of your chest, the way your thighs looked under the bright sunlight. Holy shit, he thought, his mind scrambling for words as his throat went dry.
You, completely unaware of Joel’s lingering gaze, fumbled with your straps, your cheeks burning from the rush of heat brought on by the sun, his presence, and the vulnerability of standing there in nothing but your swimsuit. Your hair clung to your face, the strands sticking stubbornly as your fingers trembled over the life vest’s clasps.
“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath, the frustration bubbling up as everything seemed to work against you.
Joel, who had been pretending to adjust his own straps while watching you from the corner of his eye, stepped forward. His voice dropped low, warm and steady. “Here,” he murmured, closing the small gap between you. “Let me do it.”
You froze as he reached out, his hands brushing lightly over yours before taking over. His fingers moved with a practiced ease, tugging and adjusting the straps until the vest fit snugly against your frame. He was so close you could feel the faint warmth of his skin, his scent—a mix of the ocean breeze and sunscreen—wrapping around you like a blanket.
“There,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Can’t leave you unbuckled now, can we?”
You looked up, your breath catching as you caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—an openness, a quiet sort of tenderness beneath his usual teasing grin.
“You look—” Joel began, his voice softer now, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Maria’s voice calling out from the shore.
“Let’s go, people! Canoes are waiting!”
Joel stepped back, the moment dissolving into the salty air. His hand brushed your shoulder lightly—a fleeting touch that sent an electric warmth rippling through you.
“C’mon, roomie,” he said, his grin returning as he glanced over his shoulder, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can’t keep Maria waiting.”
You let out a shaky breath, grabbing your paddle and falling into step behind him as he led the way toward the water.
The sun blazed above, the waves lapping gently at the shore, and the rhythmic crunch of sand beneath your feet mixed with the hum of the ocean. Your heart raced—not from the heat or exertion, but from the way Joel had looked at you just moments ago. Like you were the only thing worth seeing.
This was going to be a long, long day.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
“Alright,” Kai began, his voice calm and steady as he gestured toward the canoes. “A few safety things, my beautiful couples.”
Then, as if on cue, his arm slid around your waist, his hand settling against the curve of your hip. The gesture was so smooth, so natural, it startled you for half a second. The other hand still held his paddle, but his focus was entirely on you.
You felt his warmth immediately, the strength of his touch grounding you. Instinctively, your arm looped around his waist, your fingers brushing against his skin.
“There we go,” Joel murmured, his voice low and close against your ear, his breath brushing against your hair. “Not so hard, huh?”
“Shut up and listen,” you whispered back, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upward into a small smile.
Kai smiled warmly, his sun-bleached hair catching the light. “Life vests stay on at all times. Keep your paddle movements synchronized—makes things much easier. And most importantly, relax and enjoy. This is supposed to be fun.”
Beside you, Maria nodded eagerly, already clutching Tommy’s arm like they were gearing up for an Olympic event. Joel, however, seemed completely at ease, standing with his paddle resting casually against his shoulder.
Kai clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright! Now I’ll help you settle into the canoes.”
He reached out, his hand steady as he gestured for you to step forward. “Ladies first,” he said with a kind smile.
You placed your hand in his, letting him guide you carefully into the canoe. The wooden surface dipped slightly under your weight, the gentle sway of the water rocking the vessel.
“Thanks, Kai,” you murmured, settling yourself onto the front seat.
Kai nodded before turning to Joel. “Alright, hop in behind her.”
Joel stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he climbed into the narrow canoe. The space was tight—too tight—and as he sat down behind you, his chest practically pressed against your back.
You froze for a moment, acutely aware of every inch of him. The way his thighs bracketed yours, the solid heat of his torso against you, the faint brush of his breath near your neck.
“Small canoe, huh?” Joel murmured, his voice dipping into that warm, teasing drawl.
You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze, his brown eyes glinting with mischief. “Is that a complaint?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.
“Not at all,” he replied, his grin widening as his hands adjusted the paddle across his lap. “I’m likin’ the view from back here.”
You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to the water, but the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrayed you.
“You good up there?” Joel asked, his voice softer now, the teasing note replaced with something gentler.
You nodded, unable to trust your voice as the water lapped softly against the sides of the canoe.
“Alright,” Kai called out from the shore, his voice pulling you back to the moment. “You’re all set! Follow the guide, and you’ll be at the snorkeling spot in no time.”
“Bye, Kai!” Tommy shouted, his voice carrying over the gentle crash of the waves as he and Maria’s canoe began to glide ahead.
Tommy twisted slightly in his seat, throwing a glance over his shoulder toward your canoe. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!” he hollered, his tone full of childish glee.
“Fuckin' child,” Joel muttered under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching as he adjusted his paddle in the water.
You laughed softly, turning your head just enough to catch his expression. “Thought you’d be all over the competition,” you teased, your tone light as you dipped your own paddle into the water.
Joel leaned back slightly, the movement so casual it sent another wave of warmth radiating from where his knees bracketed yours. His drawl was slow and deliberate as he replied, “Yeah, usually. But…” He paused, his voice dropping just enough to make you glance back at him again. His dark eyes caught the sunlight, softening as they settled on you. “I don’t really wanna rush this.”
Your breath hitched slightly, and you quickly turned your gaze back to the water, grateful he couldn’t see the blush blooming across your cheeks. The soft lapping of the ocean seemed to amplify the silence, the moment hanging delicately in the air.
“Don’t get shy on me now,” Joel added, his voice dipping into that playful drawl that sent your pulse skittering.
You shook your head, biting back a smile. “I’m not shy,” you countered, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you.
“Good,” Joel murmured, his paddle dipping into the water with smooth precision, guiding the canoe forward in an unhurried rhythm. His voice, low and deliberate, sent ripples through the air as surely as the paddle stirred the water. “’Cause I don’t plan on rushin’ any of this.”
Your breath caught, the words settling over you like the warmth of the sun, and before you could respond, you felt it—a gentle brush against your back.
Joel’s hand, warm and steady, moved to sweep your hair off your shoulder, the strands catching slightly against his rough fingertips. The motion was casual, deliberate, like he’d done it a thousand times before, though you both knew he hadn’t. His fingers lingered as they slid over the curve of your shoulder, tracing random, absentminded shapes against your skin.
A circle.
A letter—maybe the start of your name.
A heart.
The paddle in your hands suddenly felt heavier, your grip tightening as you tried to focus on anything other than the steady, lazy patterns he was drawing.
The teasing lilt in his voice still lingered in the air, but beneath it, there was something softer, something quiet and sure. It was that steadiness that left you breathless, the way his touch spoke a language you didn’t quite know how to name yet.
You dared a glance over your shoulder, your heart pounding against your ribs, but Joel’s eyes were fixed on the water. His face was relaxed, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, like he wasn’t fully aware of the way he was undoing you. Or maybe he was, and that was the worst part.
Tommy and Maria’s laughter floated back to you from ahead, breaking the moment like a wave against the shore.
“Better keep up,” Joel said, his voice light now, the teasing edge returning. He shifted slightly, his hand falling back to his paddle. “Or Tommy’s gonna gloat all day.”
You exhaled, shaking your head to clear the haze he’d left behind. Glancing back at him, you let a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Then stop holding me back.”
Joel’s laugh rumbled low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like a familiar melody. “Alright, alright,” he drawled, dipping his paddle into the water with purpose. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got.”
The two of you found a rhythm quickly, your paddles slicing through the sparkling water in unison. The canoe glided smoothly over the waves, the sunlight catching in golden streaks across the surface. The distant hum of the ocean filled the silence between your playful exchanges, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt shared, almost sacred, as though the air between you held something fragile and new.
You stole a glance at him again, watching as he focused on the water ahead, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. There was an ease to Joel—something that made you feel both grounded and entirely unmoored all at once.
And as the two of you paddled forward, the waves lapping gently against the canoe, you couldn’t shake the thought that this trip was about to change everything.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
When you reached the snorkeling spot, your breath caught in your throat. The water was impossibly clear, a shimmering expanse of turquoise and deep azure stretching out before you. Beneath the surface, you could already see flashes of vibrant coral and darting fish, their colors bright and alive.
Tommy and Maria had beaten you there, their canoe already tied off and bobbing gently near the guide’s boat. They were standing on a small platform, Maria excitedly chatting as Tommy adjusted her snorkel gear.
Joel’s voice pulled you back. “I don’t know how it keeps gettin’ better,” he murmured, his tone quieter than usual, almost reverent. His gaze wasn’t on the water, though—it was on you, his brown eyes warm and steady as they took you in.
You turned away quickly, focusing on the task of securing the canoe.
Joel hopped out first, the canoe rocking slightly as his feet hit the platform. He turned back to you, holding out a hand. “C’mon, roomie. Don’t make me carry you outta there.”
You rolled your eyes but placed your hand in his. His grip was firm, his palm warm against yours as he steadied you, his other hand brushing lightly against your waist as you stepped out onto the platform.
The guide handed you your snorkeling gear, a mask and fins. You fiddled with the straps on your mask, trying to secure it, but Joel was already beside you, watching your clumsy attempts with an amused grin.
“Here,” he said, stepping in close. His hands brushed yours as he adjusted the strap at the back of your head, his touch gentle but sure. “Gotta get it snug so you don’t end up drinkin’ half the ocean.”
You stood still, the warmth of his hands and the nearness of him making it hard to focus.
He pulled back slightly, tilting his head to check the fit. “There,” he said with a faint smirk. “Atta girl. You’re good to go.”
You muttered a quiet thanks, adjusting your grip on the fins as Joel turned to grab his own gear.
He slipped his mask over his face and adjusted it in one fluid motion, his movements practiced and easy. With a glance back at you, he grinned through the clear plastic. “Watch this,” he said, his tone playful, before diving into the water with a clean, powerful arc.
The splash sent a light spray over the platform, and you instinctively shielded your face. When you looked up again, Joel had surfaced, pushing his hair back with both hands as he treaded water effortlessly.
He looked up at you, his grin widening. “C’mon in. Water’s perfect.”
You hesitated for a moment, adjusting your mask nervously before nodding. Pulling it into place, you stepped to the edge of the platform, your heart thudding as you tried to mimic Joel’s graceful dive.
Instead, you landed with a far less coordinated splash, water rushing around you as you surfaced with a sputter.
Joel’s laugh rang out, warm and easy as he swam closer. “Not bad,” he teased, treading water just a few feet away. “Little more practice, and you’ll be Olympic-level.”
You pushed your wet hair out of your face, laughing despite yourself. “Shut up, Joel.”
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
You followed Joel through the water, the gentle current guiding you both as you moved together. Below, the ocean was alive with color. Schools of tiny, shimmering fish darted in perfect harmony, their scales catching the sunlight like scattered jewels. Bright coral in hues of orange, pink, and purple rose in intricate formations, their surfaces dotted with swaying anemones and the occasional sea star clinging to the rocky edges.
A larger fish, vibrant and striped like something out of a dream, glided past you, its movements slow and unbothered by your presence. You felt your breath catch, even through the snorkel, as a sea turtle drifted into view, its serene, graceful movements making everything else seem to pause.
Joel swam just ahead, his powerful strokes propelling him forward with ease. He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure you were still following. The moment your eyes met through your goggles, he paused, floating in place as he gestured to something below—a hidden cluster of coral glowing faintly in the filtered sunlight.
You both lingered, sharing a quiet, wordless moment as you watched the vibrant life below. When you turned back to him, his expression behind the mask was unmistakable: awe, not just for the ocean, but for the shared experience. It was a connection, clear and simple, spoken in the language of glances and silence.
When you finally surfaced, the world above felt almost too loud after the stillness beneath the waves. The soft lap of the water against your shoulders and the warmth of the sun on your face grounded you as you treaded water, catching your breath.
Joel moved closer, his strokes smooth and deliberate, until he was just inches away. Reaching out, he brushed a wet strand of hair from your face with his fingers, his touch light and careful.
“There,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, his eyes meeting yours. “Now I can see you better.”
Your cheeks heated, though the cool water around you did little to hide it. “Thanks,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel’s grin softened into something quieter, more sincere, before he turned, treading water as his gaze drifted over the expanse of the ocean. “This is somethin’ else,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of wonder.
“It’s amazing,” you agreed, your heart still racing from more than just the swim.
He tilted his head toward you, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Did you see that one fish? The big striped one?”
You laughed, nodding. “Yeah. It looked like it belonged in a painting.”
Joel chuckled, his deep laugh sending ripples through the water around you. “I’m startin’ to think maybe I should stick with you. You’re good luck.”
“Oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”
Joel moved closer again, his shoulder brushing yours as you floated. “Guess we’re both lucky, then.”
The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, their meaning deeper than the casual tone he’d used. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, suspended in the gentle sway of the ocean.
“Hey!” Maria’s voice called from a few feet away, shattering the spell. “You guys coming to check out the reef, or are you just gonna float there all day?”
Joel grinned, his attention flickering briefly to Maria as she swam off before turning back to you. His grin softened into something smaller, more intimate as he moved closer, the water rippling gently around him.
“So,” he said, his voice low and warm, “what d’you think?”
“Huh?” You blinked, distracted by how close he was, his brown eyes catching the light in a way that made it hard to think straight.
“You think Tommy’s gonna do it here?” Joel asked, his lips tugging into that crooked smile you were beginning to recognize as trouble.
“Here?” you replied, wrinkling your nose slightly as you glanced around. “Hell no. It’s too wet.”
Joel’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tilted his head back. “Too wet, huh? That’s your expert analysis?”
You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips. “What? It’s not romantic if you’re dripping saltwater all over someone during a proposal.”
“Guess you’ve got a point,” Joel drawled, his eyes narrowing playfully. He leaned in just slightly, the space between you shrinking. “Still think you’re gonna lose our bet, though.”
You raised an eyebrow, your pulse quickening as his words lingered in the air. “You underestimate me, Miller.”
“Do I now?” His voice dipped, teasing but softer, his gaze locking with yours.
The warmth of his nearness, the way the water seemed to hold you both in a weightless bubble, made it hard to respond. Before you could think of a clever comeback, Tommy’s voice cut through the moment.
“Joel!” Tommy called, his tone carrying over the gentle sound of the waves.
Joel blinked, the spell between you breaking as he turned toward his brother. “C’mon!” Tommy shouted, gesturing toward the reef where Maria was already pointing excitedly at something underwater.
Joel turned back to you with a soft sigh, his grin returning as he treaded water. “Guess I’m bein’ summoned.”
“Better go, Miller,” you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.
He paused for half a second longer, his eyes flicking over your face as if trying to memorize something. Then he nodded, a teasing light back in his gaze. “Don’t fall too far behind.”
With that, he pushed off the water, his strong strokes propelling him toward Tommy and Maria. You watched him go, your heart still racing in your chest, the weight of his words and the closeness of his presence lingering in the space he left behind.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
The sun hung high in the sky, its golden warmth wrapping around you as the canoe gently rocked over the glittering water. The rhythmic sound of Joel’s paddle slicing through the waves filled the air, steady and uncomplaining.
You had given up paddling long ago, letting your oar rest across your lap as you leaned back slightly, soaking in the breeze and the ocean’s soft lull. Part of you expected Joel to tease you, to make some snarky comment about how you were letting him do all the work, but he hadn’t said a word.
No complaints, no jokes. Just the quiet strength of him paddling, propelling the canoe forward with ease.
You cracked an eye open and turned your head slightly to glance at him. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing with each stroke. You wished you could see more, the way his body worked with the motion, but the angle of the canoe kept it out of view.
With a soft sigh, you let your eyes close again, the warmth of the sun and the gentle sway of the canoe lulling you into a drowsy haze.
“You tired?” Joel’s voice broke through the quiet, low and gentle.
“A little,” you admitted, cracking one eye open again to meet his gaze.
You hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Sorry for not helping,” you murmured, your voice soft. “My arms feel like they’re gonna fall off.”
Joel’s grin softened into something warmer, and he shook his head. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. I gotcha.”
The steadiness in his voice, the way he said it so simply, made your chest ache in a way you didn’t quite understand.
“I mean it,” he continued, his gaze flicking briefly toward you before returning to the horizon. “You did good out there. Deserve a little break.”
You bit your lip, the unexpected sweetness of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. “Thanks, Joel,” you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
As the canoe bumped gently against the shore, Joel hopped out first, his feet sinking into the warm sand as he steadied the vessel. Without a word, he turned back to you, extending a hand.
“C’mon,” he said, his voice soft but firm, the sun catching the faintest sheen on his tanned skin.
You placed your hand in his, and he helped you step out carefully, his grip steady and sure. His other hand hovered near your waist, ready to catch you if needed. Once you were firmly on the ground, he let go, but only long enough to reach for the clasp of your life vest.
“Hold still,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder as he unfastened the straps. It was effortless, as though it was a role he’d naturally assumed—quietly taking care of you without needing to be asked.
The thought sent a strange flutter through your chest, and for a moment, your brain slipped. You wondered—just for a second—if this was what it would feel like to actually date Joel. To have him by your side, steady and dependable, with those fleeting touches and that easy charm that always seemed to catch you off guard.
You shook the thought away quickly, biting the inside of your cheek. Get a grip. You’re just really, really lonely.
Kai’s voice brought you back to the present. “How was it, my beautiful couples?” he asked, standing from where he’d been lounging on the sand.
“It was amazing, Kai,” Joel said, stepping forward and returning the smile as he handed over the paddles.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Joel,” Kai said, nodding approvingly.
Before you could excuse yourselves, Kai tilted his head and smiled. “Now,” he added, “would you two like a photo together?”
“Oh, you don’t need to—” you began, waving it off.
“We’d love that,” Joel cut in smoothly, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to Kai.
You glanced at him, your cheeks warming, but before you could protest further, Joel stepped closer, his hand finding its way to your waist as if it belonged there.
“Alright,” Kai said, holding the phone up. “Three, two, one—Hawaii!”
You managed a smile, though you couldn’t help noticing how natural Joel’s arm felt around you, the weight of his hand grounding and oddly comforting. As the shutter clicked, you glanced up, only to catch Joel looking down at you instead of the camera, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners with the hint of a grin.
Kai passed the phone back, nodding in approval. “You two make a very beautiful couple,” he said earnestly.
“Thanks, Kai,” Joel replied smoothly, his tone casual but warm.
You, however, were less composed. “Uh, thanks,” you murmured, feeling the heat creeping up your neck as you avoided Joel’s gaze.
The two of you leaned in to look at the photo, and your stomach flipped at the sight. Kai had captured the perfect moment: Joel’s arm around your waist, his head tilted slightly toward yours, the both of you glowing against the backdrop of the sparkling ocean.
It wasn’t just a good picture. You did look like a couple—a beautiful one. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a second, you wondered if Joel was thinking the same thing.
But before you could say anything, Joel’s voice broke the quiet. “Not bad,” he said, his tone light as he nudged your shoulder gently. “Might be my new favorite photo.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head.
And as you walked back toward the resort together, his hand brushing against yours just enough to make your heart skip, you couldn’t help but wonder if Kai’s words had struck a chord in both of you.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
Joel hummed beside you as he carried your things, his steps easy and unhurried, like the weight in his hands didn’t bother him at all. The sound of his voice—a low, rhythmic hum—mingled with the ocean breeze, setting an oddly calming pace to your walk back to the hotel.
“What you gonna do now?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
Maria and Tommy had peeled off, deciding to check out the local markets, leaving the two of you with no agenda for the afternoon.
You lifted a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, the heat making everything shimmer. When your gaze met Joel’s, you noticed the way his brown eyes glinted in the light, warm and inviting, as they always seemed to be.
“Hmm,” you mused, drawing out the sound as if you were deciding right there on the spot. “I was thinking about lying by the pool. Maybe tanning, reading a book...” You glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “What about you?”
Joel grinned, his free hand tucking casually into the pocket of his shorts. “Oh, you know, might hit the gym, grab a drink at the bar...”
Your chest dipped slightly at the answer, disappointment creeping in before you could push it away. “Oh,” you murmured, dropping your gaze to the ground. “Okay.”
Joel’s chuckle pulled you back. He nudged your shoulder with his own, the gentle touch a small spark against the heaviness of your thoughts. “I’m jokin’,” he said, his grin softening into something warmer. “I’ll come with you—if that’s alright.”
The pang of disappointment evaporated, replaced with a warmth that spread through your chest. You gave him a small smile. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Alright, then,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening just enough to make your heart skip.
When you reached the pool area, the sight before you was nothing short of breathtaking. The infinity pool stretched out like glass, its edge merging seamlessly with the endless turquoise ocean beyond.
Lounge chairs lined the perimeter, neatly arranged under gently swaying palm trees, their shadows swiping lazily across the stone. The faint sounds of waves crashing in the distance mixed with the chatter and laughter of other vacationers, creating a soft, serene buzz.
You picked a pair of loungers near the edge, the view too stunning to resist. Settling onto one, you adjusted the straps of your swimsuit, feeling the sun warm your skin as you leaned back. Joel took the chair beside you, sprawling out with an ease that made you almost envious.
For a blissful moment, everything felt perfect.
Then your stomach betrayed you.
A loud, unmistakable growl broke the silence, echoing louder than it had any right to. Your eyes widened in mortification as you sat up slightly, adjusting your sunglasses in an attempt to hide the heat creeping up your neck.
Joel turned his head toward you, his brow lifting in amusement. “Shit, darlin’, you hungry?”
“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But your stomach growled again, as if determined to betray you.
Joel chuckled, a low, warm sound that rumbled in his chest as he sat up. He reached for his wallet from the side of his lounger, flipping it open with ease. “Tell that to the noise that just escaped ya.”
“Joel,” you groaned, tugging your sunglasses down slightly to glare at him.
“What?” he teased, leaning over to grab a menu resting nearby. “What’re you in the mood for?”
You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him through the lenses of your sunglasses. “What do you wanna eat?”
He shook his head, his grin widening. “Nuh-uh. Your choice, roomie. They’ve got all kinds of stuff.” He scanned the menu, his finger trailing down the list. “Fish and chips, calamari... nachos.”
Your eyebrows perked up at the mention of nachos, and Joel caught it instantly.
“Nachos it is,” he said, closing the menu and standing up in one fluid motion.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, your voice softer now.
Joel leaned down slightly, his eyes catching yours over the edge of your sunglasses. His voice dipped, warm and steady. “Hey,” he said, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Sit. Relax. Let me take care of it.”
And before you could argue further, he was off, striding toward the poolside café with a confidence that made it impossible not to watch him go.
You sank back into the lounger, letting out a soft breath as you adjusted your sunglasses. The sun was warm, the pool glittered like something out of a dream, and Joel was, well... Joel.
You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked toward the café, the sun glinting off his tanned skin, the slight roll of his shoulders with each step. There was something so effortlessly commanding about him—the way his muscles flexed, the easy grin he flashed to the staff, the way people around him seemed to light up as if his presence was a gift.
He was... perfect.
Your thoughts spiraled for a moment. How was this man single? There had to be a catch. Maybe he was secretly toxic. He had to be—someone this gorgeous, this charming, couldn’t possibly be real without some glaring flaw.
You sighed, shaking your head as if to physically rid yourself of the thoughts. But before you could dwell any longer, Joel was making his way back, balancing a large plate of nachos in one hand, a pink lemonade and a beer in the other.
The nachos were a masterpiece: a mountain of golden chips piled high with melted cheese, fresh guacamole, tangy salsa, sour cream, and a generous drizzle of jalapeño slices scattered across the top. The colors were vibrant, the steam rising faintly from the plate as Joel set it down on the small table between your loungers.
“Here we are,” he said casually, settling into the chair beside you and taking a swig of his beer, the condensation from the bottle leaving a faint sheen on his fingertips.
Your eyes widened at the sight of the food. “Oh my god, Joel. This looks so good.” You looked up at him, your voice softer now. “You seriously didn’t have to do this.”
Joel shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he rested the beer against his knee. “No big deal,” he said, his drawl warm and easy. “Can’t have ya starving on me, now, can I?”
You gave him a small, grateful smile before reaching for a chip, loaded with cheese and guac. The first bite was heavenly, the flavors bursting across your tongue.
Joel watched you with a quiet smile, his gaze soft as you hummed in approval. “Good?” he asked.
“So good,” you managed between bites, savoring the combination of salty, creamy, and tangy.
Joel chuckled, his laugh low and warm. He took another sip of his beer, leaning forward slightly. “So,” he said, his tone shifting into something lighter but curious, “tell me more about you.”
You blinked, glancing at him as you wiped your fingers on a napkin. “What do you mean?”
Joel tilted his head, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners with his grin. “I mean, I’m sharin’ a bed with you for a week, and I don’t even know your last name. Feels a little backwards, don’t ya think?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Alright, fair point. What do you wanna know?”
“Everything,” he said simply, his grin fading into something softer. “Start with the basics. Where’re you from? What do you do? Why’d you say yes to this trip?”
You hesitated for a moment, taken aback by how genuine he sounded. Most people didn’t actually care when they asked questions like that, but Joel’s gaze was steady, curious, like he really wanted to know.
“Well,” you began, settling back in your chair. “I’m from a small town—like, really small. The kind where everyone knows everyone and nothing exciting ever happens.”
Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah? What’s that like?”
“Comfortable,” you admitted. “But also... stifling, sometimes. You grow up wanting to see more, do more. So I moved for college, and I’ve stayed in the city ever since.”
Joel hummed, swirling his beer in his hand as he leaned back. “Makes sense. So, what do you do now?”
You smiled, feeling a little shy under his steady gaze. “I work in marketing. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but I like it. I like the creativity of it, I guess.”
“That’s somethin’,” Joel said, his voice thoughtful. “Creativity’s important. Bet you’re good at it.”
You blushed, ducking your head slightly. “What about you?”
“Me?” Joel shrugged, his grin returning. “Construction, mostly. It’s hard work, but I like it. Buildin’ somethin’ from the ground up, seein’ the results. Feels good.”
You nodded, your gaze drifting to his hands—strong, calloused, capable. It suited him.
“And this trip?” he asked, his voice pulling you back. “Why’d you say yes?”
You hesitated, biting your lip. “Honestly? Maria begged. And I figured... why not? New Year’s in Hawaii sounded better than sitting on my couch with a bottle of wine and Netflix.”
Joel’s grin widened. “Yeah? Glad you came?”
You glanced at him, the warmth in his eyes making your chest tighten. “Yeah,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “I think I am.”
Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he reached for a chip. “Good,” he said, his tone easy but laced with something deeper. “Would’ve been a shame if I came all this way and didn’t meet you.”
Your heart stuttered, but Joel just leaned back, popping the chip into his mouth as if he hadn’t just said something that turned your world on its head.
“So, huh,” Joel began, his voice teasing as he leaned back in his chair, one hand lazily holding his beer. “Wine and Netflix, huh?”
You laughed softly, pushing your sunglasses up onto your head. “I know. It’s sad.”
Joel shook his head, his lips curving into a lopsided grin. “Not sad. Just... surprised, I guess.”
“Why’s that?” you asked, tilting your head at him.
Joel shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Figured someone like you—smart, funny, beautiful—would have somethin’ a little more exciting lined up for New Year’s Eve.”
You blinked, his compliment catching you off guard. Heat crept up your neck, but you tried to play it cool. “Well,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin, “I’m not exactly the club-and-kiss-a-random-stranger-at-midnight type.”
“Right,” Joel said, nodding slowly, as if that explanation made perfect sense. His brown eyes lingered on you for a beat too long before he added, “No one waitin’ for you back home, then?”
You hesitated, just long enough for him to notice. “Well, there’s someone...” you started, glancing at him.
Joel froze mid-motion, a loaded nacho hovering just shy of his lips. His face fell ever so slightly, but he recovered quickly, brushing a crumb off his shorts in what you could only describe as a casual panic.
“Oh,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Girl,” you corrected, your voice light but deliberate, watching as his brow furrowed slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, the flicker of confusion that followed.
“Girl?” he repeated slowly, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he seemed to falter, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Was he reading this all wrong? Were you—
“Mimi,” you said, your lips quirking upward into a grin. “My cat. She’s waiting for me back home.”
Joel blinked, the realization dawning slowly before he groaned, his head falling back against the lounge chair. His hand scrubbed over his face as he muttered, “You’re somethin’ else.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and genuine. “Well,” you teased, crossing one leg over the other as you leaned back, “how about you? I’m sure there’s plenty of ladies dying for a handyman like you.”
Joel’s lips quirked into a crooked grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shrugged, the movement slow and deliberate. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I mean... I want the whole thing, y’know? Wife, kids, family... dog—or cat,” he added quickly, his gaze flicking to you with a playful glint.
You smiled, your chest tightening at the earnestness in his words. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone softening as he looked out at the infinity pool, the water reflecting the golden light of the sun. “But I just... never really met anyone I could imagine that with. Someone who made it feel... right.”
You nodded slowly, your hand wrapping around your glass as you thought about his words. “I get that,” you said, your voice just as quiet. “It’s not easy, finding someone who fits.”
Joel turned his head to look at you, his brown eyes warm and searching. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Exactly.”
For a moment, the air between you felt lighter, Joel’s grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright,” he said, his voice warm and playful, “lemme see some pictures of this famous Mimi.”
“Really?” you asked, perking up instantly as you set your drink down and grabbed your phone. “She’s the cutest, Joel. I swear.”
His grin widened, boyishly charming, as he gestured for you to hurry. “C’mon, show me. Prove she’s worth all the hype.”
You unlocked your phone and began scrolling through your photo album, your excitement bubbling over. “Okay, okay—here she is, napping on my bed.” You held up the screen to show a photo of Mimi sprawled out on her back, all fluffy fur and tiny paws in the air. “Tell me that’s not the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.”
Joel tilted his head, squinting at the photo like he was studying it carefully. “Alright, she’s cute,” he admitted, nodding. “Kinda got that ‘queen of the castle’ vibe, though.”
“She is the queen,” you said, laughing. “I basically live in her house, not the other way around.”
He leaned closer, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lemme see more.”
You swiped to the next picture. “Oh, this one’s from Halloween, I dressed her up as a pumpkin.” You burst out laughing, showing him a photo of Mimi looking unimpressed in her bright orange costume, one paw sticking out awkwardly. “She hated it.”
Joel let out a laugh, throwing his head back slightly before shaking it in disbelief. “A pumpkin? Poor girl looks like she’s plannin’ an escape.”
“She was so mad,” you said through your laughter, scrolling to another. “But she got over it after I gave her some treats.”
He reached out to gently take the phone, his thumb brushing yours in the process. He studied the picture, his grin turning into a full smile. “She’s got that ‘why do I put up with you’ face. Kinda reminds me of someone.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, teasing.
“Ha, ha,” you said, snatching the phone back, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a grin. “She’s the best. I don’t care what you say.”
Joel leaned back in his chair, the golden light of the sun catching in his eyes as he tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, looking so effortlessly charming it made your stomach flip. He took a slow swig of his beer, his gaze lingering on you.
“Well,” he drawled, the word lazy and teasing as it hung in the air. “She’s definitely a cute cat.” He paused, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. “Takes after her mother.”
Your heart stuttered at his words, the way he said it so casually yet with a warmth that felt like a soft caress. You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the heat creeping up your neck.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until Joel’s voice pulled you back into reality. It was low and soft, with just a hint of that Texan drawl, like a tether pulling you gently from your dream.
“Shit,” he murmured, his phone in his hand as he swiped at the screen. “Hang on.”
You cracked one eye open to see him putting the call on speaker.
“Joel, where the hell are you guys?” Tommy’s voice rang out, exasperated. “You’re gonna be late to the massage thing, and Maria’s about to freak.”
Joel leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “Relax, Tommy,” he drawled. “We’re by the pool. We’ll be there in five.”
There was a dramatic sigh on the other end of the line. “Alright, fine. Just hurry up,” Tommy said before hanging up.
Joel chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He turned to you, leaning over slightly to poke your arm. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
You blinked, sitting up slowly as the sun’s warmth wrapped around you. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice still groggy. “I forgot about that massage thing.”
Joel shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he said, his tone softer now. “We can stay here, or you can take a nap back in the room ’til dinner.”
The unexpected sweetness of his offer made your chest tighten. Joel, with his teasing and his smirks, had a quiet way of surprising you. When he wasn’t being a massive pain in the ass, he was... well, kind of amazing.
You shook your head, brushing away the thought. “No,” you said, sitting up straighter and adjusting your sunglasses. “We should go. Maria will revoke bridesmaid duty if I flake.”
Joel chuckled, standing and offering you a hand to help you up. “Well, look at that,” he said, his grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Me, the best man. You, the bridesmaid. Perfect little team, huh?”
You rolled your eyes, letting him pull you to your feet. “Alright, Miller,” you said, adjusting your towel as you smirked up at him. “Keep it moving before Maria comes down here and drags us both to the spa.”
Joel laughed, the sound deep and warm as he grabbed his things. “Whatever you say, boss.”
As the two of you walked back toward the hotel, his shoulder brushing against yours every so often, you couldn’t help but feel that Joel had a way of making even the smallest moments feel like something more.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
The couples massage was located on the hotel’s lower level, tucked away behind a serene courtyard surrounded by lush greenery and gently trickling fountains. The space was dimly lit with warm, golden light, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus.
Soft instrumental music played in the background, a mix of delicate piano notes and ocean waves, designed to lull anyone into relaxation. The atmosphere was undeniably tranquil, though the idea of “intimacy workshops” had you teetering on the edge of amusement.
You sat cross-legged on a plush mat, the fabric cool against your skin as you tried—and failed—to maintain a serene expression. Joel sat beside you, his broad frame and long limbs making him look out of place. To your other side, Maria and Tommy were already fully immersed, Maria’s posture perfect and Tommy nodding earnestly along with the instructor’s every word.
“Hello, couples,” the instructor began, her voice smooth and calming, though there was a distinct theatrical quality to it. “My name is Linda, and I’ll be guiding you through today’s couples massage and connection experience.”
You shot Joel a quick glance, and his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything, but the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth spoke volumes.
Linda continued, her tone dipping lower as if she were sharing a secret. “Before we begin, I’d like us to take a few moments to breathe and connect. This exercise will ground you before embarking on this intimate experience with your partner—an experience even more profound and vulnerable than sexual encounters.”
Joel shifted beside you, leaning just close enough that you could hear him mutter under his breath, “Oh, this’ll be good.”
Your lips twitched, and you bit down on a laugh as Linda began a series of deep breathing instructions. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, though you refused to look at him, knowing you’d lose it completely if you did.
“Now,” Linda said, her hands clasped reverently in front of her. “I’d like you to turn and face your partner.”
You shifted on the mat to face Joel, your knees brushing his as you settled in. His brown eyes met yours, warm but slightly hesitant, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this.
“Next,” the instructor continued, her voice almost hypnotic, “place your palm against your partner’s chest.” She demonstrated the motion, and you watched as Tommy and Maria eagerly mirrored her, their hands pressed against each other’s hearts, smiling like they were in a rom-com.
Joel hesitated, his hand hovering slightly as he glanced at you. “We don’t have to,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“It’s okay,” you assured him, offering a small smile.
You placed your palm on his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your hand sending an unexpected shiver through you. Joel’s breath hitched just slightly before he placed his hand on your chest. His movements were careful and deliberate as he tried—unsuccessfully—to avoid brushing against your breasts.
“Perfect,” the instructor cooed. “Just like that.”
You bit your lip, holding back a laugh at how absurdly intimate this was for two people who weren’t actually a couple.
“Now,” the instructor continued, her voice dipping even lower, “I want you to look your partner in the eyes. Really look at them. And I want you to tell them one thing you love about them.”
You couldn’t help it—you let out a quiet laugh, glancing down briefly before meeting Joel’s gaze again.
“You or me first?” he asked, his lips curving into a small smile that softened the tension in his jaw.
“You first,” you said, your voice light but steady, as if daring him to make it through without cracking a joke.
Joel chuckled softly and glanced down briefly, like he was gathering his thoughts, before his eyes lifted to meet yours again. This time, they were softer, more serious, and the weight of his gaze made your chest tighten.
“I love…” he started, his voice a little quieter now, “how passionate you are about the things you love.”
Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his tone cutting through the playful air between you.
Joel smiled faintly, “It’s... somethin’ special. You’re somethin’ special.”
You blinked, your heart doing an unsteady flip as his words settled over you. For a moment, you forgot you were in a room full of people. Forgot about the absurdity of the exercise, the spa robes, the instructor’s soothing voice.
The instructor’s voice broke the moment. “Now, let’s hear from the other partner.”
You cleared your throat softly, trying to steady yourself as Joel’s lips quirked up in that signature lopsided grin. “Your turn,” he teased, his voice lighter now but no less warm.
You took a deep breath, letting your fingers press just slightly against his chest as you looked him in the eye. “I love…” you began, your voice soft, “how steady you are. How you just... take care of people without even thinking about it.”
Joel’s grin faded into something gentler, his eyes searching yours.
“And I love,” you continued, a small, nervous laugh escaping, “how you manage to make me feel like everything’s going to be okay, even when we're doing stupid shit like this.”
Joel’s smile returned, but this time, it didn’t have the teasing edge you were used to. It was softer, quieter, and it lingered in a way that made your chest ache.
“Alright,” the instructor said, breaking the spell. “Beautiful work, everyone. Let’s move on to the next step.”
Joel’s hand fell away from yours, but not before his thumb brushed against your skin one last time, sending a small spark up your arm.
As the instructor continued with her directions, Joel leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur just for you. “Guess I was right,” he said.
“About what?” you whispered back, your brow furrowing.
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. “We do make a pretty good team.”
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
You sat perched on the massage bed, your legs dangling slightly, the fabric of the soft robe brushing against your knees as you glanced toward Joel. He stood a few feet away, his broad shoulders stiff, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe as if grounding himself.
Linda’s cheerful knock interrupted the silence, and she stepped into the room, her warm smile as calm and collected as ever.
“Hello, my couple,” she greeted, her hands clasped together. “You two said some lovely things during our meditation earlier. Truly heartwarming.”
You exchanged a quick glance with Joel, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. His mouth curved into something similar, but there was a tension in his jaw that betrayed him.
“Now,” Linda continued, her tone dipping into something softer, almost reverent, “I won’t be here while you massage each other. As I mentioned, this is an intimate, spiritually sexual experience—something meant to connect the two of you without distraction.”
Joel shifted slightly, his weight moving from one foot to the other, but his expression remained impassive.
“But,” Linda added, her gaze flicking to you, “I will give you some instructions before I leave.”
“So, you, darling,” she said, gesturing toward you, “will go first. Once I leave, you will remove your robe so that you are completely naked.”
The words hung in the air like a grenade. Joel choked on his own breath, a sharp cough escaping as his hand flew to his mouth.
You shot him a look—part exasperation, part mortification—but his ears were already tinged red, and he avoided your gaze like it might burn him.
Linda, blissfully unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed, continued smoothly, her attention now shifting to Joel. “And you, sir, will dip your hands into our coconut oil, freshly made right here at the hotel.”
Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze firmly fixed on the bottle of oil on the table as though it might offer him salvation.
“You’ll slowly rub the oil over your lover’s body,” Linda explained, her tone so serene it almost felt cruel. “Take your time, connect with her energy, and once you’re done, she will do the same for you.”
The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out entirely, replaced with something heavy and stifling.
Linda clasped her hands together once more, her smile bright. “Any questions?”
“No,” you and Joel said in unison, your voices flat and clipped, as if any further elaboration might tip you both over the edge.
“Wonderful,” she beamed. “Enjoy.”
And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving the door to click softly shut behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Joel shifted, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting to everything in the room except you. You stood from the chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you took a shaky breath.
“Well,” you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. “That was... thorough.”
Joel snorted softly, the sound low and nervous. “Yeah. Thorough’s one word for it.”
You bit your lip, glancing at the table where the coconut oil sat, the small bottle practically mocking you. “We don’t have to do this,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out. “If it’s too weird, we can just... tell Maria it was great and skip the whole thing.”
Joel shook his head, his hands falling to his hips as he finally looked at you. “No, no. It’s fine. I mean...” He hesitated, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “If you’re okay with it.”
Your chest tightened at his words, the way he always seemed to check on you first, even when he was just as thrown off. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’m okay with it.”
Joel nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Alright, then.”
You hesitated, biting your lip as you glanced at your bag in the corner of the room. “Um,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll just... put my bikini back on, if that’s okay?”
Joel’s head snapped up, and he nodded quickly, turning around so his back was to you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. “That’s fine. Take your time.” He closed his eyes for good measure, his broad shoulders stiff as he stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his robe.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” he added, the words coming out quieter than intended.
“Okay,” you murmured, slipping out of the robe and pulling your bikini from the bag. The fabric felt even smaller now, the strings tangling briefly as your hands trembled, but you managed to tie it securely before lowering yourself onto the massage bed.
“Alright,” you said, your voice steadying. “I’m ready.”
Joel turned around, and for a moment, he just stood there, his breath catching in his throat.
You were lying on your stomach, your head resting in the cradle of the massage bed, the curve of your back dipping perfectly into the arch of your hips.
The tiny bikini left little to the imagination, the soft lines of your body glowing under the warm light of the room. Your legs stretched out, bare and inviting, the faint sheen of the day’s sun still clinging to your skin.
“Christ,” Joel muttered under his breath, the sound barely audible but heavy with something unspoken.
The scrape of the oil bottle against the table broke the silence, and you turned your head slightly, your voice hesitant. “If it’s weird, Joel... we don’t have to do this.”
“No,” he said quickly, already pouring the oil into his hands. The scent of coconut filled the room, warm and heady. He rubbed his hands together, his palms slick and shiny, before stepping closer to you. “You deserve to feel good,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Lemme take care of you.”
“Okay,” you whispered, your body sinking into the bed as his words wrapped around you.
Joel hesitated for just a moment, his hands hovering above your shoulders, the heat of them palpable even before they touched your skin. When his palms finally met your back, you let out a small, involuntary sigh, the tension in your shoulders melting under his firm, deliberate touch.
His fingers pressed gently into your skin, moving in slow, steady circles as the oil warmed beneath his hands. The strokes were careful at first, almost tentative, but as he worked his way down the length of your spine, he grew bolder, his touch firm but never rough.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely breaking the quiet.
“Yeah,” you murmured, your eyes closing as you let yourself relax. “Feels good.”
Joel’s hands moved lower, tracing the dip of your waist before pausing just above your hips. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his focus on the massage and not the way your body responded to his touch.
“You’re all tense here,” he said, his thumbs pressing gently into the muscles at your lower back.
You let out a quiet laugh, muffled by the chair. “Probably from carrying Maria’s bags all day.”
Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, well, remind me to give her a hard time about that later.”
As he worked his way down to your legs, his hands slowed again, his touch almost reverent. His fingers glided over the curve of your thigh, his grip steady but light enough to send a shiver through you.
“You okay?” he asked again, his voice softer now, like a tender whisper in the space between you.
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, the word slipping from your lips as your breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sigh and a smile. His hands were moving lower now, fingertips brushing over the length of your calves, the pressure just right—enough to soothe, to make you feel weightless, like you were melting into the touch.
You sighed softly, the tension in your muscles melting away as his hands moved upward, past the curve of your thighs. His touch slowed as he reached the soft curve of your ass, his palms hesitating, hovering just above your skin. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, a crack in his otherwise steady confidence.
“It’s okay,” you murmured, your voice muffled by the towel but still soft, reassuring. “You can touch me.”
Joel didn’t answer. Instead, you felt the pause in his movements, the faint hitch in his breath. A beat later, he nodded—not that you could see it, but the gesture was almost palpable in the quiet room. Then his hands resumed their work, more deliberate now, his touch gaining confidence as he warmed the coconut oil between his fingers before pressing it into your skin.
His hands kneaded gently, working against the plush curve of your ass with a focus that had your breath catching. The oil slicked his palms, his thumbs pressing in circles that left heat blooming across your skin.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and thick, carrying a rasp that gave away his attempt to stay composed.
“Mhmm,” you hummed, a soft sound of affirmation as you melted further into the table. The feeling of his touch was too good to put into words, his hands coaxing every ounce of tension from your body.
Joel’s throat cleared, the sound subtle but unmistakable. Even without seeing his face, you could tell—he was flustered. The confidence in his hands was undeniable, but it wasn’t unaffected. “You’re, uh… good at this,” you murmured, your voice soft, carrying that teasing lilt he always seemed to draw out of you.
Joel chuckled, a low, almost sheepish sound. “Yeah, well... I’ve had my fair share of massages,” he replied, though there was something strained in his voice, a crack in his usual charm.
“Course you have,” you replied, a soft laugh muffled by the towel beneath your cheek.
Joel’s hands stilled for a beat, the faintest hesitation in his movements before he gave you a light tap on the curve of your ass—a gentle, playful signal he was done. He stepped back, wiping his hands on the towel with deliberate slowness. “Alright,” he said, his voice finding its usual teasing edge. “That’ll be forty bucks.”
You sat up, the warmth from his hands still lingering on your skin as you gave him a mock glare. “Wow, Miller. You drive a hard bargain.”
Joel shrugged, though you didn’t miss how his face had reddened—not from the sun this time. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding interest in the corner of the room.
“Well,” Joel muttered after a pause, his voice a little rougher, “Linda wasn’t wrong. This... this is a helluva lot more intimate than I was expectin’.”
You smirked, shaking your head as you adjusted your robe. “It is meant for couples, Joel.”
His laugh was quiet, but it carried that boyish charm that made your chest ache in ways you couldn’t explain. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he admitted, his hand gripping the towel tightly as if grounding himself.
You tilted your head, catching the edge of his silhouette as he stood to the side. “Your turn?” you asked, your voice tinged with challenge, even as your breath hitched.
Joel exhaled, the sound coming out heavier than usual. “Yeah,” he said, though his voice was laced with something deeper, something just shy of restraint. But as he reached to shrug off his robe, the sharp sound of his phone ringing shattered the moment, slicing through the serene atmosphere like a knife.
“Shit,” Joel muttered, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the phone like it was a personal betrayal.
“You brought your phone into our romantic couples massage?” you teased, raising a brow even as you fought back a grin.
Joel groaned, shaking his head in apology as he read the screen. “It’s work,” he said, apologetically. “I’ll be right back, alright?” His gaze lingered, even though you weren’t looking directly at him, his concern evident in the warmth of his tone. “You okay in here?”
You nodded, adjusting your robe as you lay back down. “I’ll manage,” you smiled.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of blissful indulgence. After the massages, you’d all retreated back to the suite, letting the warm, languid haze of relaxation linger as you lounged until dinner. That evening brought another spread of incredible food, paired with cocktails so colorful and ridiculous you half-expected umbrellas and sparklers to spontaneously combust.
Now, hours later, the four of you had settled in the suite’s spacious living room. The night had softened into something cozy, everyone in their pajamas, legs draped lazily over furniture like you’d been here forever. Maria and Tommy were being sickeningly cute, giggling and whispering as though they were the only ones in the room. You couldn’t even pretend to roll your eyes anymore—it was almost too sweet to ruin with sarcasm.
Joel, seated next to you on the plush sectional, was a different story entirely. As you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, you felt a nudge against your leg. His finger.
“What?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. And there he was. Why did he have to look so good even now, sitting around in sweats like it was nothing? His dark hair was tousled from the shower, drying in lazy waves that made him look annoyingly effortless. His face held that crooked smile, the one that whispered he knew exactly how charming he was.
“Nothin’,” he said, the word dripping with an easy drawl. But the gleam in his eye betrayed him. He leaned closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that sent a flicker of something through your chest. “Got an idea.”
Before you could even ask what he meant, he stood, clapping his hands together as if he’d just unveiled some grand revelation. “Alright, listen up,” he called, his voice commanding enough to even break Maria and Tommy out of their loved-up haze. “Let’s play a game.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, already sensing this was going to be interesting. Joel had that mischievous glint—the one that promised he was about to be the most entertaining (and insufferable) man in the room.
You smirked, leaning back into the couch as you folded your arms. “Alright, Miller. What’s this genius game of yours?”
“Never Have I Ever,” he revealed, his voice rich with amusement.
Maria immediately let out a groan, her head falling dramatically against Tommy’s shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. Across the room, Tommy looked as though Joel had just announced the most cryptic game in existence. His brows knit together in utter confusion. “Which one’s that?” he asked, looking to Maria for clarification.
Maria sighed, straightening up just enough to explain. “The one where you have to drink if you’ve done whatever the person says.”
Tommy nodded and Maria eventually admitted defeat. “Fine,” she said, smirking at Tommy. “Let’s do it. And when Joel gets embarrassed about some deep, dark secret, I’ll be the one laughing.”
Joel just laughed, that low, rolling chuckle that always seemed to stir something in the air. “Don’t worry, Maria. I ain’t embarrassed by nothin’.”
His words hung in the space between you, and for just a moment, you swore they carried a weight meant just for you. Whatever this game was, Joel had already decided to win—and somehow, you had the distinct feeling you were his favorite opponent.
Joel had stretched himself out across the couch directly opposite you, legs sprawled casually, one arm draped over the side. His fingers idly tapped against the armrest, the faint rhythm keeping time with the teasing grin that hadn’t left his face since the game started.
You, on the other hand, were curled up on the couch, one leg tucked beneath you as you balanced a throw pillow against your side. The soft lighting of the suite painted everything in warm, golden hues, casting Joel in a glow that only made his messy hair and lazy smirk look even more unfairly good.
Maria leaned forward from her spot beside Tommy, perched on the edge of the couch like she was about to unveil a scandalous secret. “Alright,” she declared, clapping her hands together with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’ll start.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced between the three of you, clearly savoring the attention. “Never have I ever… bought an engagement ring.” Her voice was sweet, her tone feather-light, but it was clear she was watching Tommy like a hawk.
You couldn’t help but laugh, a quick, startled sound, and Joel joined in almost instantly, his low chuckle rolling over the room. Across from you, Tommy froze, his jaw tightening as he blinked at Maria like she’d just thrown him into a firing squad.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Joel interrupted, holding up a hand in mock protest. His grin widened as he shook his head at her. “No playing dirty Maria."
Maria pouted, though it was obvious she wasn’t even remotely sorry. She leaned over to press a quick kiss to Tommy’s cheek, her smile softening just enough to make him sigh in relief. “Fine,” she relented, sitting back with a playful shrug. “No fun, though.”
Maria tapped her finger against her lips, her eyes narrowing with mock concentration. “Okay, okay. Let me think of something good. Hmm…” Her gaze drifted upward dramatically, as if the perfect idea might be hiding somewhere on the ceiling. Then, a mischievous spark lit her expression. “Alright, I’ve got it. Never have I ever… gotten a speeding ticket.”
The room erupted into movement. Without hesitation, Tommy, Joel, and you all grabbed your drinks and took a shot.
Maria gasped, clutching her chest as if the revelation physically wounded her. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, her voice heavy with dramatic flair. She leaned back against the couch, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m surrounded by criminals. Actual delinquents.”
Joel snorted, the sound warm and genuine, before pointing a finger at her. “Don’t act so innocent, Maria. Bet you’ve sweet-talked your way outta plenty of tickets.”
Maria smirked, leaning her head on Tommy’s shoulder with a sigh. “That’s the beauty of being me, Joel. I don’t need to break the law. I just make everyone else do it for me.”
You laughed, shaking your head, but Joel’s attention had shifted again. His gaze flicked back to you, lingering with that quiet intensity that always made your pulse quicken. “What about you?” he asked, the question easy but his tone soft. “What’d you do to earn yours?”
You rolled your eyes, waving him off. “Nothing exciting. Speeding on an empty road late at night. Wasn’t paying attention.”
Joel tilted his head, his grin turning softer, like he was imagining it. “Let me guess. Windows down, music up, thinkin’ you owned the road?”
You flushed, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “What, do you think I’m in a car commercial?”
Before Joel could respond, Tommy leaned forward, setting his drink down on the table with a deliberate thud. “Alright,” he said, straightening up like he was about to make a grand declaration. “So, I just say somethin’ I haven’t done before?”
“Yes,” Maria replied with a roll of her eyes, her tone dripping with playful exasperation. “It’s not that complicated, Tommy.”
“Alright then,” Tommy said, his grin turning sly as he glanced around the group. He hesitated just long enough to make everyone squirm before finally saying, “Never have I ever… had a threesome.”
The room fell silent for a beat. Your cheeks burned instantly, but your glass remained firmly in your lap, untouched. You didn’t dare glance at anyone, though you could feel Maria’s amused gaze sweep across the group like a spotlight.
“Jesus, Tommy,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course, you’d ask that. God, you’re insufferable.” She didn’t raise her own glass, though her smirk said she wasn’t entirely shocked by the question.
Your eyes darted toward Joel without thinking, and there he was—cool as ever, downing the shot like it was no big deal. The way his throat moved as he swallowed drew your gaze for a moment longer than you intended, and when his eyes met yours, there was a flicker of something in his expression. Mischief.
Maria caught it too, her eyebrows shooting up. “Well, well, well,” she drawled, her attention now fully on Joel. “Do tell, Miller.”
Joel shrugged, the movement slow and deliberate, as though this was the most boring revelation in the world. “What’s there to tell?” he said, setting his glass down on the table with a faint clink. “I was in college once.”
Tommy let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “College, huh? That your excuse for everything?”
Joel smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a way that felt maddeningly deliberate. “Ain’t an excuse,” he said simply. “Just a fact.”
You rolled your eyes, finally finding your voice. “College Joel sounds wild,” you quipped, hoping the humor would help you ignore the faint flutter in your chest.
“Wild?” Joel repeated, his voice dropping slightly, that teasing lilt still present. “Nah, just… open to new experiences.”
You nearly choked on your own breath, your cheeks warming further. Maria snorted, clearly entertained. “Alright, lover boy, settle down,” she teased, giving Tommy a playful nudge. “Not everyone’s interested in reliving their glory days.”
Joel just chuckled, his gaze flicking back to you for a brief second—enough to send a flicker of heat through your chest. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant just for you. “I keep things pretty tame these days.”
Your lips twitched, threatening a smile, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back into the couch, refusing to acknowledge the way his words had your heart racing just a little too fast.
Joel leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lazily against the armrest as his gaze flicked to you. “Alright,” he said, that unmistakable drawl curling around his words. “Your turn, roomie.”
You hesitated, your drink balanced precariously in your hands as you glanced around the group. What urged you to ask the next question, you weren’t entirely sure.
“Never have I ever…” you started, your voice softer than you intended. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening before you forced the words out. “…cheated on my partner.”
The room went still, the playful energy from earlier cooling into something quieter. Everyone exchanged glances, searching for the first telltale movement. Maria’s brow furrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn’t reach for her drink. Tommy fidgeted with his glass, his fingers tapping the rim, but he didn’t raise it either.
Your eyes drifted instinctively to Joel. He hadn’t moved—his drink rested untouched on the table beside him, though his expression had shifted. The teasing smirk was gone, replaced by something subtler, quieter. His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, it felt like the room had disappeared entirely.
“Well,” Maria said finally, her voice breaking the silence. She let out a breathy laugh, the sound more nervous than amused. “Guess we’re all saints tonight.”
Tommy chuckled, the tension easing just enough for him to lean back against the couch. “Speak for yourself. I just don’t have the energy to juggle that kind of drama.”
Maria rolled her eyes, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. “That’s because I’d kill you if you tried.”
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
As the hour wore on and the room grew warmer with the haze of alcohol and laughter, Maria leaned forward again, her cheeks flushed from too many drinks and her grin entirely unfiltered. “Alright,” she said, giggling as she held her glass aloft. “Never have I ever…” She trailed off, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as though the walls had ears. “…had sex in public.”
The words hung in the air, ridiculous in their delivery yet potent enough to catch everyone’s attention. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her right, before glancing instinctively across the room—straight at Joel.
His dark eyes met yours, holding your gaze for a second longer than necessary. And then, as if compelled by some unspoken agreement, you both raised your glasses and took a sip.
His eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he watched you. You lowered your glass slowly, your expression unreadable as you caught the knowing smirk curling at the corner of his lips. Across the room, Maria and Tommy exchanged looks, their jaws dropping in perfect sync.
“Really?” Maria said, incredulous, her gaze darting between you and Joel like she was trying to piece together a puzzle she hadn’t known existed. “You guys? That adventurous?”
You shrugged, leaning back into the couch with what you hoped passed for nonchalance. “What?” you said, your tone light but your pulse racing. “You guys that vanilla?”
Tommy groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Maria’s scared of gettin’ arrested,” he muttered, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder.
“I am not!” Maria protested, though her voice carried a guilty edge. “I’m just… cautious! There’s a difference.”
Joel chuckled, the sound low and lazy, drawing your attention back to him. He had that look again—the one that made you feel like he was two steps ahead of everyone in the room, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking on you with an intensity that sent heat crawling up your neck.
“So,” he drawled, his voice slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every word. “Where exactly we talkin’,? Public covers a lotta ground.”
Your breath caught at the way his eyes lingered on you, heavy with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. His question hung between you like a dare, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he waited for your answer.
You shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the way his gaze pinned you in place made it nearly impossible. “You first,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected.
He chuckled again, leaning back in his chair with an ease that only added to the tension. “Fair enough,” he said, his fingers tapping idly against the rim of his glass. “Parking lot. Middle of the night. No one around… or so we thought.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was an edge to his tone that made your stomach flip.
“Your turn, roomie,” he said, his voice softening.
You hesitated for a moment, considering your options, before deciding you weren’t going to let him win this little game. “A rooftop,” you said simply.
Joel’s eyebrows rose, genuine intrigue flashing across his face. “A rooftop?” he repeated, the drawl in his voice making the words sound heavier than they should. “Well, now I’m impressed.”
You shrugged again, pretending his reaction didn’t send a thrill down your spine. “It had a view,” you added, your tone light, though your heart was racing.
Maria’s jaw dropped as she stared at you in disbelief. “A view?” she repeated, laughing. “What the hell—were you guys starring in some indie film?”
“Hey,” you said, raising your hands in mock defense, the grin on your face belying the heat already rising in your cheeks. “Some of us like a little risk.”
Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile that sent your pulse into overdrive. He tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he was only now starting to piece together. “And to think,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing, “I thought you were a good girl.”
The words hit you like a jolt, and you swore the air in the room shifted. Your laugh faltered, your expression softening as his gaze held yours—steady, unflinching, and far too intense for the playful tone he’d taken. Heat flushed your skin, your cheeks burning under the weight of his words. “Guess you don’t know me that well,” you shot back, your voice quieter now, almost breathless.
His grin deepened, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name but couldn’t look away from either. The space between you felt charged, every glance and pause stretching into something heavier, something unspoken.
“Alright,” Tommy cut in abruptly, breaking the moment with a question that came out far louder than necessary. “Never have I ever… faked an orgasm.”
The tension snapped like a rubber band, and you laughed, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. Maria groaned, shooting him a look that could only be described as incredulous, but Tommy didn’t seem fazed. He leaned back, his drink in hand, clearly directing the question at his girlfriend.
You raised your glass without hesitation, taking a deliberate sip. Maria followed suit, rolling her eyes as she did. Across the room, Joel and Tommy remained still, their drinks untouched as they looked between you and Maria.
“What?” you said, shrugging as you set your glass down. “It’s part of the package that comes with being a woman.”
Joel’s dark eyes shifted to you, his expression unreadable for a beat. And then, with the same effortless drawl that always seemed to unravel you, he said, “Think you’re sleepin’ with the wrong men sweetheart.”
The casual delivery of his words only made them hit harder, your stomach flipping in response. You met his gaze, half tempted to shoot back a witty retort, but the way he looked at you—like he was waiting for you to prove him wrong—left you speechless. Your lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out, and his grin only grew.
Tommy, thankfully, was too distracted by Maria to notice. “Wait, wait,” he stammered, his brows knitting together as he turned to her. “With me?”
Maria shrugged, clearly unbothered by the question. “Well… maybe in the beginning,” she admitted, her voice light, though the color in her cheeks betrayed her. “But then, you know, I told you what I liked, and it got better.” She trailed off with a small smile, patting his leg as though that explanation would suffice.
Tommy looked positively scandalized, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite decide how to respond. “I… Jesus, Maria…”
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you stood, your drink still in hand. “Alright, alright,” you said, your voice cutting through the awkward energy like a blade. “I think we’ve learned enough about each other for one night.”
Maria laughed, waving you off as though you’d ruined her fun. “Oh, come on, don’t act so prudish now.”
“I’m not being prudish,” you shot back, arching a brow at her before turning toward the rest of the group. “I just don’t think I can handle any more of this conversation.”
Joel followed suit, standing up and stretching lazily, his movements unhurried and easy, like he had all the time in the world. “Bedtime?” he asked, his voice warm and low as he looked at you.
“Yeah,” you nodded, surprised by how soft the question sounded coming from him. It caught you off guard—sweet in a way you hadn’t expected.
“Alright, let’s go,” he said, draping an arm over your shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His touch was casual but warm, sending a spark of heat through you as he guided you toward your shared room. “Goodnight,” he called back to Maria and Tommy, who were still sprawled out on the couch.
⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°
The suite was quiet now, the late hour wrapping everything in a soft stillness as you stood in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You leaned against the counter, the rhythmic sound of bristles against enamel the only noise, when the door suddenly opened behind you.
“Hey?!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled by the toothpaste in your mouth. “What are you doing?”
And of course, it was Joel—shirtless, sauntering into the bathroom like he owned the place. Which, technically, he kind of did, given that you were sharing the space. But still.
“I’m brushing my teeth,” he said simply, grabbing his toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste onto it, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
You huffed, your indignation melting into a bemused smile as he began brushing, standing shoulder to shoulder with you in front of the mirror. You caught his reflection, his gaze flickering to yours, and for a moment, the quiet intimacy of it made your breath catch.
“You can’t just walk in here like that,” you said, your voice laced with mock annoyance as you bumped him lightly with your hip. “I could’ve been naked.”
Joel didn’t miss a beat, his voice muffled by toothpaste. “I wouldn’t have minded.”
You froze, your cheeks burning as his words hung in the air, casual but heavy with implication. He didn’t even look at you, his attention still fixed on the mirror, but the corner of his mouth twitched with the faintest hint of a smirk.
You spat out your toothpaste, rinsing your mouth hurriedly to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning to leave the bathroom, but before you could make it out, Joel’s hand shot out, wrapping gently around your arm and pulling you back.
“Hey, hey,” he said, his voice softer now, his touch firm but careful.
“What, Joel?” you asked, your irritation more for show than anything else.
“You’re sunburnt,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as his thumb pressed gently against the bridge of your nose. The touch was warm, almost tender, and you froze under the unexpected intimacy of it. “You need more sunscreen tomorrow,” he added, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Oh,” you murmured, caught off guard. Your voice came out smaller than you’d intended, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking up at him as his hand dropped away.
Joel spat out his toothpaste, rinsing his mouth quickly before following you into the bedroom. The silence between you felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. You climbed into bed, pulling the sheets over yourself, and turned to find him leaning against the doorway, watching you with an expression that was impossible to read.
He crossed the room slowly, settling onto his side of the bed, his movements unhurried as he adjusted the pillow beneath his head. Then, his voice broke the quiet, low and quiet in the darkness.
“Were you telling the truth during that game?”
Your heart stuttered, and you turned your head toward him, the question catching you off guard. His gaze was steady, searching, as if he was weighing your every move, your every breath.
“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft, though you already knew exactly what he was asking.
“About… not cheatin’ on anyone.” His words were careful, deliberate, but there was something raw in the way he said them—like he wasn’t just making conversation.
“I was telling the truth,” you said, your voice firmer this time, though your chest tightened under his scrutiny. “Why?”
Joel was quiet for a moment, his eyes dark and thoughtful as they lingered on you. “Just wanted to know,” he said finally, his tone light but his expression anything but.
You exhaled softly, the tension between you palpable in the quiet of the room. “And what about you?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
He smiled faintly, his gaze softening as he leaned back against the pillows. “I was tellin’ the truth too,” he said simply. And yet, the weight of his answer lingered, like there was more he wasn’t saying.
The soft light from the bedside lamp painted shadows across his features, accentuating the scruff of his beard, the faint curve of his lips, and the honey in his eyes that seemed to draw you in without effort.
He shifted then, turning to face you fully, propping himself up on one elbow. The way his hair fell slightly across his forehead and the way his dark eyes studied you made him look effortlessly handsome, almost boyish—but the intensity in his expression reminded you there was nothing boyish about Joel Miller. “Have you ever been cheated on?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but there was an edge of something raw beneath the question.
You turned to face him, mirroring his position, your elbow digging lightly into the mattress as you studied him in return. “Yeah,” you said softly, your voice carrying the faintest thread of vulnerability.
Joel’s jaw tightened for a moment, his gaze flickering as though the answer hit closer to home than he’d expected. “You?” you asked, your voice quieter now, unsure if you wanted to hear his answer.
He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah,” he replied simply. The word was heavy, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Fuckin’ sucks,” he added after a moment, his voice tinged with frustration.
“Yeah, it does,” you agreed, your tone softer, though the memory of it stung like a distant ache.
Joel’s gaze lingered on you, something tender flickering in his eyes. “Well,” he said, his voice lightening slightly as a small, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Their loss.”
You laughed at the simplicity of his words, though the warmth in your chest spread faster than you expected. “You think so?” you teased, your smile breaking through despite yourself.
“Definitely,” Joel said, his tone firm, like it wasn’t even up for debate. His eyes held yours, steady and sure, and for a moment, the humor in his words melted into something deeper.
And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, Joel tilted his head slightly, his voice dipping lower. “And, uh…” he began, a small smirk playing on his lips. “The other questions—you were tellin’ the truth?”
Your brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before the realization dawned. Your cheeks flushed at the confessions from the game – rooftop sex and faking orgasms – but still you nodded. “Yes, Joel,” you replied, your tone exasperated but amused.
Joel leaned back slightly, his smirk growing into a full grin. “Bet it was the one who cheated who couldn’t make you cum,” he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.
“Joel!” you exclaimed, sitting up slightly, your eyes wide as you stared at him in shock. Your heart pounded in your chest, your cheeks blazing as his words sank in.
“What?” Joel said with a shrug, hugging the pillow tighter against his chest as he watched you, entirely too pleased with himself. “Every time I’m with a girl, I make sure she, you know…” He lowered his voice into a whisper, clearly teasing you for your reaction to the word, “…cums first.”
Your jaw dropped, your face burning so hot you thought you might combust on the spot. “Joel,” you hissed, your voice caught somewhere between disbelief and mortification. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
Joel, of course, was completely unfazed. If anything, the flush creeping up your neck only seemed to spur him on. He leaned back on the bed, one arm tucked under his head, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who’d just dropped that bombshell.
“You’re all red,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “For someone who’s had sex on a rooftop, I wouldn’t think you’d get this flustered. Don’t act so innocent.”
“Oh my God,” you murmured, covering your face with both hands as though that might somehow make this entire interaction disappear.
Joel’s chuckle was low and rich, rumbling through the air like a warm summer storm. “I’m just sayin’,” he teased, tilting his head slightly as his gaze never wavered from you.
You took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Well,” you said after a moment, your voice steadier now, though you still refused to meet his eyes. “Some guys don’t have the same… sexual mindset as you, Joel.”
That got his attention. His eyebrows lifted slightly, his grin growing even more amused. “Sexual mindset?” he repeated, his tone dripping with curiosity. “Do tell.”
“I’m serious,” you said, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You shifted on the bed, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as you tried to explain. “In a perfect world, sure, you always, you know…” You paused, struggling to find the words.
“Climax,” Joel supplied smoothly, his voice casual, though the way his lips twitched made it clear he was thoroughly enjoying this.
You groaned, throwing him a glare. “Yes, fine. Climax. But sometimes that doesn’t happen. That’s just life.”
Joel shook his head, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious as a scoff escaped him. “You’re so wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You blinked at him, “What?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “You’re the sex guru now, telling me I’m wrong?”
“Damn right, I am,” Joel replied without missing a beat, propping himself up on one elbow to face you directly. The soft glow of the bedside lamp caught the curve of his jaw, the flicker of intensity in his dark eyes. They locked onto yours, steady and unflinching, the playful edge in his voice shifting into something deeper, weightier. “It ain’t just about sex. It’s about listenin’. Payin’ attention to her, the way her body responds. And, you know, communicating if somethin’ doesn’t feel good.”
You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded into the background. It wasn’t just the way he said it, like it was the simplest truth in the world—it was the conviction in his voice, the quiet confidence that hinted at experience, understanding. Your mind wandered briefly, unbidden, to the women who’d been lucky enough to have him like that, to be cared for in the way he described. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening.
“So,” Joel said, his grin returning, softer this time but no less teasing. “What’s the deal? You were datin’ this asshole who couldn’t make you… climax,” he said, the word slow and deliberate, his eyes glinting with amusement. “How’d you, you know, relieve all that tension?”
“Joel,” you groaned, pulling a pillow over your face as heat rushed to your cheeks.
Joel laughed, the sound low and warm, rumbling through the quiet room. “C’mon now,” he said, nudging your side. “I’m curious.”
You sighed into the pillow, debating whether to say anything at all. But somehow, his easy grin and relaxed demeanor loosened something in you. “I… I had a toy,” you admitted finally, your voice muffled as you refused to look at him.
Joel froze for half a second before letting out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “No way,” he said, incredulous. “He must’ve been really shit if you had to go out and buy a toy.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, still hiding behind the pillow.
But Joel wasn’t done. He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his grin widening into something downright smug. “Poor girl,” he said, his voice tinged with mock pity. “Deservin’ better than that.”
Your hand shot out to shove his shoulder, but your embarrassment only seemed to amuse him more. “So what,” you said, emboldened now, “you’re telling me every girl who’s been with you has… you know.”
Joel didn’t miss a beat. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’.”
“Come on,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Statistically, that cannot be true.”
He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Darlin’, you can’t fake that kinda pleasure.”
You made a face, skeptical and a little exasperated, but he didn’t stop. His voice lowered slightly, turning serious again, though the teasing edge still lingered. “I’m serious. It’s really not that hard. Every time I’m with a girl, she…” His grin returned, slow and deliberate. “…climaxes. More than once.”
You stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and begrudging admiration. “Wow,” you replied finally, your tone flat but your heart racing. “They must be doing something different in Texas.”
Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he shifted closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Well, you know what they say…”
“Huh?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the proximity suddenly making it hard to think.
“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” he said, his grin widening into something downright devilish.
Your jaw dropped, a laugh bursting out of you despite yourself as you shoved his shoulder again. “Oh my God,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”
Joel just leaned back, watching you with a satisfied smile, like he’d won something you hadn’t even realized was a game. But then his expression softened, the teasing edge melting away into something warmer, something far more sincere.
“But seriously,” he said, turning slightly to face you. His tone was low, thoughtful, the kind of voice that made you stop and listen. “You deserve the best. Someone who gets you, who takes care of you. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ that.”
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. They weren’t flirtatious or laced with mischief—just simple, raw honesty that hit deeper than you expected. You swallowed hard, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to find the right words.
“Thanks, Joel,” you said finally, your voice softer now. You managed a small smile, the sincerity in his words settling into your chest. “You too.”
A flicker of something passed through his expression—something almost vulnerable, though it was gone as quickly as it came. He gave you a faint smile, one that felt quieter, more intimate. “Goodnight, roomie,” he said, his voice soft, almost a murmur.
“Goodnight, Joel,” you replied, the words catching slightly in your throat.
You turned over, pulling the blanket higher, but you couldn’t shake the weight of the moment. Even as the room grew quiet and the only sound was the faint rustle of sheets, Joel’s words lingered in your mind, warm and steady, as if he’d etched them directly onto your heart.
[Main characters: Mikael Blomkvist x Reader (See author’s note!)
Plot: With the pressures of work getting to you, a retreat is in order but when the isolation starts to get to you, you end up going for a little wander and meeting a stranger.
[A/N: Finally, it’s here! I’m not sure if this might be ANOTHER series? Wrote this ages ago and thought, hey why not? In all fairness, this is my favourite non-Bond Daniel character so I thought it’s time to appreciate Mikael in all his glory. Also I found myself listening to Runaway by Aurora and You Would Have to Lose Your Mind by the Barr Brothers to get reinspired into finishing this! These are great mood setters! Also a masterlist will be released soon. I hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: Little mentions of mental health, swearing, nothing major :)) ]
Two weeks. That’s what you were given for a retreat. Not necessarily ‘given’, you essentially backed your manager into a corner and requested the break that was promised yet long overdue. So you chose to go to escape to the little isolated woodland, miles away in Northern Sweden - Kiruna. You weren’t specific as to why you chose the small town, you just wanted to save your mental health. The dreary offices in Central London wore you down. This was a last resort. Once you arrived in Stockholm, you took a day’s worth of rest, knowing the next day of travel was going to be treacherous. Boarding the train from the Swedish capital, you hadn’t realised the several train journeys would take so much out of you. On the final train, you managed to sit beside the window, admiring the white blankets of snow that filled the plains, heading towards Kiruna. The natural green lights that gleamed in the midnight blue sky. The wildlife had even been breath-taking. You never felt so connected - at one even, with nature, simply by looking through a window. You started to notice, less and less people boarded the trains the further north you travelled. Now, there were a few couples and families, all seemingly locals. A man sat across you, immersing himself in work, scribbling on his notepad. You felt bad for him. The whole point of coming this far was to get away. Not throw yourself into the deep end.
Upon your arrival, you opted for a cosy little cabin, which was incredible by your standards considering it was the only thing you could afford at such a short notice. This is what you needed. Solitude. As a writer, the pressures from working only started to build when deadlines were given and after not knowing what it was like to take a break after your first promotion, things started to get out of hand. Your publishers needed you to meet deadlines, so did your agents…and so did your readers. So you thought, fuck it. You needed to run far away. Get out…and this was the place you had in mind.
someone please PLEASE write a fic of where reader interrupts him, sat on his lap and they make out with his freaking glasses on and he pulls away to take it off and continues to make out but then she puts it back on him !!!
pairings - draco malfoy/reader’s | brother’s best friend!au |
sypnosis : when your older brother's best friend finds out about your date with Diggory—he decides to give you a piece of his mind.
word count : 3.4k
warnings: smut, established siblings, weed, choking, pet names, minor girl fight, size kink, not proofread so sorry
authors note: the reader is 18 in high school and graduates in less than a few months!! no minors are sexual in this one-shot. draco is 19 and only one year older than the reader. this was fun to write but lowk got lazy at the end. hope you all enjoy its very smutty.
You walked alongside your class mate, Ginny Weasley—a fourth year just like you. A Gryffindor with fiery bright red hair and the personality of a lion, freckled marks littering her nose. She had been your newfound best friend, usually sticking within your own house which had been Slytherin up until recently.
Some drama that had occurred in third year, so you began to seek friendships from other houses as well. You never really cared, but your older brother insisted you hang out with your true kind. Whatever that meant.
Ginny paused as they strolled past the Great Hall. “Say, _ _—Oh!”
You felt someone run into you from behind, a brute force slamming into you full force. Your knees wobbled and collapsed as your palms shielded your face, stinging as they slapped the concrete floor. Blinking with wide eyes, your eyes snapped up to meet a pair of narrowed blue eyes.
“Parkinson,” Ginny called from behind you, storming past you. Your arm shot to reach for her wrist as you held her back. “Chill Gin, it’s cool.”
The dark haired girl smirked, crossing her thin arms over her chest, where her tits practically spilled out. You almost gagged at the sight as Pansy chuckled,
“Sorry, _ _. Didn’t see ya.”
“Bullshit!”
“She’s not even worth it. Come on,” You rolled your eyes, thankful Ginny had your back in the back of your mind. Pansy’s smirk faded as you spun around, reaching out and shoving you from behind. You fell forward once again, Ginny calling out your name as she kneeled beside you. Both of you send the laughing girl a glare.
“What is your problem?” You hissed, standing up on your feet. “I haven’t—“
“He broke up with me. Neville broke up with me—for you. You fucking cunt. And now, I’m going to beat you and that Gryffindor’s ass.”
Your brows knit together. Neville? But you hadn’t spoken to him in months, ever since last year. When he had broken up with you for Pansy Parkinson.
A smirk crept onto your lips, still on the ground. Her cheeks reddened at your next words, “Huh. Isn’t that ironic.”
“You bitch,” she gritted her teeth before slapping you across the face. Your eyes widened as you smiled in shock, not believing that this whore was fighting you over a man. When you had found out that Neville, who you dated for a solid two months, decided to cheat on you with Pansy Parkinson. The new, shiny exchange student from Beauxbaton Academy. She spoke French and was the only girl to show off cleavage.
She had been the talk of most of the boys in each house for months.
Apparently, the French liked to get down and under. Real quick. Half the boys went through her by the time summer rolled around. You remember your older brother mentioning her, saying if his best friend hadn’t fucked her before he graduated then he most definitely would have “tapped”. All he had earned from you was an eye roll.
“You crazy slag!” Ginny shouted, but before she could step in—a deep voice interrupted.
As you stood from the ground, picking up your book that you had dropped, you froze before quickly facing the voice. A warmness flourished in your chest as a familiar smirk was given to Pansy, by a blonde Slytherin that had graduated last year. Your brother, Alex , stood beside him, “Parkinson. Please don’t tell me your shoving my baby sis because of one of your personal wankers.“
Draco chuckled to himself, his head shaking before shoving his hands into his pockets. His hair had been combed to the side, a single strand falling over those piercing eyes of his. A black long sleeve tightened around his muscular back, a pair of black slacks to matched. You could almost smell his cologne from here.
“Can it, Waters,” she snapped at your brother, shifting her scowl into a smile when your sights landed on Draco.
“Draco—I didn’t know you were back. I would have looked for you.”
“Exactly why I didn’t,” he replied quietly, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat.
Parkinson blushed a deep red, looking away from Draco. Ginny threw her a brow. “Didn’t you and Longbottom just break up?”
“Longbottom, Pans? The kid looks like a human piranha—bless his soul,” Alex chuckled, but you shook your head.
“No, he looks better. He got surgery.”
“No wa—!”
“Both of you shut up!” Pansy spat at both your brother and you, causing you all to just look at her with expecting looks. After her eyes swept back and forth across all of yours, she groaned before spinning around and stomping away. Alex tilted his head at her, “What’s with her?”
“Neville broke up with her for _ _,” Ginny replied, an knowing smile on her face as she nudged you. “But she happens to fancy someone else.”
“I would be mad to if a bloke that looked like that broke up—“
“Who?”
Your eyes found Draco’s. He was looking at you, with something new flickering in his eyes. His jaw was clenched as a soft smile played on his lips for you. Ginny nor Alex responded, waiting for you to respond.
“Urm, just some kid I met at a party.”
You were talking about Cedric Diggory. He was the golden boy of Hufflepuff, with those dreamy eyes and charming smile. Your heart soared whenever he passed you in the halls, sending you his specialty wink. You had to bite your lip to hold back a smile for the rest of the day, almost drawing blood. And last night, you had both texted non-stop.
Tonight you were supposed to meet him in Hogsmeade. Spring Break was coming up, which is why your brother had came in the first place. You always spent Spring Break with your brother—and Draco just always happened to be with him. They were inseparable. Ever since first year.
“You go out with him yet?” Draco asked another question, narrowing his eyes. His head tilted as he studied you.
“No.”
“But she’s meant to tonight,” Ginny added, throwing an arm around you. You threw her a stare but she wasn’t paying attention to you, sending heart eyes to Draco. She always a massive crush on him, and you were sure he knew. Especially when he sent her a boyish smile right now. “Thank you, Weasel. Though, you don’t look much like a weasel anymore.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear as Alex rolled his eyes. “Gross, bro. Don’t flirt with my baby sis’s friends, ight?”
Draco chuckled as you groaned, “Ginnyishelpingmepackokbye,” you rushed out before grabbing your giggling friend.
You stood outside your favorite restaurant in Hogsmeade—The Flying Dutchman. They had the best burgers in town, and you’re the one who actually proposed to come here when Cedric asked you out. Your brother, Draco, and you always came here for dinner when you rented out your hotel room. Like every Spring break. A faint smile wore on your lips at the memory as the spring breeze pressed warm kisses onto your flesh.
But as more time passed by, that smile began to fade. Cedric had been more than thirty minutes late.
Ginny texted her that about after an hour, you should call it quits. And so you kept checking your phone, tapping your glossy heel against the concrete of the sidewalk. Your heart banged on your rib cage as blood rushed to your ears. Everything was slightly muffled as embarrassment overcame you.
And when it hit nine o’clock, you began to walk to your hotel.
Anger coursed through your veins. How dare he asked you out then ghost you completely?
You pulled out your phone and sent him a few messages cursing him out before shoving it back into your purse. With glossy eyes, after about ten minutes, you had reached the hotel room you were to be having alone. Your brother and Draco would be sharing the next one over. Approaching the entrance, where green glass pillars cascaded over a tall, lavish building—you hummed as the cool air conditioning welcomed you.
“Welcome,” a faux customer service voice rung in your ear. Your eyes landed on the front desk attendant, a young man. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. Under Waters.“
“The single queen bed with a walk in-closet?”
You blushed, “Yes.”
“Perfect. Will that be cash or credit.”
“It’s on file. I come like, every year,” you explained, and he nodded firmly before clicking his mouse a few times. He was short and chubby—hair receding slowly from the sides. You didn’t know that was possible. “Have you found it?”
“Yes. It went through and….perfect. You’re all set,” he bent over, opening a drawer and a pair of keys jingled in your ears. He pooped back up whilst kicking the drawer back closed—handing you your card and the wifi password. “This here is your room card for room number 67 as well as our wifi and password.”
“Thanks,” you sent him a smile before making your way inside. As always, the halls were the same. A green carpet with beige walls, random paintings everywhere. It smelled of old paper inside your room, a bed with red covers and white pillows rested on the large bed. A walk-in closet, as promised, was lodged in the corner next to the bathroom.
You decided to shower, still in a sour mood about being stood up. Taking off your makeup with a cleanser, you stripped off your clothes and hopped into the shower. Craving to feel the warm water soothe your tense muscles, you moaned as it happened moments later. Digging your vanilla shampoo into your roots, you used your net to scrub off the dirt and dead skin from your body.
After finding everything off, you wrapped a towel around your figure and opened the door to your bathroom. A scream tore from your throat at the sight of someone sitting on the corner of your bed.
“_ _. I’m high as fuck,” Draco ran a hand through his hair, a red hue glowing from his eyes. His eyelids hung low as he smiled lazily—flickering his gaze over to you. “Alex is passed out. He took too many edibles.”
You scoffed, “And I assume you were the more responsible one and maintained a decent amount of sobriety?”
“Big words, _ _. Big words for a little girl,” Draco taunted, your eyes rounding at his words. He had never seemed this laid back with you, always being the more poised and dignified out of him and your brother. Hair always slicked to the side, clothes looking tidy and clean cut. But his hair had been messy due to him running his fingers through the strands, and his black button up he had changed into had been unbuttoned halfway.
His gold chain glistened against his pale skin, your thighs clenching at the thought of it hanging in your face while he—
“How was the date?” He questioned, his eyes darkening. You gulped.
“He didn’t show.”
“What?” He rose his voice, standing up from his seat. You flinched at the intensity of his tone as his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Dammit, _ _,” he balled his fist, storming over to you. Your back hit the wall, clutching your towel to your body, as his palmed slammed against the wall and staid there. His scent of peppermint and marijuana, which led you to believe he had smoked instead of taking the edibles with your brother. His eyes swirled with a hidden emotion as breath fanned your lips. “Why can’t you just answer a simple question?” He scoffed,
“You never do what you’re told.”
“And you’re too high,” you mumbled, placing your hands on his chest to push him back. But he caught them, “Draco.”
“_ _,” He whispered, “I can’t watch you get heartbroken over these little fucking boys anymore.”
Your throat went dry. Had Draco liked you?
That didn’t make any sense. He had been the most popular boy at school. Him and your brothers were the two most crushed on guys at school, Draco running through a number of girls throughout his years. He always paid attention to you, never leaving you out. “What? You think it’s a coincidence that every dude you have a date with bails on you?”
Your eyes widen, “You’re the reason Cedric—?”
“Back when I was in Hogwarts,” he continued, his boyish smirk returning to his lips. “Looks like you don’t need my help in that department after all.”
He had been your brother’s best friend, and if you didn’t know any better, his high self just confessed to scaring off other guys to date you. Out of all the girls he could have had, tonight, it appeared he wanted you. And one thing about Draco Malfoy—
He always gets what he wants.
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as his piercing eyes bored into yours. His thumb reached out, shocking you, as it took place of your teeth. An animalistic look flashed in his eyes, “Relax, kid. It was a joke.”
“Don’t call me kid.”
Draco released a chuckle, taking a step back before shaking his head. He ran a large hand the lift his pale hair again, “Fuck. You’re Alex’s little sis,” he sighed, letting out sarcastic chuckles. “I’m turned on by my best friends sister.”
His words caught you by surprise. Your lips fell open in shock, eyes bulged and skin flushed. He tugged at his strands once more before muttering fuck it, turning around and walking straight towards you. You flinched say Draco grabbed your arm, pulling you into his chest before slamming his lips against yours.
They were smooth and plump, sucking on your own as his hand flew to your cheek. At first you hadn’t kissed back, in shock, but when his thumb began to rub the flesh of your face—you melted. Your lips fought against his as you completely surrendered to him.
His fingers found your hair, lightly tugging on the strands. A soft moan left your lips, causing him to hum, “You like when I pull your hair, little one?”
The nickname caused a shiver to run down your spine. A pool of wetness shot down your core, a pleasurable sensation overcoming you as he continued to kiss you. His scent overcame you as he spun the two of you around, laying you on the bed before crawling above you. His lips didn’t part from yours.
Pulling away, you panted as he observed you from above. Your hair had probably been a mess and completely damp. The towel wrapped around you had been the only thing separating you from the Slytherin above. His eyes were clouded with the drug, “You’re fuckin’ breathtakin.”
You blushed. You didn’t think you would ever hear him say that. Considering how much of a fan girl you used to be for him back in primary.
He dived down to close the gap between you two. “I wanna fuck you. Show you how it feels to cum around a grown dick like mine,” Draco breathlessly panted against her lips. His fingers dove to her towel, tossing to to the floor before looking down. His hair tickled her nose,
“Looks like every inch of you is perfect, _ _. Can’t wait to have you fall apart on my tongue.”
“Next time. I—want it now,” you breathed, craving to get fucked by Draco. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he grabbed one of your tits, popping it into his mouth before swirling his tongue around the bud. His eyes crossed at the taste, “Fuck, that feels so good.”
“YehBaby?” His voice was muddled by your mounds. You giggled as he founded the other one before doing the same. Your hips began to arch and he smirked,
“My horny little one,” he teased, sitting up straight. You chewed on your lower lip, clenching your thighs as his eyes staid on yours. Unzipping his slacks, he tossed them to the side along with his trousers before hooking his arms around your thighs. You shrieked as he yanked you to the edge, grabbing his cock, “You sure you can take it? A big dick like mine?”
You grabbed his bicep, which bulged under your hand. His arm had been twice the size of yours. Rubbing his swollen pink head against your clit, peering down at you. Your eyes widened up at him, all innocent like, pinching your nipples. His lips reached to kiss your feet before resting them both on his shoulders, “You sure about this, _ _? Because once I start, I can’t stop.”
“Please,” you pleaded, reaching for him. He chuckled before bending down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. His thick cock began to slid into you, making you squeak his name, “Draco! Oh my—urgh.”
His red rimmed eyes looked down at you. As he inched deeper, the more your mouth dropped. He pecked your lips before moving more fluidly, more and more spikes of pleasure adding to your tummy. You weren’t a virgin—every guy you’ve been with always made you do all the work. So the fact that Draco had expertly began stroking his hard cock into your gushing pussy, you noticed more moans escaping you.
The blonde grunted, working half his cock inside. And then he pushed it all the way in, making both of you cry out in unison.
And then he chuckled darkly at your blissed out expression, a wicked smile curling onto his lips as he angled himself. His hips rammed into yours, holding your knees against him, as your tits jiggled before his eyes.
Cries and pleads babbled from your mouth.
“Yes! Please!”
“Draco—it feels too good.”
“My Merlin—I can’t—“
“Yeah?” He cooed, brutally snapping his hips against you. His thick head pushed into your walls, his abdomen rubbing against your puffy nub. With a tender voice, his hand flew to your throat, as he continued, “Just like that, little one? Move my hips like this?”
He gave her two harsh strokes, giving her a bruising kiss. Draco’s hair fell over his eyes as sweat glistened over his abs. Ring clad fingers snaked to your pussy, his thumb pressing circles into your clit. It began to pulse, meaning you were going to cum, making Draco raise his brows.
“It’s so warm, _ _. You gonna come on this dick?”
“Yes,” you whimpered, “Yes yes yes YES YES—“
Draco chuckled, kissing your lips to silence you. You came on his dick, being completely lost in the trance of your orgasm. It felt like a million glasses had broken in your ear, earth shattering before you as euphoria paused time. Never in your life had you came that hard.
And then he pulled out, sitting against the headrest on the bed. You sent him a look, still calming down from your high, as he tapped his thigh, “Come take a ride on this dick for me, baby.”
Without time to waste, you crawled over. He smiled at you evily as he guided you, “Sit with your back-good girl,” he instructed, making you face your back to his chest. He lifted your feet and stood them on his thighs, “I’m going to play with your pussy. Throw your arm around my neck and take this dick, that’s all you have to do. Okay little one? Can you handle that?”
To answer his question, you instantly grabbed his cock before sliding down. You cried out, “Ah!”
“That’s it. Juuuuuuust like that,” he shushed, rubbing three fingers on your swollen pussy. You jerked in his hold as he nipped at your ear, “I got you, baby. I got you.”
And with that he began rapidly thrusting up into your clenching pussy. You screamed out as his fingers fastened their pace, your back arching against his chest. Your arm shook as it clung to his neck, his lips attached to your nipple. The crude licking sounds edged you closer to your high.
His hand covered your entire stomach, “So tiny, baby. You like when I fuck this little pussy?”
Your tummy began to contract. Draco licked his fingers, tasting your juices, before rubbing them against your creaming pussy once again. Your brows rose in pleasure as a scream came from you, “I’m gonna—ah—“
“Come on,” he urged, “Come on come on come on—there it is! Just like that, _ _. Allll over my fucking dick.”
Your body twitched as you came on top of Draco. And when he felt your tight pussy gush around him, he grabbed you by your waist, prolonging your orgasm by animalistically rutting up into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna, fuck fuck fuck—“
“What the fuck?” Alex’s voice screamed in the air.
synopsis: a snob like Blaise and an introvert like y/n could never be friends, yet the form a bond in which they both learn and grow
platonic
The Great Hall was bustling with students, their voices echoing off the high ceilings as they chatted animatedly over breakfast. Amongst the crowd, Blaise Zabini sat at the Slytherin table, his dark eyes scanning the room with an air of superiority. He held himself with confidence, his posture impeccable, as he engaged in conversation with his equally posh friends.
Meanwhile, tucked away at the far end of the Gryffindor table, sat Y/N, a shy and introverted student. Their eyes were downcast, focusing on their plate of food as they ate in silence. Y/N was content to blend into the background, avoiding attention and unnecessary interactions. They were used to being overlooked, and it suited them just fine.
Blaise caught a glimpse of Y/N sitting alone, their nervousness evident in the way they fidgeted with their silverware. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about them. Their reserved nature stood in stark contrast to his own outspoken personality. Blaise found himself inexplicably drawn to the mystery that surrounded Y/N.
Determined to satisfy his curiosity, Blaise decided to approach Y/N. He smoothly made his way towards them, his presence commanding attention as he towered over their small figure. Y/N tensed up, feeling a mix of anxiety and disbelief that someone like Blaise Zabini would even acknowledge their existence.
"Hello there," Blaise said, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance. "I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone. Mind if I join you?"
Y/N's heart raced, their mind struggling to process the unexpected encounter. They managed to nod, barely audibly, and Blaise took a seat across from them. The silence between them was palpable, each lost in their own thoughts.
Blaise, unaccustomed to the quietude, decided to break the ice. "You know, most people would jump at the chance to have a conversation with me. Yet, here you are, seemingly disinterested in my presence."
Y/N's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. They were well aware of their introverted nature and the difficulty they faced in social situations. The last thing they wanted was to draw attention to themselves, especially from someone as confident and popular as Blaise.
"Sorry," Y/N mumbled, their voice barely audible. "I'm just not good with talking to people."
Blaise's eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "Well, perhaps I can help you with that. Consider it a challenge."
Y/N looked up, their eyes meeting Blaise's intense gaze. They had no idea what he meant by a challenge, but there was something intriguing about the proposition.
"Alright," Y/N whispered, their voice gaining a bit more confidence. "I'm willing to give it a try."
And so, Blaise began a journey of guiding Y/N out of their shell. He took the time to learn about their interests, coaxing them to share their thoughts and opinions. Slowly but surely, Y/N started to open up, their shyness giving way to a newfound sense of self-assurance.
As the weeks went by, Blaise and Y/N formed an unlikely bond. Blaise's snobbish exterior gradually melted away, revealing a kind and patient side that Y/N hadn't expected. Blaise, in turn, discovered the joy of genuine connections rather than superficial ones.
One day, as they sat beneath a large oak tree by the Black Lake, Y/N found the courage to express their gratitude. Looking up at Blaise, who was seated on the grass next to them, they said, "Thank you, Blaise. You've helped me grow so much. I never thought I'd be able to have conversations like this. Before we met, I was so shy and insecure that I could barely talk to anyone. But you never made me feel like I was strange or different in any way. You always accepted me for who I am, and that has made all the difference."
Blaise gave them a soft smile, his eyes crinkling kindly as he looked down at Y/N. "The pleasure is all mine," he said. "You know, Y/N, before we met, I was pretty wrapped up in my own world. Being popular, being the life of the party, always getting my way; that was the only thing that mattered to me. I never really stopped to appreciate the little things in life, what really mattered and made me happy. But being around you has taught me the value of patience and understanding. I've come to realize that there's more to life than just appearances”
As Blaise spoke, Y/N's heart swelled with happiness. They could hardly believe that they had found acceptance from someone like Blaise—one of the most popular and confident students in the whole school. Before meeting him, Y/N had always felt like an outcast, like they didn't belong. But here they were, enjoying a moment of genuine connection with someone who had come to understand them and accept them for who they were.
As the sun set on the Hogwarts grounds, casting a golden glow over the pair, Blaise and Y/N sat in comfortable silence, content in each other's presence. Their journey together had transformed them both, proving that sometimes, the most unlikely friendships could blossom from the unlikeliest of circumstances.
synopsis : they are rivals but once they are assigned roommates for a school trip they actually forget to argue about that, surprisingly accepting they have to share a bed.
warnings: rivals w sexual tension, eventual sexual content, (wanrning : plot before p0rn), piv, bj, f!ngering, one bed trope, everyone is above 18 obviously, possessiveness
smut, enemies to lovers, and some fluff if you squint
The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and students excitedly disembarked, ready for their annual school trip. Among the bustling crowd, Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N found themselves eyeing each other warily. For years, they had been rivals, their rivalry filled with tension and sparks flying whenever they were in close proximity. This trip was no exception.
Fate had a funny way of working sometimes, and in this instance, it meant that Draco and Y/N found themselves assigned to share a room at the quaint inn where they would be staying. The room was cozy, with a single bed taking up most of the space. When they exchanged glances, they both felt a mixture of anticipation and unease at the thought of spending the trip in such close quarters.
After settling in, Draco decided to freshen up. He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing through the room. Y/N took this opportunity to unpack their belongings, trying to focus on the task at hand and ignore the butterflies fluttering in their stomach.
Minutes later, Draco emerged from the bathroom, his wet hair tousled and a towel wrapped securely around his waist. His silver eyes met Y/N's gaze, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. There was an undeniable hunger in his eyes, a longing that neither of them could deny. Y/N felt their heart racing, their body trembling with anticipation.
But just as quickly as the moment had arrived, it vanished, replaced with the familiar tension and bickering that had defined their relationship for so long.
"You're taking up all the space," Draco snapped, eyeing the scattered belongings on the bed.
"Well, maybe if you weren't hogging the bathroom for so long, I wouldn't have had to unpack here," Y/N countered, their voice laced with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
Draco rolled his eyes, his trademark smirk playing on his lips. "Always finding something to complain about, aren't you?"
Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk of their own forming. "Well, someone has to keep you in check, Malfoy."
As the trip continued, their bickering continued. Every interaction between them was laced with snarky comments and subtle jabs. But beneath the surface, there was an undeniable chemistry that neither of them could ignore. Every look or touch was charged with unspoken emotion, a tension between them that neither could deny. Even when they fought, there was a deep understanding of each other's feelings that kept them connected throughout the trip.
During a visit to a picturesque village, Draco and Y/N found themselves exploring together. The narrow streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of market vendors, but their focus was solely on each other. They wandered aimlessly, their banter providing a soundtrack to their journey. The tension between them seemed to grow with each passing moment, filling the air with an almost tangible electricity.
As they strolled along, they came across a small park, secluded and peaceful. Unable to resist the lure of the empty benches and serene atmosphere, they sat down, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.
"You know," Y/N began, their voice softer than before, "I've always wondered why we seem to clash so much, other than the fact you are a spoiled little prick."
Draco's expression softened, curiosity evident in his eyes. "And what conclusion have you come to, Y/L/N?"
A small smile played on Y/N's lips. "I think it's because we bring out the best in each other, even if we don't always realize it.
Draco's gaze softened, his walls crumbling in the presence of Y/N's vulnerability. "Perhaps you're right. We've always pushed each other to be better, even if we've gone about it in the most antagonistic way possible."
Silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they reverted back to their familiar bickering.
"You're still as insufferable as ever, Malfoy," Y/N teased, their voice filled with fondness.
"And you're still as infuriating, Y/L/N," Draco shot back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
But this time, the bickering was laced with something different. It held a hint of affection, a deeper connection that both Draco and Y/N were beginning to acknowledge.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the village, they made their way back to the inn. The room awaited them, the single bed serving as a constant reminder of the tension that had simmered between them all day.
Y/N hesitated for a moment, their gaze flickering between Draco and the bed. They took a deep breath, their usual shyness and insecurity being replaced by a newfound confidence. "I suppose we'll have to make do with the sleeping arrangements, won't we, Malfoy?"
Draco's eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and desire. "I suppose we will, Y/L/N. Still despise your face though, don’t be spreading around that i allowed you to share my bed."
Y/N smirked, rolling their eyes. "Of course, Malfoy. Wouldn't have it any other way."
And so, with a mix of tension, desire, and undeniable chemistry, Draco and Y/N climbed into the single bed, their rivalry and bickering fading into the background. In that moment, they found solace in each other's presence, their hunger finally acknowledged and their connection strengthening.
When only pure silence was heard right before they fell asleep Y/N heard a whisper yell from Malfoy’s side "You think you're so much better than me? You think you're so much smarter? You're just a nosy, stuck-up, know-it-all-Bimbo!"
"At least I'm actually smart enough to understand the concept of 'personal space!' You're just a spoiled, entitled brat who's never had to work for anything in your life!” she replied firmly yet half asleep
Draco's body tensed at Y/N's comment, their bickering reaching a boiling point. His hands wrapped around Y/N's wrists, roughly manhandling them and pulling them close.
"You're so stubborn!" Draco hissed, his breath hot against Y/N's ear. "Do you seriously think I won't do anything if you refuse to listen to me?"
Y/N glared back, struggling against Draco's grip, but unable to break free.
Draco's grip tightened around Y/N's wrists, a possessive glint in his eyes. He leaned inhis lips brushing against Y/N's neck as he whispered "You're mine, Y/N you belong to me" He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at her skin as she moaned in pleasure
Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Y/N struggle against him a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear as he whispered "You know you want this. You want me to take control, to make you mine" With a sudden movement Draco spun Y/N around, pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her bodypinning her wrists above her head as he claimed her lips in a rough, possessive kiss.
Y/N moaned into the kiss, her body responding to Draco's touch despite her angerHe pulled awaya wicked grin on his face as he leaned in to whisper in her ear once more.
"You're mine, Y/N. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you realize it" With thatDraco claimed Y/N's lips once more, their bodies moving together in a frenzy of desire as he asserted his dominance over her once more
Y/N's struggles ceased as Draco's touch sent shivers down her spine. She arched her backpressing herself closer to him, craving more of his touch. Draco's hands roamed over her body tracing every curve and dip, igniting a fire within her.
Their bickering forgotten, they gave into their desires their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. Draco's lips met Y/N's, his tongue exploring her mouth as she moaned in pleasure. He pushed her onto the bed, his hands roaming over her body as he stripped her of her clothes
Draco pushed Y/N against the wall, his lips crashing against hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. He gripped her hips tightly, grinding his hard cock against her thigh.
Y/N moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch despite her anger. Draco's hands roamed over her body, his fingers digging into her flesh as he claimed her as his own.
He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck as he bit and sucked at her skin, leaving marks of his ownership all over her body. Y/N's body trembled with desire as Draco's hands roamed over her, his fingers finding their way between her legs.
He teased her, rubbing her clit with a fierce hunger before plunging his fingers deep inside her. As he fingered her, his other hand found its way to her breast, pinching and twisting her nipple until she cried out in pleasure.
He continued to finger her, his pace increasing as he took her closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Finally, he pulled his fingers out of her, turning her around and pushing her down onto her knees.
He unzipped his pants, pulling out his hard cock and thrusting it into her mouth. Y/N took him eagerly her mouth enveloping him as she worked him with her tongue Draco's hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he fucked her mouth with a fierce hunger.
He pulled out of her mouth pushing her back against the wall and lifting her legs up to wrap around his waist. He thrust into her with a fierce hunger, his body slamming against hers with each movement
Y/N cried out in pleasure, her body writhing against his as he took her closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Draco's thrusts became more urgent and intense, his body trembling with desire as he neared his own peak.
As he continued to pound into her, his grip on her throat tightened leaving marks of his ownership all over her body. Y/N's nails dug into his back as he continued to thrust into her with a fierce hunger
Their bickering reached a boiling point, with Draco manhandling Y/N and claiming her as his own, he took control making her his in a rough, possessive kiss and teasing her with a fierce hunger before plunging his fingers deep inside her.
Finally, they reached their climax, their bodies writhing in ecstasy as they cried out each other's names. Draco asserted his dominance once more, reminding Y/N that she belonged to him.
Draco's grip on Y/N's body loosened as he pulled out of her, his chest heaving as he looked down at her. Y/N's eyes were closed, her body still trembling with pleasure.
Draco leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he whispered, "You're mine, Y/N. Always" Y/N opened her eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"I know," she murmured, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't want it any other way"
Draco helped Y/N to her feet, holding her close as they stood there, their bodies still intertwined. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his hands trailing down her body as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, Y/N. I could never get enough of you"
Y/N blushed, leaning into him as she whispered back, "I feel the same way about you Draco. I love you"
Draco's eyes softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I love you too, Y/N. Always and forever”
They stood there for a few moments longer, their bodies entwined as they basked in the afterglow of their passion. Finally they pulled apart, their eyes meeting as they smiled at each other
Draco took Y/N's hand, leading her towards the bed. "Come on" he said, his voice low and husky. "Let's get some rest, we have a lot more exploring to do tomorrow"
Y/N smiled, following him to the bed as they settled in for the night, their bodies entwined as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms
A/N: Yes, he's pretty as fuck but I want him pretty and feral.
Pride and charisma were big parts of who Howl was as a person. His charisma and charm got him to a lot of high places, and a lot of trouble, the scales varied. His pride was something he was willing to get into arguments over, and it certainly got him into more trouble then otherwise.
Howl's pride was why you didn't even make it into his castle, just to the door before he couldn't wait to kiss you anymore. Howl's pride could easily turn into jealousy, with very little provocation at that. Like a soldier asking you for a dance. He didn't have to fly you away after kissing you in front of the soldier, his kiss was enough of a statement, he didn't have to push you against the rail and grunt as he tried to get clothes out of the way but he did.
"I never took you of all people to be the jealous type Howl." You helped him get your dress out of the way because seeing him this forceful almost never happened. Howl was a gentle and giving lover, you never thought that would be influenced something as simple as a dance.
"It wasn't the dance. It was the way he and his friends looked at you." Howl pushed the tip of his cock against your pussy, "Like... like you owed them something. It made me sick. You're not theirs, you don't owe them anything." He kept still, only a few inches of his cock sinking in, his hands shaking on your thighs from both anger and lust.
"You're right. I'm not theirs. I'm yours. Your girl right?" You impaled yourself on his cock, taking the whole length at once. Howl's hands shifted, his black feathers growing up his arms, up to his elbows, his sharp claws leaving lines on your thighs.
He never marked you like this, with kisses sure, almost always, but this was a first. "Yes. My girl." His breath came out in deep, quick, labored pants, "Shall I mark you as such?" Soft hands moved down your thighs to smooth over the marks he's made but still twitching along your skin.
"By all means, mark me as much as you want." Claws dug into your skin again, this time sneaking from your thighs to your arms and gripping them, pulling your body taunt while he started moving in and out. You could feel those sharp claws dig into your skin. "You can mark me on the inside too."
"I-Inside." Howl grunted at the thought, the smacking of his hips slightly dampened by the clothes that kept getting in the way, "Fuck." The sound of clothes ripping made your cunt clench so hard, you couldn't even be mad, "That's much better." His voice shifted more towards a growl towards the end as his thrusts also grew in speed and ferocity.
You pulled yourself closer to the railing to give yourself more stability, your legs shaking with every impact. Howl followed you not wanting to lose the warmth around his cock even for a second. His hands gripped the railing, almost caging your body.
"Still alright to do it inside as well?" He nibbled against the outer shell of your ear, looking for your approval. You nodded and made your pussy ripple around his cock, inviting him to finish. Just a few rough thrusts later and the railing under his hands bent as he painted your insides white with his cum.
You moved against him, hands going over his, feeling the feathers prickle and relax under your touch. "Howl. I'm all yours." You moaned, as if hoping that everyone would hear you as you came and went slack, letting him catch your exhausted body in his arms. The soft kisses and touches were back, his words of love making you twitch around his cock, milking the last couple of drops from his cock.
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