#I've spent the entire day taking photos.

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[hedgehog-moss]

I finally planted my garden last week! We had a couple of days of sun which gave me hope, but it's once again raining every day. Thoughts and prayers for my tomato plants, but I couldn't keep everyone in the greenhouse forever, I had to make room for other plants.

(In the fourth picture above you can see what's inside the hügelkultur mound—it's a pile of branches + llama manure + compost + potting soil. One thing I find great about it is how well it retains moisture! Well it's not a problem this year so far but during heat waves I water these plants a lot less than non-mound plants.)

In the greenhouse my seedlings have been struggling due to lack of sun. Impossible to get courgette plants so I had to buy a few from the young couple in town who recently started a plant nursery—they didn't have many either, and I had to share with the mayor who also came looking for courgette plants because slugs devoured all of his.

He must have seen on my face that I thought my plants didn't stand a chance if slugs don't even respect municipal authority, because he kindly advised me to place crowns of bedstraw (see above) around my plants to protect them. I didn't dare to ask "If it works so well why do you have no courgette plants left?" I just said thank you, and then spent an entire evening last week weaving this sticky weed into crowns and whatsapping photos of my art to the mayor, who always replied "More! More! It needs to be thicker! Like a doughnut!"

Meanwhile 1 leek in the greenhouse suddenly grew a lot thicker while the other 3 remained skinny and fearful-looking and I'm not sure why. They share a pot, so maybe it's like vanishing twin syndrome. My bell pepper seeds had the same asynchronous development issue—one pot is just now starting to have timid seedlings while the other (right next to it) already contains a grown-up plant with baby peppers:

By far my happiest greenhouse plants are the potatoes and lettuce. They shot up so fast! I've been eating a lot of lettuce lately but I can't keep up with how quickly they grow in this cold, rainy spring. And I haven't had any slug raids in the greenhouse so that's great.

My greenhouse squash, onions and pickles are still tiny and not worth a photo (harsh, but this post already has too many photos). My strawberries in the aquaponic towers are beautiful despite the lack of sun and I've been getting mini-harvests of 2-3 strawberries a day for two weeks! They're done now, but I started more seeds so maybe I can get a second round at the end of the month.

Three more things:

1. Morille helped a lot as I was planting the garden. She kept an eye on my gardening tools so no one would steal them, and sometimes used them as cheek-scratchers. At one point I put one of my beautiful bedstraw crowns around her neck so she looked like Philip III of Spain in that painting where he wears a big ruff, but tragically she ran away in outrage before I could take a picture, and when she returned she'd got rid of her collar.

2. At the cow parade the other day there was a lady at the market who sold jars of homemade pesto sauce made from all kinds of different plants, and it opened up my mind to entirely new pesto horizons!! I always make the traditional kind with basil, but I have plants that grow much faster than basil, like my rocket, so I tried making pesto with 1/3 basil 2/3 rocket (plus garlic, olive oil, parmesan, cashews) and it was so good! I have to explore all of her recipes now, like plantain or nettle or sage pesto...

3. There's a monster in the greenhouse. It appeared practically overnight and is quickly claiming more and more territory. Unlike last year it's not a parsley monster—it's my lemon balm. One day it was growing in its vertical tower, luxuriant but tidy, like a normal plant, and the next it had quintupled in volume and was threatening to swallow the nearest planter. Look at the tiny tomato plants, they look terrified of it!

I urgently need to fight back against this giant m��lisse (as we call lemon balm) but I've been really busy and I keep putting it off, and then remembering anxiously at 11pm that I still have this creature to take care of, which is ironic seeing as lemon balm is supposed to relieve stress and anxiety. This is the exact opposite of why I planted you. Anyway if you never hear from me again after this post it's because I finally engaged in battle against this year's vegetal menace, and lost.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Reader and olivia celebrating max for Father’s Day(olivia and reader making him a cake and imagining little livie make some drawings for him )😍😍 and some instagram posts

we love maxie and liv 🥲💗

summary: father's day with liv

Father's Day

It was a sunny Father's Day morning and Max woke up to the delicious aroma of breakfast wafting through the air. As he rubbed his eyes and stretched, he couldn't help but smile. Today was a special day and he had a feeling that it would be full of surprises.

As he headed to the kitchen, he was greeted by his wife, Y/N, and adorable daughter, Olivia, busy preparing something on the stove. Olivia's eyes shone with excitement when she saw her father enter the room and ran over to him ready to give him a huge hug.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" Olivia exclaimed, her face beaming with joy.

Max smiled and leaned in to give her a hug. "Thank you, princess. What's all this?" he asked, pointing to the variety of ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter.

"We made you a special breakfast," Y/N interjected, flashing a warm smile. "Your favorite: pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice."

Max's heart filled with warmth as he watched his girls work together in the kitchen. Olivia, wearing her little apron, carefully flipped the pancakes while Y/n expertly poured the orange juice into a glass.

''Papa, go back to bed, you're supposed to have woken up later! It's a surprise breakfast in bed! Go, go''

Once everything was ready, Olivia carefully carried a tray laden with breakfast delights to her parents' room. Max couldn't help but feel a surge of love for his family. He sat on the bed as Olivia proudly presented the tray, and a decorated handmade card in her hand.

"Daddy, this is for you!" Olivia exclaimed, handing him the card.

Max opened it and found a beautiful drawing of him in his racing car, accompanied by another where it was now a drawing of him dressed as a superhero along with two more drawings on the side, they were of Olivia and Y/N made with different colored crayons (and lets not forget about the cats) next to a large phrase in capital letters that said "the best papa in the entire world"

Max, being the sensitive person that he is, ended up hugging his little girl tightly while letting a few tears escape.

"Thank you, my little angel," Max said, his voice filled with emotion. "This is the best gift ever, in fact, I'll frame it."

After saying that, little Liv's eyes shone with excitement when she saw that her dad liked her gift.

But the surprises didn't end there. Later that day, after a quiet family afternoon, Max found himself back in the kitchen, where Y/N and Olivia were talking about something.

When Max walked in, he was greeted by a chorus of "Happy Father's Day!" and the sight of a beautifully decorated cake on the table. Olivia and Y/N were proud of their creation: a vanilla cake decorated with cherries.

"You two really know how to make a guy feel special," he said, pulling his wife and daughter into a group hug.

''Daddy, before this day ends, I have one last surprise for you, wait here and close your eyes, no cheating !''

''Another one?''

Max listened to what his daughter had asked him, then he waited with his eyes closed for some sign so that he could open them, but when he did, he was not expecting that. In front of him, Liv was wearing a miniature suit exactly like his, along with a small helmet while her daughter wore it with a proud smile. ''I'm like you daddy! Do you like it?''

Max ran to pick up his daughter in his arms and spin her around in the air, laughing happily. ''It looks much better on you than it does on my sweetheart, wait, stand there, I want to take some photos of you.'' And so, Max spent the last of the day doing a photo session with his daughter in that suit that replicated his.

maxverstappen1

Liked by yn.ln, lewishamilton, and 2,368,583 others

maxverstappen1 Celebrating the greatest (and best) title I've ever been given, ''dad''. Thanks to this little bundle of joy who made me a father (and to my beautiful wife who created her). Happy Father's Day to all the amazing dads out there 🙌❤️

username max being a girl dad makes sm sense to me 🥲

yn.ln best father in the world! 💕

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landonorris Happy father's day dad! answer my calls :(

yn.ln

Liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 1,583,184 others

yn.ln Happy Father's Day to this incredible man who lights up our world with so so much love and joy! Here's to you, my love, on this special day, we love you so very much- liv and y/n 💗💗💗💗

oscarpiastri mom, dad is not responding my messages congratulating him, say something to him.....

maxverstappen1 love you ❤️

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username pls adopt me y/n, I'll be the pet if u want

[miley1442111]

Reader x Rafe. They have only been on a few dates. They do not have a claim on each other. Rafe’s cousing is visting for the weekend, unknown to her, and is a really pretty girl. Rafe posts a photo of her on his story on instagram, having dinner. Reader assumes the worst, that he is keeping his options open and dating others, and it makes her really sad when she only had eyes for him. She is aware that that they have not had a talk about dating others, and she does not have the ’’right’’ to be so sad but still is, wanting him to just feel like her, liking her so much that he does not want to see anyone else. Rafe at some point later after his family/cousin dinner is done, he texts reader at night, asking if she wants to talk on the phone ’missing her voice’ but she just scoffs sadly to herself reading it, now thinking he is just a bit of a pig, thinking she truly meant nothing to him for him to be so casual about it. Unknown to her, Rafe feels exactly the same as her, not wanting anyone but her and is walking in circles at home in panic talking to himself, wondering what he has done. He does not want to be to pushy as they have just started dating so he does not harass her with texts. A few days go by and he sees her at the bonfire with her friends, kind of approaches her like he approached Kie, very gentle and soft. She tries to just keep it short, answering his questions being polite and goes to leave after getting her drink but he is like ’’wow wow wow, wait. You’re not answering my calls. I feel like I’ve done something to upset you and it’s killing me’ and she kind of brings up the girl, not in an accusing way, more so like ’’I get it. You wanna keep your options open. I’m just not comfortable with that because I like you a lot. We had a good run but I guess that is it. Take care of yourself’’ with a sad smile but then he stops her from walking away and clears up the misunderstanding and its a sweet ending

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my promise- r.cameron

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting! sorry to everyone, i've been struggling a lot with writer's block and with college starting up everything has been super busy but I should be back on a fairly regular basis now :)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! pogue! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: rafe is a bit of a dick without realising, reader is upset, pogues hate rafe, i think that's it?

+ this rafe is not show-accurate, this is another universe where he can express emotions and recognise how his action affect others :)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe Cameron was a pig. Three months of talking, and he finally asked you out. And now he was on a date with someone else. 

But what else were you expecting from the ‘Kook king’? Your friends were right. You shouldn’t have even bothered with Rafe. He would always be a fucking man-whore with too much money and too little empathy. Of course you were a game to him, what else would you be? You were a pogue. You were nothing in his eyes, just a fuck. You weren’t even his real girlfriend. He had no claim on you, and you had no claim on him. 

----------------

You would’ve genuinely stabbed yourself in the eye if it meant you got to stop watching them interact. Rafe and that blonde girl. You’d never seen her on the island, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t from here. Random people spent summers here every year, a lot of people rented out their houses, especially the rich ones, just so someone would be in their mansions while they were busy in Bali, or the Hamptons, or wherever rich assholes went on holidays. 

She laughed at something he said and you rolled your eyes. “He’s not even fucking funny,” you scoffed. 

JJ rolled his eyes. “I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but-��

“Yeah yeah, you told me, I know,” you sighed. “Thought I could make a kook act like a human, that’s on me,” you held your arms up in defence. You two stood side by side as you shone the cutlery. Serving at the Country Club wasn’t bad, and the tips were good. It’s just you didn’t expect to see him on a date with someone else. 

You got off of work at 8pm, Rafe and the blonde girl were still busy chatting when you left. Jj gave you a lift on his bike and you decided to grab all of Rafe’s things and leave them on his doorstep, not even bothering to explain. You knew what you saw. You knew what he was doing. You didn’t care anymore, you were worth more than that. 

At about 2am you woke up to your phone ringing. 

“Hello?” 

Your groggy voice made Rafe smile. It had been a long night of entertaining his annoying beauty-queen cousin, and he wanted to talk to you, to see you. “Hey baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hi Rafe.”

“How was your day?” he asked. 

“Fine,” your answers were short and to the point. You had no interest in entertaining this anymore. “Yours?”

“Boring as fuck,” he chuckled. 

“What did you do today?” you asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of you. You wanted to see if he’d admit it. 

“Nothing much, worked out, golf, went to dinner with family, that’s it.” 

Of course he was lying. And using his family as a cover? Asshole. 

“Why did you call me?” you questioned, trying to act interested, but failing miserably. 

“I missed your voice,” he admitted shyly. 

“Ok, you heard it, night Rafe,” you sighed before hanging up. A part of you was angry. Another was just upset. How could he see other people? You two had a really good thing going, didn’t you? You thought he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. How wrong you were. It just reminded you of why you were so apprehensive to date him in the first place, to date anyone in the first place. Maybe you weren’t enough for him. Maybe you weren’t enough at all. 

You let yourself try to sleep it off, but the next few days you were down, and everyone could tell. Jj had told the others what had happened, and you could see the pitying glances from Kie and the boys, and the annoyed looks from Sarah. She hated him, genuinely, but this was the last straw. She’d told him not to break your heart. She’d warned him. 

“What about the bonfire tonight?” John B offered to the group as the sunset. “That would cheer you up,” he nudged your arm and you grimaced. 

“I don’t feel like going out,” you sighed. “You guys go ahead.”

Sarah sighed. “You can’t let this ruin your week Y/n. He’s a dick, he’ll always be a dick, and it wasn’t your fault for liking him. Every single one of my friends as a kid liked him, then he showed his true colours and he’s a dick again. His behaviour is not a benchmark for your value. He’s in the wrong, not you. Come out with us tonight, even if it’s just for 30 minutes, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, giving in. “Fine.”

----------------

You hadn’t texted him back in three days. He didn’t want to be the pushy ‘be with me all the time’  boyfriend, but he was used to texting you at least once a day. Now you’d left him without a response for 3 whole days. Thinking back, he knew you were being weird during the phone call the other night, and he couldn’t understand what he’d done. Were you losing interest? He hoped you weren’t. You were the only girl who he’d ever been really serious about.  You were the only girl he’d ever felt a real connection with. You were his girl, at least, you would be. 

He pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, find you.

You pulled up to the bonfire with one thought in mind, hide from Rafe. 

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Hiding didn’t exactly last long, especially when he was directly following you around the entire beach. If you went towards the water, he’d come near you, if you went towards the house, he’d come near you, if you went up to the fire, there he just so happened to be, roasting a marshmallow with a big smile on his face. You did notice how he wasn’t carrying around his signature corona, nor was his nose full of white powder. Huh. He’d listened when you said you didn’t like him being ‘uncontrolled’ as you called it, yet he went on a date with another girl. Strange.

You sat away from your friends, by the water, nursing a can of beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker and you’d probably go home after this, since you’d already been at the party for a little while. You watched the sea come in and out. Wave after wave, softly brushing against the shore. 

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice brought you out of your trance. He sat down beside you, dirtying whatever expensive shorts he had on. 

“Hey,” you answered.

“How are you?” He asked, his tone not missing the awkwardness of this moment. He was nervous before coming up to you, but now? Having to come face to face with your cold tone was becoming unbearable pretty quickly. 

“Fine thanks, how are you?” You asked, continuing your staring at the sea. 

“Good. Better, now,” he smiled, placing a hand over yours. “You forgot to text me back.”

“Did I?” you didn’t even try to make yourself sound sincere. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You been busy? How’s work?” 

“It’s fine,” you answered. After a moment of silence, you got up. “I’m going to get another beer-”

“Wait,” he jumped up beside you. “You’re not answering my calls. You’re not talking to me normally. You’re not answering my questions. Have I done something to upset you?”

You scoffed. “I wonder.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean Y/n? You’re killing me here.”

“Look, I get it you want to keep your options open and we were just casual, it’s fine. I’m just not the kind of girl to just be casual with, alright? That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I really liked you. But if you want to go and do that, that’s fine, just don’t bring me into it,” you explained calmly. “Goodbye Rafe.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” he called after you, making you turn back. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you at the Country Club with the blonde girl, Rafe, seriously, your dating life is your own- what?” You stopped talking because Rafe had started pulling a disgusted face. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s my cousin,” he explained. “My super annoying cousin.”

And everything made a bit more sense. The family comment wasn’t a lie. Now that you think about it, they did look pretty similar.

“Oh.”

“You thought we were on a date?” 

“Well it was candle-lit,” you chuckled.

“All the tables at the club are candle-lit past 8pm!” He laughed. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I was cheating on you?”

“Well, we haven’t technically said we were dating so… I just assumed you were keeping your options open,” you shrugged. 

Rafe cracked a smile. “You think I’d pick anyone over you?”

You shrugged. “People do.”

“People are fucking stupid,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you two walked further down the beach. “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honours of officially being your boyfriend?” 

“Only if you do me the honours of being your girlfriend,” you smiled.  He turned to you and cupped your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “I’m all yours, promise.”

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[r3starttt]

OBLIVIATE | 00

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > CHAPTER ONE

an: comment to be added to the taglist!

SUMMARY: Amidst the seemingly flawless life, at the peak of the perfection, a looming fear emerges from the very plan that set everything in motion. It shadows you and your wife like a persistent ghost. Memories of youth and a vow to eternal love now cling relentlessly, tempting them to give it another chance.

CW: WIP. +18 content. poly relationship. threesome. sexting. smut encounters. description of sex. modern au. famous au. college au. ex to lovers. time skips.

hockey player! a. rockstar! e. actress! r.

Faded Polaroids lingered between your fingers, each one handled with the utmost delicacy and love.

PROLOGUE

You and Abby had just moved for the third time this year. This entire week had been a blur of sleepless nights spent unpacking. Abby had refused to allow anyone else access to the privacy of your new home, earning frequent scoldings from you, constantly reminding her how things could've been much easier that way.

You only accepted her request because of a very specific person on your mind.

Since your careers took off, neither of you had had a proper chance to settle down. Constantly rushing for interviews and switching roles between trophy wife and fame that left little room for stability.

As you organized the fancy shelfs she bought for the leaving room, Abby found a box filled with memories from her teenage years—music albums, books, and albums she had brought from her home after your marriage, knowing how much you cherished such things.

Taking a break to eat and rest, you both decided to sift through them. You laughed at her old photos, where she looked adorable or, as she called herself, 'nerdy' with her first pair of glasses. Constantly melting at her baby pictures, falling even more in love with the woman before you.

However, the comfort dimmed when you found a particular Polaroid—one you had once begged to take so you would never forget that day. Abby rested her head on your shoulder in the photo, your arms on each side, holding the camera, an auburn girl on your other side.

"What's that?" Abby's voice took you off trance. Your eyes flickered between the Polaroid in your hand and her face, simply leaning the picture to her.

"Guess we mixed them last time" She muttered quietly "Thought you put it here on purpose" a dismissive tone in those words, such a fake acting.

"Nah, I've got a whole box for it" you met her eyes. Your eyebrows furrowing at the tone on her voice, mocking you.

"I've been thinking about her" You handed her another picture, a small dog on Abby's lap. An intent to distract her from the emotions your words might evoke.

"Yeah?" Her hand brushed yours as she took the Polaroid. "What about her?" The couch creaked as she shifted closer to you.

"How's she doing?" you whispered, breaking the silence that kep on growing between both. "You've herd the news." Abby inquired, quite nonchalantly

"I miss her," you admitted. Saying it aloud felt strange, almost wrong- it left a bittersweet taste.

You hoped she would say something, but instead, she was distracted by another Polaroid she handed you seconds later. It was one you had never seen before, there she was, Ellie Williams

-

It all started with what was supposed to be a studying session, for you.

Both of them, well, Ellie had offered to help you with some math things you were having issues with. Abby decided to join 'I don't trust you two alone'

After that day, their need for you became a constant, unwavering presence. If they had been touch-deprived before, yearning for your glance, your kiss, any sign of affection, it only intensified afterward.

They craved your proximity, your touch, your attention, and it was undeniably tempting.

You agreed with both to let it as a sort of open relationship, a friends with benefits arrangement.

Mostly because you knew it would never work if the three of you stood together.

Not with Abby's aspirations and determination to study something to make her dad proud. Ellie, being deeply invested in her studies, aiming for success- hungry. And you who could only wait for that lucky signal, that defining moment to steer you toward your life's purpose—anything to keep you occupied.

Abby constantly showered you with affection and care, feeling a physical need to spoil both of you. She would often send videos or pictures of her sweaty abdomen post-gym session, accompanied by messages asking if either of you needed anything. "Have you eaten yet?"

On the other hand Ellie kept sexting whenever she had the chance, sending you both nudes with the excuse she needed an opinion before sending them to a girl she'd just met. Which wasn't completely fake- it just happened way too often to not be on purpose.

So, why not give it a chance. If it worked, great. If not, well, you'd find a way to make it function as long as you needed it.

> CHAPTER ONE

- taglist: @softlysunrays @eyesfullofsttars <33 | @cowboylu @ennabear @satellitespinner @flowrmoth

[s1llyalabaster]

When mediocrity meets the supremacy - veritas ratio

Where the Doctor narrows his eyes at the trailblazer for stealing his partner's attention.. ~700 words, SFW (not necessarily connected, but read part 1!

AU where reader followed the trailblaze before quitting to pursue further studies in various fields of science with Dr. Ratio himself in the Intelligensia Guild. (Might not be entirely lore accurate, trailblazer doesnt go to Belobog)

Your mind brings you back to the soft swishes of water during your bath with you beloved. it had been almost 5 system hours since the last few drops of bathwater went down the drain, small petals being the only thing that signified your intimate rendezvous with the Doctor himself.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to pull away from the sweet, dream-esque scene. You find yourself struggling to focus on the task at hand, the smug face of Vertitas Ratio plastering itself all over the wals of your mind like the "WANTED" posters all over belobog's brick walls you saw during the journey to Jarilo VI with your old friends.

Speaking of the trailblazers, you had planned a small gathering with the Astral Express members in the evening, since they were visiting. You had yearned to see the faces of Marth 7th, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt, even Pom Pom. You've heard from March that there had been a new member of the Astral Express, going by Caelus. Judging from March's bombarding texts of photos and videos, he seemed to have a quite....eccentric personality, but bore a kind expression nonetheless.

You'd adequately dressed yourself up after returning to you and Dr. Ratio's humble home, opting to switch to a fancier outfit. It was a speical occasion, after all. You loosely linked your arm around Veritas' very reluctant arm, walknig towards the round table where the members were sat.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" Himeko addressed your name, and drifted her eyes to the grey-haired trailblazer to the opposite of you. Dr. Ratio narrowed his eyes, you slightly nudged him to get rid of that old habit, hard enough to get a small grunt out of him.

"Say, Trailblazer. How has the Astral Express been treating you?" You asked, watching as the gears slowly spun into action in his head, almost as if someone was controlling him through a game screen.(teehee)

"Well..I've been through lots of unforgettable journeys with the Astral Express, and they've shown me much care in a...familial way."

You nod your head, satisfied at the answer before you. You reminisce about your days spent on the Express. Whether it be happy or hurtful, significant but sad. A clink of the wine glass drew everyone at the old-fashioned western-styled restaurant's attention.

"Come on! Won't a handsome man just come up and sing along to this song with me?!"

The woman dragged Caelus' arm towards the center stage, handing him a hat. He gracefully donned it on his head as you watched in admiration. Since Caelus was younger than you, you had an almost...motherly love to him. But Veritas didn't seem to take it that way.

You clapped along to the rhythm of a song sang by the singing duo - composed of a random woman, and the newest member of the Astral Express. The soda bottles hopped in joy as the trailblazer returns to his seat. Ah, a livehouse, I see.

Throught the scene, Ratio's eyes trailed alongside your movements; every captivating smile, every clap sent to the trailblazer, every whoop or cheer sent to him, every---

Graphs and charts were buzzing about in his mind. His analytical brain was working at full speed. "What made him to be so charming when it was me that needed to be appealing?!" No amount of data or statistics could account for how much love he had for you in his heart, yet he couldn''t show it, and you were about to be taken away by--

"Veritas? Are you alright?" He had awoken to your soft touches on his face. He'd abruptly sat up on the bed that he once laid on. Pause. An epiphany occured in his mind, "You...the party...!" He tried to compose himself, yet his drunk-dazed (teehee) mind wouldn't cooperate. "The party went greatly, dear! Half the time, you were zoned out, just staring at some random poster about Robin and Sunday!"

Veritas' eyes widened. "I didn't say anything....preposterous, did I?"

"Well...only something about wanting me to be your super private secretary, and only yours-" "Ridiculous! Utterly absurd!"

Putting on his alabaster head, facing away from you. Looks like the Doctor won't be able to admit to his jealousy...

[abiiors]

red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you. 

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him. 

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like. 

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time. 

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place. 

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly. 

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry. 

“come in,” you offer and he nods. 

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance. 

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby. 

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless. 

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past. 

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name. 

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room. 

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head. 

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame. 

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through. 

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby. 

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door. 

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe. 

you don’t need a third. 

you only need her. 

matty doesn’t give up. 

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside. 

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day. 

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it. 

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens. 

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting. 

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times. 

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter.  i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out.  i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once.  i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future.  i’m leaving that decision up to you.  there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again.  till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia.  love,  matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right? 

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too. 

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up. 

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words. 

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest. 

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days. 

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right. 

this is not about you. this is about your daughter. 

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread. 

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it. 

gone. winked out of existence just like that. 

and then you open a fresh new thread. 

hi matty, hope you’re well.  got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone. 

half a minute later, three dots dance in response. 

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you. 

sunday works. see you then. 

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery. 

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get. 

the more you feel fear grip your chest. 

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life. 

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat. 

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option. 

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again. 

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache. 

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps. 

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around. 

fuck. 

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning. 

absolutely no one who will even answer. 

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand. 

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side. 

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it. 

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries. 

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all. 

as if this was all his dream. 

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly. 

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point. 

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before. 

something about it makes your heart stutter. 

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread. 

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest. 

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly. 

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer. 

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away. 

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally. 

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery. 

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat. 

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever. 

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden. 

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it. 

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest. 

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed. 

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song. 

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it. 

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes. 

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks. 

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum. 

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls. 

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen. 

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes. 

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him. 

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up. 

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this. 

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face. 

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye. 

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo. 

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back. 

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest. 

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation. 

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince. 

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father. 

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod. 

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother. 

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard. 

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer. 

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see  if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out. 

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights. 

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it. 

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours. 

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence. 

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity. 

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil. 

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter. 

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares. 

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth. 

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours. 

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now. 

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between. 

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support. 

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly. 

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw. 

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter. 

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear. 

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair. 

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank. 

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter. 

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all. 

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face. 

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right. 

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin. 

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head. 

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights. 

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head. 

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that. 

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue. 

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt. 

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid. 

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod. 

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room. 

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again. 

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place. 

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss. 

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge. 

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world. 

you’d die if he were to let go of you now. 

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming. 

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it. 

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out. 

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge. 

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin. 

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit. 

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you. 

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes. 

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.  

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst. 

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it. 

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest. 

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

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[adaelines]

price relationship hcs!

sorry for nothing longer, I've felt bad pain wise lately but I replayed mw on veteran and still spent the entire time staring at him ♡

warnings: gn reader, smut below the warning, price adores you so much!!!, he calls you a bitch but its during sex and affectionate, brat tamer price, spanking, collaring

-first proper date, following most likely months of flirting whenever possible and the biggest crush known to man, would be at the local pub. some place you can both call yourselves regular at in the near future, that he hopes you can have regular date nights at when hes home with you, with a pint of whatever on draft and a selection of pub classics. steak and ale pie, fish and chips, lasagne… he doesn't care what you order, he wants you to enjoy yourself and happily pays for it all

-he's a heater. whether it's at home cuddled in bed, on the sofa whilst you watch TV together, or anything that required close proximity, this man is so warm it practically radiates off of him. means he gives the absolute best hugs, usually reserved only for you, and is the absolute best to share a bed with at night. sleeping with this man is so comfortable, always at least one arm wrapped around you tight, he loves to be as close as physically possible

-LOVES anything domestic with you. could be standing next to each other in the bathroom, brushing your teeth whilst he takes care of his beard, showering together with nothing sexual, just intimate time together. it's his absolute favourite, nothing means more to him than being able to do this sort of stuff with you! learns your routine pretty quick and is over the moon when you start doing yours with him! spends a fair amount on his beard oils, it reminds him of home after having no time to take care of himself past the basics on deployment, will happily buy you expensive self care items too! swears he's not a sugar daddy, just loves spoiling you!

-the BEST gossip partner. not just gossip, he'll listen to you talk about your day for hours, sit next to him and let him braid your hair, or simply play with it if it's short, and tell him everything. he'll respond with little hums, "'s that so, love?", or laugh along. but he is listening, asks questions regularly, he's just quiet because he loves memorising your voice for when he's away

-has a locket with a picture of you that he wears all the time, especially when he's on duty. he's careful, wouldn't want it getting into the wrong hands, but knowing he has something of you, has your photo with him, gets him through the hardest of missions. spends nights looking at it, reminds him that beneath everything he's human with someone waiting for him at home, that he needs to get back to you. it's always beneath clothing, most don't even know it exists, but it's the most important thing to him whilst he's away

NSFW BELOW

-god. this man. the biggest brat tamer ever. when you get together, after a while of being comfortable and knowing that you're okay with it, sets out rules to follow and any boundaries, anything that's okay or not. stuff like not touching yourself without his permission, always telling him when you're needy, telling him what you're feeling at all times, and always listening to what he tells you. despite all the rules, you're always most important!

-if you're into it, will get you a necklace to wear at all times, like a collar. a pretty simple thing, in silver or gold, that's discreet enough that others wouldn't recognise what it really is. you're expected to wear it all the time, but it's a pretty little chain that means so much you really wouldn't want to take it off anyway.

-he wears a few rings, all simple gold thick bands that look incredible on his hands. loves when you suck on his fingers and pay special attention to them, wrap your lips around him and trail your tongue over the cold band, it'll send him over the edge. loves when they leave marks on you, especially when spanking you.

-speaking of spanking, he absolutely loves it! you're being extra bratty, talking back and moving away from him? you're gonna end up bent over his knee. always listens, knows when to stop, but he's gonna push you to your limit, he's gonna spank you till you cry, till you're sobbing out apologies and promises to be good for him. it's gonna be hard to sit after, the way you're bruised, and his pretty rings are gonna leave welts, deeper marks that'll stay longer.

"this is what you wanted, right? acting like such a brat, lay there and take it."

"pretty little thing… be good, won't you? stop actin' like such a bitch and ill stop treating you like one, sweetheart."

"you always look so good like this. is this why you do it? you like being marked as mine? you can just ask, love, don't have to act out all the time…"

-despite how mean he can be, how brutal, he's very very kind after. praises you for taking it so well, gives you so many kisses, rubs soothing gel anywhere he hit. brushes your hair and runs you a bath. if you're up to it, will go down on you and worship you until it's too much, he adores you and it shows.

-is VERY in tune with what you want and need. rough and brutal, hips slamming into yours, holding you down with one hand whilst the other is in your hair, roughly grabbing it? done. gently holding you close to him, whispering how perfect you are, fingers gently rubbing you, kissing your cheek and neck and absolutely spoiling you? done. he always knows what to do, pays close attention to every tell you have, he knows when to hold you tight or when to hold you down.

-the best at aftercare. does anything you need without complaint, will gently clean you up and hold you so close. he loves you more than life itself, you mean more to him than anything, he can get mean during sex but never means it, you're everything to him.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER THREE (MELBOURNE & IMOLA)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: more heartbreak but that's probs it

author's note: hello again !!! i've been meaning to post this for several days now but never found the strength to proofread it all. decided to fit melbourne and imola both into one chapter because they were kinda short on their own, and they are about a lot of similar stuff so i think it made sense. hope you enjoy, thank you for all love on this <33 monaco chapter is like maybe halfway done so it shouldn't take too long !! (& i like that one more hehe)

series masterlist

MELBOURNE

"ollie, put on your sunglasses," dino tells his friend, doing the same with his own reflective sunglasses before flipping his cap around. "let's look tough and cool."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the boys in front of you. ollie does as he's told, both of them crossing their arms over their chests as they lean their shoulders against each others. "is that really the pose you're going for?" you ask, and you're instantly met with a string of protests from the impatient swedish man, making you raise your hands in defense. "as you wish..."

you lean back slightly to fit the whole wall behind them into the frame, all works of graffiti apparently important to include, according to your friend. you're glad that you were quick to press the button to take the picture since, of course, they can't keep the pose for more than a few seconds before breaking into a fit of laughter.

you may be complaining a lot about having been dragged around melbourne the entire day, taking photos of your friends, and being forced to socialize. but really, you're thankful for this opportunity to take your mind off everything that's been going on. during your entire break since jeddah, you've been mourning your feature race and dwelling on everything about paul. it's easy to get stuck in your head, to only remember the bad things. and in those times, you're glad to have people around you to pull you out of the darkness.

melbourne will be different. that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got out of the car in jeddah. you got your first f3 win here last season, and despite how it's still a fairly new track to you, you have a lot of confidence driving around it. you have faith in your car, and you know you have the skills to perform well. you just need to actually score some points again to keep up in the championship.

"can you two losers stop laughing already?" you huff, slipping your phone into your pocket. "i'm starving, and i refuse to have dinner in the f2 hospitality before the race weekend has even started."

"blah blah blah, you're just picky," dino says as he strolls up to you, one of his hands coming up to mess up your hair. you shoot him a glare. "whatever, let's get going. i'm really hungry myself, actually."

you rake a hand through your hair to fix the chaos he caused, before hurrying to keep up with the long-legged boys who've already started walking away. as you squeeze in between them, ollie reaches for your hand, fingers slipping between yours. you let out a content sigh; not only because you're finally getting some food, nor because of the way ollie squeezes your hand.

like this, it's like you don't seem to have a single care about anything in the world. like you've just flown across the world to hang out with your best friend and your boyfriend, to just have fun and relax in the sun.

dino and ollie pick up on the change in your mood, too; it's hard not to. though you haven't spent any time with them during the break, with the trio split up between england and italy, your slump has been so palpable that they could tell even from so far away. so seeing you this lighthearted and happy makes them satisfied, too.

the calm before the storm, as they say.

"and you said i was the picky one?" you ask as dino sits down at your table in the hospitality, nothing but some plain pasta and some kind of meat pie on his plate.

"you're not much better now, are you?" he asks back, glancing down at your empty plate and then up at your face again. the little baguette you've already eaten was not nearly enough to fuel you for the upcoming qualifying session.

you sigh. "i miss the fish and chips we had yesterday..."

"that was definitely not a part of our diet plan."

a scoff passes your lips and you shake your head. "maybe it wasn't the best possible food for my performance," you start, looking over your shoulder at the long buffet table. "but at least it was edible. my muscles may not have grown, but my heart sure did. isn't that important, too?"

dino chuckles as he chews down some pasta, shrugging his shoulders. "speaking of your heart," he says before taking a long sip from his water bottle. "i was surprised to see how lovey-dovey you and ollie were yesterday."

you raise an eyebrow at him. "aren't we always like that?"

"yeah you are, that's the thing."

you pause for a long moment. "and what's that supposed to mean?"

a sliver of regret makes its way onto his face, so slight you almost don't pick up on it. "well..." he tries his best to play it cool, even pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications, but you see right through him. "i may have heard something, but it doesn't mat-"

you can't stop yourself from cutting him off. "tell me. now."

now it's dino's time to let out a sigh, pulling a hand through his hair. "i heard that you and ollie were having problems. but clearly, that's not the case."

"and who told you that?"

"well, here's the thing, i-" dino's voice cracks just like it always does when he's nervous or when he's lying. he takes a second to clear his throat, and you intervene.

"it was paul, wasn't it?" you ask, and he doesn't answer. the fact that he doesn't immediately deny it, along with his blank expression, gives it away. "that idiot! oh my god..." dino is just about to speak up again, to explain himself or make up an excuse, but you give him no space. "why are you listening to him and not me? why would you not ask me if it's true before assuming something? is he really more reliable when it comes to my relationship?"

"y/n, you know i'm stuck between you three. you're all my best friends, and..." he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. "how should i know who to trust and who to talk to? i can't even mention him around you."

when his words kick in, your expression softens from the infuriated frown you were earlier displaying. you understand what he means; it must be hard for him to be in the middle of this ongoing cold war. "i get it, i get it," you finally say with a dismissive hand gesture. "just... tell me the details. tell me exactly what he said."

to be fair, the things paul had said to dino weren't as bad as you had expected. it had just been a tiny comment, something along the lines of how paul wasn't sure if you and ollie were still as comfortable around each other since you weren't spotted with him in the paddock in bahrain.

a full-on lie, but not the worst thing to ever happen.

though, what dino then tells you about, is the fact that paul wasn't the only one he heard about it from. kimi had confided in him, too; just like gabriel and dennis.

kimi's story had been pretty much the same as what paul told dino, but dennis said that he had heard that you and ollie had broken up already. and according to gabriel, paul has been telling people that you and ollie are only dating for publicity.

what a joke.

the weight of the rumors sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them break you. and despite how much you loathe the thought of even looking at him, your body is bubbling with the need to confront him. this can't go on.

how are you supposed to not think about paul and ollie all day, every day after that?

when you know your ex-boyfriend has been spreading fake rumors about you, how are you supposed to look at his stupid smile when he's walking through the paddock and not punch him in the face?

you manage to restrain yourself, with some help from pepe subtly grabbing your arm to hold you back whenever he notices that paul is near. the negative thing is that it means you don't get an outlet for your emotions.

you have yet to find any positives to it.

you were always told to not mix your driving with romance. now, you understand why. you're so distracted that pretty much everything gets messed up your entire weekend. you aren't able to prepare well for your sessions, so you end up with a weak 15:th position in the qualifying, along with one dnf in the sprint, in what's probably one of the fastest cars on the grid this weekend.

not even the feature works out for you. after a lucky start with five positions gained, you were finally fighting for points again. though, stalling in the pit is apparently not the most optimal thing to do when looking to climb the ranks, which was something you learned the hard way.

the worst of it all is the fact that of course paul ended up with yet another podium. where's the karma in that?

just when you've gotten out of your car and made your way back to the paddock, you spot him. he's on his way to the podium from the cooldown room, climbing a staircase and loudly chatting with zane maloney about the race.

this time, you can't hold back. he ruined your race; he deserves your anger.

"you're a complete idiot, you know that, right?"

your voice startles zane, who looks at you with a guilty expression for a moment until he takes in paul's reaction, realizing that he's not the one you're mat at. "yeah?" the estonian chuckles.

"yeah, you are!" the volume and intensity of your voice rise by the second as you make your way to the foot of the staircase. "where did you find the audacity to run around spreading false rumors about me and my boyfriend?!"

zane slowly steps away, not wanting to get caught in this crossfire, and ascends the steps towards the podium. paul's amused expression doesn't change at all. "what false rumors?"

you gawk at him, completely dumbfounded by his entire way of acting. "that we're having issues."

"well, you are."

"we are not!"

"come on," he starts shaking his head as you take a quick couple of steps up the staircase. "it's easy to see that you're not happy with him."

it doesn't take long for you to reach the landing he's standing on, and for the first time ever, you find yourself hating how tall he is. the way he looks down at you only furthers your aggravation – it's like you're smaller, like you matter less, like you aren't as strong. "and how would you know that i'm not happy?"

he sighs, as if he's completely uninterested in this entire conversation. like your anger doesn't affect him the slightest. "because i know you." he shrugs. "you don't smile like you used to. ollie isn't right for you."

"oh, but you were?!" you scoff, not believing your ears. "you're so conceited, holy shit! you just ruined my weekend, you ruined both of my races, just- leave me and ollie alone!"

when you turn around to descend the stairs again, you notice the crowd that's started to form below you. great. you haven't exactly been subtle, and you wouldn't be surprised if your yells could be heard all the way back to the campos garage. the sight should scare you – any other day, you would've been so embarrassed you'd want to melt through the floor. but right now, you're too full on anger to care.

"maybe you would be driving better if you were still with me."

paul's voice stops you just as you're about to walk down the first step. you slowly turn back to him, mouth gaping wide and eyes blown up.

"something about being with him is clearly bothering you. you weren't like this when you were with me." you're at a loss for words, which he notices and takes advantage of. "you're prioritizing him over your own racing. you did it in bahrain, you did it again in jeddah. it's not good for you."

"maybe what's not good for me is you, have you ever thought about that?" you walk up to him, a finger pressed up to his chest as you stare up at him. "maybe the reason i'm distracted because you won't leave me alone! you keep on spreading these stupid rumors about me and-" you have to pause for a moment to force down the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. "i can't take it! just back the fuck off!"

you feel like you could explode any second – if that isn't what you just did – and the fact that paul still looks like he doesn't give one single fuck about this makes you want to give him that beating he so deserves. but you hear pepe's voice in the back of your head, reminding you of how the fia wouldn't appreciate having a driver on the grid who gets into fistfights, and so you back off. with one last shake of your head, you turn again, storming down the stairs.

the sea of people at the end of the staircase splits open for you and you hurry away, not taking any time to see if you notice anyone you know in the crowd. you hear a familiar voice call out for you, one you can't quite identify, but you continue running towards your truck.

paul is an idiot – there's no denying in that fact.

but why was there more passion in these two minutes of fighting him than you've had in your entire relationship with ollie?

he can't be right, you decide. you really are in love with ollie, but not in a way that makes you compromise your racing. it's a great relationship, no matter how different it is from the one you had with paul. he may not believe it, but you will make it work.

he can't be right. you won't let him.

ollie heard about the fight between you and paul just minutes later. of course, there are people around the paddock who loves to run around and gossip – and how could they not tell the story of this huge fight to the man who was the topic of it?

in hindsight, he should've come to you instantly. he thought that the wise thing would be to give you space, to give you a few moments to breathe before he came in with all kinds of questions.

but then, when you finally come out of the campos truck over an hour later and make your way over to where he is waiting for you, he can't say anything. he sees the redness of your eyes and hears your heavy sighs loud and clear, and he knows you won't want to talk. he's too late; the wound may still be far from healed, but he still doesn't want to rip off the bandaid you've so carefully applied on yourself.

all he can do is wrap his arms around you, let you rest against his chest and kiss the top of your head, hoping to bring you at least a little bit of comfort.

next time, he will be quicker. he will be there for you right when you need it.

ollie sleeps soundlessly next to you when you pull out your journal from the bedside table. he hasn't had the most flawless weekend either, but at least he scored his first points of the season, which is a great start.

you usually can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about paul. any other day, you're jane austen and nicholas sparks both in one body. but today, there's only one thing that comes out of you.

paul aron is an asshole.

after a few seconds of just staring at your blank journal, another sentence comes to you; one you just can't bring yourself to write down.

but what if he's right?

maybe what you have with ollie isn't true love.

but maybe it's enough.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername not the best weekend race-wise, but alright off the track. we will come back stronger, thank you to the team for all of the hard work :)

show all 54 comments

user keep pushing y/n!! don't let this weekend affect you ❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user .....what is pepe doing in the last slide?

→ yourusername wish i knew 🤷‍♀️ he sure looked silly doing it, that's all i know

→ user ollie and dino then?

→ yourusername 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user pretty embarrassing weekend tbh

→ user send your hate somewhere else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user did anyone else hear those rumors... about her and paul....

→ user omg what rumors

→ user check your dms 😘

IMOLA

melbourne was not a good weekend in any possible way, and having it be the last weekend before a long break? not exactly what you had hoped for.

in times like these, you do the one thing you're better at than anyone; distracting yourself.

hours upon hours in the red bull simulator, mornings and evenings at the gym, rewatching old f1 and f2 races all night. anything to get your mind off your love life. pepe is a lifesaver too, since he's good at picking up on the little hints about your current mood and he understands which of your buttons not to push when you're like this.

though ollie understands why you're behaving the way you are after melbourne, he still doesn't enjoy the fact that you're much less open and harder to get hold of. there's a long period of time where you don't answer his texts as often as you usually do, where you cut your face time calls short for random reasons, and where he just can't get through to you. and it hurts him so much more since he's several hours away in italy, not able to properly talk to you about it.

that's why he was overjoyed when you arrived in imola a few days earlier than you needed, just so the two of you could spend some time alone before the weekend started.

it's currently wednesday night, and you just need to swing by your hotel room before heading out for dinner. "i'm to be really quick," you say as the light on the door blinks green and you enter, shuffling over to your suitcase. "i just need to find my purse..."

ollie strolls around for a few moments, almost as if inspecting the room, before just standing to watch the sun set over the city through your balcony door. eventually, you hear his voice from behind you. "what's this?"

when you turn around, you find him staring down into your open duffle bag on the floor – and on top of all your clothes lies your journal.

shit.

"it's... nothing."

he chuckles. "it's clearly not nothing. it looks like it's been used quite a lot," he says, eyes moving over to you. "is it a novel? a calendar?"

you turn back to your suitcase, pretending like it's no big deal, that you're just much more interested in finding your purse. "well, something like that."

"something like what?" ollie frowns, bending down a little to take a closer look at the outside.

"found it!" you reach for your handbag, pulling it out and holding it up in the air as you step away from the suitcase. "we can go now."

"why aren't you telling me? is it secret?"

ollie is stubborn; it's one of the things you like about him, one of the things that makes him the person he is. without his determination, he would've never made it to f2 nor the ferrari driver academy – and he wouldn't be your boyfriend. so, you aren't surprised that he's not letting go of your journal.

he can clearly tell it's a big deal for you, despite the fact that you try to hide it, and he can't help but feel a bit of worry creep into him when you don't answer him instantly. he regrets pushing you for an answer, but he's also immensely curious – and he's a bit tired of you still keeping secrets from him, despite the fact that he would never tell you that.

after a few more moments of silence, he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on the edge of the bed with him. and with the way he's looking at you, there's no way you can hold back from telling him.

you tell him about when you first bought it, that rainy day back home in cambridge and that little bookshop near your elementary school. you tell him about how it just called for you, begged for you to buy it, how the dark blue color felt like it was chosen just to attract attention from your eyes and your eyes only.

and you tell him about your therapist and the amount of time you've spent trying to work out all of your issues. you tell him about how when she suggested that you find an outlet for your emotions that's more easily accessible during race weekends, your mind instantly wandered to the little journal you'd bought but found no use for yet.

but you make sure to leave out all of the details, only filling him in on the major issues. you don't tell him about just how bad your performance anxiety gets, or about how close you've been to just quitting racing when your imposter syndrome thoughts cloud your mind. you can't let him know too much, get too close.

you try to brush it off as something casual, like it's no big deal; but you also make sure to tell him how extremely secret it is and about the many ways you would kill him by if you found out he'd read in it. your tone is one of levity, of course – but in reality, you weren't really kidding.

paul knew about the journal, too, and you knew how much he longed to know more than the color of the wrapping. you'd often find him with pleading eyes as he watched you write, tiny pout on his lips and a joking comment along the lines of "you're not cursing me out in that, are you?".

but despite how curious he was, paul never overstepped his boundaries. he would never – and you trust that ollie won't, either. he's far too good for that, too kindhearted and empathetic to go against your wishes. especially with how fragile and vulnerable you look to him in this moment.

he makes sure to listen to every word that leaves your mouth, nodding understandingly and letting you finish pouring your heart out before he speaks up.

"you know, you could also use me if you want to,” he starts, a gentle hand coming up to caress your cheek. "to talk to, i mean. or rant, or anything. if you think being vocal about it instead of writing could work."

of course he would try to find a way to help you out. to him, it's a win-win situation – if venting to him works for you, then that's great, but it would also mean that he could maybe finally work himself past that wall you've built up around yourself. if you start telling him about your feelings for your own sake, maybe he can finally get to know you better and get closer to you.

but that's the thing. opening up means being vulnerable, letting your guard down. you do trust him, you really do; so why can't you just do it?

ollie smiles at the little nod you give him – it's not a promise, but it's a good start. you've started talking to him, and he thinks that maybe the momentum will keep you going.

you realize that he's still holding your hand when he gives it a soft squeeze, standing up from the bed. "enough of that now," he says, trying to ignore the slightly somber expression taking over your features. "let's go to that restaurant, hm?"

you intertwine your fingers with his and rise next to him, slinging your purse over your shoulder with another nod. "let's go."

seven missed calls.

that's the sight you're met by when you scan over your phone notifications after your post-qualifying debrief with the team. you don't even need to check who they're from; you knew your dad would be dissatisfied with your results from the second you stepped out of your car halfway through the session.

before today, you hadn't spun out in a qualifying session since your karting days – but apparently, there's a first time for everything. another qualifying outside of the top ten means that yet again, you will be starting in the lower ranks in both races. missing out on the reverse grid always sucks, but it sucks a little extra when you know you could've, and should've, performed better. with pepe's third-place finish, you know your campos car was good enough to end up in the top of the timings. if only you'd kept the car on the track, maybe you could've proved something.

proven that you're capable, proven that you belong here. proven that you actually can handle the pressure.

if you know your dad right, he's definitely not calling to give you his condolences or cheer you up. it's not exactly his style. chances are, he's not just going to criticize your performance, but also compare it to a certain someone else's.

ollie managed to snatch that second place for the starting grid on sunday, which is something you should only be happy about. but as much as you adore your boyfriend and wish him all of the joy in the world, it's upsetting that he needed to perform so well this weekend. it's like the fuel to your dad's "you should've gone to ferrari"-fire he wanted so badly.

pepe knows that look on your face by now; he's been a first-hand witness to your fights with your father too many times to count by now. his hand on your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze after he's watched you flip your phone upside down on the table with a sigh before slumping further into your seat.

"did someone die in here or what?" sebastian's voice spreads through the room when he walks into it and catches a glimpse of you. the air is so thick with tension that he fears he will choke on it if he doesn't try to lighten the mood a bit.

"nothing except my weekend, i guess," you mumble back, not giving into his attempt that easily. what's he so happy for, anyway? his result of qualifying 25th isn't exactly something to celebrate, either.

"hey, cheer up," sebastian says. "we'll have an overtaking party this weekend!"

when you stay quiet, pepe says something quick in spanish to sebastian who just nods, eyes flickering between you two. you let out a groan – it's ironic, really, since you're a driver for a spanish team, but you hate it when people speak spanish around you since you can't understand it. especially when you know they're talking about you but not with you.

pepe apologizes instantly, but the smile on his lips never falters. not even your behavior is enough to stop him from beaming over his own qualifying results. for the first time in a while, he is actually happy after a session – and he won't let you ruin it.

"okay, come on. i have the perfect plan to save this night," pepe starts. your phone buzzes on the table with what you assume is another angry message, and you're just about to open it when he interjects. "and that starts with giving me your phone."

"that seems pretty suspicious…" you say, though you understand immediately why he does it. pepe knows you far too well already.

you reluctantly place your phone into the hand he holds out for you. "i promise to let you know if ollie or anyone on the team texts you. but i think you need to stay away from this for a while." he nods toward sebastian, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "could you run out to get some kind of candy? anything that could work as poker chips is good enough."

"and i suppose that means my deck of cards is needed, too?" you ask, not able to hold back from smiling anymore at your friend's silly attempt to cheer you up.

"you bet."

call it childish, but your poker session really did serve its purpose. it ended up being the first time you've been able to properly relax and just have fun in months. it didn’t matter that none of you three got a lot of sleep – just getting to enjoy the moment was good enough.

however, the next day, it was all back to square one again.

the sprint race was indeed an overtaking party, as sebastian had suggested – but six overtakes from p20 is still not enough for any points, not even when about five drivers crash in the first lap. despite all that, you still had some hope for the feature; even more laps to work your way up the ranks and the possibility of having a good strategy were the only two thoughts on your mind.

but yet again, you left the race having scored exactly no points. and to your biggest annoyance, the winner was the one person you prayed would not get the win. one pretty much no one had expected.

just like spa last year in f3, paul was insanely lucky with his choice of strategy. with a perfectly timed late pit stop when the safety car came out, he came out in the front of the field on his new option tires. pretty much the entire field behind him had opted for the opposite strategy, which meant he soared away at the safety car restart and took the win quite easily.

at least, now the championship can't possibly get any worse, can it?

celebrations are always due when paul wins, and this weekend is no exception. you honestly wanted nothing more than to stay back in your hotel room and forget about the weekend even happening. but after some combined begging from ollie, pepe and jak, all saying something about how "you're no fun anymore" and "it's been so long since you partied with us", you finally gave in.

"and i promise, you won't be left alone for even a second," ollie whispers into your ear as he wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the door to the club of the night. "i'll be right here, and all of your other friends. okay?"

your answer comes in the form of a hum and a quick nod as the loud music floods all of your senses the second you step into the club. your boyfriend gives you a squeeze, just about to speak up again, when he spots pepe waving at you both from a table a few meters ahead.

"you actually made it!" he exclaims when you join him, reaching over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to his side again. "and you look great. i was scared you'd show up wearing your race suit or pyjamas just as a form of protest."

"trust me, i wanted to," you tell him with a shrug. "but someone stopped me. said it wasn’t appropriate."

"what, i was just supposed to let you make a fool of yourself?" ollie scoffs from next to you. "isn't that why i'm your boyfriend? making sure you don't embarrass yourself in public?"

"of course, what else?" you say back without missing a beat, giving him a pat on the top of his head. you then turn to greet dennis, zak and gabriel, who are also standing by the table. the discussion around the table easily falls into a race debrief, before morphing into a debate about the f1 race of the night. but it doesn't take long until the group is split up, with pepe and gabriel deciding to go for a round of dancing on the dance floor, and dennis and zak both running off toward the bathrooms.

you have to confirm to ollie about five times that you indeed will be alright standing alone for a few moments as he walks the twenty meters away to the bar to get you both a drink before he actually goes away. the way he's treating you feels somewhat strange; like you're some kind of fragile glass sculpture, like even the slightest hint of turbulence will make you break.

but then again, maybe you've earned it. your recent months definitely haven't been making you any stronger, that's for sure.

you don't really mind it at first; the slight tipsiness you already feel from the shots dennis had ordered for the table and the throbbing bass from the random house song playing on the dance floor doing a good job at drowning out your thoughts. except, that's only until something out on the dance floor catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

paul has been gone all evening, busy celebrating his win probably, and your heart flutters momentarily at the sight of him out there. but when you turn your head towards him to take him in fully, your heart drops instead.

he's with someone. and not just anyone – a girl.

a girl who's got her arms draped around his neck, while his hands hold her hips close to him.

the smiles on their lips can be spotted from miles away, and you can hear the sweet sound of paul's laughter ringing in your ears when you see her lean in to whisper something in his ear.

who is she? what's she doing with her arms around him? why is she-

your thoughts all go silent when paul places a hand underneath her jaw, leans down, and gently presses his lips to hers. it's like the entire world goes silent; like everything else is just a blur of blinking lights, but the spotlight is on the couple on the dance floor. your eyes can't help but follow their lips, their hands caressing each other's bodies...

goosebumps spread across your skin in an instant and an eerie feeling passes through your body. you finally manage to pull your gaze off paul and the girl – who is she, anyway? – and you turn away, making a beeline to the restroom. thankfully, a woman exits through the door just as you arrive, and you're quick to lock yourself in.

once you're inside and pressing your back up against the wall, it's like everything that's been building up in you is let loose. the walls are broken down, and every thought and emotion you have comes crashing down onto you. rivers of tears are flowing down your cheeks before you can react, and you slide down the wall, knees coming up to your chest as your hands come up to cover your face.

there's this strong, heartbreaking feeling spreading through your chest. is it jealousy? is it disappointment? regret?

what you do know is that this aching feeling in your heart is stronger than ever.

is this how paul feels when he sees me with ollie?

it can't be, you think – it just can't. paul can't be in this much pain...

does this mean that you still love him? does this mean you still aren't over him?

you know you should be over him already. you've tried so hard, put so much energy into your relationship with ollie. and yet, you still feel like this.

it's not fair. not to you, and especially not to ollie. he cares about you, respects you, supports you – hell, he's probably out there right now looking for you and wanting to make sure you're okay. he really likes you, and he thinks you like him too. but here you are, crying about another man.

when you're all out of tears, you use your last piece of strength to push yourself up from the floor, standing up and leaning over the sink. wearing non-waterproof is both a blessing and a curse; the trails down your cheeks are straight out of a nightmare, but they're also easy to wash off with a little water and some paper towels. the redness in your eyes isn't as easy to erase, unfortunately, but it'll have to do. you hope to be able to blame it on being tired, or having too much to drink.

you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom and making your way towards the crowd on the dance floor again. the music is just as loud as it was before, and the crowd is just as sweaty and chaotic as a packed summer festival. thankfully, you don't see paul anywhere, but you find ollie quite easily. he's standing by a high table with gabriel and dennis when you approach, eyes lighting up when he spots you.

"there you are!" he exclaims, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "i've been looking for you–" ollie cuts himself off, his eyebrows furrowing a little. his voice lowers a few notches. "what's wrong?"

he noticed. in hindsight, how could he not? he's always been extremely attentive. "it's nothing, i..." you start, looking down at your feet. "i'm just exhausted from the day."

but he isn't stupid. he knows, he understands. even if he doesn't know who or what caused it, it's easy for him to tell that you've been crying. he nods, arm dropping from your shoulders to hold you around your back. "okay," he says, hand giving your waist a soft squeeze. "let's leave."

you look up at him again. the last thing you want is for him to have to cut his night short just for you. "no, i can go alone-"

"i don't mind. we came together, so we're leaving together." and before you can interject again, he's already said his goodbyes to the boys and pulled you along through the crowd.

the cab ride back to the hotel is mostly silent. you play the "exhausted" card, while ollie plays the "naive boyfriend" card. but just because you're both quiet doesn't mean your heads aren't absolutely buzzing. your mind is racing with the memory of paul's lips on that girl, kissing her and holding her like he used to kiss and hold you. but your thoughts are also clouded by the guilt you feel for being this much of a mess, and making yourself so unavailable to ollie.

ollie, on the other hand, isn't exactly rolling his thumbs, either. it takes his everything not to push you into telling him what's wrong; he wishes you would tell him because you want to, not because he's pressuring you. he's so worried about you, but at the same time, he hates the fact that you won't confide in him.

what's he doing wrong? why don't you trust him?

ollie is fast asleep next to you in your hotel bed when you pull out your dark blue journal from the bedside table.

the journal is not a secret from him anymore per se, but you still waited until this moment. the guilt of writing about another man when ollie is the one in bed with you is too big to face with his brown eyes looking up at you, so you'd rather do it like this.

yet another round of the championship, yet another bad weekend. no points, bad results as always – and that's not even the worst part.

paul was with another girl. someone i've never seen before. but he was acting like they were attached by the hip. like they've known each other forever. like i wasn't even there.

he must've known i would see. and yet, he had no issues kissing her like his life depended on it.

is it only this painful to see paul because we haven't spoken in weeks?

or is it going to be like this forever?

and just like in melbourne, there's one more thought that springs to your mind that you just can't find in yourself to write down.

i wish it were me.

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a weekend to forget, focusing on monaco instead. thanks for your support. ❤️ #foreversenna

show all 47 comments

user you did the best you could 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user honestly what is she doing?

→ user bad results over and over even though the car is on fire, what even

→ user awkward

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user are she and ollie even a couple anymore?

→ user just because she doesn't post him, they've broken up? 🤨

→ user no no it's just because i've heard things... 😶

→ user omg pls tell me

→ user she'll delete the comment probably 🤪 but lemme dm you

[thesamoanqueen]

Same Side

Raitings: 18+

Warnings: SMUT

A/N: Requested by Anon "Roman watching Y/N vs Paul Heyman"

The room was empty, the lights dimmed. Roman took off his jacket leaving it on an armchair, next to the heels that she had taken off arriving before him. She could do everything on those stilts, but they were the first thing she let go of when she shut the world out to relax. In silence he crossed the entire space to the balcony, from which there was one of the best views he had ever happened to admire, although his attention was immediately on her, as soon as he crossed the threshold. Hands in his pockets, he watched as she scrolled photo after photo of them together, an untouched wine glass on the table beside her and that coral skintight dress still clinging to her curves.

- That skirt was pretty – he commented, seeing her lose a few seconds too much on one of the pic taken during his last birthday, a couple of days before.

She had spent the whole day going from one part of the house to another, getting everything sorted before his family reached them. Maybe it was because of the announcement of their relationship, maybe just because it was an important day for him, Roman hadn't asked any questions, but he had only managed to make her let go at the end of the day, when they were alone and he had felt her relax in his hands.

- It was – Y/N muttered with a grimace, glancing at him as he sat down at the foot of the deck chair, shifting her bare legs over him.

Yes, he had torn that skirt to pieces. Mercilessly.

- I wanted my cake, I had to celebrate ma day – he joked hoarsely, caressing her and she let out a half smile, abandoning her phone to take a sip of the wine.

A small smile. Just a sip of wine. She hadn't curled up against him yet. It wasn't a good night and Roman knew it without all those cues, because he'd partially witnessed what could have been a clash of titans. He had walked away from their table to answer a phone call lasting a few minutes and when he returned Y/N was already with her bag, hands crossed like a supreme court judge and her expression of global oblivion. And the most worrying thing was that she was saving it for Paul, which no one expected, including Paul. It had all been incredibly quick and Roman had found himself in the restaurant without her, trying to shorten the time of the dinner to be able to reach her.

For a few seconds, in silence, he continued to caress her legs as she turned the glass between her fingers with eyes firmly fixed on the city. But that game wasn't for them, they talked, they had always talked before anything else.

- What happened?

- You know what happened, he told you. Please.

Yes, Paul had spilled the tea and though he had done it carefully, knowing he was not so tolerant if Y/N was involved, he had told him absolutely everything. And Roman had got a pretty clear idea of what had happened since his warning onwards, but the suspicion that there was something more behind it and that that moment hadn't depended only on Paul, had crept into his head. They'd had that conversation several times since the pre-WM crisis and Roman had made sure he did what he could to not cut her off and still cushion the impact on the world against them, as well as she'd proven herself more than capable of carrying the pressure, but there were always “ifs”.

- I know a couple of comments don't even reach your ears Y/N, I've seen you keep control during fights and arguments even at work in serious situations – he barely managed to finish speaking, before seeing her put down her glass and shake her head, making the curls dangle on the sides of her face.

- I changed my schedule and contract to have more time together, it's something is granted to everyone in the company, it's a right, not my whim because you are the guy. And I've always made sure to exceed expectations even when ima way from work. I don't owe anyone an explanation and I can stand some idiot behind a keyboard, I certainly can stand the chatter of our co-workers, I don't accept that someone who knows how much effort I put in or I assumed knew me says it.

- Listen… you know the story, Paul was just a boy when he started working with my family, he feels compelled to pay back and have always an eye on me and the boys. And now he keeps an eye on you too, because he knows what you mean to me.

- With due respect to those women, he tried to compare me to the models of his agency.

Yeah, that hadn't been a great move on Paul's part. The point had something to do with it and made the problem clear, of course, there was no less to expect from someone who after decades and in the past even to his detriment, by now knew that business and fans like the back of his hand, but it hadn't been the best example.

- Because people objectify situations like this. He was trying to warn you, to give you some advice since many will think you're just a pretty face taking advantage of the situation. He doesn't think badly of you. Not Paul and no one closer to us.

Roman had known him all his life and knew what kind of businessman he was, but he had always been respectful to his family. He had always had a clear opinion of Y/N, as he had of everyone in that business off or behind the scenes. Since theirs had become a serious and official couple, he had reflexively broadened his vision on her as well. He'd been wrong to put her on that level and Roman would much rather have been there before starting that speech, but he really doubted Paul'd had any bad intentions. Maybe he had tested the waters, yes, but nothing more.

Y/N pursed her mouth, her breasts twitching a bit after inspiring lunge and one of her feet pushing against his leg in spite.

- You're defending him from me - she complained, making him frown.

There was no scenario where he stood up for anyone other than her. It didn't matter how serious or silly the argument was. He had learned that it didn't even matter if he was the one she was having an argument with. She would have made him mad yes and angry, of course more than anyone on the world, but he would have let her win anyway. She was his soft spot and that was okay, because they had each other's backs.

- No one can defend anyone from you babygirl. I'm just trying to keep things under control like we both promised to do, so no more running away, hn? – he put her leg back on him, hands massaging her slowly to reassure her, while his eyes searched for her confirmation in silence.

Those kinds of thoughts had to stay out of that little head of hers and she certainly didn't have to worry about who was close to them. He didn't want drama, he didn't want pressure, not if she was involved. Roman had sworn to work to keep that relationship only for them even by making it public and was willing to do anything to protect what they were building together. They needed to focus on their time together, on the future, not on what was out there, not when it was just the two of them. The door was closed, there was no room for others. Just them on the same side.

He saw her narrow her eyes for a second, annoyed and he smiled before even hearing.

- I left to spare him, I didn't run away - she pointed out proudly, prompting him to nod, nose wrinkling as he tried to hold back his laughter.

- Someone is in a mood tonight. And you kept the dress too – he felt her relax under his fingers trailing up her thighs, her back still leaning against the back of the chaise lounge, when she pointed out obvious what Roman’s eyes were already eating.

- I had dressed too well to take everything off after an hour and because of Paul

Yes, it was a real shame that she didn't stand on a podio every hour of the day and night, but he provided for that. After all, it was all just for him and dress or not… Roman never got tired of putting her there.

- We can take it off now though - he proposed, leaning down to kiss her bare, soft thigh and Y/N hardly hid her gasp, giving him a warning look which he returned with a grimace.

She had been tough for too long tonight. It wasn't necessary with him, she could put down her weapons.

-I have to get you back in line – he warned her, pulling her a little towards him and not feeling her cooperate.

- For how I treated your special counsel? - Oh, she really meant to put it that way.

- For leaving me at the restaurant.

- It's not my fault if was your first tim-ah!

He pulled her up bridal style, without warning or too much effort. He took her in his arms to get back on his feet and inside the room. Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, her good smelling body seeming to shrink for a second, getting used to being suspended in mid-air.

- You're looking for trouble. I'll settle you baby girl

Something inside him always clicked when he was with her, like an automatic switch and despite his deliberately threatening expression, Roman didn't hold back from lowering down to kiss her forcefully, his hands grabbing everywhere, while he approached their bed. He set her down with a little thud, feeling her fingers slip off the back of his neck and free his hair around which they had tangled as always. Y/N settled down with a grimace, without too much effort lowering the edge of the already short dress and going up above her round perfect ass, the light lingerie tempting him beyond the deliberately closed legs.

- Screw this up too and you'll have problems with me – she complained, but Roman knew that tone.

Neither of them really cared about the dress or skirt or anything else at that point. They don't need anything.

- I'd start putting down this attitude if I were you

From the height of his position, he watched her barely hold back her full smile, legs swinging invitingly and still tight in front of him, as he slowly stripped off his watch and then his dark shirt. He licked his lip, the taste of her and her lipstick mingling, fingers fumbling with the belt and then his pants, Y/N's eyes sliding down his now bare torso and further down to get stuck on the portion of meat he had freed. He gripped his shaft, rubbing from the base to the tip, and Y/N slid further back against the bed, her breath caught in her lit throat as Roman felt the blood rush to his boner, growing more awake, harder in response to the soft moans she didn't was able to hold.

- Dontchu wanna be a good girl for me? - he growled low, his hand moving one last time, smearing the precum starting to drip from his tip.

Slowly and hungry he climbed onto the bed giving a little under his weight, brow furrowed until Y/N stepped forward to meet him, hands running back through his hair, legs parting to make room for him. A kiss, a proper smile.

It was all back under controll if they were together.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @chocovibesonly @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816 @kilviaa7 @spritelucozade

[martiandmichelle]

Memories. . . Those that you have and those to be made!

I'll start with the former, but I hope you'll read all of this for a teaser of those to be made, a story others will tell.

As for the photo, I'll (Marti) take you back some 9 years ago. My husband at the time, Daniel, and I were part of a supper club, one of those things where you rotate dinner at friends' houses. We were a part of one with five other couples, so 12 of us in total. This picture was taken before one of those dinners at our house. Yeah, I was showing off, at Daniel's request. Seems the dinner before this one at someone else's house my boobs became a subject of conversation. Daniel loved hearing others talk about my tits so he was going to make sure the subject came up again.

And so it did, even before we had the appetizers. This time it didn't take long for one of the wives to say something like "C'mon Marti, show them to us!" Never one to be shy about my body - and with Daniel's smiling consent and the help of one of our male visitors to unzip me from the back - my dress, very slowly at least until my breasts were fully exposed then much quicker the rest of the way! - the little black dress came off leaving me wearing only my black thong and black heels my J-cup tits bared to them all, my nipples growing and hardening as they stared at my breasts.

I was two of the ladies who asked first to feel them. I replied "Absolutely!" As they felt me up they commented on the tits' size and weight and length of the nipples (which were still growing) until one asked with a lot of hope in her eyes if she could suck the one she held. "Please!" was my response this time. I know I moaned with pleasure when the nipple first entered her mouth which encouraged the other lady to as if she could suck the one she held, too.

As I've said so many times in my 15 years of sex blogging, nothing sets me on fire like have my nipples sucked simultaneously by two people so I began to lose myself to my sexual needs, place and time becoming foggy to me as all that mattered was what was happening to my tits. I remember Daniel saying I should feed them and them exclaiming "You can lactate!?" And so I did - a lot! Everyone else soon got their turn drinking from my milk fountains and I felt hands slip under my panties with comments about how fucking wet I was. Someone pulled my panties down and I guess my body was waiting for that because I had a fabulous orgasm and let loose a squirt that surprised everybody, much to their delight.

I knew what was happening to me but I had reached such a sexual nirvana that everything became almost dreamlike. I know they guys fucked me and I know my pussy was eaten - a lot! - and I know I squirted and squirted and the milk spewed, but it seemed almost like I was watching it on a porn movie.

It wasn't until the next morning after everybody left and our dinner was never cooked that I was back to my full senses. Daniel told me how proud he was of me and that it had been decided that our "dinner club" was going to start meeting every other WEEK instead of the usual every other month. I was delighted!

The next day I got a call from one of the couples to come to "dinner" at their house which I did. After the two of them spent the entire night until the morning using my body (and sometimes letting Daniel watch and listen via cell phone) they told me of their marital problems and that I was curing them when they shared me together.

It's true, sex can get one into a lot of trouble but it can also heal a lot of wounds!

--------------

I mentioned something about a teaser of memories to be made. I'm not going to say much because it doesn't involve me but someone else you've met here. She's been mostly in the background but is on the verge of becoming a huge star for Mountain Media (our sex studio). For now I'll let you guess who it is, and she'd better tell her story soon for soon she'll be so busy as to not have the time!

Stay tuned. . .

Marti

[celestiababie]

stay at home dad/ house husband mingyu who gets up early to make to make his wife and daughter cute lunch bentos, dress up as the prettiest princess to play tea party with her, makes the best dinners for his family but would also rail you into the sheets almost every night in the most filthy way possible. is an absolute sweetheart afterwards and the next morning and gives his girls kisses after dropping them off to work and school

Stay At Home Dad/Husband! Mingyu Part 1...

Warnings: Fem!reader btw, not much other than mingyu fucking you hard, use of the term "mommy" but not during the sex part really, cum eating, oral (f) , most of this is fluffy

A/N: Dare I say this is one off the most perfect things I've ever received in my inbox 😭 plz send more. I hope I did this justice:(( oh and sorry not sorry for using these iconic photos...they've just always screamed "husband" material to me rather than boyfriend material. Feedback is always appreciated!

Series Masterlist

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• Mingyu loved being a husband just as much as he loved being a dad.

• He was living his dream life. Beautiful wife, beautiful daughter, nice house. He wouldn't have it any other way.

• He wouldn't pay mind to those who judged him for choosing to stay home and take care of the house while you went to work. He still supported you two with some side investment money, but he wanted to be the most supportive husband and dad he could.

• All the other mothers would be jealous of you. How on earth did you find that sexy of a man who was willing to do house chores AND take care of the kids AND was just as in love with you before you got married.

• But they just didn't understand that Mingyu was a giver at heart and thrived over taking care of his family. It brought him more happiness than anything else could.

• And how could he not be in love with you? You brought him the most amazing daughter in the entire world and he would always feel the need to repay you for bringing him that happiness (even if you told him over and over that he didn't need to thank you for having a kid with him).

• Mingyu was the cutest husband, greeting you with a warm hug and kiss every time you came home, grabbing your bag for you and telling you to unwind while he finishes up the dinner that him and your daughter were preparing (she wasn't actually helping but she thought she was and that's all that mattered).

• He'd glare at you if you even dared to help him do the dishes, telling you that you didn't have to clean up after a long day at work since it was his self proclaimed job.

• But he'd pout and eventually give in to your push back because he did enjoy your company.

• You two would be washing dishes side by side, him doing the washing and you drying the plates as he passed them off to you while your daughter sat on the counter giggling and playing with the dish soap bubbles.

• Mingyu would be very attentive to your needs as well as your daughter's needs. Anything you needed or were running low on would "magically" appear the next day. Any holes in clothes would be patched up before you could even complain about having to buy a new pair. Anything broken (he probably broke it with his tall ass smh) would be fixed without you having to remind him.

• You never needed to waste money for lunch at work because your loving husband would always prepare a meal for you and his daughter to take before the two of you woke up.

• His alarm...would probably wake you up but he'd press a kiss to your forehead and shush you back to sleep before checking on your daughter

• Because your daughter spent so much time with him, she'd probably pick up a few of his habits which always warmed your heart.

• She had his smile, his laugh, his adorable pout that was hard to say no to (you have to be the strongest soldier fr to say no to not only your puppy of a husband but your adorable daughter)

• Mingyu loved spending quality time with his daughter. He knew she would grow up eventually but he'd always have these memories to cherish and look back on.

• It was quite the sight to see coming home from work sometimes to see your 6 foot 2 buff husband dressed up in one of your maternity dresses (probably the only ones that would fit his big ass body) with... questionable makeup on his face while he played princess with your daughter who was clearly having fun with her dad all dressed up.

• Once he noticed you watching, he wouldn't be embarrassed. Instead, he'd have the sweetest smile on his face as he picked up your daughter to carry her to you, the both of them pressing glossed kisses to both of your cheeks.

• But as much as your husband was this tall teddy bear of a man, you never forgot about his duality although it did always amaze you.

• Mingyu liked to keep in shape, not for aesthetic reasons, but he wanted to make sure that his growing age didn't hinder anything he needed to do for you and your daughter. Maybe there were a few shallow reasons for him staying so buff, but he still loved looking good for you after all these years and he knew you appreciated how sexy he was. He loved how proud you got when introducing him to others. He loved how turned on you'd look over the most basic tasks he'd do just because his muscles would flex in his shirt.

• Mingyu was the sweetest husband and father but he also was just just a man at times and couldn't help himself as he snuck in a few "innocent" touches while your daughter was distracted.

• Luckily your daughter couldn't hear all the filthy things he'd whisper in your ear as he gave you back hugs.

• But your daughter would be concerned when you'd let out yelps whenever your touchy husband playfully smacked your ass while your daughter was playing.

• "Princess, what's wrong with mommy? She's been acting weird lately." Your husband smirked at you before feigning concern for you in front of your daughter.

• You weren't complaining though, you loved how Mingyu still found you sexy after all these years and how he had no problem showing it and voicing it.

• Especially when he was balls deep inside you after the two of you read your daughter to sleep.

• "God damn, you're so fucking sexy, baby. Fuck—your pussy's so fucking good," he moaned out, his hips slamming his cock deep into you as he took you from behind, his strong hand pushing you down on your stomach while the other pressed against your head to muffle your moans in the pillow.

• "We can't be loud, Y/N. You wouldn't want to wake up our little princess, right? Fuck, shit—I've fucked you hundreds of times, how are you still this fucking tight."

• He'd quicken his pace, fucking into you so hard it was pretty much guaranteed that you'd be walking funny the next day.

• After making you cum around his cock and burying his face into your neck as he emptied himself inside of you. He offered to clean up the cum inside of you with his mouth (again how could you say no) and giggled as he watched how your eyes could barely stay open after multiple orgasms.

• "Let's go to bed, baby."

• It always amazed you how your husband could easily slip back into the loving, clumsy, puppy husband and father role as if he didn't fuck you into the mattress the night before.

• He'd have the brightest smile on his face as he listened fondly as your daughter raved about her new drawing while Mingyu was cooking up breakfast for the family.

• But he'd have his moments in between where he'd let that innocent imagine down, whispering into your ear as your daughter started a new drawing at the table.

• "Baby, you might wanna fix how you're walking, our little princess was asking why Mommy was walking so funny and I can't exactly explain that I fucked her sexy mommy until she came six times." He sent you a wink before turning to your daughter with another bright smile as he brought the plated breakfast to the table.

[itsokbbygrl]

Old Dogs and New Tricks

Summary: Sarah Miller has always loved her dad, maybe especially today. Years of long days at work and longer nights taking classes and studying have lead to this--his college graduation day. When the Miller family is interrupted during their impromptu picture time, Sarah thinks there might be one more person who could love her dad, too.

Word Count: 3k, one-shot

Rating: T (some swearing)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC

Tags: FLUFF, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, BRUSH YOUR TEETH AND FLOSS AFTER THIS ONE!!!, mild swearing, Sarah Miller POV, briefly Joel Miller POV, likely some University of Texas at Austin graduation inaccuracies, adult learner gets his diploma yay, Uncle Tommy is an A+ wingman, almost zero description of reader aside from having hair long enough to tuck behind an ear, wearing a dress, and having a shimmering laugh, but Joel and Sarah both refer to reader as a woman and use she/her pronouns, no y/n, no 2nd person perspective, reader/OFC has an unspecified family outside of 1 sister

A/N: Helloooooooooo this is the first thing I've ever published here holy shiiiiiiit. I was scrolling on Pinterest for interior design inspo and came across this adorable photo and immediately went, "omg Joel and Sarah core."

So naturally, I had to write it and set it in the HBO TLOU timeline. Sarah is 10 and we're going to suspend our disbelief about the technology of the year 2000 a little bit okay??? Digital cameras were not that good and very expensive and most people still did not have cell phones, but THE MILLERS DO OK. Anyway without further ado, I give you that (not so) old man doing something adorable. I hope you like it! My DMs and inbox are always open (yes I lovingly refer to you all as my little chickens, come say hi to me!). Reblogs and comments are appreciated per usual. 💖 Banner and title card made by me with the help of Canva :)

Sarah loves a lot of things about her life–her soccer team, her fourth grade teacher, all of the friends she’s made in her 10 years of life–but if you asked her what she loved most of all, she would say her family, hands down. Her family is small–just she, her dad, and her uncle Tommy–but their love for each other is anything but. It’s been the three of them her whole life and she’s never felt like there were any missing pieces, until one fateful Saturday in May. 

Sarah has spent nearly her entire life being told how proud her dad is of her, but today is a day Sarah is determined to show her dad how proud she is of him. She knows he tries to hide how stressed he’s been the last few years, how tired, but she’s a smart girl and she, to her dad’s chagrin, notices everything. Sarah almost can’t contain her excitement for her dad as her uncle Tommy parks his truck in the vast expanse of the University of Texas at Austin’s football stadium parking lot. She hops out of the backseat and slams the door like Tommy taught her to make sure it closes all the way on its rusty old hinges, and then bends at her waist to brush any pesky wrinkles from her dress. She wanted to look extra nice for today, trying to tame her thick, curly hair by tying it back in a low bun and fashioning her favorite flower pin on the side, donning her favorite sundress and the sandals her grandma said were nice enough for Sunday church. If they were nice enough for grandma’s church, they were definitely nice enough for her dad’s graduation, she figured. 

Sarah finds Tommy around the front of the truck as he’s pulling their entry tickets from his wallet. “Here you go, kiddo,” he says, extending a ticket to her with a smile. She replies her thanks before following him towards the imposing stadium ahead. Tommy helps lead them through the crowd, consistently checking to make sure she’s still near, Sarah offering him a smile each time she catches him looking. Their seats are up high, in the top third of the stadium bleachers. Sarah thinks she hears Tommy mutter something about only getting good seats if you donate a bunch of money under his breath, but she isn’t sure what exactly he means, so she ignores it. 

“Do you know where dad’s going to be?” Sarah asks her uncle. She wants to know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this, and she’s dubbed herself unofficial photographer for the day, so she wants to make sure she knows where to point the camera at all times. 

“Not yet, honey. We’ll keep our ears open, they usually announce each college as they come in, so we’ll know when to look for your dad,” Tommy reasons. 

“Good plan,” Sarah nods in return, eyes focusing back on the field ahead. 

Once it appears the seats have nearly filled, Sarah checks her trusty watch and sees the time has just passed 2:00, the scheduled start time for today’s ceremony. As if she triggered it herself, her head perks up as the sound of brass instruments rings out through the stadium, signaling the start of the ceremony. She watches the entrance of students intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dad. 

Sarah turns in her seat and asks, “Uncle Tommy, can I have the camera, please?” 

Tommy fishes in his pocket and pulls out the requested camera, placing it in Sarah’s open palm. “Yup, got it right here. You gonna be on photography duty today?” Tommy chuckles as he watches Sarah’s brows pull together just like her dad’s as she fiddles with the buttons on the camera until the settings are to her liking. 

“You bet,” Sarah answers, poking her tongue between her teeth as she looks down at the small digital viewfinder. “Can’t see anything, gonna use the zoom and see if I can see any better through the screen.”

Tommy lets out a low whistle, “Smarty pants over here, did we forget your cap and gown? Shouldn’t you be down there?” He jokes and pokes her in the ribs to make her giggle. 

“Uncle Tommy! Stop!” She laughs. “I’m trying to focus!”

“Alright, alright, kiddo. I’ll let you focus. Let me know if you find him.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Sarah salutes in return, earning a chuckle out of her uncle. 

The McComb School of Business is announced and Sarah sits up a little straighter, refocusing her efforts to capture every important moment. She squints against the afternoon sun, determined to find her dad amongst the long line of pending graduates. 

“There!” she points and Tommy follows her finger, trying to find what she’s seeing. “See his hat? I told him he needed to put something on it so we could find him and he told me to go wild, so I did. I knew that orange glitter glue would come in handy.”

Tommy spots him then, laughing when Sarah shows him the picture she’s snapped on the little screen, Joel’s graduation cap adorned with orange glitter glue that reads, “This old dog learned new tricks,” accompanied by two clip art dogs pasted on opposite corners. 

“D’you come up with that all on your own, smarty pants?” Tommy asks her. 

“Sure did,” Sarah chuffs. “Dad always says, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” when he doesn’t want to learn stuff like the camera or the computer, so I thought it would be funny,” she finishes with a shrug. Tommy silently laughs, his shoulders gently shaking, and Sarah smiles to herself. 

If there’s one thing Sarah will take away from this day it’s that graduation ceremonies are long and boring. There are about two minutes where she focuses intently as her dad’s row rises to make their way up to the stage. She diligently keeps the camera pointed his way, snapping pictures every so often. As he prepares to take the stage, she and Tommy stand from their seats. 

“Joel Alejandro Miller,” the announcer reads. Sarah and Tommy whoop and cheer as Joel crosses the stage, Sarah keeping the camera trained on her dad, making sure to press the shutter a few times as he shakes hands with the chancellor and receives his diploma. The rest of the ceremony goes by relatively uneventfully, until the graduates are instructed to stand and change their tassels from right to left. There’s a murmur through the audience and then the students erupt in a spirited rendition of, “The Eyes of Texas.” Sarah smiles as she watches the new graduates laugh and sing, throwing arms around friends and pointing to the sky. Once the song ends, the graduates then whoop and throw their caps into the air, and Sarah raises the camera once more to snap a couple final pictures. 

The crowd starts to dissipate, attendees making their way towards the exits to find their respective graduates. Sarah looks over the railing of the ramp as she and Tommy work their way down from their seats and watches as the mass of bodies move through the corridor, thinking about how they resemble a school of fish, almost liquid in the way they shift to accommodate obstacles in the hall. 

After a few minutes of shuffling, she and Tommy find the exit out of the stadium, heading towards the spot they designated to meet Joel after the ceremony. Sarah spots him first, poking Tommy in the arm and pointing his way. Tommy nods in acknowledgement, giving her the okay to head over. She looks both ways to make sure the coast is clear before breaking out in a jog. 

“Dad!” she calls, waving her arms to get Joel’s attention. His natural scowl drops the minute he sees her, face breaking out into a wide grin, and opens his arms as she rushes forward. Sarah meets him with force, earning a quiet, “Oof,” from her dad as she wraps her arms around his middle and hugs him tight. 

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” Sarah tells him, not letting go, but tipping her head back to look him in the eyes. If she notices the extra glimmer along his waterline, she doesn’t say anything. He pulls her in tighter, giving her small shoulders a squeeze, and Sarah feels the deep rumble of his laughter in her cheek. 

“Thanks, babygirl. I’m so glad you came,” Joel tells her, rubbing up and down her back before letting her go from his embrace. 

“Hey old man, proud of you brother,” Tommy greets Joel with a smile and a hug, the brothers exchanging firm pats on the back before separating. Joel gives him a half smile and thanks him for coming and for bringing Sarah.

Sarah steps back from their little group and realizes her dad has already taken off his cap and gown, and that just won’t do. 

“Dad, where’s your hat and robe?” Sarah chides, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a serious look. 

“It was hot, so I took them off,” Joel answers. 

“Well, put them back on! We need to get pictures!” Sarah iterates, raising the camera in front of her dad’s face and giving it a shake. 

Joel sighs, but relents. “Alright, alright, gimme a second, kiddo, then you can play photographer.” They find an open spot on the lawn and Sarah powers up the camera again, using the viewfinder to ensure the shot is lined up just right. 

“Ok, 1, 2, 3…say, “Hook ‘em!”” Sarah says. 

Joel smiles and entertains his daughter’s request. “Hook ‘em!” he says, smiling for the camera. 

“Ok, this one, hold up your diploma,” Sarah requests and Joel again complies. “Can we do one more?” Sarah asks. 

Joel gives her a nod, “Sure thing, honey.”

“Ok, this one, do the Hook ‘Em horns,” Sarah says and she does the gesture with her own small hand. Joel mimics his daughter and smiles for the camera as she snaps the picture. She pulls up the recent shots and turns the camera towards her dad to review them together, unaware that they’ve been watched for the last few minutes. 

“Excuse me,” a soft voice interrupts Sarah and Joel from their scrolling and they look up to find a new member has joined their party. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw your daughter taking pictures and I thought y’all might want a few together?” Wow, pretty, Sarah thinks as she assesses the stranger. 

Joel clears his throat and Sarah turns her head to see her dad’s cheeks have flushed a new shade of pink as he stammers out a, “That’s awful kind of you, darlin’. Thanks for offerin’, we’d love that.” Sarah’s mouth ticks up into a smirk, the dimple she shares with her dad crescenting her cheek. She turns to Tommy and they share a knowing look. 

“Thank you, ma’am. You just press this button here,” Sarah hands over the camera and shows the pretty stranger how to operate it.

“Got it, thanks, sweetie,” she replies before bringing the camera’s viewfinder up to her eye and lining up the duo. “Ok, big smiles,” she says and clicks the shutter. She smiles and moves the camera away from her face for a moment to direct, “How about we get one with both of you showing us your best “Hook ‘Em” next,” before once again snapping the photo. “Alright, let’s do one more. Gimme your best silly faces!” and she lets out a shimmering laugh as she presses the shutter a final time. 

“Perfect,” she says to the small family, smiling and handing the camera to Joel, their fingers brushing briefly as the camera exchanges hands before both of their eyes lift to meet. Tension lingers only for a moment at the contact before they both let out breathy chuckles. The stranger lifts her hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Joel’s gaze following the motion, Sarah’s gaze locked on her father. 

“This was real kind of you, darlin’. Thanks again for helping us out,” Joel says, trying to extend the moment just a little longer. 

“Oh, it was nothin’. My pleasure, really,” she replies in kind, waving him off, her gaze dropping shyly to the ground. “Well,” she continues, bringing her gaze back to Joel’s, “I better head back or my sister,” she turns her torso and gestures to where her party is standing and carrying on conversation, “will never let me hear the end of it, how I deserted her on her own graduation day after she spent torturous hours sitting through mine a few years back,” She chuckles softly and clasps her hands in front of her, kicking out one foot and cocking her hip slightly to the side. 

“Alright, s'pose we better let you get on back then,” Joel replies. Sarah catches a sadness in her dad’s eyes at their pretty stranger’s words. “Thanks again…I know, I know, I’ll stop,” he laughs when she gives him a stink eye at his persistent gratitude. “Have fun with your family. And pass on our congrats to your sister.”

“I will,” she nods before taking a visible breath and waving goodbyes to the three Millers. She turns and heads back towards her own family. Sarah watches her dad watch her the entire time she goes, turning to Tommy and sharing an unspoken conversation before Tommy breaks the silence. 

“Alright, brother, why don’t you say hi to your fancy college buddies before we head out. I’ll entertain the sprout for a few minutes. Then we can head out for ice cream,” Tommy says, pulling Sarah into his arms and giving her a soft noogie while she cringes good naturedly. 

“Uncle Tommy! Stop, you’re going to mess up my hair!” Sarah complains. Tommy relents and Joel eyes the pair suspiciously, but ultimately agrees. He gives the camera back to Sarah for safekeeping, and she dramatically tells him she’ll protect it with her life. He laughs before leaving the pair on the lawn to find a few of his classmates and professors. 

Once he’s out of eye and earshot, Sarah and Tommy form a quick plan and spring into action. 

It’s getting late, the sun set, the evening sky dark and air heavy with the remaining heat and moisture from the day. Joel is sat in his makeshift home office at his messy desk, camera in hand, flipping through the pictures Sarah took earlier in the day. She got some pretty good shots, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly when he realizes how gaudy his cap looked from the crowd. 

He gets to the pictures of he and Sarah together and smiles, loving how happy his little girl looks, how proud she clearly is of him, how much fun they have together. He tries and fails not to think of the beautiful woman who took those pictures earlier, of the jolt of electricity that zipped up his arm and ran through his heart when their fingers touched, and he especially tries not to think about how he never managed to get her name. 

Just when he thinks he’s gotten to the end, the silly faces he and Sarah made only hours ago staring back at him through the small camera screen, he notices the number in the upper righthand corner. 24/25. There’s one more. He flips to it curiously, finding a special face looking back at him. A wide toothy smile, hair still tucked behind one ear, gorgeous little sundress that should have been illegal to wear out in public, and…holding a piece of paper? There’s something written on there and Joel desperately wants to know what it says, but for the life of him, he can’t remember how Sarah told him to work the goddamn zoom. 

He flips to the picture before, of him and Sarah making silly faces, swallows his pride and prepares himself for the shit he knows he’s about to get from his daughter before bellowing out, “Sarah! Babygirl, can you come here, please? Need you to help me with the camera!”

Sarah bounds into the room, sly grin already plastered on her face. Joel holds out the camera and asks, “How do you work the zoom on this thing again?”

Sarah walks over to her dad and points out the buttons he needs to use. “These right here, the plus sign zooms in, the minus sign zooms out, and you use these,” she moves her finger down to the directional arrow buttons that form a small circle on the lower right side of the camera, “to move the picture around when you’re zoomed in. Make sense?”

“Clear as mud,” Joel replies, giving the buttons a try to make sure he has it before dismissing his daughter, thanking her for her help, and thinks he hears her mutter something about old dogs and new tricks as she leaves the room. 

Joel turns his head to make sure Sarah isn’t hanging around before flipping back to the last picture on the digital version of a camera roll. He does as Sarah instructed, presses the plus button until the picture is zoomed in enough that he can read the paper being held up to the camera. No fucking way. He blinks, squints, rubs his eyes, and looks again, but his eyes did not deceive him. Written on the paper in a looping scrawl is undeniably a phone number. Joel leans back in his chair and brings his hand up to his mouth before pulling it down and resting on his lap. He stares at the screen for a moment in disbelief before letting out a low chuckle. He looks away from the screen and over towards the office entrance again, thinking about Tommy and Sarah and their insistence to hang back and let Joel congratulate his classmates and thank his professors. 

“Son of a bitch,” Joel murmurs to himself. He shakes his head and looks back at the screen. He holds his gaze there for a minute, then one more, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, punching in the number and hitting the green call button before he loses his nerve. 

The line rings once, twice, three times, and Joel thinks maybe this was a mistake, calling a relative stranger after a brief (at most) meeting, but then the ringing stops and a newly familiar voice answers with a soft, “Hello?”

Joel smiles as his anxieties drift away, “Hey, darlin’. Nice to hear your voice again.”

END

Tagging some friends who might be interested: @5oh5 @javierpena-inatacvest @swiftispunk @sawymredfox

[gunilslaugh]

Need Some Help Darling? Epilogue

Kwak Jiseok Summary:Your life after officially becoming Jiseok’s darling. (non-idol au) WC:641 Warning:none

part 1 part 2 part 3

photo not mine credits to owner.

Rolling over onto your side as you wake up from your sleep you’re greeted with the sight of Jiseok staring at you admiringly. 

“Good morning darling,” he tells you whilst giving you a kiss on the cheek. You scoot closer to him on the bed. He takes this opportunity to snuggly pull you against his chest. 

“Good morning,” you tell him back. “Don’t you have work though? You’ve been gone before I woke up this entire week,” you state.

“Exactly, I've been deprived of my morning cuddles all this week.” He wraps his other arm around you and rocks you both side to side. A giggle erupts from your chest making Jiseok smile.

The two of you settle back down with you now resting on Jiseok’s chest as he holds you close. One of his hands absentmindedly runs through your hair.

“Is work tiring lately? Your knuckles are busted again.” You take his hand that was resting on your waist. Gently you run your fingers over his injured knuckles.

“It’s nothing darling,” he replies. Reminding you of the time you spent in his car after he saved you from getting hit by a car. Just like back then Jiseok has never told you exactly what he does for work. He always insists that it’s none of your concern. Most of the time you respect his decision to not tell you, but when comes home with busted knuckles, lips, bruises, other small injuries you can’t help but be a little concerned. 

“You always say that,” you remark. You change your hold on his hand to play with his fingers. 

“Of course I always call you darling, it’s what you are: My darling.” His words bring a smile to your face. You sit up from his chest to face him. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You lightly push his chest. Jiseok catches you by your wrist pulling you back down to him. 

“It’s still true though. You’re my darling.” He presses a kiss to your nose. “Mine.” He kisses your cheek. “Mine.” Then the other. “Mine.” He presses a final kiss to your lips. 

“Yeah, yours.” You press a kiss of your own onto his lips. “And your darling does have work soon, so as nice as this is…” You began to pull yourself out of his embrace once more. “I have to get ready for work,” you say. Jiseok pouts trying to reach out for you, but you're faster. 

“Calling in sick is a thing you know,” he suggested. 

“Yes I know, but my team is working on an important proposal, so I can’t today,” you tell him. Jiseok slumped back down onto the bed in disappointment. 

“Can I drop you off at least?” He sat back up.

“If you hurry up and get out of bed,” you said. 

After getting ready Jiseok and you leave the house. He opens the car door for you before walking around to the other side and getting in himself. His hand drifts down to hold yours for the ride to your workplace. “I’ll pick you up after work,” he tells you when you arrive outside of your workplace. 

“When do you not?” you joked lightly. Jiseok always made the effort to pick you up after work, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about you getting back home safely. Your safety was always his number one priority. 

“I love you,” he expresses. 

“I love you too,” you say back, leaning over to peck his cheek before getting out of the car. Jiseok watches as you walk inside before driving off and going to deal with whatever he has to get done for the day. Which more than likely involved being a bad guy to somebody, but Jiseok has proved time and time again that he will never be a bad guy to you.

part 1 part 2 part 3

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

comment or message me to be added!

[dianeandrews]

As of today, I am 612 days (a little over 20 months) sober. The time between these photos is almost exactly 2 years, so the photo on the left was about 4 months before I finally dropped the bottle. I was drinking HEAVILY at that point. As you can probably tell, my entire body was quite literally soaked in booze.

Now that I've been sober nearly 2 years, I have done a LOT of healing, reflecting, soul searching and very painful emotional and mental growing. In that growth, I have learned some very important things about myself.

One of the biggest things that bothered me about my insane level of drinking was "why?". I was finally in a relationship with someone who OBVIOUSLY loved me for exactly who I was/am. I was doing well in basically all aspects of life. So, why was I drinking my life away and continually searching for that numbness?

It has taken me 20 months, but I think I finally have a big part of the answer: I was afraid of being happy.

The last time I thought I was happy had been 22 years prior. I was with a man who I thought was "the one". Long story short, things went downhill fast. He wasn't the one and I ended up nearly dying from stress. Literally.

I spent the next 22 years undulating between sober and drunk. Trying to grieve as eloquently as possible. Working my ass off to raise my daughter by myself, while also self-medicating and trying to live the life I though I deserved. Nothing I did felt fulfilling and no amount of booze could take away the pain of what I had lost. I had not only lost my trust and love in someone I thought was my soul mate (ah, stupid youth), but I had also lost the full use of what used to be a very strong, athletic and incredible body.

Fast forward to 2021 and here I was again in love with someone who this time actually was worth trusting and worth loving, yet I was still unable to allow myself to be happy.

Why? Fear. Plain and simple. Fear that my past was returning to play out exactly the same way it had before. That fear then led me to drink to cover itself up, which then progressed to full blown addiction and having a shot of tequila immediately after waking followed by one every hour until bed. In between that time, I was ruining everything good in my life. Alcohol has a way of doing that so you will continue to love it and nothing/no one else.

Since realizing this truth, I have found myself at peace. Peace knowing that I understand myself better. Peace within myself to allow myself to let go of that past pain and continue to tell myself things are different. I am different. I have healed in many, many ways. I am no longer that 20 year old inexperienced girl. I am a full grown very experienced and very wise woman. I am powerful. I am more powerful than my fears and I am certainly more powerful than any substance that tries to call me back to the dark side. No thank you, I prefer the light.

Many people have said that you can see how withdrawn I was in my "before" photos and now see how alive I am in my current. It's true. Not only is it obvious in my photos, but I feel it in my heart and soul. I still have some healing to do and will always be a work in progress, but I am beyond grateful I have found more of myself and have learned to love who I am and what I have to offer.

In the words of a wonderful man; I am Wonder Woman.

[ax-y10]

photographs

in which; ted can't help but capture your beauty

request; since i cannot write for ted, feed me with photographer!reader x photographer!ted taking a trip for really good pictures and they share the pictures they took

about; silent pining, ted is hopelessly in love, photography, y/n is ted's muse, two idiots in love i guess, i didn't know if you wanted it to be platonic or not so i've done something i guess, i tried my hardest to stick to the prompt but i got a little carried away, nervous little dude

word count; 439

taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa @average-vibe (ask to be added)

"are you hopping in or what?"

this trip had been planned for weeks, and every single day, ted wanted the days to come faster. all he wanted was to take photos of you, and admire you, and call you his. all he needed was a few days spent with you and he will be the happiest man alive.

he immediately grabs your bags and places them in the backseat of the tacoma. it’s very odd behaviour for him.

a few hours later, you get to the airbnb where you'll both be staying for the small trip. he's already rushing inside, and claiming his room.

it’s 11 pm by this point, and you’ve both settled into bed, probably both on your phones, and on separate ends of the house. you were both like small, giddy children on the drive to the airbnb, and you both couldn't be more excited to spend a few days alone with each other.

there was a knock on your door, startling you.

"come in, ted," you groaned.

"hey... can i sleep in here? it's too hot in my room and the ac doesn't work," he stood in the doorway, not yet wanting to cross the line.

you held yourself back from joking and saying no, but you know ted can't sleep when it's hot, and it's not going to bother you.

"fine, c'mon," you pulled the sheets down on the other side of the bed, and he happily jumped in.

the end of the trip comes around, and you're trying to forget about how you woke up with ted's arms wrapped around you, and how happy he looked everytime you told him it was fine to sleep in your room. but you couldn't seem to let go.

"y/n." his voice broke you out of your trance, and he gestured towards your camera.

'you have to share photos, you dumbass...'

you grabbed your camera and flicked through the photos, showing ted the various images of the parks and lakes and birds and things of the like. when you finished, he looked nervous. worried, even.

"ted what's up?"

"click through them yourself..." he trailed off, mumbling something under his breath as he passed you his camera.

you flicked through each photo. the first day was filled with photos similar to the ones you took. the second day was of small buildings and places he thought looked cool. the third day was... you? all of the photos from the third day were entirely you.

"ted, what's this about-" you were cut off by a loud, quick voice.

"go on a date with me. please?"

you couldn't resist...