#Best Wedding Neon Signs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

Jilted

Charles Leclerc x runaway bride!Reader

Summary: you find out that your groom is a cheating bastard on your wedding day … Charles helps you pick up the pieces

The sun-drenched bridal suite buzzes with anticipation as you stand before the full-length mirror, your reflection a vision in white lace and satin. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through your veins. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but something feels ... off.

“You look absolutely stunning,” your best friend, Mia, gushes as she adjusts your veil. “James won’t know what hit him.”

You force a smile, trying to shake the nagging feeling in your gut. “Thanks, Mia. I just ... I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Mia squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Cold feet are totally normal. Trust me, once you see James waiting for you at the altar, all those doubts will melt away.”

A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. Your mother peeks her head in, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

As she enters the room, you notice her clutching her phone, her knuckles white. “Mom? Is everything okay?”

She hesitates, exchanging a worried glance with Mia. “I ... I’m not sure how to say this, honey.”

Your stomach drops. “Mom, what is it? Just tell me.”

She takes a deep breath. “I just got off the phone with James’ mother. She... she overheard him talking to someone. A woman.”

The room spins as you struggle to process her words. “What are you saying?”

“It seems ... it seems James has been seeing someone else. For quite some time, apparently.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You stumble back, gripping the edge of the vanity for support. “No,” you whisper. “That can’t be true. We’re getting married in an hour!”

Mia rushes to your side, her arm around your waist. “Y/N, breathe. We’ll figure this out.”

But you can’t breathe. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “I need ... I need to talk to him.”

Before anyone can stop you, you’re bolting from the room, your dress billowing behind you as you race down the hallway. You burst into the groom’s quarters, startling the group of groomsmen inside.

“Where is he?” You demand, your voice trembling.

James’ best man, Tom, steps forward, his face pale. “Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s bad luck-”

“Where. Is. He?” You repeat, each word dripping with venom.

The bathroom door opens, and there he stands — the man you thought you’d spend forever with. James’ eyes widen as he takes in your disheveled appearance. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

You laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “What’s wrong? How about you tell me, James? Who is she?”

His face crumples, and in that moment, you know it’s true. “Y/N, I can explain-”

“Explain?” You spit. “Explain how you’ve been cheating on me our entire engagement? How you were going to stand up there and lie to my face, in front of everyone we love?”

James reaches for you, but you recoil. “Please, just let me-”

“Don’t touch me!” You scream, tears streaming down your face. “How could you do this to me?”

The room falls silent, save for your ragged breathing. James’ groomsmen shift uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. You turn to leave, but James grabs your arm.

“Y/N, wait. I love you. We can work this out,” he pleads.

You wrench your arm free, fixing him with a glare that could freeze hell itself. “Love me? You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

With that, you’re running again, pushing past concerned guests and ignoring the calls of your name. You burst out of the hotel into the blinding sunlight, your legs carrying you down the street without a destination in mind.

You don’t know how long you run, your white dress now stained with dirt and tears. Eventually, you find yourself in a part of town you don’t recognize, your feet aching and your lungs burning. A neon sign catches your eye — The Dive Hole.

Without thinking, you push open the door to the dingy bar. The few patrons inside turn to stare as you stumble in, a bride in full wedding attire, mascara streaking down your cheeks.

The bartender, a gruff-looking man in his fifties, raises an eyebrow. “Rough day, sweetheart?”

You laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. “You could say that.”

As you collapse onto a barstool, the weight of the day finally crashes down on you. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The bartender slides a glass of amber liquid in front of you. “On the house,” he says gruffly. “Looks like you could use it.”

You lift your head, offering him a watery smile. “Got anything stronger?”

***

The world spins as you stumble out of The Dive Hole, your wedding dress now stained with whiskey and regret. The streetlights blur into a hazy glow as you teeter on your heels, struggling to maintain your balance.

“Hey, watch it!” A passerby shouts as you nearly collide with him.

“Sorry,” you slur, waving a hand dismissively. “Just trying to ... to find my happily ever after. Have you seen it? I think I lost it somewhere.”

The man hurries away, leaving you alone on the sidewalk. You laugh bitterly, the sound echoing in the empty street. “That’s right, run away! Everyone else does!”

As you take another unsteady step, your heel catches in a crack in the pavement. You lurch forward, bracing for impact with the cold, hard ground. But instead of concrete, you find yourself enveloped in warmth.

“Whoa there!” A gentle voice exclaims. “Are you alright?”

You blink, trying to focus on the face of your savior. Kind green eyes peer down at you, filled with concern. The man helps you regain your footing, his hands steady on your arms.

“I’m fine,” you insist, even as the world continues to tilt around you. “Just ... just celebrating. It’s my wedding day, you know.”

The man’s brow furrows as he takes in your disheveled appearance. “Celebrating alone? In the middle of the street?”

You nod vigorously, immediately regretting the action as nausea washes over you. “Yep! Best day ever. Who needs a groom anyway, right?”

“I’m Charles,” he introduces himself, his accent warm and inviting. “And I think maybe you should sit down for a moment. There’s a bench just over there.”

He gently guides you to the nearby bench, helping you settle onto it. You slump against the backrest, your head lolling to the side.

“So, Charles,” you drawl, poking him in the chest. “What brings you out on this fine evening? Looking for love in all the wrong places?”

Charles chuckles softly. “Actually, I was just heading home after a late dinner with friends. And then I found a beautiful bride who seems to be having a rough night.”

You snort, gesturing to your ruined dress. “Beautiful? I look like I’ve been through a war. A war of the heart.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles offers, his voice gentle and free of judgment.

For a moment, you consider spilling everything. But the wound is too fresh, the betrayal too raw. Instead, you shake your head, feeling tears well up in your eyes once more.

“No talking,” you mumble. “Just ... can you sit with me for a bit?”

Charles nods, settling onto the bench beside you. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

You sit in silence for a while, the cool night air slowly clearing your head. Charles remains a steady presence at your side, occasionally glancing at you with concern.

Finally, you break the silence. “I should probably go home. Except ... I don’t really know where home is anymore.”

Charles frowns. “You don’t have anywhere to go?”

You shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. “Nope. Funny how your whole life can fall apart in a single day, huh?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, seeming to wrestle with a decision. Finally, he speaks. “Look, I know we’ve just met, but ... I have a spare room. You’re welcome to stay there for the night, just to sleep it off and figure things out in the morning.”

You blink at him, surprised by the offer. “You’d do that for a stranger?”

He shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. “Well, we’re not exactly strangers now, are we? Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if I left you out here alone.”

You consider his offer. Every logical part of your brain is screaming that this is a bad idea, but something in Charles’ eyes tells you he can be trusted. Plus, you’re not exactly swimming in options at the moment.

“Okay,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Charles.”

He helps you to your feet, steadying you as you sway slightly. “My car’s just around the corner. Think you can make it?”

You nod, determined. “Lead the way, knight in shining armor.”

The ride to Charles’ apartment is mercifully short. You spend most of it with your head against the cool glass of the window, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Charles fills the silence with gentle small talk, his voice soothing in the darkness.

When you arrive, Charles helps you out of the car and into the elevator. As you ascend, the reality of your situation starts to sink in.

“Oh God,” you groan, leaning against the elevator wall. “What am I doing? I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be a serial killer or something.”

Charles chuckles. “I promise I’m not a serial killer. Just a guy who couldn’t leave a crying bride on the street.”

The elevator doors open, and Charles leads you down the hallway to his apartment. As he fumbles with his keys, you sway on your feet, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you.

“Here we are,” Charles announces, pushing open the door. “Home sweet home.”

You step inside, taking in the stylish but comfortable living room. “Nice place. Very ... un-serial-killer-like.”

Charles laughs. “Thanks, I think. The spare room is just down the hall, but maybe we should get you some water first.”

He guides you to the kitchen, filling a glass with cool water. You accept it gratefully, gulping it down.

“Easy there,” Charles warns. “Small sips or you’ll make yourself sick.”

You nod, slowing down. As you finish the water, a wave of emotion washes over you. The events of the day come crashing back, and before you know it, you’re sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Charles says softly, moving closer. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, burying your face in his shirt. Charles stiffens for a moment, surprised, before wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m s-sorry,” you hiccup between sobs. “I’m getting your shirt all wet and snotty.”

You feel Charles’ chest rumble with a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what washing machines are for.”

He holds you as you cry, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You cling to him, this kind stranger who’s shown you more compassion in one night than your fiancé did in years.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles asks gently.

You shake your head, still pressed against his chest. “Not yet. Maybe... maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he says simply. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You stay like that for a while, your sobs gradually subsiding into quiet sniffles. Charles continues to hold you, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

As your breathing evens out, exhaustion begins to overtake you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright.

Charles seems to sense your fatigue. “Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you down the hallway to the spare room, supporting most of your weight as you stumble along. The room is simple but cozy, with a plush-looking bed that seems to call your name.

“There should be some spare pajamas in the dresser,” Charles says. “They might be a bit big, but they’ll be more comfortable than that dress.”

You nod sleepily, already fumbling with the zipper of your gown. Charles quickly turns away, a blush creeping up his neck.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it,” he stammers. “Bathroom’s right across the hall if you need it. And I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, your eyes already half-closed. “Thank you, Charles. For everything.”

He smiles softly. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

As the door closes behind him, you manage to slip out of your wedding dress and into a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The bed feels like heaven as you sink into it, your body finally relaxing after the emotional roller coaster of the day.

But as you lie there in the dark, the silence allows your thoughts to creep back in. Memories of James, of the life you thought you’d have, of the future that’s now shattered. Tears begin to fall once more, soaking into the pillow.

Before you know it, you’re padding out to the living room, sniffling quietly. Charles looks up from his spot on the couch, concern etched on his face.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Every time I close my eyes, I see ... I just ... I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Without a word, Charles opens his arms. You practically collapse onto the couch next to him, curling into his side. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

You nod against his chest, fresh tears soaking into his shirt. Charles doesn’t seem to mind, just holds you tighter and begins to hum softly, a soothing melody that washes over you.

As you lie there, surrounded by the warmth and kindness of this virtual stranger, you feel something you haven’t felt all day: safe. The steady rhythm of Charles’ heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of calm.

Your eyelids grow heavy once more, and this time, you don’t fight it. As you drift off to sleep, still wrapped in Charles’ arms and using his shirt as a makeshift tissue, your last coherent thought is a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be better.

***

The first rays of sunlight filter through the unfamiliar curtains, gently rousing you from your slumber. For a blissful moment, you’re disoriented, unaware of where you are or why your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Then, like a tidal wave, the memories of yesterday crash over you, bringing with them a fresh wave of pain and embarrassment.

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. How did you end up here? Slowly, fragments of the night before come back to you — a kind stranger, an offer of shelter, crying yourself to sleep on the stranger’s couch.

Charles.

His name was Charles.

The smell of coffee and something deliciously savory wafts through the air, making your stomach growl despite the lingering nausea. Reluctantly, you drag yourself out of bed, wincing at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair is a tangled mess, mascara smudged under your eyes, and you’re wearing clothes that are decidedly not yours.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself to face your host. You pad quietly down the hallway, following the sounds of movement in the kitchen. As you round the corner, you see Charles standing at the stove, his back to you as he hums softly to himself.

You clear your throat softly. “Um, good morning.”

Charles turns, a warm smile lighting up his face. “Good morning! How are you feeling?”

You grimace, running a hand through your tangled hair. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck. Emotionally and physically.”

He chuckles sympathetically. “I bet. Here, sit down. Coffee?”

You nod gratefully, sinking into a chair at the small kitchen table. “Yes, please. And maybe some painkillers if you have them?”

“Coming right up,” Charles says, placing a steaming mug in front of you before rummaging in a drawer for the pills.

As you sip the coffee, relishing the warmth spreading through your body, Charles returns to the stove. “I hope you like omelets. I wasn’t sure what you’d be up for, but I figured eggs are usually a safe bet.”

“Omelets sound perfect,” you say, your stomach rumbling in agreement. “Thank you. For everything. I ... I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me last night.”

He waves off your thanks, sliding a plate in front of you. “No need to thank me. I’m just glad I could help.”

As Charles settles into the chair across from you with his own plate, a comfortable silence falls between you. You pick at your food, your appetite warring with the knot of anxiety in your stomach.

Finally, Charles breaks the silence. “So ... seems like yesterday is quite a story.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “A very long one.”

Charles’ green eyes meet yours, filled with gentle curiosity. “Care to share?”

You hesitate, pushing your food around your plate. Part of you wants to keep it all locked away, to pretend yesterday never happened. But another part of you is desperate to unburden yourself, to make sense of the whirlwind that turned your life upside down.

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “Well, yesterday was supposed to be my wedding day.”

Charles nods encouragingly. “I gathered as much from the dress. What happened?”

“I found out my fiancé — ex-fiancé now, I guess — has been cheating on me. Throughout our entire engagement.”

Charles winces. “Ouch. That’s ... I’m so sorry.”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant even as tears prick at your eyes. “Yeah, well. Apparently I’m great at picking them.”

“How did you find out?” Charles asks gently.

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, it was a real soap opera moment. His mother overheard him on the phone with the other woman, literally an hour before the ceremony. She told my mom, who told me, and ... well, you can imagine how that went down.”

Charles shakes his head, disbelief etched on his face. “That’s awful. What did you do?”

“I confronted him, of course. In front of all his groomsmen. It was ... not my finest moment. There was a lot of yelling, some crying, probably some mascara running. And then I just ... ran. In my wedding dress. Like some cliché runaway bride, except I had nowhere to run to.”

You pause, taking a sip of coffee to steady yourself. Charles remains silent, his face a mix of sympathy and something else — anger, maybe?

“I ended up in some bar I’d never been to before,” you continue. ��Drank way too much, way too fast. And then I was stumbling around on the street, and ... well, you know the rest.”

Charles nods slowly, processing your story. “Wow. That’s ... that’s a hell of a day.”

You snort. “You can say that again.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Charles says, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand gently. “No one deserves that kind of betrayal.”

His touch is warm and comforting, and you find yourself fighting back tears again. “Thanks. I just ... I feel so stupid. How did I not see it? We were together for five years. We were supposed to spend our lives together. And all this time ...”

“Hey,” Charles interrupts softly. “You’re not stupid. He’s the one who made the choice to betray your trust. That’s on him, not you.”

You nod, not entirely convinced but appreciating his words nonetheless. “I guess. It’s just ... where do I go from here? We had a whole life planned out. A home, careers, maybe kids someday. And now it’s all just ... gone.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe this is an opportunity.”

You look at him skeptically. “An opportunity? To what, have my heart ripped out and stomped on?”

He chuckles softly. “No, no. I mean ... look, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ve been given a chance to rewrite your story. To figure out what you really want, without having to consider someone else’s dreams or expectations.”

His words give you pause. You’d been so focused on what you’d lost, you hadn’t even considered what you might gain. “I ... I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s okay if you’re not ready to see it as a positive yet,” Charles assures you. “Healing takes time. But I promise you, this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just the beginning of a new chapter.”

You manage a small smile, the first genuine one since yesterday morning. “Where did you learn to be so wise, huh?”

Charles grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, you know. I moonlight as a philosopher when I’m not rescuing damsels in distress from the streets.”

You laugh, surprised by how good it feels. “My hero,” you tease.

As your laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. You find yourself studying Charles, really looking at him for the first time. He’s handsome, in a boyish sort of way, with kind eyes and an easy smile. There’s something familiar about him, but you can’t quite place it.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’ve shared my tragic backstory. What about you? What’s your deal, Charles?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, you know. Just your average guy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Average guys don’t usually invite strange women in wedding dresses to stay the night. Unless ... oh God, you’re not married, are you? Did I just cause some poor woman to think her husband was cheating?”

Charles laughs, holding up his hands. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m very much single. And I promise, inviting strange women in wedding dresses to stay over is not a regular occurrence for me.”

“So what do you do, then? When you’re not playing knight in shining armor?”

A flicker of something crosses Charles’ face before he answers. “I’m ... in sports. Racing, actually.”

You nod, impressed. “Racing? Like, cars?”

“Formula 1,” he clarifies. “I’m a driver.”

Suddenly, it clicks. The familiarity, the nagging feeling that you’ve seen him before. Your eyes widen. “Oh my God. You’re Charles Leclerc. The Ferrari driver.”

He grins sheepishly. “Guilty as charged.”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified. “Oh God. Oh God. I cried all over a world-famous race car driver. I used your shirt as a tissue. This is ... this is so embarrassing.”

Charles reaches across the table, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “Hey, none of that. I’m just a person, like anyone else. And I meant what I said — I’m glad I could help.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “You’re sure? Because I’m pretty sure I got mascara and snot all over your probably very expensive shirt.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “I promise, it’s fine. The shirt will survive. I’m more concerned about you. How are you feeling now?”

You consider the question, taking stock of your emotional state. “Honestly? Still pretty awful. But ... maybe a little less awful than before. Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me last night.”

Charles smiles softly. “I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time. And hey, look at it this way — you’ve got a pretty unique story to tell now.”

You groan, but can’t help laughing. “Oh yeah, because drunk and crying in a wedding dress is exactly how I wanted to meet one of the best F1 drivers in the world.”

“One of the best?” Charles teases, clutching his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m clearly the best.”

You roll your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of such greatness.”

As you banter back and forth, you feel something shift inside you. The pain is still there, raw and aching, but it’s no longer all-consuming. For the first time since yesterday, you feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay after all.

***

The roar of engines fills the air as you make your way through the bustling paddock, the excitement of race day palpable. You can’t help but smile, still amazed at how much your life has changed in the past few years. From runaway bride to Formula 1 WAG — it’s a plot twist you never saw coming.

“Mon cœur!” A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Charles jogging towards you, his race suit tied around his waist. He grins as he reaches you, pulling you into a quick embrace.

“Hey, you,” you say, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

Charles shrugs, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve got time. Besides, I needed my good luck charm.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Flatterer. Go on, get back to work. I’ll be cheering you on from the garage.”

He steals one more kiss before heading back towards his team, leaving you shaking your head with a smile. As you turn to make your way to the Ferrari motorhome, a familiar face in the crowd stops you dead in your tracks.

Your ex-fiancé is standing just a few feet away, gawking at you with wide eyes. For a moment, you’re frozen, unsure how to react. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, since that disastrous almost-wedding day.

Before you can decide whether to acknowledge him or pretend you haven’t seen him, James is moving towards you, a strange mix of emotions playing across his face.

“Y/N?” He says, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Is that really you?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Hello, James.”

He looks you up and down, taking in your sleek outfit and the VIP pass hanging around your neck. “Wow. You look ... different. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with my partner,” you say simply, not feeling the need to elaborate.

James’ brow furrows. “Your partner? You mean like ... a business partner?”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, James. My partner. As in, the person I’m in a relationship with.”

His eyes widen comically. “You’re dating someone involved in Formula 1? Who?”

Before you can answer, a small group of fans approaches, their eyes lighting up as they spot you.

“Excuse me,” one of them says excitedly. “You’re Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, right? Could we please get a picture?”

You smile warmly at them. “Of course!”

As you pose for photos with the fans, exchanging a few friendship bracelets as well, you can see James out of the corner of your eye. He’s standing there, mouth agape, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a frying pan.

Once the fans move on, James practically pounces on you. “Charles Leclerc? You’re dating Charles Leclerc? How ... when ... what?”

You sigh, already tired of this conversation. “Yes, Charles and I have been together for a while now. Is there something else you needed?”

He shakes his head, still looking dazed. “I just ... I can’t believe it. How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” you say, not particularly wanting to rehash your past with him. “One I don’t really have time to get into right now.”

James seems to ignore your hint, his eyes narrowing. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t expect me to believe that you’re actually dating one of the best F1 drivers in the world. What’s really going on here?”

You feel a flash of anger at his dismissive tone. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, no offense,” James continues, oblivious to your growing irritation, “but last I knew, you couldn’t tell the difference between F1 and NASCAR. Now you’re supposedly dating a Ferrari driver? It doesn’t add up.”

You clench your fists, trying to keep your cool. “People change. They grow. They learn new things. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He scoffs. “Right. So I’m supposed to believe that in the few years since our ... since we last saw each other, you’ve not only become an F1 expert but also managed to snag one of the most eligible bachelors in the sport? Come on, Y/N. What’s the real story? Are you some kind of ... I don’t know, brand ambassador or something?”

Before you can respond, a warm hand settles on the small of your back. You look up to see Charles standing beside you, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

“Everything okay here, mon amour?” He asks, his eyes flicking between you and James.

James’ jaw drops even further, if that’s possible. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

You lean into Charles’ side, drawing strength from his presence. “Charles, this is James. My ex-fiancé. James, this is Charles. My boyfriend.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up in recognition, but he recovers quickly, extending a hand to James. “Nice to meet you,” he says politely, though there’s a hint of steel in his voice.

James just stares at the offered hand, then back at you, then at Charles again. “This ... this is a joke, right? Some kind of prank?”

Charles drops his hand, frowning. “I assure you, it’s not a joke. Y/N and I have been together for over two years now.”

James shakes his head vehemently. “No. No way. This doesn’t make any sense. Y/N, what are you playing at?”

You feel your patience snap. “I’m not playing at anything. Charles and I are together. We’re happy. I’m sorry if that’s difficult for you to comprehend, but it’s the truth.”

“But ... but how?” James sputters. “How did this even happen?”

Charles tightens his arm around you, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Well, if you must know, I found her wandering the streets in a wedding dress, crying her eyes out because her fiancé was a cheating bastard.”

James blanches, his face turning an interesting shade of purple. “That’s ... that’s not ... you can’t just ...”

“Can’t what?” You challenge, feeling emboldened by Charles’ support. “Can’t move on? Can’t find happiness with someone who actually respects me? Can’t build a life that doesn’t revolve around you?”

A small crowd has started to gather, attracted by the rising voices and the presence of Charles Leclerc. You can see people whispering, phones discreetly pointed in your direction.

James seems to notice the attention too, his eyes darting around nervously. “Look, Y/N, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-”

“It’s not a game,” you interrupt, your voice firm. “This is my life. A life I’m very happy with, I might add. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Charles has a race to prepare for.”

You start to turn away, but James grabs your arm. “Wait, just ... just tell me the truth. Is this some kind of revenge? Did you set this all up to get back at me?”

Charles tenses beside you, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I suggest you remove your hand,” he says, his voice low and controlled.

James lets go as if burned, taking a step back. “I just ... I don’t understand. How could you … with him?”

You take a deep breath, deciding to end this once and for all. “James, listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once. What happened between us was years ago. I’ve moved on. I’ve built a life I love, with a man I love. Your inability to believe that says far more about you than it does about me.”

You turn to Charles, softening your voice. “Come on, love. You need to get back to the team.”

Charles nods, pressing a kiss to your temple before addressing James one last time. “It was ... interesting meeting you. Enjoy the race.”

As you walk away, leaving a stunned James in your wake, you can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Well, that was ... something.”

Charles chuckles, squeezing your hand. “You handled that beautifully, mon cœur. Though I have to admit, I was tempted to deck him when he grabbed you.”

You lean into him, smiling. “My hero. But I think leaving him standing there like a fish out of water was far more satisfying.”

As you approach the Ferrari garage, you pause, turning to face Charles. “Thank you,” you say softly. “For being there, for backing me up. For ... everything, really.”

Charles cups your face gently, his green eyes full of love. “Always. You know I’ve got your back, just like you’ve always had mine.”

You stretch up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, you know that?”

He grins, that boyish smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “I love you too. Now, how about we go win a race, yeah?”

As you enter the garage hand in hand, the organized chaos of the team preparing for the race enveloping you, you can’t help but marvel at the twists and turns that led you here. From the lowest point of your life to the highest — all because a kind stranger couldn’t leave a crying bride on the street.

You squeeze Charles’ hand one more time before he heads off to his car. As you watch him go, you silently thank whatever twist of fate brought him into your life that night. The road hasn’t always been smooth, but you wouldn’t change a single moment of it.

After all, sometimes the best love stories start with a broken heart and end with a chequered flag.

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peterman-spideyparker · 15 days ago

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Let There Be Love (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I didn't fall off the face of the earth! I've been writing, but, I've really just have had a lack of motivation to post. Enjoy! :)

Summary: When Matt asks you to find your cassette player, you humor him. As he pops in the tape and you begin to dance with one another, you recall the first time that you met your fiancé.

Warnings: Sweet fluff, established couple, flirty banter, kisses talk about marriage/wedding

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,252

“It’s evidence,” you say with a little shrug. “You’re an attorney. You can appreciate that, right?”

“It’s hoarding,” Matt chuckles as he walks over to you with a full glass of wine.

He clinks his own glass to yours. “I keep what’s important,” you explain before you take a sip.

He kisses your temple as his hand slides down the curve of your body. “Hoarder,” he murmurs.

“This hoarder will take her cassette tape player back into evidence lock up if she needs to—.” He gives you a little puppy dog pout, his eyes sparkling in the neon coming in through the frosted windows. You run your fingers through his hair as you lean forward with a kiss. “You know you love me.”

“Of course I do,” he says with another little kiss to your lips. “Thank you for your expansive evidence lock up, angel.”

“So,” you start, taking a sip of your wine and sitting on the sofa, tucking your feet underneath you. “Why did you need my cassette player?”

“Because we’ve been trying to figure out our first dance song,” he explains as he fiddles with the machine. “I was looking around in my bedside drawer for my backup glasses until I could get my regular ones fixed, and I found this tape. Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Foggy’s Intro to Punjabi tape?”

Matt tosses his head back in laughter. “C’mon, seriously.”

“I can’t say that I do! I mean, in all honesty, too, I think the last time I used a cassette was 2004. 2007, maybe.”

“This tape belonged to my dad. He made it. It had some of his favorites, some songs that he dedicated to my mom. One he thought they’d play at their wedding. I was listening to it one day—I was missing my dad, and I popped it on. Then, a girl with the prettiest voice I’d ever heard came knocking at my door with a bushel of carrots in her hand, asking if I’d seen a rabbit hopping about the residence hall . . .” You watch Matt smile as he gets the tape to play in the spot that he wants. “This was the song that was playing when we first met. This is the song that I’d like to play when I dance with you for the first time as my wife.”

“Now I feel bad about my joke.”

“C’mere.”

“Matt,” you hum sweetly, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table, moving to wrap your arms around his waist.

“I can never remember the name of the song, I just know the sound. That’s why I needed the cassette player.”

He leans in, giving you a long kiss as you both slowly start to sway in a little circle. “You know where we found that rabbit?” I grin.

Confusion briefly furrows his brows. “Where?”

“Our study spot. Well, it wasn’t our study spot at the time, but, that’s where Tony Hawk was. Like a sign. Premonition?”

“Wait, wait. The rabbit’s name was Tony Hawk?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I never told you that?”

“No!” he laughs, holding you closer. “I think I’d remember that detail.”

“Well, that’s what happens when a veterinarian student from Carlsbad, California is in charge of naming animals.”

“Well, then, thank God for Tony Hawk.” Matt leans in for a kiss as one of your most cherished memory to mind.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you sigh as you look around desperately. How you're the one that got wrangled into finding a rabbit, you don’t know. It belongs to your roommates best friend’s boyfriend’s roommate, and yet you're the one carrying the bushel of carrots around your dorm trying to find the quickest bunny around. “Tony! C’mon Tony Hawk, I’ve got all these tasty carrots for you, pal!” Your eyes light up when you notice a door on the left of the hall is open. With any luck, he’s either snuck in there, or they at least noticed a rabbit bounce down the hall. Picking up your pace, you make your way down to the door.

Gently knocking on the wooden frame, you poke your head in.

“Hi,” you start, finding just one guy—one gorgeous guy—sitting on his bed with an open book and music gently playing in the background, something smooth and jazzy. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but have you seen a rabbit around?”

He lifts his head up, his beautiful hazel eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light. The kind of bright light that happens just before dusk. His smile is warm and inviting, and your heart races. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you try to keep your cool. Based on his face, this is that hot blind law student you’ve heard all the girls talk about. Unfortunately, you're so focused on keeping your cool, you miss his response.

“Um,” he responds. Oh, hell, his voice is as warm as honey in tea. “Are you alright?”

“S-Sorry,” you stutter. “I’m okay. The bunny is just small, y’know? I’d really just like to get him back to his owner.”

He flashes you a little smirk, his brows bunching together in amusement. “The rabbit isn’t yours?”

“No,” you sigh, letting him in on your annoyance. “Long story. Don’t ask.”

“Okay, I won’t. For now, at least.” You chuckle softly as you dip your head. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“(Y/N),” you respond. “It was nice to meet you, Matt. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No, not a bother at all.” The smile pulls back on his face as he pulls his fingers off of the open book in front of him. “I’d offer to help look, but, I have to go to class in a bit.”

“No, you’re totally okay. I appreciate it.”

“Maybe if you’re not still hunting for a rabbit later, we could grab some coffee.”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he says softly.

You smile at one another like idiots for a good few beats before you start to slowly back out of his room. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sway with Matt in the living room, looking up at him, your entire world. Your sun, your moon, and your stars. And in a few months, he’ll officially be your husband.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers.

“Just how that damn rabbit led me to the love of my life,” you say softly. “Do you think we would’ve found one another later in life had it not been for Tony Hawk?”

He just smiles as he leans his face toward yours. “You’re my destiny, angel. One way or another, I was always going to find you. I was always going to fall madly in love with you. I was always going to marry you.”

You feel how tears sting at your lash line. “You’re gonna make me bawl like a baby when we do our vows, huh?” you sniffle.

“Oh,” he says with a sweet pout. “I’m not that cruel. I’m going to write them out for you to read before the ceremony. If you’re gonna cry, what makes you think I’ll be able to get through saying them without crying?” Matt just leans in for a soft kiss, his lips lingering on yours for a long time before he’s satisfied. “I love you so incredibly much,” he whispers. “Thank you for loving me in return.”

You snuggle in on him, resting your ear right over his heart. “Forever and always, Matty.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987 @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

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vivwritescrappythings · 9 months ago

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Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready.

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd.

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives.

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now.

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere.

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime.

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back.

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance.

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth.

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said.

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.”

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair.

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself.

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat.

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor.

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine.

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger.

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding.

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.”

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight.

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her.

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car.

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close.

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed.

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth.

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection.

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare.

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside.

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist.

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear.

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers.

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms.

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up.

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth.

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart.

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him.

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks.

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you.

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up.

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped.

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat.

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice.

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge.

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him.

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge.

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you.

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further.

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside.

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you.

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach.

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.”

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat.

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself.

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it.

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us #reader insert #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #tlou hbo #pedro pascal sag awards #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x fem!reader

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krirebr · 5 months ago

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I Could Feel at the Time

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female Reader

Word Count: 650

Warnings: Explicit language, references to forced marriage and forced pregnancy, angst, drinking, sads

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Hello! So, with Part 6 of More Than This, we're coming to the end of what I've been thinking of as the first arc of that story. To celebrate, how about a super angsty ficlet of Ransom's POV of their first meeting???

Ransom sat in his car across the street from the restaurant. He watched you exit and get into a town car. He knew that from this distance he couldn’t actually see how upset you were. What he knew in his bones was just projection. But still. Your car drove away and he stayed where he was.

He’d spent the last week angrier than he’d ever been in his life. He’d sort of thought, as he’d kept getting older and no arrangements came to fruition, that he’d managed to avoid the whole thing. But now, at 35, his time had finally come. It was how condescending they’d been when they told him, his mom and granddad. “It’s time for you to grow up and settle down,” she’d said. “This will be so good for you, exactly what you need,” he’d said. And then they’d told him about the baby.

He should count himself lucky, he supposed, that he even knew. What kind of assholes must your parents be that they didn’t even tell you? Especially since it’d be your body doing the work. They’d left that dirty work to him.

He’d fucked it up. He knew that. But he was just so goddamn angry about the whole thing. He was mad at everyone involved for forcing the two of you into this. And he was mad at you for lying down and taking it. For being such a good girl. He chuckled to himself. Like he was any better.

He finally put his car in gear and pulled out onto the road. He drove for a mile or two before he saw a sign for some shitty chain steakhouse. Sure. Why the fuck not? He was hungry and wanted to keep feeling like shit. It was perfect.

He went in and sat himself at the bar. Everything was neon. It exacerbated the migraine that had been building all day. Fucking good.

They didn’t have any scotch and their best bourbon was some midtier piece of shit, so he just ordered the rail. A glass of shitty, watered-down sadness. Perfect. He also ordered the porterhouse, although that’s not what it was called here. It had some cutesy name that he forgot the moment the menu was taken away. And it came with too many sides. Everything was bullshit.

He’d lied when he told you he had other dinner plans. The plan had been for him to eat with you. But something had happened, sitting there with you. It was like everything was suddenly more real than it ever had been before. This arrangement. This marriage. This life. It was real. It was happening. He wouldn’t be able to get out of it. So as he looked at you, he couldn’t even bring himself to open the menu. And then you’d asked if he knew what he wanted and he’d panicked. It’d just fallen out of his mouth. A way to get himself out of there.

But then you’d looked so hurt and he’d mocked you for it. Fuck. He was such an asshole.

His food came. A rubbery steak and two different kinds of lukewarm potatoes. He’d left you at a five-star restaurant. He ate it silently while drinking his “bourbon”.

He had your number. He could call or text, apologize. But that wasn’t something he did. He wasn’t sure he fucking knew how. No. What would it help, anyway? Every time he thought about you, or the wedding, or the baby, there was this tightness in his chest that just wouldn’t let go. Whiskey sometimes helped. The real stuff, not this fucking swill he was currently drinking. Ignoring it helped a lot. So that was what he would do. He’d do what he told you to do, live the next three weeks like none of this was happening. What else was there?

And for now, he’d finish his fucking steak.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @citronbun @rebeccapineapple @alexakeyloveloki @dancer3205 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @thecrandle @lokislady82 @thedazzlingburglar @23skidoosteven @she-wolf09231982 @arbesa-mind @samfreakingwinchester @blackhawkfanatic @emerald-writes @identity2212 @have-another-doughnut @patzammit @blackhawkfanatic @mooievis @dontbescaredtosingalong @curiousandjoyous @helensdrafts @cricket66 @vyctorya @disgruntled-cat @heyyitsreign @reader2003 @zaqnette @kmc1989

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #knives out #ficlet #more than this #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something

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bradshawssugarbaby · 8 months ago

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Girl, You're My Angel - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's a down on his luck first baseman in the MLB, struggling to find his stride in the game he loves so much. A wedding invite from his ex-wife is enough to convince him to go for a drink, trying to forget about everything going on. He wasn't banking on meeting you though.

pairing: baseball!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

warnings/content: baseball au, mentions of divorce, smoking, alcohol, reference to drunk driving, bar fight, mentions of blood, Bradley having a dirty mind.

word count: 3k.

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted

The booming bass drum of a classic rock song thumped in your head as you gripped the cocktail glass in your hand. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as you danced, swaying to and fro with your best friends, trying your best to enjoy yourself on your girls’ night out. Your finals had just wrapped up, and you were this much closer to earning your masters, the only thing standing between you and getting that embossed sheet of paper, was your grades. To unwind after the cram sessions you’d mustered your way through for the past month, your friends dragged you out to some new amusement bar in the Gaslamp Quarter.

Across the bar, on the other side of the room, stood Bradley Bradshaw, a once promising baseball star who now, had earned himself a reputation as the MLB’s resident asshole - unable to take criticism or a loss without lashing out at someone. His recent stunt involved hurling his baseball bat across the diamond when he struck out in practice, frustrated with his sudden lack of skill, a skill that once came so naturally to him when his mind wasn’t preoccupied.

The invitation had come in the mail two days before the bat throwing incident. His ex-wife, the one who left him two and a half years ago, was remarrying the fucking prick she cheated on Bradley with. The invite had come completely out of the blue, and when Bradley opened it, he felt all of the air leave his lungs as his fingers traced over the gold embossed lettering, donning her name and the name of her new fiancé. He’d never admit it to anyone, but that single piece of cardstock had been enough to reduce him to tears, slumping down the kitchen wall as he hugged his knees to his chest, crying loud enough that it made him thankful he had no neighbours near by.

Bradley had pulled himself together, lit a cigarette from the pack he’d been nursing for the last few months, reserved only for social events and times of pure stress, and got in his vintage Ford Bronco, his first purchase when he signed his first contract. Taking a drag from the cigarette, his brown eyes scanned over San Diego’s downtown core as he cruised past a few of the typical nightlife spots - each one a little too public for what he wanted. All other options exhausted, he pulled up outside of a newer bar that had opened the previous week, neon lights advertising an arcade on one side and drinks on the other.

He figured if nothing else, a couple of rounds of Pac-Man on an old video game after a handful of beers might do him good. He could leave the Bronco parked there and walk to the hotel around the corner, and forget about how his ex-wife’s wedding was coming up in six months, how she’d had the audacity to invite him to see her marrying the guy he’d walked in on her with.

He sidled up to the bar, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks as he ordered himself a beer. Standing across from him was a group of women, not much younger than him, gossiping and giggling together. He sized the group up, thinking to himself that maybe a one-night deal was what he needed to take his mind off his ex.

You were the tallest girl of the group, with bright eyes, and hair brushed back in a sleek, high ponytail, sporting a form-fitting cocktail dress that made Bradley’s heart race when he saw you. He pounded back the rest of his beer, trying to find his confidence in himself once again in the comfort of the drink.

Bradley set his empty bottle down on the bar top before walking his way around the circular counter. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning in with a broad smile as you looked in his direction. He offered a polite wave of his hand, chuckling awkwardly as he felt his confidence wavering as he spoke to you.

“Hey, could I buy you a drink? He said simply, his Virginian accent dropping into a thicker drawl than usual.

“I’m good, thanks, still got one,” You held up your half-full glass and shook your head politely, not wanting to reject him too brutally.

Bradley nodded his head once at you, his smile faltering for a second. He quickly regained himself, smiling once again politely before grabbing himself another beer and heading over to the arcade, resolving that a couple of old-school video games might make his night a little better.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to rejection - he’d been turned down almost as often as he’d been accepted, but for some reason, your rejection stung just that little bit more. Maybe it was the wedding invitation still making things sour, or maybe it was the fact that the mere sight of a girl hadn’t been enough to make his heart accelerate like this in a long time. He shook his head once, trying to focus his train of thought once again on something, anything other than what was currently occupying it.

Baseball? Too stressful, his game was starting to slip up on him. Buying a puppy? No, it’d just be one more thing he could let down. Hitting the gym? He already went 6 days a week - if he went any more frequently, he’d have to consider moving his bed in there.

His mind raced as he pressed the buttons on the video game, moving the small yellow circle across the screen, collecting points between sips of beer. Behind him, he heard a couple of guys shouting at a tv screen, the sound of the latest sports highlights blaring out in the background.

“This Bradshaw asshole needs to get his shit together. Twenty-nine and he plays about as well as my ten year old. Drop him down to the minors or get rid of the bastard. He shouldn’t be missing plays like this.” One of the voices shouted at the tv, his friends nodding their heads in silent agreement with his rant.

Bradley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as the insults about his playing continued to spout from this guy’s mouth. He couldn’t have been much older than Bradley was, one of those armchair commentators who probably hadn’t swung a bat since Little League. As the criticism continued, each jab focused directly at Bradley’s game performance, missing one play that cost a game - one that he’d already been feeling pissed off about - it became harder to ignore.

“I bet that hot little piece of ass wife of his left him because she knew he was a dogshit baseball player.”

Bradley spun around on his heels so fast that he swore the room was spinning. He turned to face the group, crowded in a corner in front of the tv, faces all glued to the female commentator. Bradley could practically hear the derogatory thoughts they were having about her and it only fuelled his anger more.

“Hey, man, if you’ve got an issue with how I play the game, I’d like to see you get off your ass and go play nine innings against Boston. Keep my ex-wife’s name out of your mouth.” Bradley scoffed, narrowing his dark brown eyes at the trio.

“You got a problem, jackass?” The other man growled, raising an eyebrow at Bradley as he slammed his drink down on the table. “She probably left you for that rookie because even she knew you weren’t good for anything.”

“That so? Your wife would probably like to go a couple rounds with me though.” Bradley retorted, a devilish smirk forming on his face as he folded his muscular arms across his chest.

Before Bradley had time to blink, the man drew back his arm and landed a hard punch to Bradley’s jaw. Bradley quickly delivered a stronger hit to the man’s face, watching him stumble backwards for a second. Bradley turned around and walked outside, getting ready to light another cigarette as he ran his hand over his jaw, assessing if he had any damage to worry about.

The man returned, practically running outside after Bradley. More heated words were exchanged, insults flying between them both before the man delivered another hit, this time to Bradley’s nose. He shook his hand off and headed off down the street with his friends, disappearing off to the next bar. Bradley held his nose, blood dripping down from his nostrils and onto his hand.

You and your friends had heard the commotion when it unfolded inside, and decided to head out, having enough excitement for one night. As you stepped out, you saw the man who’d hit on you earlier, this time with his nose bleeding onto the pavement under him. You ran over to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What did you do, hit on a girl who had a boyfriend?” You asked playfully as you rooted through your purse for something to help clean his nose.

“Called a guy out for saying my ex-wife was a “hot piece of ass”, actually,” Bradley nodded once, gratefully taking the tissues from you and using them to clean his nose.

“Stick your hand out for a sec,” you instructed, squirting a dollop of scented hand sanitizer into his large palm before raising an eyebrow at him, “You don’t have anything I could catch from helping you without gloves?”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Bradley scoffed, trying to laugh but wincing instead, “And why the fuck does my hand smell like a flower?”

“Lavender hand sanitizer. It’s not as good as washing your hands, but it’ll do while we’re outside. And I’m going to hold the tissues in place while you rub it into your hands, but I don’t want to catch something. I’m just fresh out of latex gloves.”

“Good thing. I’m allergic,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to brave through the pain, “I’m clean. You’re fine. I get drug tested and physicals through work constantly.”

“What kind of a job provides those? Military?”

“Professional athlete.” He nodded as you pinched the tissues to his nose, applying pressure to help with the bleeding. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Your nose is broken, it’s suppose to hurt.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“No, just wrote my finals for a masters in nursing.”

“Close enough,” Bradley nodded slightly, cringing as you continued to apply pressure to his nose.

You rooted through your purse, laughing softly as you pulled a tampon out of your bag. Bradley raised an eyebrow at you, not quite registering what the item was until you pulled the plastic wrapping off of it, stuffing the garbage back into your purse.

“What the fuck do you plan on doing with that?”

“I need to stick it up your nose on the left side. It’s bleeding more than I’d like to see, and a broken nose should probably be set in a medical setting. This way, you won’t bleed all over my car.”

“Your car? You’ve been drinking.”

“Half a vodka-cran over the span of three hours? I think I’m probably not gonna blow over the limit.”

“You are not sticking that up my nose,” he replied stubbornly, arms folding over his chest like a petulant child.

“Look at your shirt,” you laughed, gesturing to the white floral print button down he was wearing, its collar now tinged with red and pink splotches.

“Fine,” he said with a reluctant sigh, “but if anyone finds out about this, I’m denying it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you nodded as you offered him the plastic applicator.

Bradley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pressed the bottom of the applicator, pushing the tampon into the edge of his nose. He looked at you with another dramatic eyeroll and shook his head before walking down the street to a garbage can. He discarded the applicator before turning to face you, sighing.

“I can take myself to a hospital, you know.”

“I’m already here, I may as well come with you. Besides, I feel kinda bad about turning you down.”

“Oh, so you’re taking care of me out of pity?” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Even more so with a tampon hanging out of your nose.”

“It’s quite the fashion statement, isn’t it?” He laughed softly, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, revealing a clean white t-shirt.

You unlocked your car, the familiar beep as the doors unlocked causing Bradley to stifle a laugh.

“What is that?!”

“My car,” you responded matter-of-factly, “What does it look like?”

“One of those cars for a Barbie doll that my goddaughter plays with,” he said as he flourished his hand, gesturing to your pink steering wheel cover and coordinating seat cover.

“Listen, I like pink. Now are you getting in, or do I have to make you?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a moment, your playful threat of making him get into the car sending his mind into a frenzy again. He eyed you up and down again, and found himself shaking his head as he wondered what colour underwear you had on under your dress. He bet it was probably a coordinating pink set - the kind that Victoria’s Secret mannequins would model in the store window, with delicate little bows or lace or something adorning them.

Focus, Bradley. She doesn’t want to sleep with you. Stop thinking about her.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat, watching as you hopped into the driver’s side. As you pulled away from the curb, he raised an eyebrow at your choice in music as Taylor Swift started blaring from the speaker.

“You can change it if you want to,” you nodded. “You can put on whatever.”

“No, no, It’s fine. I actually like this song.”

“You said you’re a professional athlete? What sport do you play?”

“Baseball,” he said, slowly nodding his head, “my headshot’s on a flag outside of Petco Park.”

“I thought I recognized you, you’re that player everyone always talks about, right?”

“Unfortunately. It’s rarely good things.”

“How come?”

Bradley sighed, raising an eyebrow, “You know they talk about me but not why?”

“I don’t follow baseball, I've actually never even seen a game, live or on tv. I just know my friend does and she told me everyone talks about you. Bradshaw, right? Number 10?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Bradley Bradshaw. First baseman, used to have a promising career, then, you know, wife cheats on me with a rookie from a rival team, catch her in a hotel room that I paid for with him, and then, despite me stupidly telling her I forgave her and you know what, I was pissed, but I loved her anyway and I blamed myself for her cheating, she served me divorce papers. Said I was incapable of loving anything but baseball. Says the woman who refused to do anything with me when I tried to be loving and affectionate. My friends swear she only married me for the status and the paycheck. Her new fiancé just signed a multi-million dollar contract that’s being talked about as one of the highest in the league, so it sort of checks out.”

“Jeez,” you whistled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was two and half years ago. I just, I haven’t found my stride again yet, I guess.”

“Is that why you got defensive about her?”

“They said she left me for this other guy because she knew I was a dogshit ball player. I mean, it’s probably not far off. But, I got an invite for her wedding in the mail today, and I was already on edge, so I sort of…snapped.”

“She invited you?!”

“Yeah, like that, huh? She probably thought I have someone new I’m seeing and that we could still be friends or some shit.”

“So you need a date?”

“I’m not going,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? Free drinks for a night, you can wish her well while secretly hoping her husband’s ball career washes out on him in a year or two.”

Bradley chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured his hand towards you, “I like your thinking actually, but I’m not going alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered, shrugging your shoulders, “When is it?”

“In six months, you don’t need to come with me though. I’ll send her some cheap gift and call it a day.”

“No,” you insisted as you pulled into a parking space at the hospital’s urgent care clinic, “I’ll come with you. I love a good revenge story. Besides, it could be fun. I’ve never partied with a bunch of baseball players before.”

“You’re…you’re something else, you know that?”

“You mean, you don’t have dozens of women offering you a tampon to stop your nosebleed, driving you to the hospital and then offering to accompany you to your ex-wife’s wedding date?” you challenged.

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first.”

Bradley couldn’t help his ear to ear grin as he followed you into the hospital. Despite his bloodied, battered nose, which was hurting more than he cared to let on, and his fledging career, falling apart around him as he stood there, he felt genuinely excited. Excited to get to know you better. Excited to see where things went with you. He felt a promising sense in your words - like maybe, just maybe, he might be able to be done with one-night-stands and empty beds in the morning. He felt giddy, like a teenager going on a first date with his high school crush. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain from his nose or the alcohol talking, but he was almost convinced you were a guardian angel of sorts. Refusing to believe that someone like you could be anything but.

First things first though, he needed to bring you to a baseball game.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw au #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw au #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick au fic #baseball au

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canadianfangirl-95 · 2 months ago

Text

Window of Opportunity

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader

Summary: Years spent with the wrong guy leaves you desperate for true love and single again. Will Frankie be able to squeeze into the window of opportunity and confess his feelings, or will he miss his shot again?

Warnings: swearing, deadbeat boyfriend, talks of infidelity, drinking, friends to lover’s, fluff, kissing

Picture is just for the banner, does not indicate readers appearance.

Word Count: 6k+

“Alright it’s Thirsty Thursday guys, what can I get you?” You say with a smile spread across your face, staring at your favourite customers and some of your best friends, Santi, Will, Benny and Frankie. They themselves have been coming into this bar for 6 years, after they were all discharged from the army and relocated to Fort Lauderdale. You’ve worked at this bar for almost 8 years now, having gotten the job in your mid-twenties to make some extra cash. It was only supposed to be temporary but here you are all these years later, still with an apron wrapped around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear and shuffling around behind the old wood bar, illuminated by the neon beer signs.

Santi offers you a kind wink as he settles onto the bar stool across from you, “Just a Rum and Coke sweetheart.” His effervescent smile shining as bright as always.

Nodding, you begin to make the drink, while Benny and Will offer up their orders. Finally, Frankies sweet brown eyes meet yours and your lungs feel a bit lighter. “And what about our pilot?” you ask sweetly.

He grins just enough for some of his teeth to peek out below his mustache and tucks his hand under his chin, “Surprise me Skip.”

Smirking, you begin to whip him up your favourite and slide it over to him on the bar.

Taking it, he smiles, “Should’ve guessed it’d be a Whisky Sour.”

“Hey, pick your own drinks if you don’t like my favourite.” You say with a huffed laugh, knowing that despite them not being his type of drink, he’ll sip it down anyway. “How has your week been?”

“Good, picked up Camila from JK on Monday so now she’s with me until next week Friday morning. She’s having some much-needed Abuela time right now.”

“That’s good, everything still good with Liv?” You ask intently.

He shrugs, “Yeah I’d say so, we’re doing pretty well at the whole coparenting thing now that negotiations are over.”

You reach over and pat his hand that rests on the bar top, “Good, you’re a good dad Frankie. I’m glad you’re able to enjoy her again.”

His ears and cheeks grow red, and his eyes soften, he whispers to you, “Thanks Skip, couldn’t do it without you.”

Pulling your lips into a tight smile, you bat your lashes a bit to relax and turn your attention back to the rest of the group, “So, Will, how was the trip? Did you pick a venue?”

Will nods, “Yeah, Orange County is really beautiful. It was tough picking just one place to have the wedding at, but we put a deposit down on a winery, so now we have a date which is great.” He says with a smile plastered across his face.

“Oh, that’s great, Wendy must be so excited. Especially since it can be so close to her family.” You say before you notice the server drop down some chits on the other end of the bar. “Oh, I’ll be back guys.” You say before departing down the bar to work on the new orders.

Later, you are standing cutting limes in front of the men, talking and laughing causally when the bell on the door chimes again. You look up, seeing your boyfriend Marcus step through the door and scan the room for you. The rest of the group turn their heads slightly to see what has caught your attention.

Frankie grumbles to himself as he peers over his drink to see your boyfriend strutting towards the bar. His overbuilt muscles and $50 hair cut speak volumes about his personality. “Why’s Marcus here?”

Will nudges his shoulder with a shush, Frankies eyes widen slightly realizing his voice was a tad bit higher than it should have been. Luckily for him, you had already moved down the bar towards Marcus. “He’s here to see his girlfriend, idiot. Why wouldn’t he be here?” Will says sarcastically.

“He only visits her at work when he needs money.” Frankie states matter-of-factly under his breath.

“That’s none of your business man, play nice.”

With that Frankie rolls his eyes and stares Santi down the bar with an annoyed look on his face. Santi nods and takes his hint. Standing from the stool he calls over to you, “Hey Skip, we’re gonna be at the pool table.” The rest of them follow his lead and stand with their drinks to head over to the other side of the room.

You nod and smile at them before turning your attention back to Marcus.

“Why do they call you Skip anyway?” Marcus asks, leaning his body weight on the bar top.

You shrug and smile to yourself, “One time, they were the only ones in the bar, like it was completely dead, and so we played Uno. The guys were such assholes every time it was one of their turns before me, they played a skip card. I swear I got every skip a turn card the whole night.” You say, laughing slightly until you see the utterly unamused face of your boyfriend staring back at your explanation. Swallowing your laughter quickly you clear your throat, “Um, and so yeah, they just call me Skip now because of uh…’cuz of that.”

His face hangs low with uninterest, “Huh, guess you didn’t get many tips that night huh?”

Pulling your face tight you reply, “No, I guess not.”

“Does that happen often? Maybe you should find a different place to work where you can make more money.”

“Um, no it doesn’t happen a lot. I think there was a storm that day.” You say quietly before stepping to the side to grab your wallet. “So, uh- how much did you say you needed for this football thing again?”

He rolls his eyes exasperated, “Babe, it’s my fraternity brothers NFL fantasy league, it’s not just some football thing. And the buy in is $200.”

Your eyebrows pop up, “Geeze, that’s kind of steep, isn’t it?”

“It’s not about that, it’s about the networking I do with it, alright?” Marcus says.

Nodding, you hand him the cash from your wallet, and he takes it with a giant smile, “Thanks babe, you’re the best you know that right?” He says before leaning across the bar and planting a kiss on your cheek.

You say your goodbyes and wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans, letting out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Across the room, Frankie watches you fidget after your uncomfortable meeting with your boyfriend. He stands near the pool table holding his stick standing straight up and leaning some weight on it. “What is she still doing with that guy?” He asks the group.

Benny huffs, “Wish I knew. Every time we hang out it’s always Marcus did this, and Marcus won’t do that. It’s like she’s his mom”

Will steps up to the table and leans forward to take his shot, “He seriously doesn’t mind the two of you hanging out as much as you do?”

“Nope, she even asked him before the first time we went to the movies if it was okay, and the guy is so fucking full of himself he said there’s no way she would ever find better than him, so he doesn’t worry about her cheating at all. In fact, one time he even thanked me for “listening to all her bull shit” so he doesn’t have to.” He says with air quotes and a sarcastic tone.

Santi shakes his head, “What a dick. Why won’t she just end it with him?”

Benny steps up to the red-felt pool table and eyes his shot that his brother has set up for him by accident. “Oh, she’s still holding out hope that he’ll man up and pop the question and then things will be better. Not gonna happen though, I think he’s cheating.”

With that Frankie straightens up, “Why do you say that?”

“He’s shady as shit, she works evenings and a lot of weekends, you think an asshole like that is really just waiting around for her watching Game of Thrones by himself every night?”

“So, you don’t have any proof then?” Will comments.

“Well, don’t tell her I told you this. But a few months ago, she got a DM from a girl that she knows, claiming he was hitting on her at a bar across town. But this girl knew Skip and recognized him from her social media, so she turned him down and messaged her. When Skip asked him about it, he said he wasn’t hitting on her, he was just trying to make some female friends, since you know, she has so many male friends.” he says, pointing around the pool table at the group of them and shaking his head at the obvious lie.

They all groan in response and look over at you at the bar, working tirelessly to pay for yourself and your deadbeat boyfriends’ lifestyle. All the while he’s probably sneaking around behind your back and then dipping in to steal a kiss and some cash.

Behind the bar, you stare blankly at the faucet on the sink, seeing your angled reflection in it. Your face looks sad, your eyes tired and your heart sunken. All you want, all you’ve ever wanted, was a relationship, an engagement, a marriage, a house and a family. It’s what you grew up in, it’s what your sister has. The white picket fence, the husband that kisses her at the door when he gets home, the two beautiful children she chases around all day. In your early twenties, it seemed like something that was guaranteed. Then it was just disappointing man after another until you finally found yourself on a date with Marcus 6 years ago. He was handsome and charming, and after a year you settled into a nice routine. But year after year you asked for a ring and never got one. One thing you could control was the house, so you saved everything you had to buy both of you one, thinking that would kickstart the conversation again. Yet here you are, a cold finger and your love for a man long gone, but 6 years too long invested in the relationship to bow out now.

Grabbing a washcloth, you decide to take out your frustrations through cleaning up the bar top, using all the bent-up anger you felt towards your life to scrub off that damn stain you’ve never been able to get off. You peer up through your lashes and see the guys at the pool table, seemingly in deep discussion. You wonder if they’re shit talking your boyfriend. You wouldn’t blame them if they were, you wish you could join them. Frankie rounds the table and bends over to take his shot. His t shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, his curly locks peeking out from underneath the baseball hat you loved to see him in. Frankie, a man who actually talked about wanting a marriage one day but lost it all when his girlfriend fell in love with someone at work. He says they were mostly together for their child that they had accidentally gotten pregnant with and that he could move on. Not seeing his baby girl every day was by far the hardest part for him.

Frankie was different than the others to you. Santi was your advice guy, always offering his words of wisdom. Will was your hands on guy. Need your breaks done on your car? Will’s got it. Need an Ikea cabinet put together? Will’s on it. Benny is your bestie, your movie and sushi date guy. Your talk shit about your boyfriend guy. But Frankie, Frankie is your if things were different guy. If you weren’t with Marcus, if he was ever even interested in you. Maybe, he could be something more, just by the way you talk so earnestly with one another, you knew he would never treat you the way Marcus does. And boy was he cute. You wish you felt bad when you would find yourself thinking about him late at night instead of your boyfriend laying a foot away from you. You figure after his failed relationship he is probably done with anything serious, maybe just date casually for the next few years and then settle down with someone as a companion. Surely, he wouldn’t be interested in learning about how lovesick you are over him and ruining your friendship and his favourite hangout-.

A hand suddenly grabs yours to hold it still as you look up and see Frankie looking at you with concerned eyes. You look back down at the bar and see that during your whole internal monologue, you had still been scrubbing the stain and now the pain in your wrist was starting to register just how aggressive you were being with it. Pulling your hand out of his grip you toss the rag into the bucket and slowly rub your wrist with your hand, avoiding eye contact with the man across from you.

He breathes deeply out of his nose and grabs some of the paper towel you have on the counter to wipe up the soap and water on the spot. He pulls a half smirk and looks at you, “Looks like you finally got that stain huh?”

You peer over and see that it is indeed gone, certainly needed some elbow grease.

“You okay?” he asks. The very last question you want to answer right now.

Doing your best impression of a girl who is going to be okay, you nod and suck your teeth before muttering out, “Yeah, yeah just, - really fucking hated that stain.”

Frankie can see the tears that want to spill over your eyes, knowing you the way he does, he knows very well that you do not want to lose it right there behind the bar. “Alright well, could I get another delicious Whisky Sour please?” he says with a boyish grin on his face.

Looking up at him through your lashes you let out a chuckle, “I thought you didn’t like them.”

“People change.” He states.

His words dry your throat, and you do your best to nod and go on making his drink. Hoping his statement to be true.

The night wears on and you say your goodbyes. You close up shop and head home to Marcus, playing every moment of the night through again in your head and hoping to make that people change statement a reality, whether it be you or Marcus.

Sunday is your day off, and you and the guys planned a backyard BBQ at Will and Wendys to commemorate the end of summer.

Frankie steps through the patio doors into the backyard. A red and white striped umbrella is stretched out over the patio table and chairs where Santi is seated comfortably talking with Wendy while Will works on the grill. He moves to sit down across from Santi and says hello to everyone.

Wendy excuses herself to go work on the salad for dinner, and Frankie stares at the door she exits through, hoping you may come through it. Alas, you still don’t show up after another ten minutes, so he turns to Santi.

“When are uh, Ben and Skip getting here?” Frankie asks, urging his voice to sound less eager than it does.

Santi gives him a knowing look, “Ben told Will yesterday they may be a bit late cuz Ben had to go out of town this afternoon to pick up some stuff from their moms, she went with him for the drive.”

Frankie nods and brings his cold beer to his lips, excited at the notion that Marucs won’t be joining them after all.

A half hour later, Frankie, Santi and Will are seated at the patio table as Wendy finishes up in the kitchen. Their attention is pulled from their conversation when they hear Bennys boisterous voice call out to her as he moves through the kitchen and to the sliding patio door.

“No Skip?” Santi calls out, as he notices Bennys lonely walk towards them. Frankie and Will look up from their plates of appetizers to observe your apparent absence for themselves.

The younger man has a surprisingly pleased look on his face as he slides into the chair next to Will. “You’re never gonna believe this. They broke up.” He states with excitement burning behind his eyes.

The group looks perplexed for a beat, Will asks to clarify “Who broke up?”

“Skip and Marcus.” Benny says, popping his eyebrows up and down and nudging Frankie’s shoulder.

Frankie’s eyes blow wide, unable to believe what he was hearing. His ears ring and before he knows it, he’s lost part of the conversation, gripping his beer bottle tighter he tries to focus on the flow of questions coming Bennys way from Will and Santi.

Santi leans forward on the glass tabletop, “What happened?”

“She finally had enough. I guess she tried to talk to him again last night about getting engaged and just like all the other times, he made up shitty excuses, so she dumped him right there on the spot. Took all her shit and is staying with her sister right now until they get the house sold and her money back. She called me this morning to tell me she couldn’t come today.”

“How’s she doing? She okay?” Will asks, concern growing in his voice.

Shrugging, Benny replies, “As good as she can be, I think. They were together a long time, and she feels like it was all wasted. He’s such a jackass.” He says before shoving some chips from a bowl on the table into his mouth.

Will glances at Frankie, “So Fish, girl of your dreams finally single. What do you think about that?”

His eyebrows almost get caught in his hair line and he stutters, “I uh- what. Don’t know what you’re talking about Will.” he says, trying to slurp down his beer before he puts his foot in his mouth instead.

Shaking his head he dives deeper, “Don’t give me that shit man, we owe nothing to that guy. You’ve always liked her, you’ve been respectful, but now she’s fair game.”

Santi nods along, “Yeah, we all know man. It’s pretty obvious.”

Benny and Will nod along to Santis’ statement as Frankie looks around flabbergasted. “Seriously? Does she know?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. She’s been too caught up in her own shit to notice.” Benny confirms.

“But now’s the time to make a move, alright? Don’t let the window of opportunity close. Girls like that don’t stay single long.” Santi comments, giving Frankie a stern look.

Frankie nods, “I can’t just ask her out the day after her relationship ended, she needs time to process this. I don’t want to be a rebound. I’ll let her sell the house, get her shit together, and then I promise I’ll talk to her.” He says defensively.

“You better, because I’m not listening to her complain about another shitty boyfriend for half a decade.” Benny says, tapping his hand on the table and peering up at the sky, thinking about all the nights he’s had to hear you cry about how Marcus wouldn’t commit to you, even your house was bought by you, him not wanting to invest too much of his savings in case it didn’t work out between the two of you.

“I don’t think any of us want to see her go through that again, and Frankie man, you’d be perfect together. I hope it works out for you.” Will says, reaching over to pat Frankie on the chest.

Frankie nods, “How do I do this without looking like a total jackass who just wants to take advantage of her vulnerable state though?” he asks inquisitively.

Santi shakes his head, “Frankie, Frankie, always counting yourself out before you get in the game. Any girl would be lucky to get a man like you, just have some faith in yourself alright?”

Before they can continue the conversation, Wendy waltzes up to the table with salads in tow. “Alright everybody, time to dig in.”

Thursday comes around again; you have switched shifts with the other bartender for a very exciting reason. Each of the guys had reached out in their own ways after they got the news on Sunday, simple texts and calls here and there, all trying to be as delicate as possible.

Skipping through the door, you make your way over to the booth the guys are situated at. Santi spots you first and gestures to you for the rest of the group to turn and look. They all grin when they see your smile, your hair done exactly how you like it best, a white sundress with brown flowers and brown sandals finishing off the look. Frankies eyes light up seeing your sunny appearance and blossoming self-confidence.

“Whoa, what are you all dressed up for?” Santi whistles, taking in your ensemble.

Smiling brightly, you stand in front of the booth and state, “I have a date.”

Their faces drop entirely, and Frankie can swear you could hear his heart fall to the floor and roll down between the booths like a child dropping candy in church.

Will is the first to pick his jaw up from his chest and stutter out, “A date?”

Nodding you reply, “Yep, I’m meeting him soon for drinks and appetizers but I needed to swing by here first for my pay cheque.”

Santi waves his hands casually in the air as he formulates a question. “Don’t you think that’s a little soon, I mean, you and Marcus broke up last week.”

“I know, I know trust me I’ve heard it already from my sister. But I’m not really grieving the relationship ‘cuz to be honest, I fell out of love with Marcus a long time ago, but I just had already invested all that time and energy, so I wanted to make it work. But, since he’s a total asshat, I have now had no choice but to move on and there’s no time like the present. I don’t want to have wasted 6 years with him and then 6 months waiting for the “right time” to start dating again and then another 2 years trying to meet the right person.” You take a deep breath, trying not to get too worked up over your current situation and pinch your eyes closed for a moment. “I just want…. All I’ve wanted this whole time is a marriage and a family and I’m frankly running out of time. So, I hopped on the dating apps and met this guy Sean, and now we’re going on a first date and then I guess we’ll see what happens from there.” You finish your sentence out of breath and out of options. If Marcus wasn’t your person, and you were too scared to see if Frankie would be interested in you, then this would have to do.

Frankie can’t believe his ears. He’s already missed the window of opportunity. You’re going to go on a date with this guy, he’s going to fall madly in love with you, because how could he not and whether you like him or not, you’ll stay with him another 6 years just like Marcus. You just want it so badly, that you’ve grown careless with your heart. His stomach is turning in his seat as he tries not to look at Santi, whose eyes he can feel burning into him with a plea to stop this madness.

The uncomfortable silence finally creeps through your skin and makes you eager to leave. Their shocked and unapproving faces with no acknowledgement of what you have said has you unsettled and honestly kind of annoyed. Looking over your shoulder, you spot your manager and nod to her briefly. “Well, um, I’m gonna go get my cheque and then head out.” Turning quickly, you miss the way their heads all spin to Frankie whose mouth still lay low.

Benny finally speaks once you are out of ear shot, “What the fuck?” He throws his hands into his hair and looks around the table dumbstruck.

Will is shaking his head and chewing his bottom lip, Santi is still looking at Frankie as if trying to use secret superpowers to control his body and make him rush after you. Frankie is silent, picking at the label on his cold beer as the condensation loosens the adhesive on the fish picture laden across the front.

Santi finally breaks his stare and leans in closer, “You gonna do anything about this Fish?”

Frankie shrugs, “Nothing I can do. You heard her, she’s moving on.”

“From Marcus, not from you.”

“Same difference.” He sighs, blowing all the air and joy out of his lungs.

Shaking his head Santi straightens up in his seat. “No, it’s not the same man. She has no idea you have feelings for her and I’m willing to bet if you told her to cancel that date, she would in a heartbeat.”

Shaking his head he sighs, “You don’t know that man, what if I fall flat on my face with her. There’s no going back.”

Will leans his elbows on the table, “Fish, you gotta start believing in yourself more. I know what happened with Liv was really hard on you but-,”

“But it wasn’t.” Frankie states. Upon being met with the confused eyes of his comrades he continues with shaky breathes, “It wasn’t hard. I liked Liv, felt something similar to love at times when it was easy, but it wasn’t hard when she left, because she wasn’t Skip.” His voice trails off with his confession.

The familiar sound of your sandals hitting the hard wood floors snaps the group out of their trance, they turn to look at you with desperate eyes, unsure what to say as you stop for a beat in front of them.

“Alright well, got my cheque.” You say awkwardly, raising the envelope up slightly in your hand. “You guys have a good night.” You tuck your chin down and don’t wait for their goodbyes. They’re being completely weird after all, gawking at you with open mouths like it’s the worst mistake of your life to go on this date.

Stepping through the bar door you’re hit with the humidity of a late summer night. The sun was already setting leaving a low glow across the sky. You stand for a second, squeezing your eyes and urging the thoughts of Frankie out of your mind in an effort to stop the trickle of tears that would surely flow if you let yourself convince yourself that this wasn’t a mistake. Convince yourself you should go back in that bar and put it all on the line, even if it meant you’d fall with no safety net and lose him for good. That just wasn’t your style though, you didn’t free fall, you didn’t trust the universe. You needed certainty, and right now, the only certainty was that there was a handsome guy, who actually expressed interest in you waiting at a different bar, ready and willing to give you a shot. Taking one last look over your shoulder, you let your breath out and head to your vehicle.

Frankie and the guys sit in silence, unsure what to do now. He watched as you left, desperate to follow and grab your wrist to spin you around and plant a seething kiss to your luscious lips.

Benny takes a deep breath in and out, settling his head against the back of the booth. “That girl, Frankie, is worth the ifs, ands or buts. You know that, I know that, and I’m willing to bet she would agree.”

Before Frankie can respond, the bartender that is covering for you, Tasha, hurries up to the table with a black notebook in hand. “Hey, did she leave already?”

Santi nods, “Uh, yeah just. Why what’s up?”

Tasha huffs, “She forgot her day planner again, would one of you be able to drop it off? I know she needs it before her next shift.” She asks.

Frankie clears his throat and nods, “Yeah, no problem, Tash I’ll get it to her.” He says, leaning forward and taking the book out of her hands.

She says thank you and swiftly heads back to the bar to greet the hoard of customers who have just stumbled through.

Frankie stares absentmindedly at the worn book, pages from old day planners ripped out of their books and stuffed into this one instead of rewriting all the phone numbers and addresses you have in it. Quietly he passes it back and forth in his hands, a million thoughts running through his mind when it slips and falls down onto the table, some of the pages slipping out and exposing themselves in front of him. The guys look on with confused faces as Frankies face falls while he reads one of the faded and crinkled pages in front of him.

Santi is the first to express his interest, “What’s that?”

Taking a deep gulp, he picks up the piece of paper to examine it closer. Upon being sure that it says what he thinks it says, he slowly turns it around and slides it into the middle of the table for the guys to read. They all lean in and fall silent to see what has their friend so shocked.

Frankie 555-666-7777

baseball hat

bar

cutest guy ever?

Update to self- definitely cutest guy ever

He looks down at the book on the table, and thinks to himself, would it be wrong to go through it. Yes, it definitely would be, but he has to know if there’s anything else you’ve written about him it.

Before the guys can get their “heys” and waits” out, he is opening up the cover and sifts through the pages. His ears start to ring as week after week contain the same notations.

Lunch with Frankie <3

Taking Frankie shopping to get news boots <3

Borrowing Frankies truck <3

No hearts beside Bennys name, Santis, Wills, or even Marcus’. He keeps flipping through the disheveled pages until he finds himself at the end of the book where the note pages are. “Fuuuck me.” Comes out of his mouth quietly as his whole world begins to spin, seeing a daily checklist you wrote out for yourself.

Getting through the day, one step at a time.

drink your water

eat one vegetable, spinach dip doesn’t count

do your morning Pilates, even though you hate it

talk to Frankie <3

He drops the book ceremoniously for the others to peer over and read as well. A grin spreads across Wills face as he pats Frankie's shoulder. “Alright man, no more excuses. What are you gonna do now?”

Staring straight ahead with a sense of determination and wonder Frankie mutters, “I’m gonna go get my girl.”

“Yeah!” Benny sounds as the others clap along and smile with Frankie.

He thinks for a second, “Shit, did she say where she’s going?” he asks in a panic.

Santi’s eyebrows pop up, “Oh, check todays date in the planner.” He says, pointing back to the book, seemingly the solution to all their problems that night.

Frankie points his finger at his friend to acknowledge his good idea before grabbing the weathered book back into his hands and flitting through the pages to today’s date. He scans the week to Thursday and taps the page when he finds the notation. “9pm drinks with Sean, The Green Door.” He smirks to himself at the notice of no heart once again.

“Green Door? That’s over on Park Street, right?” Benny asks.

Will nods, “Yeah like a 5-minute drive, you better get going man.”

Letting a deep breath out Frankie blinks quickly, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Okay.” He pushes past Santi in the booth and quickly pats his pockets to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Okay, I uh, I guess here I go.”

“Go get her Fish!” Santi calls as Frankie begins to step away. Before Frankie suddenly finds himself turning in his spot and standing desperately back at the booth.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” He asks with eyes wild.

Benny scoffs, “Just say whatever you’ve been practicing in your head for the last 6 years and I’m sure it will be fine. Now go or I’ll kick your ass!” He swats at him playfully.

With that Frankie gives them one last look of gratitude and jogs out the bar towards his truck, throwing it in gear and peeling out of the parking lot as quickly as the law will let him.

After leaving work, you stop at a gas station to fill your tank. Standing at the pump you lean against the cool metal of your car and sigh. This new chapter of your life was daunting to say the least, no matter how optimistic you tried to feel about it, no matter how many fake smiles you had to put on for your sister, no matter how many cute guys messaged you on the app. You hear the click of the full tank signal and finish up, sliding back into your car and putting on some Taylor Swift to hopefully boost your mood on the drive over.

Stepping out of your car, you look up at the neon sign above the green door. Sean had texted you on the drive over that he was there and grabbed a quiet table at the back. You smooth out your sundress to make sure it’s not sticking to the back of your thighs, thank you humidity and leather seats for that, and make your way over to the entrance.

You hear the sound of a vehicle door slamming shut heavily and then the sound of boots sprinting against the pavement just as you are about to pull at the handle.

“Skip wait!”

Turning you look back and see none other than Frankie jogging up the sidewalk towards you nearly out of breath.

“Frankie? What are you doing here?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed as you peer over his shoulder to see if he is alone.

Stopping in front of you he tries to catch his breath, “You can’t, - you, - you can’t go on this date.” He stutters out, trying to pull his shoulders square as he calms himself down.

Feeling utterly bewildered by his statement you ask, “Why not?”

He takes a deep breath and stares down directly into your soul. “You can’t because, well, I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your face and your breath hitches, unable to speak.

He continues, noticing your shock. “I know, I know. This is probably not something you expected, because I’ve done my best to keep it locked away while you were with Marcus, and I was with Liv. But you’re not with him anymore, and I was never in love with Liv. I couldn’t have been, not when you were already taking up so much room in my heart. My heart is split right down the middle. It’s Camila, and it’s you. Has been for years now, there’s just no room for anyone else right now.” Gesturing to the green door beside you he continues. “This guy, I’m sure he’s nice or whatever, but I know you. I know you better than I know myself and I just, I love you. I do, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, but I just need you to know, before you meet someone else. Before I miss that damn window of opportunity.”

Taking a big gulp of air he finishes, looking down and embarrassed at his confession, fearing to look you in the eyes and see nothing but pity.

“Frankie.” You whisper.

He looks up to meet your gaze, and his heart thumps harder in his chest when he sees the tears welling up in your eyes and the way you have to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from breaking into the biggest smile he’s ever seen.

Clearing your throat, you find the courage to speak. “I love you too Frankie.” You say, finally allowing the smile to crack your cheeks.

Frankie's grins goofily and his eyes light up, “Really? Since when?”

Shrugging you admit, “Since I fell out of love with Marcus. So, years ago.”

“Huh, never thought I’d want to thank that son a bitch for being such a useless boyfriend.” He jokes.

You giggle and nod before noticing his face has suddenly changed into something of longing and he inches closer to you.

Bringing his hands to your warm arms, he slides them up and down and looks down earnestly at you. “Can I kiss you baby?” he whispers.

Looking into his deep brown eyes you part your lips and nod, “Yes, Frankie, please. I’ve waited too long for this.”

He slowly leans down, his hands trailing up your arms to cup your face before gently pressing his lips to yours. His lips are plush and soft and move with such care. You bring your hands to his back and pull him slightly closer. He grins before encapsulating your mouth again in a seething kiss, poking his tongue through your teeth to lick into you. A moan vibrates through your throat.

Before you can really get out of hand, a sound of “Whoops” and cheers sounds from the parking lot beside you and you both break to turn to look at the commotion. A large black truck with Will, Benny and Santi hanging out of the windows and sunroof with devilish grins on their faces is what your shocked and embarrassed faces are met with.

“Oh gosh.” You laugh to yourself as you turn your body into Frankie's, he instinctively pulls you in close and wraps an arm around your back to shield you from the eyes of your obnoxious friends.

“Seriously guys? Can’t you let me do anything on my own?” He calls over to them with his free hand raised.

Santi laughs and retorts, “Had to make sure you didn’t bitch out man! Looks like we came at the right time though otherwise we would’ve been picking you two up from the jail for public indecency.”

Will and Benny laugh before Benny calls out, “Alright guys, I think we’ve embarrassed them enough. We’re going back to my place for pizza if you two love birds wanna join.”

You peel your face off Frankie's warm and firm chest and shrug, “I could go for some pizza.”

He smiles and nods, before taking your chin in his fingers and pulling you closer for one more sweet kiss. “Sounds good to me, I’ll meet you there, okay?” he says once he has sufficiently sucked the smile off your face.

“Okay.” You say and break apart from his hold. He swiftly takes your hand and walks you to your car, opening and closing the door behind you with a boyish smile on his face.

You settle into your car and watch him as his tight little butt saunters over to his truck. You bite your lip before pulling out your phone and bringing up your messages.

Sean: Hey just checking if you’re alright.

You: Hey, I’m so sorry, I’m gonna have to cancel. Something came up, and I don’t think it’s gonna work out between us. It was nice chatting with you. Have a good night.

Your phone pings before you put it back in your purse, you’re expecting it to be a disappointing text from Sean, but your eyes light up when you see the name on the notification.

Frankie: *photo of the checklist in your day planner*

Getting through the day, one step at a time.

drink your water

eat one vegetable, spinach dip doesn’t count

do your morning Pilates, even though you hate it

talk to Frankie <3 kiss Frankie <3

Check!

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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allwaswell16 · 3 months ago

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A One Direction fic rec of fics that skip over portions of time and that take place over the course of years as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

📆 Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

📆 Strawberries & Cigarettes by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(E, 76k, omegaverse) Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

📆 7 Up by @cherrystreet

(E, 51k, friends to lovers) we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded

📆 when we were younger by luinlote

(E, 53k, canon) In where you get to see small glimpses of Harry and Louis' life together through the years, first through the eyes of others and eventually their own, as their life keeps spinning madly around them.

📆 Dear Devoted Delicate by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 47k, canon) A collection of moments in time that show just how worth it love is when it’s real.

📆 the love it takes, it's worth it all this time by hemakeshimstrongx / @hemakeshimstrong

(T, 46k, canon) a timestamp fic between 2010 and 2022, told using snippets of harry's house. the album imagined from bottom to top, the moments little flashbacks in film reels. it's about love, and it's about keeping that love alive despite surmounting challenges.

📆 yeah, he's a looker (but i really think it's guts that matter most) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 40k, Oli pov) Five times Oli was asked to do something that was outside of his job description, and the one time he didn't have to be asked.

📆 Love is the Right Place by Chelsea Frew / @chelsea-frew

(T, 33k, friends to lovers) Over the years, friendship turns to more. Just as their romance blossoms, however, Louis gets an offer which promises fame and fortune far from home.

📆 When You Know, You Know by @mission2feelike

(M, 27k, omegaverse) Louis and Harry have been friends for years, their friendship maturing easily from pups to teenagers to adults.

📆 Anonymous Said by @alivingfire

(T, 21k, bookshop) two boys, two blogs, two years of anonymous messages, and a bookshop where it all comes together.

📆 Love in slow motion by sloganeer

(E, 17k, Posh & Becks au) A series of glimpses into the life of Harry Styles, pop star turned fashion designer; his husband, Louis Tomlinson, football legend; and their four adorable children.

📆 I Wanna Feel (Your Love) by @infinitelymint

(E, 15k, canon) Five moments in Louis and Harry’s life based on five of the biggest emotions: fear, sadness, love, anger and joy.

📆 Go Out for Adventure, Come Home for Love by myownspark / @myownsparknow

(M, 9k, 5 times) Four years of iconic moments that inspire tattoos and promises.

📆 Here We Come A-Wassailing by @lululawrence

(NR, 8k, Christmas) The year Louis was in the 8th grade, his mom decided to gather the families of their closest friends to go caroling.

📆 Flowers of Tomorrow, Seeds of Today by @haztobegood

(G, 7k, fae/fairies) Louis is a changeling and Harry is a human and their fates are more connected than they know.

📆 Like A Neon Sign by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 7k, canon) Harry had always been perfect to Louis, through every age, through every stage, and in all the important ways, he was proud to have been able to witness the growth that Harry had experienced first-hand.

📆 Though the Seasons Change So Quickly (Keep Them Buried In My Heart) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(G, 6k, canon) A series of moments of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years, from the very beginning to the present, through the perspective of those around them. It's beautiful and it's brutal, it's awe-inspiring and it's awful - it is what it is.

📆 Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

- Rare Pairs -

📆 in darkness i follow you by @leighbot

(E, 6k, Zayn/Louis) four glimpses into Louis and Zayn's relationship through the years. With bonus side!Narry.

📆 like air to me by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 5k, Zayn/Louis) Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

#weekly recs #hlcreators #1dsquad #1dficvillage #hljournal #hltracks #ficrec

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

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Chasing Us: Part 1

SUMMARY: When Hannah needs a date to her sister's wedding, she turns to one of her best friends and fellow storm chasers, Tyler, for help. What starts as a simple favor quickly turns complicated as the lines between pretense and reality blur. With the backdrop of a beautiful seaside wedding, Hannah and Tyler navigate their growing feelings for each other, facing moments of heartache, unexpected confessions, and the realization that they might be more than just friends after all.

In this first part of the story, the offer is put out there by Tyler to be her pretend boyfriend for the trip.

WARNINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

The sun was setting behind the thick, rolling clouds as The Wranglers pulled into the small motel parking lot. The neon sign flickered in the dim light of the evening, casting an eerie glow over the parking lot as they climbed out of the van, exhaustion hanging heavy in the air.

Tyler stretched his arms above his head, his muscles sore from the day's work. As he glanced around at his team, his eyes landed on Hannah, who was leaning against the van, lost in thought. She seemed a little more distant than usual, the light in her eyes dulled by something beyond the weariness of the day.

"Hannah," Tyler called out as he walked over, his voice cutting through the quiet. "You still need that time off in a few weeks?"

Hannah sighed, pulling herself back to the present. She nodded, her expression shifting. "Yeah, I do."

The rest of the team - Boone, Dexter, Dani, and Lily - were unpacking gear and chatting amongst themselves, but they quickly tuned in, sensing the shift in the conversation. Boone was the first to pipe up, his voice tinged with concern. "Everything okay, Han?"

Hannah managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's fine. I just have to go to my sister's wedding."

"A wedding?" Dani raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the van beside Hannah. "You don't sound too thrilled about it. What's the deal? You don't like the guy?"

Hannah shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's just...my family. Every time we get together, they can't help but pick on me for not being married, or even in a relationship. They make it their mission to remind me how single I am."

Boone let out a low whistle, shaking his head sympathetically. "That sounds rough." He then looked over at Tyler with a grin. "Maybe you should take Tyler with you. You two could pretend to date. Might keep them off your back."

Dexter, always quick to crack a joke, grinned. "Why not you Boone? You could be a pretty convincing boyfriend, don't you think?"

Boone chuckled, giving Dexter a playful shove. "Because I'm not the fancy occasion type, Dex. But Tyler here," he glanced over at their leader with a grin, "he could probably clean up nice. Maybe even pass for a respectable guy."

Tyler laughed, the idea catching him off guard. He looked over at Hannah, his eyes filled with mischief. "What do you say, Han? Need a stand-in boyfriend?"

Hannah rolled her eyes, laughing with the rest of the team. "Oh please. Like I'd want to drag you into that mess."

Later that night, the motel was quiet, the earlier hum of activity replaced by the gentle hum of cicadas outside. Most of the team had already settled into their rooms, the day's exhaustion finally catching up with them.

In Room 12, Hannah was lying on one of the two beds, flipping absentmindedly through the channels on the old TV. Lily had gone out to grab some food with Boone, leaving Hannah to her thoughts.

A knock at the door pulled her from her half-hearted channel surfing. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand - just after nine. Confused, she pushed herself up and crossed the small room, peering through the peephole. Seeing Tyler standing on the other side, she hesitated momentarily before unlocking the door and opening it.

"Tyler?" She asked, her surprise evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Tyler offered a small smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure," Hannah stepped aside, letting him in. He glanced around the room as he walked in, noting the neatness on Hannah's side compared to Lily's slightly chaotic half.

"Lily's not here," Hannah added, closing the door behind him. "She went to get food with Boone. Do we have something developing? I can call and see how soon they could get back-"

Tyler lifted a hand waving her thoughts aside. His expression was more serious, almost contemplative. He turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. "I was thinking about what Boone said earlier."

Hannah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "About what?"

"About me going to the wedding with you," Tyler said, his tone more sincere than it had been earlier. "I wanted to let you know that if you really want to take me, I'm game. We can make it look real enough to get your family off your back, at least for the weekend."

Hannah blinked, taken aback by the offer. "Wait, you're serious?"

Tyler nodded, his eyes steady on hers. "Yeah, I am. I know how family can be, and if me tagging along makes it easier for you, then I'm all in."

Hannah stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any hint of a joke. But Tyler was serious, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more genuine. She let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders.

"I'll have to call my sister," she finally said, her voice shaky.

"Go ahead," Tyler replied, gesturing to her phone on the nightstand. "I'll wait."

Hannah hesitated before reaching for her phone. She glanced at Tyler once more before sitting down on the edge of her bed and dialing her sister's number.

The phone rang a few times before a cheerful voice answered on the other end.

"Hannah! What's up?"

Hannah swallowed, feeling a sudden rush of nerves. "Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you something. Is it too late to bring a plus one to the wedding?"

Her sister's excitement was immediate. "A plus one? Oh my gosh, who are you bringing?"

Hannah bit her lip, glancing up at Tyler, who was watching her with an encouraging nod. "Tyler," she said, the name felt strange on her tongue in this context.

"Tyler? Like Tyler Owens? The cute cowboy you work with?"

Hannah's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, especially knowing that Tyler could hear every word. She shot him an apologetic look, but Tyler just grinned, clearly amused by the comment.

Hannah cleared her throat, trying to ignore the heat rising in her face. "Yeah, that Tyler."

Her sister let out a squeal of delight. "Of course, you can bring him! I'll make whatever adjustments we need to. This is so exciting!"

Hannah couldn't help but smile at her sister's enthusiasm, though she was still mortified by the earlier comment. They exchanged a few more words before hanging up, and Hannah placed the phone back on the nightstand with a sigh of relief. She looked back at Tyler, who was sitting on the other bed, his posture relaxed but his grin still lingering.

"You're officially my plus one," Hannah said.

"Looks like we're doing this." Tyler chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "And for the record, I'm flattered your sister thinks I'm cute."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head." Hannah rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Do you even know what you've gotten yourself into?"

Tyler chuckled, "I think I've got an idea. But hey, it'll be fun, right? A weekend in the tropics, pretending to be your boyfriend. What could go wrong?"

Hannah couldn't help but laugh, the earlier heaviness she had been feeling about the trip lifting. "Famous last words, Owens."

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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butmakeitgayblog · 7 months ago

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for the reverse trope writing: divorce of convenience (something new or an au of your choice, both sound fun!)

Her eyes watch as the ink bleeds slowly into the paper. They watch neat, slanted script combine in the fragmented loops and dashes that make up that achingly familiar signature. X marks the spot. On the dotted line. Not a single scribble out of place; right where the lawyer had highlighted it in garish neon yellow.

Forever and ever.

They were eleven, and it's promising to always be best friends. The kind that stick together through thick and thin. Like white on rice, as their teacher often said.

Forever and ever.

They were fifteen, and it's smiling with the awkwardness of young love. The kind that sets fire to racing hearts from a first kiss stolen behind their school's abandoned gymnasium.

Forever and ever.

They were seventeen, and it's shaking hands that still can't believe they get to touch their best friends that way. The kind of way that makes them both let out hungry sounds and pretty moans in the backseat of her dad's station wagon.

Forever and ever.

They were nineteen, and it's stiff-jawed goodbyes through desperate kisses. The kind rotten with promises that this isn't the end. That it's just a ‘see you later’, but never goodbye. Not for them.

Forever and ever.

They were twenty-eight, and it's handwritten vows and white satin gowns with matching bridal bouquets. The kind that they picked out together to remind them that all this was worth it, that it's finally the day they'd been planning for since their junior year in college. The culmination of sleepless nights and teary phone calls from three states away.

Forever and ever.

They were thirty, and it's whispering in the nursery of their freshly furnished house, standing wrapped in each other's arms at the edge of an adorably small bassinet. The kind decked out in purple frills with sunshine yellow along the trim, because they'd agreed from the first plus sign to not know the sex. It's fingers running through brown curls carefully enough not to wake their baby up, while watching lashes twitch in dreaming that hide those baby blue eyes. The exact shape and shade that'd had them both wrapped around a tiny pinky from the start.

Forever and ever.

They are fifty-four, and it's an empty nest that's too quiet in the house that sometimes feels too big. The kind they'd joked about missing for years, but now that it's here, they don't entirely know what to do with it.

It's medical bills, and denied claims for benefits, and meetings with stuffy lawyers who explain the finer points of income brackets. It's physical therapy visits and losing her job at the hospital and endless prescriptions that never seem to be covered by their insurance. It's everything, and all the time, because life refuses to slow down for even one damn second, despite a hip that simply will not work anymore.

They are fifty-four, and Clarke never thought she'd be here. That they'd make this kind of choice. Never thought she'd feel quite this stuck. Quite this useless. Never thought she'd be in this situation at all.

But it's clean and it's neat, just the way they like it. A mutual agreement for them both. A fresh start after the accident, one that'll let them move on with their lives, instead of trying to hang on to this thing that only leaves them drowning.

At least that's what they'd agreed.

She watches her wife— her ex-wife, dot the i's of her name with an overly dramatic flourish. Watches her click the pen with her thumb and toss it aside with a sigh from deep in her bones.

She smiles and feels her chest squeeze with that familiar pang of deep friendship and love.

“Cheers,” Clarke says, holding up her flute of champagne.

She'd had to hobble through four different specialty liquor stores just to find it, but it'd felt fitting to toast the signing of their divorce papers with the same bubbly they'd shared on their wedding day.

Lexa picks up her glass and clinks it soundly against hers, only managing the barest sip around a smile of her own. “Cheers, single lady.”

“Mm. This is good.”

“Even better than I remember from the first time,” Lexa agrees as her gaze makes a lazy rake over Clarke's body.

It's not lost on Clarke how ridiculous it is to be blushing over the signed stack of her divorce papers, but something about the way Lexa looks at her has always set her on fire.

“So,” she tries, casually, setting aside her cane and leaning heavier against the kitchen table, “what are you going to do next?”

Lexa takes another sip of her champagne, watching her closely over the rim. She swallows with a flex of that elegant throat and shuffles closer, sets her glass down on Clarke's other side, effectively boxing her in.

“Go to Disneyland.”

The sound of Clarke's snort rings through the kitchen. “Smartass.”

“What about you?” Lexa asks with a bite to her lips, hands still bracketing the sides of Clarke's waist and eyes twinkling with mischief. “Any big plans for the future, newly divorced Ms. Griffin?”

Clarke scoffs. “Nice try. But it's still ‘Ms. Griffin-Woods’ to you.”

“Oh? Is that right?”

“Uhuh,” Clarke nods and loops her arms around Lexa's shoulders. “Sorry not sorry, but I'm never giving that one back.”

Lexa hums and presses closer. Paints her body to Clarke's curves and breathes her in the same way she has for forty years.

“Greedy, but I think I can live with that.”

“Such a hardship. I seem to remember you loving that about me.”

“Among so many things.”

Clarke moans when Lexa's lips find the hollow dip of her neck, relaxing into the wet warmth of a plump, suckling kiss. Champagne has always made Lexa brazenly affectionate. She tips head back to grant more room and sucks in a gasp at the nibble of teeth. Tangles her fingers in greying, brunette hair that only serves to make her bombshell of a wife look that much more distinguished.

Well. Her ex-wife, that is…

Hands trail down Clarke's hips and wrap tight around her thighs and before she can yelp a single word she's lifted onto the table.

Lexa lets out a half-laughed grunt when she gets Clarke settled in place, looking equally as amused as she does grateful that the little maneuver actually still worked after so many years.

“You good, baby?” Clarke chuckles along with her, mindlessly going to rub the shoulder that had started being a pain around birthday forty-seven. “Didn't pop anything, did you?”

“No, I'm good, I'm good,” Lexa says, smiling and shaking off her ill-coordinated prowess like the champ that she is. “That just used to be easier.”

“Is that a crack about my weight?”

“More like a crack about me being old.”

“Oh. Well then yeah.”

“Rude,” Lexa gasps, taking the hips in her hands and pulling them closer. Pressing Clarke firmly against her stomach. “There's still giddy up in this old girl, I'll have you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“My, my, Ms. Woods—”

“Griffin-Woods,” Lexa's quick to correct. Suddenly serious in how intensely she stares Clarke in the eyes. “You're not getting that back either.”

They share a look because things like this have never required words. Not for them. But with everything and all of it, with the ink still drying on the paper beside them, Clarke gives in to her last bit of worry.

“You're still my girl,” she whispers. Swallows. Feels a stinging prickle along her eyes at the sudden need to feel this connection with her favorite person in the world. “Even with me, and having to do all this… You know we're still us, right? You're still my girl?”

Clarke melts into the kiss she knows is coming because she knows this woman better than anybody, and it feels more like a promise that nothing could ever break them than any piece of paper ever could. She wraps her good leg around Lexa's hip and deepens it, kisses back with every ounce of love her heart has to offer. Cherishes each massage of tongue and slide of lips that have met thousands of times before.

Lexa kisses her once, twice more, and pulls back with a soothing smile.

“Always, love… Forever and ever.”

#sassymajesty #writing prompts #sorry this got long #clexa

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neon11seo · 2 months ago

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Custom Neon Signs & Lighting | Neon Creative Concept 11

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akascow · 9 days ago

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Venom The Last Dance spoilers ahead

i feel like the writers for the first 90% of the movie were all taken to a back alley and shot in the leg by different writers who then finished the last 10% of the movie

this is a post post edit so before we start i think i need to rewatch it actually pls dont correct me on anything bc i'll cry but i realize im definitely misremembering things as i finish writing this HAHA n e way these were my initial thoughts

bc how can we go from ‘but i need him’ and ‘i wish we couldve had this life together’ to venom dying (allegedly) and eddie brock strutting down the street smiling with happy music playing. dude ur bf died HAHA

bro watched his best friend in the whole world sacrifice himself for the two of them and die right in front of him and now hes acting like his life is so much better ? mhm where was that energy during the rest of the movie lol

‘im with you to the end’ liar 🙄

anyway venom definitely isnt dead (for franchise reasons but also) bc the little throw away line at the beginning that Mr Agent says about them liking to stick around or spread or whatever i dont remember it stuck out to me like a neon sign like HEY REMEMBER THIS ! IT WILL BE IMPORTANT !!! lol.

cuz theres no way that acid killed all of him… kinda like deadpool regenerating back to life from a singular drop of blood in the comics (i think? im pretty sure that happened)

anyway if we dont get a 4th movie with a symbrock wedding or at least them actually acknowledging the gay elephant in the room of how deeply overtoned this trilogy is with the homoseggsualitys then whats even the point

but yanno its whatever really, i like venom and i like eddie and i like the trilogy so im not really that mad about it

i think its pretty good for what it is aka a goofy movie that has goofy characters that sometimes also say and do questionabley gay things (affectionate)

and if u ignore the comics or venom predecessors its actually super fun imo. i mean not every superhero movie needs to be super serious or nonsatirical,,

just turn off ur brain for a couple hours youll be fine i promise HAHA i think a lot of ppl tend to forget that; like it doesnt take itself seriously so you shouldnt either lmao but what do i know

#the maroon 5 song was incredibly funny to put in a fucking marvel movie tho thats literally a song they played at my 6th grade grad dance #kats movie rants #venom #venom the last dance #venom 3 #venom spoilers #symbrock #eddie brock

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year ago

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𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 4.7k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: ugh I'm FINALLY starting to write/post this... it feels like I've been stewing over this single idea for MONTHS lmao!! 😩😭 a big thanks to all of my amazing stay writer friends in the writer's club... ya'll are so fucking lovely and I adore you're continual support of my work!! 🥹 I have no idea how many parts this will be, but I'm anticipating for it to be at least 20.k words so... there's that haha! hope ya'll enjoy, and lmk what you think - your thoughts are always welcome! 💞

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“Hey Y/N, can you please get the next table? I think Jordan just seated another customer.” Your best friend Yeji asked you in a light, cheery voice. She was walking past you into the kitchens, both hands full of dirty dishes, her midnight black hair blowing in the breeze that rushed into the restaurant from the open windows that lined the entire place.

“Sure thing babe!” You gave her a playful wink, offering up a faint smile before you finished helping ring up another customer’s order.

Just like every other weekend, your parent's restaurant - Angel Waves - was bustling with activity, as a solid line formed outside the doors with patrons waiting to snag a seat in the popular joint. A mix between a tropical tiki bar and a fish shack, Angel Waves - or AW for short - was located just off of the beach. With a wrap-around porch and huge bay windows that offered stunning views of the beautiful cerulean sea just a few feet away, AW had been a critically-acclaimed restaurant by the locals for decades.

Initially, it had been your father’s dream to open up a restaurant. But then he married your mother, and things took off soon after the wedding. In no time at all, she was pregnant with you while simultaneously helping your father build the restaurant from the ground up. To date, he had added three more parts to the place, making it rather expansive. With the bright neon signs and fire-burning torches that lined the perimeter of it, AW could be spotted on the shoreline from miles away. The inside was decorated rather plainly, with bright pops of tropical colors here and there and wooden chairs lined throughout the area.

But at night, the vibes of the restaurant came to life. As the patrons at the seated bar grew louder, the tropical music increased in volume and added to the overall atmosphere of laid-back tourists and locals alike.

Having grown up in Bridgeport Bay, which was a small seaside town in the East part of Australia, you were used to the leisurely way of things. But to some, it would seem like everyone around was just lazy. When in fact, people knew how to have a good time - and that was all that mattered to a lot of locals.

Including yourself.

Your parents had raised you in the small house that was just off the backside of the restaurant, so the tropical way of life had always been the only thing you had known. You didn’t mind living the same daily routine - waking up early to help with chores, then attending classes at the local university, before arriving back at the restaurant in time to help with the night shifts. Plus, it helped that one of your best friends, Yeji, had been working with you at the restaurant since she was a young teenager.

Now, at the tender age of twenty-two, you were well acquainted with your surroundings. You were set in stone about what you wanted to do with your life. And after you finished getting your degree in Environmental Science, you hoped to aid in the environmental impact of Bridgeport Bay, since environmental efforts were one of your biggest passions in life.

As you stared around the dimly lit restaurant that was busy with customers and servers alike, you felt yourself come alive under the energy of it all. And getting a hint of the salty sea breeze on your tongue, you made to help the newest customer in placing their order.

The early June sun was just beginning to set over the horizon of the ocean, painting the brilliant light blue sky in shades of violets and fuchsias. Your attention was momentarily pulled away from your task at hand, as you were completely captivated by the look of the rippling water shining underneath the fading sunlight.

But you quickly snapped yourself out of your daze, already grabbing hold of your notepad and pen as you came up to the new table you were waiting on. Without looking up, you began to write down the time and your name on the top corner of the paper, like you always did before taking an order. “Hi, welcome to Angel Waves. My name’s Y/N and I’ll be your server. What can I get started for you tonight?”

There was a pause on the customer’s end, and the noise of the restaurant overtook all of your senses for a few moments, but then everything dimmed out into a faint hum as the customer spoke.

“Hi… Y/N.”

Immediately, without even giving it a second thought, your head shot up from the piece of paper on your notepad that you had been previously staring at.

Heart hammering in your chest, throat constricting in anxiety, with the flush already clawing up your neck and pooling in either of your cheeks.

All at the sight of…

Him.

Lee Felix.

The boy that you had grown up with. The one that had moved in next door to your restaurant when you were five years old. The one who had attended preschool, middle school, and high school with you.

The boy who had been your best friend in the entire world for over a decade.

And also, the single most person whom you hadn’t talked to in over four years.

But no- he was no longer a boy.

No- as he sat there, peering up at you with that familiar face of his, you suddenly came to acknowledge the years that had passed between the two of you.

Evidently, his time away at university for four years in South Korea changed him. Drastically.

From the long, sandy bleached-blonde locks that fell across his forehead, to the milky, blemish-free skin. His eyes were darker, too. More intense. And the sharp lines of his face were almost startling - with a jaw that could cut through steel, a proud nose, and prominent cheekbones.

He was no longer the awkward and geeky boy he had grown up with. The boy who had short, cropped black hair in his senior year of high school and braces for three years, and cystic acne that lasted well into his junior year of high school.

He looked…

Like a fully grown man.

And you didn’t know how to feel about that.

It made your stomach turn in a sickening kind of way. Made your heart pound against your ribcage painfully.

He was staring up at you, watching your blatant perusal of him in silence with a ticked-up, perfectly manicured dark eyebrow.

But some things hadn’t changed, at least, as he flashed you that tiny, easy smile he always seemed to have plastered on his face.

“F-Felix- wow, hi. I-” You began, stammering over your words in your utter surprise. You felt your eyes widen from your stupid blubbering, and the panic chilled down your spine from the way that he laughed heartily at your reaction to him sitting in front of you. “It’s uh- good to see you again, holy fuck.”

“Yeah, you too…” He finally pulled his gaze from yours, offering you some respite from the intensity of his matured eyes. You took in a deep breath as his focus scanned over the restaurant all around you. “Glad to see this place hasn’t changed one bit since the last time I came around these parts.”

“What brings you back to the coast?” You asked, rocking onto the backs of your heels like you always did when you were nervous. Bridgeport Bay was a small town that was connected to a set of other ones similar to it, which all lined the same coast of Eastern Australia.

After all, soon before he left to study in South Korea, he had vowed to you that he’d never step foot in ‘this hellish beach town’ ever again.

Obviously, he had proven himself wrong.

He shrugged broad shoulders, making you realize how much his physique had changed too. He was fitted in a loose t-shirt and faded jeans, but you could just barely make out the outlines of muscles underneath the baggy fabric. His back was proud and he sat up completely straight in his chair, the opposite of how he used to be in your childhood - always slouched and with thin, frail limbs. He was still petite in stature, but now made up for his lack of height with muscle. Even so, he still outranked you in height by a good three inches.

He was acting like it was no big deal - like none of it was a big deal. Not him coming back to Bridgeport after such a long time and looking so different��from how you had known him as. “I just graduated, so I decided to spend the summer back at my parent’s place before I decide what I wanna do with my life.” Felix leaned over in his seat then, leveling you with that stare he always gave whenever he was trying to get a read on your feelings. “What about you? I see you’re still working for your folks…”

His voice trailed off. And if you didn’t know him any better, you’d assume that he had a pretentious air about him. Sure, he was the scrawny boy that had shipped off to South Korea, only to come back four years later looking hot as hell with a solid education and most-likely loads of crazy stories to tell to everyone who’d listen.

You, on the other hand, were still stuck in the same position that you had always been in. Living in Bridgeport Bay, in your parent's house, and helping work the restaurant while attending school at a nearby university.

It was comforting, in a sense, to have the same daily routine. But you could also acknowledge the fact that Bridgeport Bay was a fairly quiet place - in other words, not much happened. Most people your age had already moved away as soon as they graduated from high school, either traveling to the big city of Sydney to get a degree or going overseas to bigger and better places.

And there you were… still stuck in the same turquoise-walled bedroom from your childhood, with the same group of three friends, and waking to the same view every single morning. The brilliant pinks and oranges of the sunrise against the ocean water got old in about… two days.

Folding your arms across your chest, you almost felt like you were trying to protect yourself from him. Lee Felix, who had been your childhood best friend. But who, unbeknownst to you, had turned into this ethereal, untouchable beast of a man in the absence of your friendship. It felt foreign and odd, to have him studying you so intently with those dark eyes. “Yeah, I’m still living here in Bridge… same friends, same habits, you know how it is around these parts.” You tried to laugh off the awkwardness you suddenly felt, but your tone came out all flat and warbled.

Felix was still staring up at you, but this time, his gaze melted exponentially. So much so, that it suddenly felt like you were the one staring into his soul - picking apart his emotions as he sat there in front of you, head tilted up in curiosity. And the feelings you saw dance across his eyes, for just a split second, made your heart tumble in the pit of your chest.

“Same friends, huh?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question he was seeking an answer for. After that, his focus was yanking away from you, as he looked down at the menu before him on the table. You watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, throat constricting as he took in a sharp breath.

You could feel the air shift around you as soon as you mentioned friends. Because besides Yeji and Felix, the only other person you had truly had a connection with in Bridgeport Bay was… Christopher Bang. The two of you had met during your freshman year of high school and had been quite inseparable ever since. You had a raging crush on him, and apparently, he had one on you too - since he had asked you out on your first-ever date at the start of your final year in high school.

By the time you all were graduating from Bridgeport Bay High, you and Chris were the it couple. With him being the popular soccer jock, it was only right that you started to get popular as well - since you were the ‘hot girlfriend’ who was always hanging on his arm. Chris was nice and funny and was friends with literally all of the high schoolers in the area, so you liked being around him.

But the more time you spent with him, the less you spent with Felix. And by the time graduation rolled around, your friendship had suffered big time from your new relationship with Chris. Felix didn’t approve at all of the two of you guys dating. He had always waved off your swooning throughout the years as ‘hormonal imbalances,’ but as soon as the two of you became official, his entire tune changed.

All of a sudden, he was getting angry at you. With such a short temper, he would have outbursts during most of your hangouts. And it wasn’t until the night of your graduation that all of the building tension finally broke, like a pinprick to a fragile balloon full of water.

The night had ended in a colossal blow-up on both of your ends - with Felix’s anger exploding in your face and making him out to be some ugly, dark boy. And definitely, not the kid you had grown up to love and care for. During the argument, he had finally admitted that he hated Chris' guts - that he saw right through his little scheme, and he thought the guy was a horrible match for you.

Of course, you retaliated tenfold by throwing his singleness in his face. Since, during the entirety of your high school years, he had never once dated any girl. That insult was low for even you, and soon had him storming off the scene, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat from your stubbornness. You hadn’t listened to him the whole time, only registering the fact that he didn’t approve of you and Chris being together. Like he was your fucking dad and he needed to give his consent to every man you loved and dated.

And that turned out to be the last time the two of you ever saw or talked to each other for the next four years. Since just a week after graduation, Felix had completely vanished from Bridgeport Bay. When you went over to his house to make things up, his parents informed you that he’d already left for South Korea earlier than expected.

His absence didn’t fully register until you tried to call and text him that night, only to be left with an error message in return. Since he was moving to a different country, he needed to change his phone number. He had already informed you of such a thing weeks earlier, and the two of you had planned on setting up a special app where you could text. But the two of you had forgotten about such a detail in the business of graduation season, so there was no way to contact him.

Instead, you were faced with living in the wake of his departure - you were forced to relive the big fight between the two of you for months after that, rehashing things and stewing over all of the feelings again and again. And finally, after a year of being heartbroken over the shattered friendship with your best friend in the entire world, you decided to move on.

To bigger, and better things.

Like the friends you still had in Bridgeport Bay, going to university, and working at the restaurant.

And, Chris too.

Since your relationship had only blossomed from there, having quickly turned into a four-year ordeal of fun dates and long night chats and walks along the sandy beachside in the late afternoon sunset.

“I’ll have the salmon bowl with brown rice, please.” Felix’s deep timbre pulled you out of your daze of thought, shocking you back into the present. You were still standing there at his table, in the middle of a busy dinner rush, waiting for his order. “Oh, and a side of fried pineapple rings too.”

“Okay, and what kind of drink would you like with all of that?” You asked, mind turning off and zoning into work mode as you wrote down his order. “We have all kinds of-”

“I know what you guys serve, Y/N. I’m not a complete idiot.”

His deadpan retort came out in that unfamiliar voice of his, automatically ripping your eyes away from your notepad.

And there he was, peering up at you again.

But this time, his eyes were a lot more hooded - darker, even. Swimming with tension, his sharp jaw pulled taut in what appeared to be annoyance.

Before you could even get another word out, he was speaking again. In that raspy, deep tone, and you had no idea how you could get used to all of the changes at once. “I’ll take a coke- if that’s okay.”

You nodded, once, your tongue feeling like lead in your mouth. It was heavy and hard to move to form any more words, so you decided against talking and just flitted away from his table altogether with his order.

As you were passing by the open bar, you tossed Jordan, one of your coworkers, a pointed look. “Take care of table seven for me, will ya?” You motioned with a slight tilt of your head to where Felix was sitting across from the window.

Jordan frowned, eyes turning to slits as soon as he registered who was sitting at the table. The two of you had never been particularly friends, since he was a few years older than you. But he had been working as a waiter/bartender at AW for the past seven years and knew all of the regulars who came by. He also knew who Felix was, and what he meant to you.

“The little bastard giving you any trouble, darling?” He asked in a low voice as he slid a full glass of craft beer across the porcelain countertop to a waiting elderly man. “I can take care of him if you-”

“What? No, no,” you said frantically, waving your hands in the air to stop him from going any further. Eyes shifting back to Felix, you registered the way that he was sitting there, shoulders slightly slumped in his seat, as he stared out the large window to his left side, examining the lapping waves of the seashore. “No- I just… I can’t handle all of… that tonight.”

Jordan gave you a soft smile, flashing a wink your way before he was back mixing another cocktail for a new customer. “You know I’ll always cover for your ass, baby girl.”

You giggled quietly at his absurd pet names. You knew that he was never seriously calling you any of them, but it was more in an affectionate, brotherly kind of way. Plus, he was viscerally gay, so you never had to worry that the nicknames were ever alluding to more than just a coworker-to-coworker friendship.

By the time you left the bar where Jordan was busily working and filed into the kitchen, you were once again swept up in the chaos of it all. Servers and managers bustling about, chefs shouting orders out at each other. And in no time at all, your mind was drowned in your work and you no longer could hold any space for the thought of him.

Yeji failed to catch sight of him in her busyness, which you were thankful for. She and Felix had been friends in high school, but no one had been as close to him as you had. At least, until your colossal fight on graduation night. Then, even you weren't close to Lee Felix.

The night passed by rather quickly, as you heeded your parent's commands and helped out with the dinner rush as best as you could - taking orders, scrubbing dishes in the back of the kitchen, and cleaning up tables after customers had left their spots.

By the time closing hour was nearing at eleven o'clock, most of the customers had left for the night - save for a few couples dispersed throughout the place and a rowdy group of men who had steadily gotten drunker on their liquor as the hours passed. Jordan was somehow managing them swimmingly, playing into their flirtations and pouring them drinks that were ‘on the house,’ but really, just made a bigger cut in his tip paycheck.

You were so invested and focused on your work at the register, as you sorted through all of the orders from that night, that you failed to notice the shadow that was slinking across the wall, coming towards you steadily.

But finally, the dark figure was upon you and snaking two strong arms around your waist, pulling you away from the front counter and pressing your back against a chiseled chest.

Already sensing who it was, you giggled softly and turned your head up to look into the eyes of your boyfriend, Chris, whom you had been dating for the past five years. He had always said that he didn’t want anything ‘too serious’ and that he was happy with just dating you until the last of his days. And to be honest, you weren’t complaining all that much.

Although, you sometimes got bothered by the thought of never getting to marry the man you had loved for so long. Once in a while, you’d get into this odd annoying spell where you’d be angry that he never wanted to make a complete and solid life with you - and instead wanted to continue dating happily like the two of you were still in high school.

But in the end, you always managed to push those frustrated thoughts away, deeming everything to be alright since you could do anything if it meant living the rest of your days out with the love of your life, Chris.

“When did you get here?” You asked, as you reached up and twisted a few fingers through his midnight coils. They were curly and stood up at all different ends, something you had always loved about him. That, and his killer body.

“Just a second ago- thought I’d surprise you and take you out to dinner after your long, hard day at work…” His voice trailed off, as his hands squeezed down on your shoulders, long fingers massaging the aches and pains away.

You felt a sly smirk already starting to spread across your mouth as you leaned into him and pressed a wanting kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you were talking in a quiet voice. “Give me a few minutes, I’m almost done with my sorting.”

Just as you tried to escape from his grasp, Chris tightened his hold over you, arms encircling your waist and pressing your ass into the front of his sweatpants. You could feel the hardness there, just through the line of the thin fabric.

Oh, so we wanted the night to result in that kind of date.

“Nah- I’m not letting you go,” he mumbled in a deep voice, mouth coming close to your ear as he whispered into it, warm breath fanning against the exposed span of your neck. “Been thinking about you all day baby, want you so bad tonight…”

He let the rest of his words trail off, forcing an ugly blush to bleed into either of your cheeks. Then he was spinning around so that he was completely facing you. The darkness of the restaurant cast a shaded glow over his broad shoulders, as he pressed into you with a sardonic smile plastered across his face.

“What’s so funny, mister?” You asked, tracing a finger over the line of his jaw as he tilted down into you and gave your nose a light peck.

“Nothing, just… I love riling you up like this when you’re at work. Feels… exhilarating.”

Then you had no time to react, as his face was moving and capturing your lips up in a lustful kiss. His mouth was plush and familiar against yours, and immediately, you were melting into his firm grasp, moaning softly at the way that one of his hands trailed down the curve of your ass, squeezing the covered skin there.

You guys were practically making out at the front counter of the restaurant, for everyone else to see. And in most normal circumstances, you’d feel embarrassed. But at the moment, you just felt overwhelmed with love and desire for your amazing, handsome boyfriend Chris.

As your fingers carded through his curly locks, bringing his face closer to yours as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance, your eyes shot open. Scanning the entire room, your focus caught on the front door, and the person who was slipping out of it in silence.

And there he was, once again.

Lee Felix.

Your once-best friend,

Your once long-time neighbor,

Your once-classmate for more than ten years.

He was standing there at the front door, halfway stepping through it. But his body was turned around so that he was staring straight at… you. As you were practically getting groped by your boyfriend in the middle of Angel Waves, as your mouth was getting absolutely devoured by Chris’ lips.

And the look he gave you then, as your gazes locked in a shocking bout of tension, left you feeling both furious and confused all at the same time.

His eyes studied your form, which was so tangled up with your boyfriend’s at the moment. And even from across the room, you could see the feelings that crossed his coffee-brown irises as he watched you in silence.

There was sadness there,

And pain, too.

But also…

An irrevocable amount of… ire too.

The heat of jealousy that you found there burned like fire in the back of your throat, making your heart tumble around in your chest and the butterflies to flicker around in a frenzy just inside your stomach.

The sight of it all forced an agonizing zap of energy to course through your veins, rising your spine and causing gooseflesh to erupt across your skin.

Then, as quickly as you had registered it, it was all gone.

And he was leaving out the front door, the bell at the top of the glass jingling in the remaining trace of his departure.

There you stood, having to deal with the confusion that bled through your mind and the anxious jumbling that floated around your entire body.

And the worst part about it?

Was that the entire time, you had never stopped kissing Chris.

Never stopped yanking on his locks, allowing Chris to take parts of you in front of everyone else.

In front of… him.

You had continued to feverishly make out with your boyfriend, all the while your attention had been distracted on Lee Felix, and the way that he had stared at you so wholly and starkly.

Almost like, the two of you were playing in a silent battle of the wits.

With him, having always disapproved of your relationship with Christopher Bang.

And you, having been in love with Chris for the past eight years.

In the end, you had chosen your respective sides - what with you dating the love of your life, and Felix sitting on the sidelines, giving you an air of rebuttal as he stared on in barely masked disgust.

But you didn’t care what he thought. You weren’t living for him and you didn’t give two shits about any of his opinions. Especially after everything that had happened and from the way that you hadn’t spoken in literal years.

Yeah, you definitely didn’t care about what he thought.

So why, then, did the look he give you just before he left the restaurant, cause your heart to race so much?

Why did it cause a cold sweat to break out across your brow?

Why did it flood your mind so much, that you could no longer focus on anything else?

Like an intoxicating drug, like the most lethal of poisons, he was infecting your entire being.

With his changed physique and persona and voice and… everything.

But especially, the way that he had glanced at you so sardonically.

So darkly.

So painfully.

So…

Sinfully.

To be continued...

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 26 days ago

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Hi))!! I was rewatching big bang theory and according to one of the episodes those Vegas weddings are apparently legitimate? So I had an idea…

Maybe in 83-84 Lars and reader got married there as a joke, they were young and in love, etc. but then fame happened, followed by booze and groupies so she couldn’t tolerate that and broke up with him.

In 93, after they made a ton of money, Lars plans to marry his model/actress/typical rockstar GF, and his lawyer, while making a prenup, runs some checks and finds out that Lars is still married to the reader, so the divorce with her must happen first and, since there was no prenup, she is entitled to half of his money. So he reconnects with her, to calm her suspicions and make her sign divorce papers with no financial demands from him. But he kinda falls in love with her again… unfortunately she does find out that he got back to her to have a chance of marrying another woman… so Lars has to prove his pure intentions…

I kinda view it as happy end, maybe in the end they renew the vows with a proper lavish Lars-style ceremony)))

I hope you like it because I think it's weak

A rewritten love

The year was 1983, and Las Vegas shimmered in the desert night like a dream made for the young and reckless. Lars and Y/N were both. He was on the cusp of fame with his band, and she had been there with him through every wild, unpredictable moment. The neon lights above the strip were a blur as they ran down the street, laughing, hearts full of love and chaos.

They hadn’t planned to get married—hell, they hadn’t even talked about it before. But somewhere between the laughter and the whirlwind of being hopelessly in love, they found themselves in front of a cheap wedding chapel. Lars, tipsy on both alcohol and adrenaline, had grinned at her like he had the best idea in the world.

“Let’s do it, babe,” he’d said, his eyes sparkling. “Let’s get married, right now.”

Y/N had laughed, thinking it was just another spontaneous moment in their crazy, love-filled lives. But something about the way he looked at her—so wild, so free—had made her heart flutter. They were young and reckless, but they were in love. And that love felt unstoppable.

So, in front of a priest, they exchanged vows. With the cheapest rings they could find and laughter in every word, they said ‘I do.’ It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t planned. But it was them—reckless, passionate, and full of fire.

Afterward, they stumbled out of the chapel, hands clasped, their hearts racing like they had just stolen the world. It felt like forever, like they’d always be together. But they hadn’t realized then how fragile forever could be.

Fame hit Lars fast and hard. By the mid-80s, his band had blown up in ways they had only dreamed of. With success came the tours, the parties, the money… and the women. Too many women. Y/N tried to ignore it at first, telling herself the stories didn’t matter, that the rumors were just part of being in the rockstar world. But eventually, the whispers became impossible to dismiss. Every late night, every hotel room on tour that reeked of booze and perfume—it all chipped away at their love.

In 1986, when the weight of the groupies, the alcohol, and the distance between them became unbearable, she walked away. She had loved him—God, how she had loved him—but she couldn’t stay in a marriage where his fidelity came second to the rockstar lifestyle. So, she left him and their whirlwind of a marriage behind.

Now it was 1993.

Lars Ulrich sat in his lawyer’s office, papers strewn across the desk as they discussed his upcoming wedding. His fiancée, a model-actress who fit the perfect image of a rockstar’s bride, was eagerly awaiting the big day. But Lars, sitting across from his lawyer, felt a strange tension gnawing at him. It had been years since he had faced his past, and today, he would be forced to do just that.

As his lawyer went over the details of the prenup, something shifted in the room.

“There’s something we need to address before you move forward,” the lawyer said, his voice cautious.

Lars raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

His lawyer flipped through a folder before setting a piece of paper down in front of Lars. “Your marriage to Y/N back in 1983… it’s still legally binding.”

Lars stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“You never filed for divorce. Legally, you’re still married to her.”

The room felt like it had dropped a few degrees as Lars processed the information. His mind immediately flashed back to that wild night in Vegas—the laughter, the vows, the stupid rings—and then all the years that followed. All the time he had spent pretending it was just a distant memory.

“And,” the lawyer continued, his tone turning serious, “because there was no prenup back then, she’s entitled to half of your assets unless she signs a divorce agreement without financial demands.”

Lars ran his hand through his hair, his heart racing. Half of his money. Half of everything he had worked for, earned, lived for—was technically hers. His fiancée, the glamorous new chapter of his life, wouldn’t be thrilled if she knew this complication was standing in the way of their wedding.

“So, what do I do?” Lars asked, feeling the weight of the situation settle over him.

“You’ll need her to sign divorce papers. And ideally, you want her to agree to no financial demands. If she refuses... Well, things could get complicated. It’s best to go to her in person, smooth things over.”

Lars left the lawyer’s office with a whirlwind of thoughts in his head. He had been prepared for everything to move forward smoothly with his new life—his wedding, his future. But now, he was forced to face his past. He needed Y/N’s signature, and more importantly, he needed to make sure she didn’t walk away with half of everything.

A week later, Lars found himself standing outside Y/N’s house, his heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit. It had been years since they had spoken. Years since she had walked away from their chaotic, messy life together. She was supposed to be nothing more than a memory—something that belonged to a past version of himself. Yet here he was, needing her signature, needing something from the woman he once loved.

He knocked on the door, and when Y/N opened it, he felt time collapse in on itself. She looked different—older, more mature—but she still had that fire in her eyes, the one that had always drawn him to her.

“Lars?” Her voice was soft, but there was a guardedness in her tone. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

She hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in. The house was quiet, peaceful in a way that felt miles apart from the world he’d been living in. It struck him how different their lives had become.

Lars sat down, unsure where to start. “This is... probably the last thing you expected, I know.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway. “No kidding. It’s been years, Lars. Why now?”

He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn’t avoid the truth. “I’m getting married again, and... well, turns out we’re still legally married. I didn’t realize it, but we never filed for divorce.”

Y/N’s expression shifted from surprise to something more complicated. “So you need me to sign the papers.”

Lars nodded. “Yeah, and, uh... I need you to sign with no financial demands.”

Her eyes flashed with something—hurt, maybe anger. “Ah, there it is. I was wondering why you’d come here out of the blue. It’s not just about the divorce—it’s about your money.”

He winced. “It’s not like that, Y/N. I mean, yeah, it’s part of it. But I didn’t come here just for that.”

“Then why did you come here, Lars?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with pain. “We haven’t spoken in years, and now, all of a sudden, you show up because you want to marry someone else.”

Lars shifted in his seat, guilt gnawing at him. “Look, I know it sounds bad. And yeah, I messed up. But... seeing you again, it brought back a lot of memories. I started thinking about everything we had together—every moment we shared, every laugh, every fight, and every quiet night together. It hit me hard, and I realized I never stopped loving you.”

As he spoke, images flashed through his mind: their wild nights under the Vegas lights, lazy mornings tangled in sheets, and quiet moments where they felt like the only two people in the world. Those memories felt like echoes, haunting him, reminding him of the love he had taken for granted.

Y/N stared at him, her face unreadable. “You’re marrying someone else, Lars. And now you want to convince me that you still care?”

His chest tightened. “I do care. And I know I hurt you, I know I screwed things up, but... being here, talking to you, it reminded me of what we had. What I messed up. I didn’t just come here for the papers. I came here because I never really stopped loving you.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. “Don’t lie to me, Lars. You’re here because you want a clean slate with your new fiancée. You want me to sign away everything we ever had so you can move on without any complications.”

Lars stood up, crossing the room to stand in front of her. “No, I’m here because I realized I can’t move on without facing what we had. And what we still have, if you’ll let me. I don’t want to marry her—I want you. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Y/N stared at him, the weight of their history hanging between them. After a long pause, she whispered, “Okay. But this time, no more lies. If you want me back, you have to prove it.”

“I will,” Lars replied, determination flooding his voice. “Let me show you how much you mean to me, how much we mean to each other. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

With every word, he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. But Y/N’s expression hardened again, and she crossed her arms defensively.

“What about your fiancée, Lars?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with a tremor. “You’re engaged. What’s she going to think when she finds out you’re here, trying to convince your ex-wife to come back?”

Lars ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of her question like a heavy anchor. “I know it sounds messed up,” he said, taking a step back, trying to give her space. “But what I feel for you... it’s different. It always has been. The thing is, I don’t want to hurt her. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“Didn’t intend?” Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You’re here because you want me back, and you want a divorce from a woman who thought she was going to marry you. What do you think this makes you look like?”

Lars felt the sharpness of her words pierce through him. “I get it, and I don’t expect you to understand right away. But with her, it feels like... I don’t know, like I’m trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for me. She’s beautiful, talented, and everyone expects us to be perfect together, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, the hurt flashing through her gaze. “So, what? You want to jump back into our lives like nothing happened? Like the last ten years didn’t exist?”

“No!” Lars said, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’m not asking you to forget the past. I want to face it, to make things right. I’m not the same guy I was back then. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and I’m ready to fight for what we had.”

“But what does that even mean?” she challenged, her voice rising. “You expect me to just let you walk back into my life after everything? After you left me for fame and fortune? And now you want me to help you escape your new life?”

Lars stepped closer, his heart racing. “I’m not asking you to rescue me. I’m asking you to understand that I’ve realized I want you, not just the idea of you. My relationship with her was built on expectations, not love. With you, it was real.”

Y/N looked away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And what about her feelings? What about the life you built together?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I never meant to hurt her. I genuinely care about her, but I realize now that I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I want to be with you, and if that means I have to end things with her, then I will. I have to be honest with myself—and with you.”

“Are you really ready to do that?” Y/N challenged, her gaze piercing through him. “Can you really just walk away from someone you promised to love?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady. “I need to be true to myself and to you. I don’t want to be tied to someone out of obligation or fear. I want to love freely, to be with the person who makes me feel alive.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, the air charged with unspoken feelings. Lars could see the conflict in her eyes, the memories of their shared past battling with the pain of their separation.

Y/N finally sighed, the fight seeming to ebb from her. “I don’t know, Lars. It’s not that simple.”

“I know it’s not. But let’s take it one step at a time. Can we talk? Can we see if there’s a way back to each other?” He reached for her hand, his heart pounding in anticipation. “I want to explore this, Y/N. If you’re willing to give me a chance.”

She hesitated, looking down at their hands before slowly pulling away. “I need time to think. You can’t just walk back into my life and expect everything to be okay.”

“I get that,” Lars said, his voice softer now. “But I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes to show you how serious I am about this. Just know that I’ve never stopped loving you, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

Y/N took a step back, her expression torn. “This is a lot to process, Lars. You’ve changed, but I need to know if you really mean what you say.”

He nodded, feeling a mix of hope and fear. “I do. I promise.”

As she turned to walk away, Lars felt a sense of longing fill the space between them. He knew this was just the beginning, and the journey to reclaiming their love wouldn’t be easy. But standing there, with the shadows of their past behind them, he felt a spark of hope flicker back to life.

Over the following months, Lars and Y/N reconnected, slowly navigating the minefield of their past. They shared stories over coffee, went for long drives, and laughed at old memories, each encounter peeling back the layers of their hearts.

As time passed, Lars found himself reevaluating everything he thought he wanted. The allure of fame faded, and he began to realize that his heart belonged to Y/N. He didn’t want to marry anyone else; he wanted to fight for their love.

One evening, as they sat on the couch reminiscing, Y/N finally voiced her concerns. “Lars, I want to believe you, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just a backup plan for you.”

He sighed, his gaze searching hers. “I understand why you’d think that. But I swear, I’ve come back because I realize what I lost. I want to make things right between us.”

His words lingered in the air, and for the first time, Y/N felt a flicker of hope amidst her doubts. As if sensing her vulnerability, Lars leaned in closer, his heart pounding with unspoken feelings. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands, and as their eyes locked, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers.

The kiss was soft at first, a tender exploration of the feelings they had both suppressed for so long. But as Y/N melted into the moment, it deepened, filled with the passion and longing that had never truly faded. When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I want you back. I want us.” He whispered.

Finally, the day arrived. After months of rediscovering their love, Lars proposed, this time with a proper ring and a heartfelt plea for a future together. Y/N accepted, her heart racing with joy and apprehension.

They planned a beautiful ceremony, this time in a stunning chapel adorned with flowers and twinkling lights, surrounded by friends and family who celebrated their love.

As Y/N walked down the aisle, she couldn’t help but feel nervous but also incredibly excited. Lars stood at the altar, his expression filled with love and anticipation. The priest welcomed everyone warmly, creating an atmosphere of unity and joy.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Lars and Y/N in holy matrimony, a celebration of love and commitment,” he began, his voice steady and comforting.

Lars and Y/N exchanged vows once more, this time with a depth and sincerity that resonated through every word. “I promise to love you more each day, to be your partner in everything, through every high

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #angst #lars ulrich x reader #lars ulrich #lars ulrich fluff

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fand0mfever · 3 months ago

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I crave some nsfw and sfw alphabet for Wolverine, you write him sooooo goood 😝😭😭🚨🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

I started to work on it once and I lost that draft-

ANYWAY

SFW ALPHABET

Affection - He's a little touchy if he's in a good mood, he'll have a hand somewhere on you, and he'll have his hand in your back pocket if he's feeling a little mischievous. But he is a walking, neon, DNI sign when he's not in a good mood. But if you ask nicely he'll be affectionate.

Best Friend - he says he doesn't like annoying people, but his 2nd best friend is Wade... you're his number one though. Wade gets jealous but you are first priority.

Cuddles - He is not really one for cuddles. It's mostly if you ask, or wrapping an arm around you from time to time. He'll initiate, but not often.

Domestic - I mean... have you seen him in X-Men Origins? He can 100% be domestic if you are the one. He'll be a little weary at first, I mean, the ending of Origins says why. But as long as you two split responsibility (Unless something comes up) he is down for it.

Ending - I hate to say it but he would 100% ghost you. Just all of a sudden drops off the face of the earth. The movies support this. (I know the movies aren't 100% accurate, but I don't have the resources to be able to read the comics.)

Fiancé - With being alive as long as he has been, he doesn't really see the point in marriage. But if about 6-7 years in, you start throwing hints, he'll catch them and start saving up for the ring and the wedding.

Gentle - He tries. He's got great at it, but he tries. He tends to forget his weight, being so used to it, and he's not the best at being emotionally available... But he'll be there for you if you need let out your emotions.

Hugs - He's not really a hugger. It's a lot like the cuddling. He's more likely to give you a hug without you asking though, since he just knows sometimes that you need one.

I love you - He will not be quick to say it. He's been hurt with those words before (see: X-men origins, The last stand) and he's admittedly a little scared to feel that again. But give him a couple years, and he'll say it.

Jealousy - Oh you wanna see him jealous? One guy is all it takes. One guy who either doesn't get the hint, or you are flat out ignoring. He's either going to start a fight, right there, or he stands behind you. Staring. Menacingly.

Kisses - He doesn't like PDA. But when it's just you two? Kisses everywhere. He might not like to cuddle, but he loves Kisses. He'll kiss your forehead, your cheek, your neck

Little ones - Have you seen how many kids he's practically adopted? I mean, they're teenagers, but it counts (Ex: Jubilee). If they're younger, as long as they can stand a little rough housing, he's perfect. You know that one meme of RDJ and his kid, and then Chris with his? Yeah he's like Chris.

Mornings - Depends on the day. It can go three ways: he's a bear to wake up and his grumpy, he's in a good mood and will go through your routine with you, or, third option, horny

Nights - Nights are similar. If he worked a lot, he'll go straight to bed and nothing can stop him, or he'll relax and slowly wind down from the day with you. Third option: horny

Open - It takes a long time for him to be open with you. And when he finally does, it'll be unexpected. You'll be cuddling, about to fall asleep, and he'll ask if he can share. And if he shares, you can share. He'll be your unhelpful therapist from day one, even if he's not quite there yet.

Patience - It's give or take. He'll be patient if you want to wait for physical intimacy of any type, even if it's just hand holding. But everything else is basically full throttle. There is no talking stage, you go on a date with him and you are now his S/O.

Quizzes - I'm gonna be honest, he'll remember only what he finds important. Anniversaries, your birthday, and that's pretty much as far as it goes. But he finds the little things important. Like how you like to do your hair, your favorite color, your favorite shirt of his. It's important to him, so he'll remember.

Remember - Speaking of remembering, his favorite moment is probably finally feeling safe enough to be vulnerable with you. Your reassurance really solidified that you were his ride or die.

Security - He's free scary dog privileges. If it's someone whose not scared of him, (ex: Magneto), you can try to be his scary dog. If it doesn't work out, he'll handle it. And he won't fault you either.

Try - it may not look like it to outsiders, but he does try. He doesn't need to take you out on fancy dates for you know that he's trying. He has a lot of hidden anxiety about fucking up, so him doing anything is him trying. He might seem cocky, but it's a mask that only you can see as a mask, and not just him.

Ugly - Smoking. You can live with the drinking since he doesn't go overboard, more of a casual drinker, but the smoking. Take that cigar and shove some sort of candy in his mouth-

Vanity - He's not really vain. He works out a little bit for his personal preference, sure, but as long as he doesn't smell, he doesn't really care.

Whole - Once you two are locked, you are half of him. If you are away for some reason, he gets snippy, and everyone knows to steer clear. They just see him as angry. You know what it really is though. He knows anger as an emotional outlet, so it's his default. He's actually really sad, and no one but him knows this, but he'll cuddle his pillow when you're not there at night.

Yuck - Pressure. If you pressure him to be anything he isn't, or isn't ready to be, he's out. You try to force him into the cookie cutter? You will never see him again. He doesn't want to be fixed, he likes who he is (sometimes) and he'll let himself change naturally. If you pressure him, he's gone like the wind.

Zzz - He has sleep apnea. Due to how the ribs expand when you breathe, and his bones being coated in adamantium, he has a surpringly hard time breathing. Especially when he's asleep and his body weight is adding to it. He'll just... stop breathing a quick min while sleeping. That, paired with the nightmares? Insomnia.

NSFW ALPHABET

(Content warning from here)

Aftercare - I am so sorry but this man is shit at aftercare. He's not roll over and fall asleep immediately kind of shitty, but more of a 'I don't know what to do' kind of shitty. He'll cuddle with you if you want him too, but that's as far as it goes without a little coaching.

Body part - Boobs or ass? Nah, he likes your stomach. No matter the shape. Toned, apron belly, etc. He has his hands on your stomach when he fucks you. He likes his chest, personally. It's the one muscle that the heavy bones doesn't build, and he's proud that he's able to actually work on it naturally. And he won't admit it, but, he does like when you touch his nipples.

Cum - Anywhere. He just loves to cum. Inside, outside, wherever. He will work you to cum, and he will cum, and he's satisfied with that.

Dirty secret - He will never tell you this, but if you are a loud moaner, he does get kinda annoyed by it. You ever wonder why he lets his hand rest on your neck?

Experience - There are 100's of lists of all the characters he has slept with, men and women. Need I say more?

Favorite Position - Missionary. It's the most vanilla, but he doesn't care. It allows you to touch him, and he gets to see your face and your body, a 2 in 1 special. His second favorite is doggy, and his third is lotus.

Goofy - He'll crack a joke here and there, and laugh when there's a funny sound. There's always going to be weird sounds with sex, why not laugh at it? Other than that he doesn't joke a lot.

Hair - He's a hairy man. That ab scene in deadpool and Wolverine? Yeah, Hairy. He'll keep it trimmed so it doesn't get out of hand and cause issues, but if you ask, he'll try to keep everything trimmed for you. You gotta remind him now and then.

Intimacy - Unless it's a special time, he's not really romantic about it. He'll flirt a little bit as foreplay, but that's pretty much it for daily sex.

Jack off - He doesn't mind it, especially since he knows that libido varies from person to person, so if he's in the mood, and you're not, he'll rub one out. He prefers to fuck of course, but he knows how to take care of himself.

Kink - Biting. You can't wear revealing shirts because otherwise someone will see the bruises from his teeth. He just can't explain why his brain tells him to bite down on you right before he cums. He also likes it when you bite him back, because it can add a bit of playfulness to it.

Location - He's a private man. So anywhere where you two won't get caught. You can be in the middle of the woods, away from trails, and he'll go at it with you if you want. But that's as public as he'll allow.

Motivation - crop tops. No matter your sex or gender, they get to him. That and anything like shorts or skirts where he could slip in at the right angle.

No - He won't severely hurt you. If you're kinkier, he'll draw a little bit of blood with his claws, but he won't downright stab you. He's not a fan of blood, but if you're into it, he can compromise a little. Also he hates role play.

Oral - He doesn't really have a preference. He likes both giving and receiving. And God is he good at it, too, whether it be dick or pussy, he knows his way around. If you are a particularly clean person, he might even rim you from time to time.

Pace - depends on the day. Most is a fast, drilling pace, but every once in a while he likes to take it slow. (That's why he likes the lotus position.)

Quickie - You'd think he'd be down for it, but surprisingly, no. He'd rather wait to get multiple rounds with you, and the good lube.

Risk - He's not really risky. It mostly stems from not wanting people to know his buisness, or even the chance someone else could see you, and you be embarrassed.

Stamina - His healing ability plays a part, but not as much as you'd think. You gotta give him a little bit of time, but he's almost always down for another round, he mostly stops when you tap out.

Toys - I feel like unless you introduce him to it, he won't have any interest. Despite being the sexy desire he is, he's a little bit old school, he only really knew vanilla before the modern world. He is down to try anything though. Even urethra play if you promise he gets to do it on you, too.

Unfair - He might tease a little if there's one of the funny sex sounds, but otherwise he just gets straight into it. He doesn't quite have the patience, even if he wishes he did.

Volume - You know how half of his lines in the movie is grunts? Yeah. It's a lot of grunting.

Wild Card - He would be willing to let someone else be a cuck. No touching, but if you're comfortable, someone else can watch. (Wade volunteers as tribute-)

Yearning - Depends on the time of year. Not like a rut thing, but more like a woman's cycle. Animals have certain seasons that they really try to mate, to have the best opportunity to create life, and he is subconsciously going to be the same way.

Zzz - Insomnia king, but when he is actually tired, he makes sure you're at least comfortable and satisfied before letting himself fall asleep.

There's my Logan SFW and NSFW alphabet! I hope yall enjoyed it!

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #x men logan #james howlett #james howlett smut #x men smut

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