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cherryxbooo · 2 days ago

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Summary: You feel dragged around by Oscar, always sidelined in favor of his friend group with no say in their or his plans. But what happens when the bucket finally overflows?

Note: Hey everyone I'm back, and this time with the long-awaited Oscar fic. I just wanted to let all of you know that the second semester of uni has started, so I want to apologize in advance for my inactivity. I hope you enjoy this one! 🌸

Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: fluff/angst

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and the sun was just starting to dip behind the clouds, casting a soft glow through the windows.

Oscar and I were sprawled out on the couch, his arm wrapped around me, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my arm.

The TV was on, but neither of us was paying much attention to it. We were content, enjoying the stillness of the moment, the quiet of our own little world.

"I’m glad we’re finally having a day to ourselves," Oscar murmured, his voice low and warm, sending a shiver down my spine.

He tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his touch so gentle it almost felt like a caress.

"Me too," I whispered, leaning into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the soft musk of his skin.

"It feels like it’s been forever."

His laugh rumbled through his chest.

"I know. Feels like we’ve barely had time to just... be."

We sat in silence for a moment, the kind of comfortable silence that only comes from being with someone you truly care about.

I felt safe here with him, like I could stay wrapped in this moment forever, untouched by the outside world.

It was these small, quiet moments that made everything feel okay.

Oscar shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at me.

"Hey babe, so, my friends are meeting up later. You know Jack and the others—"

I blinked up at him, already sensing where this was going.

"We’re going to meet up with them?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, but it was a little harder than usual.

"Yeah, just for a drink," he said, his expression brightening, clearly excited about it.

"You’ll come, right?"

I smiled, but it was more of a reflex than anything.

"Sure, of course."

Oscar didn’t seem to notice my hesitation.

"Awesome. I know everyone will be happy to see you."

He leaned in to kiss my forehead, and I held my breath for just a second, trying to push down the tightness that had suddenly crept into my chest.

But I couldn’t help it. Inside, I felt... different.

I should’ve been excited, right? After all, meeting up with friends was supposed to be a good thing.

It was supposed to be something I looked forward to.

But instead, there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a knot tightening in my stomach.

The truth was, I didn’t feel like I was part of his world when we went out with his friends.

Not really. Not like I belonged, at least. They weren’t unkind, it was just like I was an outsider.

I tried to insert myself into conversations, but they always slipped back into their own comfortable rhythm, talking about racing, about sim racing, about things I just didn’t have the same connection to.

I wasn’t part of that world, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite bridge the gap.

And it always seemed like they didn't want me to be part of their conversations either.

But I couldn’t tell Oscar that. He loved his friends. And I loved him.

So I went along with it, even though it made me feel more like an accessory than a partner sometimes.

I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want to be the girlfriend who said no when he asked her to join him.

I didn’t want to be the one who got in the way of his friendships. If I didn’t go, they’d talk behind my back.

I knew they would. And I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who held him back or made him feel like he had to choose.

So I smiled, nodded, and said, "Sure, of course," even if it wasn’t how I felt.

Oscar’s voice broke through my thoughts. "You’re quiet. Everything okay?"

I blinked up at him, forcing my smile to stay in place. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking."

He smiled back, completely unaware of the turmoil inside me.

"Alright, then. I’m looking forward to it."

I nodded, but my thoughts wandered again. There was always this underlying feeling that I wasn’t really meant to be there.

When Oscar wasn’t around, I could feel the silence in the air, like I was standing on the outside of their inside jokes, and no matter how much I tried to join in, it was always just a little too late.

It was easier when Oscar was right there beside me, talking to me, pulling me into the conversation.

But the second he was distracted, even for a moment, it was like I was invisible.

And no one noticed. Not even him. It was like only his friends existed and I didn't have any.

The worst part? It wasn’t just this one time.

It was every time. It was a routine, something that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

I had tried. God, I had tried so many times to get him to come out with my friends.

Tried to bring it up casually, to suggest that maybe, just maybe, I could spend time with my own group for a change.

But it always got brushed off, like my friends didn’t really matter as much.

"Oh, babe, I thought you wanted to hang out with me," he’d say,

always with that playful grin, as if the suggestion that I might want a night out with my friends was absurd.

"Come on, you don’t want to miss out on the guys." And before I could even reply, he'd already be dragging me into some new conversation with his friends or making plans for something with them.

At first, I thought maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe one night with his friends wouldn’t hurt.

But then it happened again. And again.

And each time, my attempt to spend time with my own friends was met with that same dismissive ease, as if it wasn’t even an option.

I couldn’t tell him how much it stung. I didn’t want to cause tension or make him feel bad.

He was just... excited to be with his friends. And I was happy for him, really, I was.

But the more I gave in, the more I realized how much I was missing out on my own life, my own connections.

But I could never say it. Not out loud. Because I didn’t want to disappoint him.

I didn’t want him to think I didn’t care about his friendships, or worse—be seen as the girlfriend who couldn’t handle being around his friends.

I kept telling myself I was being unreasonable, that it was normal to spend so much time with his group. But deep down, I knew I was giving up something of myself every time.

And still, I went along with it. Like I always did.

"Alright, I’ll get ready," I said, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in my chest.

"Let’s go meet them."

Oscar grinned, clearly happy to see me gearing up for the night.

"I knew you’d come through," he said, giving me a quick, playful kiss on the cheek.

I returned his smile, but inside, I was already bracing myself for the evening.

For the smiles and the jokes, for the moments where I’d try to laugh along, to fit in, to make it through the night without feeling like I was losing myself a little more with each passing second.

I could do this. For him. Always for him.

But as I stepped into the bedroom to change, I couldn’t help but sigh.

Oscar and I arrived at the pub just as the evening sky darkened, the neon signs casting a warm glow against the wet pavement.

The usual buzz of London nightlife was already in full swing, and I could feel the energy in the air, but it felt so far removed from me.

I could hear the laughter and chatter before we even stepped inside.

Oscar grinned, pulling me by the hand toward the door, and I followed him through the dimly lit space, the noise growing louder with each step.

Inside, the group was already gathered around a corner booth, half of them already in animated conversation.

Mark waved enthusiastically when he saw us, and Max glanced up from his phone with a nod.

The others—Jake, Sam, and Alex—were busy talking, their voices overlapping in that easy camaraderie they all shared.

Oscar, being Oscar, was immediately pulled into the conversation, his friends already excitedly discussing whatever they were talking about.

Probably something related to their latest weekend plans or their favorite shows.

He easily fell into the rhythm of their group, nodding along and laughing, without even sparing a glance at me.

It felt like I was invisible, sitting on the edge of this conversation I didn’t quite belong to.

"Hey, Y/n!" Mark said with a grin, leaning over to give me a fist bump.

"How’s it going?"

"Good, good," I mumbled, trying to smile. "Just... chilling."

I took the seat beside Oscar, settling into the booth but immediately feeling the weight of the conversation happening around me.

Oscar was already in a deep conversation with Mark and Max, nodding along and laughing at something one of them had said.

His arm was draped over the back of my chair, but he wasn’t really looking at me.

His attention was all on them. And for some reason, tonight, it felt more obvious than usual.

I glanced at the table, at the half-empty drinks, the clinking of glasses as the guys cheered each other on.

And there I was, on the edge of it all, nursing my drink, my eyes flickering around the room but never really landing anywhere.

Tonight, I wasn’t even trying to engage anymore. It felt pointless.

I wasn’t sure if I had given up or if I was just... tired.

Tired of trying to fit into a space that didn’t feel like mine.

At some point, the conversation shifted, and I overheard Mark suggesting that they should all go snowboarding for the weekend.

The thought of a weekend away, filled with snow and action, was enough to make their voices rise a little louder, their enthusiasm palpable.

But what caught my attention wasn’t the idea itself—it was how quickly Oscar jumped on board.

"Yeah, that sounds awesome," he said, nodding without missing a beat.

"We can go that weekend. It’s perfect."

And just like that, the plan was made.

Everyone agreed, and the group easily fell into the flow of arranging details.

But what made my chest tighten was how Oscar didn’t even hesitate.

Not even a moment's thought. He was already locked in with them.

But worse—he didn’t even ask me.

He didn’t even look at me to see if I had plans or if I had something I wanted to do.

He just assumed, and what hit me harder was when he added, without a second thought, "Y/n will come with us, too."

Like I was an afterthought. Like my opinion didn’t even matter.

I froze, my stomach twisting.

That weekend was the same weekend I had planned to hang out with my own friends.

The same friends I hadn’t seen in forever, the ones I was constantly sidelining to go to Oscar’s hangouts.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Oscar’s friends—I did, in my own way.

But the more this happened, the more I realized just how much I missed my own group.

I missed their jokes, the way we could just talk about anything and everything without the weight of racing and sim setups hovering over us.

I missed me—the version of myself that wasn’t always Oscar’s girlfriend, the one who had her own life too.

I was getting tired of always saying "yes," of always being the one who dropped whatever I had planned to follow him into his world.

But when I looked at Oscar, when I saw how excited he was to go snowboarding with his friends, I knew he wouldn’t understand.

He wouldn’t get why it bothered me that he didn’t ask, that he just assumed I’d follow him wherever he went.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I needed to say something.

I should say something.

"Hey, Osc," I started, my voice just a little too tight.

"I had plans that weekend, actually... with my friends."

He didn’t even look at me.

He was still talking to Mark, leaning forward, already discussing the finer points of the snowboarding trip.

"Oh, you’ll be fine," he said with a wave of his hand. "It’ll be fun. Everyone’s going, right?"

He didn’t hear me. Didn’t even try to.

He just waved me off, like my plans didn’t matter.

I opened my mouth to say something, to try again, but before I could, Oscar’s attention was already back on Mark, and he was talking to Max about which resort to go to.

I felt the words catch in my throat, lost amidst the noise, as he dismissed me without even realizing it.

"Just wait, okay?" Oscar added his voice light, distracted.

"We’ll talk about it later, but let’s figure this out first."

And just like that, the conversation moved on.

I closed my mouth, my shoulders sinking.

I could feel the old familiar wave of frustration building up inside me, usually, I would just bite my tongue and swallow my pride.

But this time, something inside me snapped.

I was fed up. This was the last straw.

It wasn’t just the snowboarding weekend—it was everything.

The constant pushing aside of my feelings, my plans, my life outside of his world.

The way he always assumed my presence without ever considering what I wanted.

The way he took me for granted, not even realizing how much it hurt.

I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine.

I couldn’t keep swallowing my frustration just to keep the peace.

I didn’t want to be the girlfriend who was always there, who always said yes, who always smiled and nodded.

I was done.

Done pretending.

Done sacrificing my own happiness for his.

Done being an afterthought in my own relationship.

It was time for me to finally say something.

After hours of the guys planning their trip, talking and laughing— it was finally time to wrap it up.

I couldn't be more relieved but there was still one thing on my mind and that was confronting Oscar.

We sat in the car as Oscar drove us back home.

The car ride home was silent.

Oscar drove with his usual relaxed demeanor, one hand on the wheel, the other resting absentmindedly on my thigh.

Usually, that gesture made my heart flutter, but tonight it felt more like a formality, a habit.

Something that no longer had the warmth it used to.

I stared out the window, watching the blur of city lights pass by.

My jaw was clenched so tightly I was starting to feel the ache in my teeth, but I didn’t care.

The frustration, the hurt, all of it was bubbling up inside me.

I knew I couldn’t go to bed tonight without getting it out. I had to say something.

So I did.

“Oscar.”

He hummed in response, eyes focused on the road ahead, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

I hesitated, just for a moment.

But the frustration couldn’t be contained anymore.

“Why do we always hang out with your friends?”

His brow furrowed, and his eyes flicked toward me briefly before returning to the road.

“What do you mean love?”

I turned in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest, fighting the tightening in my throat.

“I mean every single time we go out, it’s always with your group. I never get to see my friends. You never let me make plans with them. Just yours.”

My voice wavered a little. “I always have to tag along.”

Oscar’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, and he sighed. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” I said, my voice sharp.

“You always say ‘next time,’ but next time never comes. And when I bring it up, it’s like I’m asking for the world. I sit there with your friends, feeling like I don’t even exist, and you’re too busy to notice.”

His eyes flicked to me again, then back to the road.

“Y/n, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

I blinked, stunned by his response. “Are you serious?”

“What?” He shot me a quick look, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“You’re acting like I’m forcing you.”

“You do force me, Oscar,” I snapped, my voice rising.

“You never ask. You just expect me to go along with whatever you’re doing. And the one time I try to suggest something for me—something with my friends—you brush it off, or you convince me I don’t need them.”

My eyes stung with frustration.

“I’m not your accessory, Oscar. I’m not just supposed to be there when it’s convenient for you.”

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s not how it is. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

I shook my head, eyes staring out the window.

“Then explain it to me. Explain why it’s always you and your friends. Why it’s always your plans, your world, and I’m just... here. When’s the last time we did something you didn’t drag me into?”

There was a long pause, the only sound the hum of the tires against the road.

Oscar’s jaw clenched, and I could feel the shift in his energy like he was gearing up to defend himself. But nothing came.

Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’re being selfish, Y/n. I don’t ask you to come every time. If you didn’t want to, you could just... not come. But you don’t, so don’t act like I’m forcing you to be there.”

My stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious,” he said, voice tight.

“Why do you care so much? It’s not like they don’t like you.”

“That’s not the point, Oscar!” I practically shouted.

“The point is, you don’t make the same effort for me! You know, the person you’re supposed to care about? I follow you around like some lost puppy. I sit through conversations I don’t even understand, I pretend everything is fine, and every time I try to tell you how I feel, it’s like you don’t hear me. You don’t see me. It’s always about your plans, your life.”

Oscar glanced at me, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, a vein popping in his neck.

“I’m not saying it’s perfect. But it’s not like I’m ignoring you, Y/n.”

“Then why do I feel so damn invisible?” I shot back, my voice trembling now.

“I’m not asking for the world. I’m just asking for a little bit of effort. Just a little bit of balance, maybe, where my life matters too.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his voice dropping with a sigh.

“God, Y/n, it’s not a big deal. I don’t understand why you’re making this such a huge issue.”

“Not a big deal?” I let out a bitter laugh.

“You don’t get it. You never get it.”

Oscar’s frustration boiled over.

“You’re being unreasonable. I can’t change everything just because you’re suddenly upset about it. You're such a drama queen.”

His words stung, but I wasn’t backing down. I was done pretending.

I was done giving in.

“No, you can’t change everything overnight, Oscar. But you can start by acknowledging that I’m not just here for your convenience. I’m not just your plus-one to every single thing. I’m me. And I have my own life, my own friends, and I need you to care about that, too.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick. Oscar’s jaw was clenched, his knuckles white against the wheel.

The air was thick with the weight of our words, of all the things we’d said that hadn’t been said before.

He didn’t respond at first. Just kept his eyes on the road, the car humming beneath us.

And I could feel the tension in the car, the space between us growing wider, like a chasm I wasn’t sure we could cross.

But I wasn’t going to back down.

“I’m not asking for everything, Oscar,” I whispered, almost to myself.

“I’m just asking to not feel like I’m invisible anymore.”

Neither of us spoke for the rest of the drive.

The night felt colder than it had before.

The drive home felt endless.

By the time we pulled up to our apartment building, the weight of everything hung thick in the air between us.

Oscar turned off the engine, his hand moving from the wheel to rest at his side, but he didn’t look at me.

He didn’t say anything.

The silence was louder than the car’s engine had ever been.

I sat there for a moment, my heart racing, my mind buzzing. I had hoped he would say something, anything.

An apology, an explanation. But he didn’t.

He didn’t even seem to want to acknowledge the fight we’d just had, the frustration and hurt I’d tried to lay out for him.

I wasn’t going to let this fester. Not again.

I took a deep breath, unclipping my seatbelt. Oscar still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t looked at me.

I reached for my bag, not even bothering to look his way.

His silence felt like the final nail in the coffin.

“I’m going to my best friend’s,” I said, my voice steady but cold.

Oscar’s gaze flickered toward me briefly, but his lips stayed pressed together, the weight of his pride holding him back from speaking.

I didn’t need to hear him say it; I already knew.

He was too stubborn, too set in his ways to admit he’d messed up.

I didn’t look back.

I grabbed my things and slammed the door behind me, making my way away from him.

It was truly a blessing that my bestie only lived 10 minutes away from us.

So I started walking, not even glancing back as I didn't want to see him anymore.

I didn’t know if I was more angry or heartbroken.

I should have known.

Oscar had always been more about his pride than admitting his wrongs.

He wouldn’t change, not now, not when I needed him to.

When I finally arrived at my best friend’s place, I knocked on the door with urgency.

As soon as she saw me, she opened it wide, pulling me inside without a word.

I collapsed into her arms, my body shaking as the tears I had been holding back for so long finally broke free.

“Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice full of concern.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t even know where to start,” I sobbed, wiping my eyes.

“It’s Oscar. He doesn’t… he doesn’t listen. I’m not important to him, not the way he’s important to me.”

Her expression softened, and she guided me to the couch, sitting beside me.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I began to pour everything out.

“I feel like I’m just... a shadow in his life. I don’t exist in the way he does with his friends. We’re always with his group, and my friends are pushed aside. Every time I try to make plans, he shuts them down. And tonight… tonight, it was the last straw. I tried to tell him, but he just didn’t get it. He didn’t care. He just sat there, not even apologizing or acknowledging how hurt I was. I... I’m so tired of being invisible.”

She listened intently, not interrupting me, just offering a comforting presence as I vented.

When I finally fell silent, she pulled me into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she whispered.

“You don’t deserve to feel like that. You’re worth so much more than how he’s treating you.”

I closed my eyes, letting myself relax in her arms for a moment.

I wasn’t ready to be okay, but at least here, I didn’t feel alone.

After a long while, she pulled back slightly, her gaze soft but serious.

“You know... everyone has missed you. We’ve all been wondering why you’ve been so distant lately. We haven’t seen you in forever. It’s like you’ve disappeared, and no one knew what to say.”

I sniffled, guilt crashing over me.

“I didn’t mean to shut everyone out. I just… I don’t know. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’ve been so wrapped up in him. I should’ve been better.”

She shook her head, her expression softening.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. But you do need to come out with us tomorrow. You need to make it up to yourself, too. And to us. We miss you, Y/n. You need to have fun again, and be around people who actually appreciate you for you.”

I wiped my eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

“You’re right. I’ve been so caught up in all of this that I forgot how to just... live. Yeah, I’ll go out tomorrow. I think I need it.”

She smiled warmly.

“Good. It’s time to get back to the things that make you happy. And if Oscar isn’t seeing that right now, then maybe it’s time for you to remind yourself of what really matters.”

I nodded, feeling a weight lifting off my shoulders.

I wasn’t okay yet, but for the first time tonight, I felt like maybe I could be.

I wasn’t alone in this. And tomorrow—tomorrow, I would take a step back into my own world. For me.

As we talked about the plans for tomorrow, I could feel the tension in my chest easing, replaced by a tiny flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, I could start finding my way back to who I was before all of this.

Maybe it was time to stop losing myself.

A few weeks had passed, and I could feel myself slowly beginning to piece my life back together.

It wasn’t easy, but with the help of my best friend and some distance from Oscar, I was starting to remember who I was.

I was going out with my friends again, laughing and enjoying moments I had let slip away.

I even started picking up some old hobbies I had abandoned—reading, painting, and just spending time on myself.

I had a sense of peace that had been missing for a while.

But, despite all that, there was still something—or rather, someone—missing.

Oscar.

He’d tried reaching out to me multiple times, sending texts, calling, but I wasn’t ready to face him, not yet.

I couldn’t just pick up where we left off.

Not without feeling like I was compromising a part of myself again.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always there, lingering on the edge of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to focus on myself.

I tried not to think about him too much.

One afternoon, I was standing in the grocery store, trying to figure out if I was in the mood for pasta or a salad for dinner, when I turned a corner and nearly ran into someone.

“Oof!” I exclaimed, stumbling back a bit.

I looked up, ready to apologize, but then my words caught in my throat.

It was Oscar.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I was frozen, staring at him, and he was doing the same.

He looked… different. Tired, maybe? But still, unmistakably him.

The way his eyes locked onto mine, the way he hesitated for just a second as if he was unsure how to approach me after everything.

It hit me harder than I expected.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

“Hey. Uh… wow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I forced a smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Yeah. Small world, huh?”

We both stood there for a beat, unsure of what to say next.

I could feel the tension in the air, thick with the unspoken words between us.

“How… how have you been?” he asked, his voice tentative, like he was testing the waters.

“I’m good,” I said, my tone a little stiff.

“Just been… figuring things out, you know?”

His eyes softened, and he looked like he wanted to say something more, but then I spoke again, cutting him off.

“What about that snowboarding trip? Didn’t you and your friends plan that?” I asked, my voice holding a bit more edge than I meant.

Oscar’s expression faltered, his gaze dropping for a moment.

When he met my eyes again, there was guilt written all over his face.

“I didn’t go,” he said quietly, almost as if it was a confession.

“I felt… I don’t know. I felt guilty. About everything. How I treated you. The way I didn’t listen.”

His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond.

He hadn’t gone? I hadn’t expected that.

But then again, I couldn’t tell if it was because he truly felt bad or if it was more out of obligation.

I didn’t know if I was ready to hear more.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

“We can’t have this conversation here,” I said, glancing around at the busy store.

I wasn’t ready to talk in front of strangers, especially not with all the emotion bubbling just under the surface.

Oscar nodded, clearly understanding.

“I get it. Um... we could talk at our- I mean my place? If you’re up for it.”

I hesitated. My first instinct was to say no, to walk away and continue living my life without him.

But something about his tone—something about the way he looked at me—made me pause.

“I… I need to think about it first,” I said, my voice softer this time.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“I understand,” he replied, his voice low.

“Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving.

It felt like the world had stopped for just a second, and I had to remind myself that we couldn’t go back to the way things were.

But then, with one last look, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the aisle.

When I arrived back at my best friend’s place, I was still in a daze.

I walked into the living room, where she was sitting on the couch, and collapsed next to her.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, looking up from her phone.

But as soon as she saw my face, her eyes softened with concern. “Wait. What happened?”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of the encounter with Oscar finally hitting me.

“I ran into him. In the store. We… we talked.”

She raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter.

“And? What happened?”

I recounted everything—the awkwardness, his apology, the way he hadn’t gone on the trip, the way he still seemed so... unsure of what to do with me.

I told her how he asked if we could talk later, and how I had told him I needed time to think about it.

When I finished, she sat quietly for a moment, processing.

“So, what do you think? Do you want to talk to him?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“I’m still so confused. Part of me wants to just leave it behind, but another part of me… I don’t know. I think he really does feel bad. He didn’t go on the trip because of me.”

She nodded slowly, considering my words.

“Y/n, you have to do what feels right for you. But, maybe, just hear him out? I know how much he loves you. And if he’s changed, if he’s willing to try, maybe it’s worth it.”

I let her words sit in the air for a moment, and they resonated in ways I hadn’t expected.

She was right. I needed to make the decision for myself—not based on fear, or anger, but on what I truly wanted.

“Okay,” I said, my voice a little steadier now.

“I’ll think about it. I’ll hear him out. But I’m not going back unless I know things are different.”

She smiled, a glint of understanding in her eyes.

“You’re strong, Y/n. Do what’s best for you. You deserve that.”

I nodded, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

Tomorrow, I would take that step.

Whatever happened after that, at least I knew I was doing it for me.

And if Oscar was willing to change, then maybe we could find a way forward.

The next day, after spending the night talking with my best friend and sorting through my feelings, I knew what I had to do.

I couldn’t keep avoiding the conversation with Oscar, not if I ever wanted closure—or if there was even a chance at rebuilding what we once had.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and I wasn’t going to go easy on him.

But I owed it to myself to at least hear him out, to see if he was really ready to change, or if he was just another disappointment I’d have to swallow.

I arrived at his place in the late afternoon, my nerves tangled in my stomach like a thousand knots.

I stood in front of his door for a long moment, my hand hovering over the doorbell.

I hadn’t been here in weeks, and it felt strange—like I didn’t belong in this space anymore.

But I pressed the button anyway, and soon enough, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side.

I stood there for a moment, after he opened the door, taking him in.

His eyes widened in shock, his mouth parting like he couldn’t believe I was actually standing there.

But I wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

“You came,” he said, a mix of surprise and something else—hope, maybe.

But I wasn’t about to let that sway me.

I nodded, stepping inside, and closed the door behind me with a soft click.

We stood in silence for a few seconds, an awkwardness hanging between us, but I wasn’t about to give in to it.

Not tonight.

I folded my arms across my chest, my posture stiff but determined.

“Yeah. I came. But don’t get too comfortable, Oscar. I’m not here to joke around. We need to talk.”

His eyes flickered, but he didn’t interrupt. Good.

He knew I wasn’t messing around. We both made our way to the couch, and when I sat down, he hesitated for just a second before sitting across from me.

The tension was palpable.

I could feel the familiar walls between us, the ones that had started to form before I even realized they were there.

I stared at him, holding his gaze with a quiet intensity.

“So. You’ve had time to think. I hope.”

Oscar shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the situation.

But that wasn’t my problem anymore.

“Y/n, I... I didn’t know how to start. I’m sorry for what I did. I know I messed up.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Sorry? Is that all you’ve got?”

His eyes widened. “What do you mean? I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I didn’t care about his apology. I needed to know why he acted like he didn’t give a damn about me.

It wasn’t just about what he did—it was about how he never listened, never even saw how I was feeling. And that? That was unforgivable.

“You’re sorry?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief.

“Really? Oscar, you’ve said that so many times, but you never change. Do you know why? Because you think that saying sorry is enough. You think you can just say the words and expect me to forget how you treated me. But it’s not enough. Not anymore. Not after everything.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t let him.

“You dragged me to hangouts with your friends, never once asking if I was comfortable. You assumed I was fine when I was literally choking on my discomfort, just sitting there, trying not to be invisible. I tried to make it work, Oscar. I really did. I made the effort to be part of your world, even though it never felt like I belonged there. But when I tried to introduce you to my friends? You dismissed it. Over and over again.”

Oscar’s face softened, and for the first time, I saw the guilt settle in his eyes.

He opened his mouth again, but I cut him off.

“No, listen. You don’t get to just apologize and think that’s it,” I continued, my voice firm, unrelenting.

“I gave up my time for you. I sacrificed things that mattered to me, and you never even bothered to try and meet me halfway. When I tried to tell you how I was feeling, you brushed it off like it didn’t matter. It was never about me, Oscar. It was always about you, and that... that’s what broke me.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, shame painting his features. I could see how much it was hurting him to hear this, but that didn’t matter.

He needed to hear it. He needed to understand exactly how much he’d messed up.

“I want to believe you, Oscar. I really do,” I went on, my voice softer now, but no less strong.

“But you’ve got to do better. I’m not some backup plan that you can string along when it’s convenient for you. I’m not going to be okay with you shutting me out and only letting me into your world when you feel like it. I need to see that you’re willing to change. I need to see that I matter to you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt mixing in his expression.

“I do care about you, Y/n. I never meant to make you feel that way. I was just... I was caught up in my own thing, and I didn’t notice how much I was neglecting you. I get it now. I understand. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, unwilling to let him off the hook that easily.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix everything. You can’t just say ‘I’m sorry’ and think that erases the hurt. You have to show me that you mean it, that you’re actually going to put in the work. And no, I’m not just talking about saying the right things. I want to see it. I want to see actions. I want to see you make my world as important as yours. I want to feel like I matter, too. Like I’m chosen, not just tolerated.”

Oscar looked at me for a long time, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words.

I could tell he was genuinely sorry, but he also needed to do a hell of a lot more than apologize.

“I understand,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’ve been selfish. I’ve been an idiot. I’ll do better. I’ll show you. I’ll prove it. I don’t want to lose you, Y/n.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions.

“You’ve got one chance, Oscar. One. If you really want this, you’re going to have to fight for it. And I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I’ll fight for you. I swear I will. I don’t want to lose what we had.”

I stared at him for another moment, weighing his words. This wasn’t going to be easy.

It wasn’t going to be a quick fix, but something in me—something deep inside—felt a flicker of hope.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice a little more calm now.

“We’ll try again. But it’s on my terms. You have to show me that you can be the partner I deserve. No more half-assed efforts.”

He nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “I will. I swear.”

I looked at him, trying to read him.

After everything, after all the hurt, there was a part of me that wanted to believe he’d actually changed.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready to open my heart completely again, but I was willing to give him the chance to prove himself.

“I’m not going to wait around forever, Oscar,” I added, my voice steady.

“If you screw this up again, I’m out. No second chances.”

“I understand,” he said softly.

“And I’ll do everything I can to make sure I don’t mess it up.”

We sat there, in that tense silence, for a few moments.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even close.

But for the first time in a while, I felt like we had a chance.

Maybe that was enough—for now.

The next few days with Oscar were... different.

I wasn’t expecting everything to change overnight, but I could see that he was genuinely trying.

It wasn’t just about words anymore; he was backing them up with actions..

And little by little, I started to see the man I had fallen for, the one who cared about me as much as I cared about him.

The first time I noticed it was when I came home from work one evening to find the apartment filled with the smell of my favorite dinner.

Oscar was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, humming softly to himself as he cooked.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, leaning against the doorframe, watching him with a soft smile.

He turned around with a grin, his face lighting up when he saw me.

“I know, but I wanted to. I’ve been thinking a lot about everything we talked about, and... I want to show you that I can do better. So, I thought I’d start with cooking your favorite meal.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure you didn’t burn anything?”

“Not this time,” he said, giving me a teasing wink.

“I’m learning. Slowly.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

It was little things like this, him taking the time to make something for me, that made me realize he wasn’t just doing it to make up for what happened.

He was doing it because he wanted to.

Because he was present.

Another evening, we were sitting on the couch watching a movie, and Oscar—without being asked—grabbed my favorite blanket and draped it over me, making sure I was cozy.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was thoughtful.

It was him, paying attention to what made me feel comfortable and cared for.

And then came the first big test.

Oscar’s friends invited us out for drinks, and usually, it would have been a given.

He would have agreed without even asking me what I wanted to do.

But this time, as he was texting them back, he turned to me, his expression serious.

“Hey love,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

“My friends are asking if we want to go out tonight, but I wanted to check with you first. Do you have any plans? What do you want to do?”

I blinked, surprised. “Wait, you’re asking me?”

He nodded, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yeah, I want to make sure you’re happy too. So, if you want to do something else tonight, we can. I don’t want to just drag you along with them if you’d rather spend time with me.”

My heart melted. It was such a simple question, but it meant everything. smh the bare minimum.

He was considering me, truly thinking about what I wanted for once.

It was the moment I realized he had changed—he wasn’t just saying the right things anymore; he was actually acting on them.

I smiled, feeling the warmth in my chest spread.

“Well, actually, I’ve been wanting to go to that new café downtown. We could grab a coffee and walk around a bit, if you’re up for it.”

Oscar’s face broke into a grin, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness.

“That sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”

As we got ready to leave, he grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently, as if to remind me that he was here, with me.

I wasn’t just an afterthought anymore; I was chosen. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were in this together.

The evening was exactly what I needed—a quiet, peaceful time with Oscar.

No distractions, no pressure. Just us, enjoying each other’s company.

And as we walked hand in hand down the street, I realized that I had never felt more at ease with him.

The old Oscar, the one who would disappear into his world without a second thought, was gone.

And in his place, there was someone who truly cared about us, about building something that could last.

I knew it wasn’t perfect, and there would still be bumps along the way, but as we shared a quiet laugh and a moment of ease, I couldn’t help but believe that we were getting there.

That night, as we walked back home, he pulled me closer, his arm around my waist.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he said quietly, his breath warm against my ear.

“Me too,” I replied, looking up at him with a smile.

“I think this is the start of something really good.”

And for the first time in a long time, I truly believed it.

The end

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superbat-lmao · 1 day ago

Text

When Batman “abducts” Jason, he offers him a deal. Since Jason is concerned about staying with Bruce Wayne, and to show that he’s not abandoning the child to be trafficked, he agrees to a “wellness check” once a week, for an hour.

Anything that Bruce Wayne does that makes Jason uncomfortable, he can report to Batman. And if he does any of the things Jason’s worried about, Batman gives him a panic button.

At the first welfare visit, Batman asks about how Jason is acclimating to the manor.

It takes a lot of prodding for Jason to admit that he wants a lock on his door and that he likes Alfred. That he can’t tell what Bruce is thinking a lot of the time and he doesn’t like the ominous silences.

What’s truly crazy, is that after the meeting, Alfred asks him to help install a lock on his door that only works from the inside. And the next day, when he sees Bruce at breakfast, the man starts recounting come of his day at work, regardless of if Jason joins in. He lays out his plans for the day and his reasoning. Just, talks about innocuous things.

He asks Batman what he shared with Bruce at the next meeting. Batman tells him that he spoke with Alfred about the lock but with Bruce about voicing his thoughts more. He asks if it helped.

Jason says yes, but he’s confused as to why Bruce would want to change at all. Or why Batman told him about those sorts of things. After all, they weren’t that big of a deal.

And Batman tries to explain that Jason shouldn’t be uncomfortable. That is goal is to make sure he’s not just safe, but happy.

Slowly, over the course of a few months, Jason opens up to Batman about different things. Everything he confesses is fixed, whether it be people he knew on the streets being arrested or helped out or even just small things about Bruce, like how he doesn’t make any noise when he walks and keeps startling him.

Jason feels himself relaxing around Batman of all people. He even looks forward to their weekly welfare checks so he can ask about the people he knew in Crime Alley.

He’s also making progress on the Alfred front since he’s allowing him to wash up his own dishes and teaching him to cook.

But Bruce remains a problem.

He doesn’t know what it is. He’s really trying to trust the guy, he’s done everything Jason has asked of him through Batman. Everything, no matter how stupid Jason felt asking for it.

So he asks Batman what’s wrong with him. He tells him he wants to like Bruce, he really does, there’s nothing wrong with the guy. Batman was right. He’s just some awkward lonely dude in a giant house. So why won’t his mind let Jason trust him?

Batman tells him that trauma doesn’t work like that. That Jason may never fully trust Bruce, and that isn’t either of their faults. He’s trying, and that’s more than enough.

It all comes to a head when Alfred takes Jason shopping and their errands run pretty long. Jason just needs so much stuff, apparently.

It’s just starting to get dark out and he’s helping Alfred with the shopping by putting the cart away while he closes the trunk when he feels hands around his mouth.

He bites down as hard as he can against the gloves but it doesn’t help. There are two men and he can hear Alfred calling him, but he’s suddenly in another vehicle and he’s having trouble breathing.

He feels along the inside of his hoodie for his panic button and presses it.

There’s a lot of jeering and talk amongst his kidnappers, they’re excited for a payday. And Jason was easy pickings.

The ransom is a video where Jason is wearing a gag and told to briefly look into the camera while people talk over him, making threats and demands.

He knows something is wrong when all the lights go out in the room. He feels hands around him and starts to kick out until he’s face to face with a shadow he’s seen before. Batman is here for him.

Jason goes boneless in the hold and Batman gets him outside.

No one realized one of the kidnappers had made it onto the roof. Batman takes one bullet in the shoulder before they’re both in the Batmobile. Jason is crying and holding gauze to the hole in the armor while Batman talks softly and assures him he’s fine. Jason has no clue how the car gets them away but he’s thankful he doesn’t have to figure out what to do except put pressure on the wound.

When the doors to the batmobile open, Alfred is there and hauling them into what looks like a chrome emergency room. There are medical cots and equipment everywhere.

Alfred start pulling away the armor and Jason sits in shock as the cowl is removed and Batman sits before him as Bruce Wayne.

He’s gently shooed out of the medical section and sits down on what appears to be training mats. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Alfred comes to fetch him and Bruce is no longer in danger from the bullet.

Bruce looks exhausted in the moment before he sees Jason and his expression clears entirely. Jason feels a numb sort of dread spill over him as he realizes the implications of what he’s seeing. All of the things he’d admitted. All of the things Bruce had done for him. That if the bullet had struck somewhere else he’d be all alone.

He’s crying again and finally Bruce’s face changes into something that isn’t that awful blankness. He looks like he’s in pain but he reaches his arm out towards Jason anyway.

And Jason practically folds into him, crying into the bandages Alfred had wrapped around Bruce.

Bruce is whispering things into his hair. Gentle things. Kind things. Reassurances and asking if Jason is okay, because he was the one who was kidnapped, the one who had been snatched from a parking lot.

But Jason can’t process it, any of it. So he stays there, crying into Bruce’s uninjured shoulder until he’s scooped up into the medical cot to cry into his chest too.

There will have to be several long conversations about everything that had happened, but they would have to wait until tomorrow.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam #batfamily #dick shows up to see some random kid tucked up against his dad because alfred called him when bruce got shot #he’s supposed to fill in for patrol but keeps getting hung up on how no one told him he had a younger brother because wth #and when bruce and jason wake up in the morning jason is mortified about all the things he told bruce when he was batman #but honestly bruce was elated to be able to have someone tell him exactly what they wanted from him #sure dick always spoke his mind but it was like he expected bruce to just know what he’d done wrong and jason had no such hang ups #and yeah jason is angry with him about hiding everything and basically lying to him but bruce also did like everything he asked #honestly they work it out way quicker than bruce and dick do #(these sorts of posts just get away from me and turn from headcanon into half headcanon half fic lol)#(also my posts are either like 90% dialogue no dialogue tags or no dialogue whatsoever)

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beautifullilacsky · 2 days ago

Photo

Do you remember that night? You were in your bed, and I was in mine. Yet, we noticed together how the colors of the sky went from darkblue, filled with hidden stars, to the soft morning yellow and pink shades. We had talked all night, eager to learn about all of the details we could gather about the other person.

I know it is not a realistic idea, especially with jobs and the deep level we know eachother at right now. I know it isn't fair to wish for that back; that's just not where we are anymore right now. That doesn't stop me from mourning it.

I remember this one post about someone s biggest fear. Which isn't the usual; spiders, heights, whatever... no. It is becoming ugly to the one that once saw the stars dance into your eyes. I get that the amount of time we spend on texting and calling isn't a realistic bar. It was never meant to go on like that. Yet, a part in me is scared. Scared that this is only the beginning. The way we used to talk for hours and hours on end? We know eachother so well now, we don't even have so much to talk about anymore. Do we really not, though? I believe there are still uncountable amount of deep corners we haven't shared with one another. I am looking forward to all of the things I'll continue to learn about you.

What if.. the way we appreciate eachother dissappear? We get so used to one another, we forget to count our blessings. What if one day, you won't appreciate me wanting to hug you for a long time, or something like that? What if it'll start feeling like a waste of time to you? What if one day, our bodies are so familiar with one another, it doesn't excite us anymore? What if you get tired of me? What if the feelings you have for me die down overtime?

I am afraid that maybe one day, you won't love or appreciate me anymore. What if we changes we go through now are only the beginning of it? I don't want to get tired of you. I don't want you to get tired of me. Are those just inevitable facts over time? What if we don't actually lose eachother in the sense of being out of eachother lives, but we lose eachother on a bonding level? The uncertainty scares me.

I know; nothing is forever. And even if it scares me, I believe that is inevitably the things that will keep love alive. The realization that we need to treasure what we have right now. The fear is what will save us. Right? Or do you not fear it? Will we fight the fear? Look it in the eyes, listen to it, and act accordingly? Meaning, will we keep on remembering to cherish one another? Or will it slowly wither?

This goes for everything in life. The shadow side of having people you love, and that love you, is that you can be sure that it'll one day cause hurt. Everything ends. Everyone leaves your life one way or another. To witness and feel love and happiness, is to sign up for heartbreak and sadness. The dark side scares me and makes me wonder at times, should I just protect myself from the future hurt? But no. I believe the hurt will be worth the love. I'd prefer a life fully lived and loved, filled with tears of happiness and heartbreak. I don't want to settle for a life fueled by fear. So, even if I am scared, I wouldn't want to change anything. The fear keeps us on our toes, it keeps us appreciative. If only I could be in your arms right now..

Aaron Westerberg, “Black Fur”, oil on linen. American artist.

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littlcdarlin · 9 hours ago

Text

Event Horizon

summary: When you start university to do your master’s in physics, you are more than surprised to meet your professor: Joel Miller, an old friend of your parents' who moved away years ago. word–count: 15k warnings: professor kink, power imbalance due to Joel being reader's professor, illegal relationship (overage & consenting), dbf!Joel, big fat age gap (unspecified but written with early 20s & mid 50s in mind), unprotected piv, just overall daddy issues (no use of the word daddy)

note: Okay, time to tell you I am a big nerd and studied physics in uni. Truth is, I quit to pursue a career in the arts, so my knowledge of masters level physics is...a little rusty. Please be lenient with me if I messed anything up. Also, I know most people hate physics, but I promise Joel makes it hot. Warning: explanation of the Dirac equation as foreplay. Also, I'm European and have no fucking clue how the American education system works but I don't care enough to do research. Enjoy <3333

event horizon noun ASTRONOMY a notional boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. a point of no return.

Uni felt different at eighteen, when everything was about moving out, drinking beer at frat parties, and kissing boys who didn’t grow up in the same town you did. It was an exciting time, the degree itself fading into the background of all sorts of new experiences, but now that you’re doing your masters, you plan on focusing on your your grades more than on partying.

You enrolled in a new university, farther away from home, with a better physics program, and although you’ve grown up considerably, you still feel that tingle of anxiety you did when you first walked to your dorm, fresh out of high school. This time you won’t have to share with another student, spending your saved money on a bit of privacy that is a single dorm room, but still, you wonder if you’ll make friends here, or if you’ll spend your night hauled up alone, watching trash TV and crying because you’re lonely.

The room is small, blank, but functional with a bathroom you share with another student and a small kitchenette, and immediately you dream of all the ways you could decorate it. You didn’t bring much, just a big suitcase and a few boxes your Dad dropped off earlier. You feel slightly guilty for leaving your parents behind, but the relief outweighs the guilt – you won’t have to come home every Sunday for dinner, visits will be scarce. You love you parents, but the distance is much needed.

You get to unpacking your clothes, reveling in the fact that you can listen to music without headphones in your very own space. You could do it in your underwear, or naked, you could sing and dance along, and nobody would be bothered by it. It’s going to be a tough two years, the program you chose more than challenging, but a childish sort of giddiness fills you – no roommate to be considerate of, no parents to visit and take care of every week. This time in your life is about you, and only you – your career, but also your well-being. You promise yourself to do what makes you happy, instead of looking out for everyone else all of the time, and you’ll start by ordering Thai food and watching the trashiest movie with the hottest actors you can find on the little flatscreen you brought with you.

***

Your first lecture is Computational Physics – the one you’re looking forward to the least. The reason you decided to study physics at all was the predictable logic behind each problem, but the more you studied, the more complex the problems got, until they were impossible to solve analytically. Now you get to solve fluid dynamic equations and simulate quantum systems on a Monday morning instead of having a peaceful cup of coffee and taking a walk around campus.

The lecture hall is big, and you pick a seat that is neither too far away to be able to read the professor’s notes, nor close enough to immediately be pinned as an over-eager teacher’s pet. In the end, you plop down next to a girl who’s sitting alone, something about her shaved head and countless earrings making you think she wouldn’t make fun of you even if you didn’t understand a single thing all lecture.

"Okay if I sit here?", you ask somewhat timidly, trying hard not to sound too much like an eleven year old Ron Weasley boarding the train to Hogwarts.

"Please," the girl answers, "I don’t know anybody here."

"Did you move here, too?"

"Yeah, I’m from New York."

"You look it," you say with a smile, eyes drifting over her clothes and jewelry.

"Thanks…I guess?", she answers, her grin revealing a charming gap between her front teeth. "I’m Alva."

You introduce yourself, thankful to have found someone you can stick to already. Throughout the lecture you find out that apart from being much cooler than everyone else in the room, Alva has a biting sense of humor, and a near endless knowledge of computational physics. You make a mental note to ask her to study together, her explanations much easier to understand than the professor’s.

The two of you spend your lunch break together, and you tell her a little bit about yourself, but way too soon it’s time to go already – you have Advanced Quantum Mechanics in a different lecture hall. This you find way more interesting, basic quantum mechanics was one of your favorite lectures during your bachelor’s degree. As Alva and you sit down, you find yourself hoping you’ll be able to help her out this time, or you’d feel like a leech for making her help you with Computational. She doesn’t seem bothered, though, and keeps babbling happily about a band she recently discovered.

"– Britpop, but they only put out two albums. I think they were like a student band or something? They’re wildly underrated, I’ll send you a song, their debut is called The Sun Is Often Out."

Your thoughts start to wander off a little, eyes drifting over the old-fashioned chalkboards, when the door at the front of the lecture hall opens, and a tall man walks in – a man you recognize.

"Holy shit," you whisper, interrupting Alva’s rant about the Longpigs, and she turns her head to look at what you’re staring at.

"Damn," she says with a grin, "if I wasn’t gay, I’d want a piece of that."

"No," you snort, "I know him. He’s my Dad’s friend."

Alva opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Joel Miller steps forward, checking to see if the microphone is working, and introduces himself to the hundreds of students in front of him. His voice is deep, and as warm as you remember it, but that’s where the accuracy of your memories ends – your childish brain failed to register the tanned forearms and rolled up sleeves, the carelessly styled curls, the perfect side-profile. He’s got grey streaks in his hair now, which should send you into a crisis about time passing and your own little life being finite, but instead it makes your stomach swirl with something dangerous. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, who organized backyard barbecues with your father and bought your favorite vegan sausages when your Dad rolled his eyes at you, who made strawberry lemonade instead of lemon, because he knew you preferred it, who helped you with your physics homework when you were graduating high school and didn’t rat you out when he caught you smoking at seventeen – he’s handsome.

There’s still a familiarity about him, the way he moves and talks, although it’s unsettling to see him in such a different environment. You’re used to band-tee-Joel, beer bottle and tongs in his hands, a breezy smile on his face. He looks different here, in a white button-down, with a stern expression on his face, as he’s reading the names on his list to check attendance. When he calls Alva’s name and she raises her hand, his eyes flicker upwards, but he doesn’t look at you. Still, your stomach lurches. If you listen carefully, you can detect that southern twang in his voice you’re sure most people would miss, and it fills you with satisfaction to know you’re the one who knows him best in this room – you’re sure half the lecture hall must see how attractive he is.

When he reads out your name, there’s a surprised lilt to his tone, and your heart threatens to skip a beat.

"Here."

Your eyes meet, and although his expression doesn’t change, he holds your eyecontact for a second too long. Alva nudges your side and grins.

Your plans about outshining Alva and returning the favor of helping with a lecture are quickly buried by Joel Miller’s beautiful hands – thick fingers holding a piece of chalk almost tenderly, twirling it around when he isn’t writing on the chalkboard. You vaguely register him introducing the Dirac equation, but as interesting as you would normally find it, your thoughts are stuck between memories of barbecues and the realization that you will have to call the man who taught you to drive Professor Miller.

If Alva notices your wandering mind, she doesn’t comment on it, which you’re thankful for. You do notice her throwing you a couple of knowing glances, as you copy down what Joel is writing down, mixing up gamma, delta, and the Dirac spinor.

"Alright, so you all know how Schrödinger’s equation works great for quantum mechanics, but it doesn’t play nicely with Einstein’s relativity, right? That’s a problem because electrons move fast, sometimes close to the speed of light, so we need an equation that respects both quantum mechanics and special relativity. That’s where Dirac steps in."

He’s still got that warm way of explaining things your Dad never managed when you needed help in high school, like he enjoys clearing things up for people. He’s a born teacher, patient when you panicked in the car because you confused the clutch and the break, persistent when you wanted to throw your physics book against a wall. Look, kid, think of it this way: Push harder, it moves faster. Make it heavier, it’s harder to move. If you apply a force F to an object with mass m, it will accelerate a. That’s why your Dad’s car takes longer to stop than your bike. Even now, he manages to make a far more complex equation than Newton’s second law tangible.

"Dirac's equation is like the grown-up version of Schrödinger’s equation. It explains how particles with spin-half, like electrons, behave when they move at relativistic speeds. The gamma mu matrices make sure the equation works in four-dimensional spacetime, meaning three space dimensions plus time. The psi is a spinor, which is just a fancy way of saying that an electron isn’t just a simple wave function, it actually has spin built into its nature. Now, can anyone think of a situation where we would need to use this equation instead of the regular Schrödinger equation?"

Nobody raises their hand, most people still busy with writing down Joel’s complicated notes, and as if on cue, his eyes are on yours when you look up from your notebook. He raises an eyebrow, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. Then, he calls your last name, a formal Miss dripping off his tongue as if he hasn’t called you kiddo for most of your life. It’s almost like he’s making a joke only the two of you are able to understand, and the thought thrills you to your bone. Two can play this game – you smile back.

"Sure, Professor Miller. You’d use it for studying high-energy particles, like electrons in particle accelerators, because it accounts for relativistic speeds. It’s also needed for situations where particles are created or destroyed, which Schrödinger’s equation doesn’t cover."

Again, his eyes linger on yours, and his slightly amused smile turns into a more genuine one at your answer. You let out a relieved sigh.

"Exactly," Joel answers, his attention on the rest of the class again, "Someone payed attention during Basic Quantum Mechanics. Now, here’s where it gets wild. When Dirac wrote this down, he realized it naturally predicts antiparticles, meaning for every electron, there should be a mirror-image particle with opposite charge, which we now call the positron. That was a huge deal because it wasn’t something people were expecting, it just fell out of the math."

For the rest of the class, Joel doesn’t continue that little game between the two of you, but whenever he asks a question, his gaze flickers over you, and your stomach gives an embarrassing little jump. Alva grins whenever this happens, but for most of the class she’s busy following Joel’s explanations.

"I want you to read up on today’s lecture," Joel says at the end of the lecture, and writes down a few page numbers on the chalkboard, "and solve the problems I mentioned earlier. Attendance isn’t mandatory, we’re all adults here, but I urge you to come if you’re interested in graduating in the next three years. Trust me, it’s easier to just do the work here than in your dorms. Now, enjoy the weather, see you Monday."

You and Alva pack up your things, and before she can ask you which class you have next, you pick up your backpack.

"I’m gonna say hi to him," you tell her, nodding in Joel’s direction, "my Dad and him go way back."

"Sure," Alva says, a cheeky smile on her face, "it’d be rude not to."

"Meet you outside?"

"I’ll be at the vending machine. Go get him," she jokes, and you snort.

Joel is packing up his course materials when you make your way down the steps and to his desk, but he looks up when he hears you coming towards him, and immediately his face splits into a smile. If you were anywhere else and ten years younger, he’d probably ruffle your hair.

"Good lecture," you say, "Dad didn’t tell me you’re teaching again."

Joel puts his piece of chalk into a tin box and nods.

"I don’t think he knows. You know how it is, we never get around to callin’ and I haven’t been home in a while."

So this is a new development, perhaps even Joel’s first semester back at university, too.

"What about the contracting? Don’t you miss the…pipes?"

He chuckles at your lack in basic contracting knowledge, his eyes not moving from yours.

"Ah, that was always Tommy, he just needed a little help. Company’s doin’ well now, though, so he’ll manage without me."

You think you remember Tommy – a man good-naturedly chasing you and the rest of the giggling neighborhood kids with a harden hose – but the memory is too vague to be sure it’s really him.

"You’ve grown up," Joel says, almost accusingly, and you shrug and smile. "Doin’ your master’s already. How come you’re familiar with Dirac?"

His accent is much thicker now that it’s only the two of you, and you notice a hint of pride when he asks about your correct answer to his question during the lecture. The satisfied feeling it gives you is still the same as when he high-fived you after your drivers test, or when he patted your back after you solved a problem for school without his help.

"Summer reading," you admit, trying hard not to sound like a nerd, "Basic Quantum Mechanics was my favorite lecture as an undergrad."

Joel smiles at you, and puts his notes into his leather bag. He slings it across his shoulder, and nods towards the door.

"How would you like to grab a coffee and tell me all about what’s been goin’ on with you and your old man?"

Your eyes flicker briefly over his hand, gripping the strap of his bag, and you raise an eyebrow.

"What’s the policy for staff having coffee with their students, Professor?"

Joel holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I’m actually not sure, Miss, I’ve never had to check before."

He’s playing along, and it feels dangerously blurry – yes, he’s your Dad’s old friend, your childhood neighbor, but it feels like more than just joking around.

"Does that mean I’m your first, then?", you ask, voice sweet and close to flirting now. The smile freezes on Joel’s face, and his gaze becomes almost calculating.

"Am I yours?" he asks you softly, and the double-meaning behind his question isn’t lost on you. You feel a thrilling pang in your stomach – Joel Miller is flirting with you.

***

You do end up getting coffee after you tell Alva you’ll meet her later, Joel reassuring you it won’t get him into trouble, and you’re fascinated to see he still drinks it black. What fascinates you even more is that you remember how he takes his coffee, and you wonder why your brain filed this fact away as important, not to be forgotten.

"So, when did you graduate? Sorry I missed it."

There’s honest regret in his voice, which surprises you. Joel was always a warm person, but you figured he cared for you as much as he would have for any kid living across the street.

"Last June," you tell him, dropping a sugar cube into your cappuccino. "I spent the summer working, and now I’m here."

"How d’you like it so far?"

You give a nervous chuckle, torn between the honest truth and pleasant small talk. You opt for the former – this is Joel, after all, not some stranger.

"To be honest with you, I oscillate between enjoying my freedom away from Mom and Dad, and being scared shitless by starting over somewhere new," you admit, looking at your coffee. You haven’t told people about your fear, and it feels good to finally admit it – the grip your parents have had on you makes your newfound freedom almost uncomfortable.

"What d’you mean, startin’ over?", Joel asks, his voice strikingly gentle. You sigh, and shrug.

"I know the distance is good for me, but it was comfortable, just doing what my parents expected of me. I had good grades, nice friends, and just the right amount of drunken nights for them not to worry about my social life too much," you explain, "and now it’s like…there’s so much room to be someone else, cause they won’t see it anyway."

You look up, embarrassed to have spilt your guts like this, but Joel looks thoughtful, his thumb moving along the handle of his coffee cup.

"Sorry," you mutter, "I know they’re your friends, but they can be…"

"Overbearing?"

You smile at him gratefully and he smiles back.

"Look, I know your parents pretty well. They love you to bits, but as an adult I imagine it must be stiflin’.“

"Yeah," you sigh, grateful for his understanding, "I feel like I don’t know who I am when I’m not…their kid."

Joel nods, and sips his coffee, apparently pondering what you said.

"I promised myself I would only do what makes me happy while I’m here," you tell him sheepishly, as if it’s a secret, and Joel laughs.

"Well, I’m not expectin’ you to hand in any homework, then."

You grin, too, and shake your head. It’s surreal, Joel being your professor, and you wearing your heart on your sleeve for him.

"Don’t worry, Professor Miller, I’m not dropping your class."

"You’d better not, it’d really hurt my feelings," Joel says, eyes trained on yours. Again, that blurriness set in motion by the change of his role in your life: neighbor to professor to – what?

"What about you, though? This your first semester here?"

"Second," he tells you, "but I still don’t feel at home. Once a Texan, always a Texan, I guess."

You cock your head and watch him drain the last of his coffee, the cup tiny in his hands.

"What?" he asks you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"You look so different," you say, and Joel scoffs.

"Well, that’s real nice. Know I’m not thirty anymore, but geez–"

"No," you say with a grin, "it’s not that. I don’t know, I’ve just never seen you teach before. Or dressed this nice – I remember you mowing the lawn in a Fleetwood Mac shirt, not checking attendance in a button down."

Joel’s cheeks go slightly pink, and he scoffs again.

"Well, I can’t show up here in a band tee, can I? Gotta dress the part," he mutters.

"I get it. You suit it," you tell him, if only to see that blush appear on his face again. He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds, then he shakes his head.

"What were the odds of us meetin’ like this, huh? I gotta call your father and tell him."

Something about that bothers you, you’d prefer for your parents not to know. You like sitting here with Joel, reminiscing the old times, without anybody getting a peek in.

"Or not," he says gently, seeing the expression on your face.

"Sorry," you say, "course you can tell him."

"You apologize a lot," he tells you, and you fight the urge to say sorry once again. "It’s okay, I’m not tellin’ anyone, kid. ’S just you n me."

That pang in your stomach again, and you nod.

"Alright," you answer, "just us."

You get a refill for the two of you, and a blueberry muffin to split, which feels strangely intimate, but Joel pats his stomach and jokes about keeping an eye on his figure, so you grin, and ask the barista to cut it in half. Joel asks you about your friends, and you tell him about Alva.

"Oh yes," he says and swallows a bite of the muffin, "that punky lookin’ kid who sits next to you?"

"Yeah, she’s nice. Haven’t really met anyone else."

"Geez, I’m not keepin’ you from findin’ frat boys to hook up with, am I?"

You laugh, the idea of sitting here with a twenty-something year old kid named Cole or Josh instead of him so absurd, you can’t help it.

"No," you tell him, "I’m honestly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to have someone else in my dorm anymore."

"Well, that’s a relief to hear," Joel says, "they’re all dipshits."

You remember him telling you something similar about the boys in high school, and it makes you smile. He’s still got that protective streak, then.

"To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re here," you say quietly, "if I’m not making any friends, I can come crying to you."

Joel watches you for a couple of seconds, not laughing as you intended, but taking your words seriously.

"Course you’ll make friends. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll have forgotten all about physics cause you’ll be skippin’ classes left and right to hang out with people."

You don’t tell him, but you think it’s very unlikely you’ll skip any of his classes. Still, you appreciate his words and how confident he seems to be in your ability to open up to people.

"Well, will you give me the answers to your exams if I skip your class?"

"No way," he says with a cheeky smile, the crinkles around his eyes prominent. "I don’t do preferential treatment. You wanna split another blueberry muffin?"

You grin.

"Thought you were watching your waistline."

"I am, that’s why I’m only eating halves."

***

Your afternoon with Joel leaves you on a high for the rest of the day, feeling much less lonely now that you’ve had a conversation beyond the usual so how many siblings do you have? and where did you do your undergrad?

You start spending your lunch breaks with Alva and some friends she made in another lecture, all of whom are very nice. In the evenings you all go to see a movie or have dinner together in any of your dorm rooms, and although you walk around campus holding out one eye for Joel, you don’t see him for the rest of the week. There is always a nudge of disappointment in your stomach, when you glance in the direction of his office, and the door is closed, but you’re so busy, you don’t dwell on it too much. The days pass in a blur of new lectures, swapping music with Alva, and evenings spent as a group of six, and suddenly it’s Sunday again. You aren’t too sad the weekend is already over, and you know exactly why you’re looking forward to Monday, but you don’t allow yourself to think about Joel any more than you can help.

In the afternoon, while you’re doing Joel’s assignment for the next class, your mother calls, and you answer the phone with a mixture of feelings.

Hi, my darling, how are you doing?

"Hi, Mom. I’m good, just doing my work for tomorrow. How are you?"

Good, good. How was your first week? Did you meet anyone nice?

Hah, if she only knew. It feels deceptive, not telling her about Joel, but you like that for now, he’s just yours.

"Yes, this girl called Alva. We and some guys hang out a lot, there’s a cinema near by, but the lectures are pretty hard, so we only have the evenings off."

Well, I’m glad you found some nice people! Dad says hi, he’s making dinner. Anyway, baby, we miss you terribly. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?

"I just got here, Mom."

You sigh so quietly your mother can’t hear it, guilt already nagging at your heart. Sunday is the day you would usually be coming home for dinner, and you know it’s no coincidence your parents called you now.

Of course, you’re right. It’s just not easy for your Dad and me, you know? You’ve never been this far from home, and you’re our baby.

Yeah, you think, your adult baby. You sigh again.

"I don’t know if I’ll come this month, I’m still sort of settling in. But I’ll let you know if there’s a free weekend next month, alright?"

Sure, that sounds great. Will you send us some pictures of your friends, and your room?

"Sure," you say, but it bugs you that you’re giving in. Already, you’re breaking the promise you made yourself, and letting your parents further into your life here than you’re comfortable with.

"Mom, I gotta go, I’ve still got some problems to solve and I’m meeting Alva for dinner soon."

Okay, darling, enjoy your night! And make yourself heard. I love you!

"Love you, too! Talk soon."

Your kind, clingy mother, whose greatest pain is not knowing if you’re safe. In a way you miss her, and you feel guilty for being annoyed. Still, you know you have to gently nudge her away from you, or she’ll suffocate you one day. It makes you angry with yourself, because you know your Mom would have liked nothing more than to hear all about your week, but as soon as she asked you a question, you felt like your seventeen year old self again, getting yelled at because you stayed up past your curfew, and your parents didn’t know where you were.

Tears of frustration spring to your eyes – the mix of feelings too much for you to handle. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, breathe in shakily, and try to focus on your assignment again, but now you’re riled up, and the tears won’t stop.

It’s hard for you to deal with disappointing your parents, forcing them away when they would like nothing more than to know everything that’s going on in your life. So, instead of preparing for Joel’s lecture, you cry on your bed, feeling lonely and angry with yourself for hurting them. You know your reaction is disproportionate, but everything you kept buried while you lived close to your parents comes bubbling out of you.

You call Alva, tell her you have cramps because of your period and just want to stay in bed. She’s understanding, asks you if there’s anything she can do, even offers to bring you takeout or a hot water bottle, which makes you feel all the worse for lying to her. You decline her offer, tell her you’ll meet her Monday morning. In the evening, you regret not letting her bring over a real meal, eating cold pasta in your underwear, tears still running down your face and making your head pound.

***

On Monday, you feel slightly better, your headache is gone and your face isn’t as puffy as you expected it to be. Still, you’re in a solitary mood, and are glad to find Alva is able to keep up an entire conversation virtually by herself – you just grunt from time to time, or give noncommittal movements of your head in vague agreement. You hope if she notices your bad mood, she just thinks it has to do with your period.

Computational Physics is hell – you dislike it on the best of days, but guilt ridden and tired, you’re barely able to pay attention at all, and the professor’s handwriting is so bad, you end up copying down Alva’s notes instead. She’s kind about it, slides over her notebook at an angle that makes it easy to read, and you make a mental note to thank her for being so kind to you while you’re offering nothing but a scowling expression all day. Maybe you’ll cook for her, or make a mixtape of your favorite songs, just to show her you’re interested in being actual good friends.

Lunch passes easily, as always you sit with Alva and the guys, and there’s enough people for you to stare at your mashed potatoes and repeatedly stab them with your fork instead of eating them. They taste like flour mixed up with water, and you dream up your father’s Sunday dinner instead, but it does little to help with the taste.

"So, you lookin’ forward to flirting with Miller in front of the whole lecture hall again?" Alva asks you, as you’re making your way to said room. You glare at her, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Wasn’t flirting with him," you answer, kicking a pebble, "I grew up across the street from him, I’ve known him practically my whole life."

"Whatever you say, grumpy," Alva teases, nudging your shoulder with hers. You’re overcome with a rush of gratitude for the way she treats you, persistently kind and humorous. You chuckle, your mood lifting slightly.

"He’s probably been waiting for you to turn legal," she continues, and you groan.

"Gross, Alva, he’s not a creep."

"I’m just saying, if your little connection gets you the answers to his tests, you could sell them and become rich."

"I already asked him, he said no," you say darkly, thinking of the nights you’ll have to spend studying to pass his exam. This makes Alva laugh her brilliant laugh, and you can’t help but smile, too.

"Damn," she grins, "I’d try if he wasn’t a guy."

You snort.

"You try with Mrs. Carter, I need the answers to Computational," you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"You’re joking, but I bet once you get her out of her frumpy cardigans, she’s a real–"

"Okay, stop," you grown, the image of Mrs Carter taking off her cardigans worse than her keeping them on – if possible. Alva giggles.

"I’ll help you with Computational," she says, "if you help me with Quantum Mechanics."

"You’re good at both," you argue, and Alva shrugs.

"Not like you, though. I spent like four hours doing Miller’s assignment last night."

You want to tell her you didn’t do it at all, but before you can open your mouth, she spots a friend in the crowd, grabs your arm and drags you over to him.

The three of you sit down together, closer to the front than the week before, which gives you a direct line of sight to Joel’s desk. When he walks in, your stomach jumps – he’s wearing a tie today, a dark burgundy or blue, you aren’t sure from this distance, flecked with specks of white. Again, his hair is styled in that carelessly disheveled look you like so much, and the image of him putting gel in it makes you smile. He gets out his materials for the lecture, and looks up, his eyes finding yours – you smile and he gives a small nod. Again you’re struck by how different he acts in front of the class, how serious he seems. You think of his laid back manner when you had coffee, and struggle to make the images align. Joel clears his throat, and the chatter around you stops.

"Quiet, please, everyone. Thank you. So, last week, we found out that Dirac’s equation predicts the existence of antiparticles. But instead of just accepting that, let’s think deeper—mathematically, what feature of the equation forces this conclusion?"

Joel jumps right into the lecture, and just like last week, nobody raises their hands – you curse the people around you for their lethargy, because sure enough, Joel’s eyes land on you. Before you can shake your head to signal to him not to ask you, he calls your name.

"If I remember correctly, you were already familiar with Dirac’s equation last week. What would you say, what does the existence of negative-energy solutions tell us, and why couldn’t we just ignore them?"

You wish you could answer him, know he asked you because he was sure you’d know the answer, perhaps hoped your enthusiasm for the subject would get the rest of the students to participate more, but you didn’t do the assignment, and you’ve already half forgotten his question. You swallow.

"Um…I…I’m not sure, Sir," you say, watching the way his brows furrow, and looking down at your notes. Alva shoots you a curious look, and when she sees your expression, she raises her hand. You’re thankful to have Joel’s attention diverted, feeling like a fool in front of hundreds of students you’re trying to make friends with.

"Dirac’s equation gives positive and negative energy solutions, and at first, the negative ones didn’t make sense. Dirac suggested they represent antiparticles, like the positron, which he predicted. The idea was that electrons could, like, jump into these negative-energy states, creating a hole that looks like a positron, which was later confirmed experimentally," Alva explains instead of you.

"You're close, but electrons don’t actually 'jump into' negative-energy states. Instead, Dirac proposed that these states are already filled, forming what he called the Dirac Sea. A positron isn’t an electron jumping down, it’s actually a 'hole' left when a negative-energy electron gets excited to a positive-energy state. That distinction is important because it explains why positrons have the opposite charge. Good answer, though, thank you Ms. Bennet."

Joel’s eyes flicker over to you again, but you show no reaction, and he continues with his lecture without asking you another question. Alva glances at you inquiringly, and you sigh.

"I wanted to do the assignment yesterday, but my cramps were really bad," you explain quietly, and she nods sympathetically.

"Call me next time, I’ll send you my answers," she whispers, and you smile gratefully. It seems you really hit the jackpot in friendship when you sat down next to Alva.

***

After Joel’s lecture, you and Alva make your way over to the vending machine, because it has the sour patches she likes, and in her own words she’ll combust if she doesn’t eat some right fucking now.

"Shit," she curses, "they’re stuck."

"Let me," a voice comes from a behind you, and when you turn around, Joel is smiling at the two of you. "Took me a while to figure this thing out, too."

Alva steps aside, and Joel bangs his palm against the side of machine. You jump, but the sour patches make their tumbling way down to the dispenser.

"Great! Thanks, Professor Miller," Alva says, ripping the bag open and offering it to the two of you. To your surprise, Joel takes her up on it, and Alva grins at you.

"You were quiet during today’s lecture," Joel says tentatively, when he’s swallowed his sour patch "everything alright?"

You glance at your shoes.

"Um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I left your assignment for last, so…I didn’t do it."

Joel’s expression grows worried, and Alva glances between the two of you.

"Hey, I’m meeting Max for coffee," she tells you, "see you later?"

"Yeah," you answer, grateful she’s granting you this time alone with Joel, "see you, Alva."

When she’s gone, Joel is still looking at you with that worried look on his face, and you sigh.

"Sorry about the assignment," you say, "won’t happen again."

"I’m not worried about the assignment," Joel says earnestly, but then he turns his head, and you know he doesn’t want someone listening in. Sure, you can be seen chatting in the university cafe, but this conversation is rapidly blurring the lines between scholarly and – something else.

"I…have some materials in my office that might make it easier for you to catch up with the lectures again," Joel tells you, and you understand the underlying meaning. Let’s talk in my office.

"Thank you," you say, relieved, and Joel nods, eyes still glued to yours, brows still furrowed. You walk to his office making smalltalk about the lecture, which to anyone listening in would seem like a normal conversation between a professor and an interested student.

Joel opens the door to his office for you, and lets you step in first. It’s small, cramped bookshelves on the walls and a sturdy desk in the middle that is littered with notes, pencils, books, and a couple of old coffee mugs. You notice he put part of his books sideways onto the shelves, which you find weirdly endearing. This is the Joel you know – clutter and warmth.

He closes the door behind you, and you turn around to watch him drop his bag and walk over to the kettle in the corner of the room.

"Coffee?"

"Please," you sigh, "if you don’t have anything stronger."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer, just turns on the already filled kettle, and gets two clean cups for the two of you.

"I only have drip coffee," he tells you, "I don’t drink that crap the machines brew up."

"That’s fine, I enjoy the medieval feel of it."

"Watch it," he answers, a smile tugging on his lips, "don’t insult my coffee filter in front of me."

You grin, and walk over to his bookshelf to have a look.

"So, what’s going on?" he asks you while pouring the boiling hot water over the coffee grounds. Again, the Joel you remember – empathetic, but unusually direct. You sigh, turn around and shrug.

"Mom and Dad called yesterday, and I could tell they missed me, but I just…I cut them off after two minutes."

Joel places the cups on his desk, and leans against it. His sleeves are rolled up again, and when he crosses his arms, you feel that familiar pang in your stomach.

"And now I…I don’t know, I feel so guilty, Joel. They’re not even being dicks about it, but I just know they’d prefer for me to check in with them more…and the worst thing is, I know it’s not a big deal. They’ll get over it, they’ve got a good life without me constantly in it, so I don’t know why my stupid brain can’t just let this go, you know? One I miss you, darling, and I’m reduced to this pathetic mess, instead of just, I don’t know, getting my shit together."

You shake your head and clench your teeth, once again embarrassed to come crying to Joel about your parental issues, but he’s the only one you can tell. Sure, Alva would probably listen, but you don’t feel like explaining your family to a near stranger. Joel just gets it. Joel knows you.

He’s looking at you, arms still crossed, and for a second you worry he might not want to hear about your little breakdown, but then he sighs.

"You have your shit together all of the fuckin’ time, kid, I think that might be the problem," he tells you quietly. "You’ve always been so hard on yourself."

He’s right, once again he sees what you struggle to show the world, and his words make tears spring to your eyes. You will your eyeballs to suck them back in, but of course, Joel sees.

"Hey now," he says, taking a tentative step towards you. One tear drops from the end of your lashes and down your cheek, and the dam is broken again – they come spilling in floods. Joel crosses the room in a second, and there is a slight moment of hesitation between the two of you, before you bury your face in his chest, and let your restraint fall. You cry quietly, feel him wrap his arms around you, as he rocks you back and forth.

"You’re alright," he tells you, "Shhh, it’s okay, you’re alright."

"S-s-sorry about the assignment," you manage, and Joel’s hand starts stroking your back.

"Jesus, kid, stop worryin’ about the fucking assignment," he tells you, voice low and worried. "You don’t gotta be so strict with yourself. You’re doin’ just fine."

He smells so much like home, you think you might never stop crying.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you hiccup, "One week here and I’m a mess already."

You feel Joel rest his chin on your head, and his arms tighten around you.

"There’s nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You hold yourself to high standards. Creates pressure, kid."

As always, he’s right of course – you want to excel academically, you don’t want to hurt your parents, you want to stay true to yourself and do what makes you happy, you want to make friends without compromising your grades. It’s impossible.

You breathe in shakily, your eyes closed, face buried in Joel’s chest, and for a second he is all that exists – just Joel, all around you, pulling you to the earth. Slowly, your breathing calms, Joel still rocking you soothingly, holding you close.

"There we go," he mutters, when your chest stops shaking, "that’s good."

When you pull away from him, he puts his hands on your shoulders to really look at you, and although you’re embarrassed by your outburst, you’re glad he doesn’t shy away from you.

"I want you to start being a little more lenient with yourself, alright? You don’t need to worry about an assignment on top of everything."

His hands are rubbing your shoulders, his eyes are kind and warm.

"Maybe not about yours, but I have like five other lectures –"

"Okay, so try to stop worrying about my assignments, just mine. Won’t bite your head off if you don’t do them, and I’ll only ask you questions when you raise your hand, alright? In fact, for the rest of the term, I want you to hand them in late."

Despite yourself, your lips pull up in a small smile.

"That’s silly, Joel," you say softly, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not silly, it’s practice to get you out of your comfort zone."

You consider his words for a moment. You do keep a pretty tight reign on yourself, and just the thought of doing every assignment late makes your skin crawl with anxiety. But when will you get another chance to step out of your comfort zone as safely as now, with Joel? He’s offering you a way to try it without actually risking your grades. And who knows, perhaps it actually will take a little bit of pressure off of you.

"Okay," you answer, staring up at Joel with puffy cheeks and teary eyes. "Alright."

He smiles at you, but he still looks worried and you wish he’d pull you close to him again. It’s such a relief to have this sort of human contact with someone who really knows you.

"Feel better?"

You sigh, and nod.

"It’s just a lot, you know, uni and my parents, and every social interaction feels like such a chore, cause I don’t know people yet. I feel like I’m not even relaxed when I’m asleep."

Joel hesitates for a moment, before he speaks, but when he does, he sounds determined.

"Come over tonight, I’ll make us somethin’ to eat, and you don’t have to worry about talkin’ to anyone. We’ll watch whatever you’d like. You still enjoy those crappy horror movies?"

You smile at the shared memory – Joel letting you use his living room to watch slashers your parents didn’t want you to see. One summer, when the heat was so stifling you barely went outside, you practically lived at his place, and when you’d seen all the DVDs he owned, he got you more from the video store.

"I do," you say quietly, the fact that Joel remembers more important to you than his proposal to spend the evening together. You feel significantly less alone, all of a sudden.

"Alright, then. Be over at seven,“ Joel tells you, and you nod, wiping your wet face with the back of your hand.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, and hug him again, because you don’t know how to tell him in words what you’re feeling, and his big, warm body against yours feels more than soothing.

"Course, kid. Just don’t tell Alva, or they’ll fire me."

You smile, your arms still wrapped around his neck, as he holds you.

"But I don’t wanna get you in trouble, what if–"

"No," Joel interrupts you, "no what ifs. No worryin’. I forbid it."

And you accept it, leave it to Joel, because he tells you to – because you don’t have any room in your head for more worries, and because you trust Joel not to do anything reckless. You trust him, period.

***

You text Alva you’re having dinner alone, that your cramps are still acting up, and you do feel slightly bad for lying, but you would never risk Joel’s job. The idea of having dinner with him at his place should make you nervous after your change in feelings about him, but you’re just looking forward to having a meal with someone who knows you, and lets you be yourself.

Joel asked you to be there at seven, so you spend the rest of the afternoon in your dorm room, wondering if you should change your outfit or if it would seem desperate – in the end, you keep the jeans but change into a blouse instead of a sweater. The part of you that stares at Joel’s forearms during class now wants to look pretty for him, so that he’ll ask you over again. You know you’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from putting on your nicest perfume.

You’re ten minutes early, so you sit in your little second hand car and try not to panic. You know Joel is merely trying to be a good…friend? Ex-neighbor, Dad’s best friend turned professor? There’s no real etiquette to cling to in this situation, for either of you, and although you’re positive Joel doesn’t have any ulterior motives with you despite his flirting, you know he could lose his job if someone finds out you went to his house. Even if you just watch slashers together the way you did ten years ago. It makes you anxious to know he’d risk something clearly important to him for just that – he moved to a different state, quit his old job, started over completely, and is now willing to endanger that new life just because you’re stressed. At the same time it seems ridiculous anyone could forbid the two of you to spend time together after having known each other your entire life. The thought is absurd, and still, you need to be careful.

You get out of the car before you start to hyperventilate, and ring Joel’s doorbell – it feels strange for him to live in a new house. He opens the door with a smile, and absurd relief floods your veins when you realize he’s wearing an old Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn jeans. This is your Joel.

"I come bearing gifts," you announce, stepping into the house.

“Christ, where did you get this?”, Joel asks, taking the six pack of beer from you, so you can take off your jacket. “I didn’t know they sold Shiner Bock outside of Texas, I’ve been survivin’ on Bud”.

“Brought it with me,” you explain, “figured it’d help if I got homesick, you know, in multiple ways.”

You grin, and Joel shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Old enough to drink, well I’ll be damned. I remember when you begged your Dad to let you have a coke and he asked me if I thought the caffeine would stunt your growth.”

“Did it?”

“It might’ve,” Joel says with a chuckle, “but he didn’t let you have it.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, so let’s put those in the fridge.”

“No," Joel mutters, “no, he ain’t.”

While Joel puts the beer away, you take a look around his living room – despite your reservations about the new house, it reminds you of his old place. It’s got the same masculine and warm feel to it, dark wood, books all over the place, no bells and whistles. Joel is a practical man, and it’s charmingly etched into every part of his life – except for his new work-look. The room isn’t as cluttered as you remember Joel’s old house back in Texas, but you assume he hasn’t had time to accumulate clutter yet. No old newspapers are lying around, no birthday cards stacking up. You wonder if he’s lonely here, teaching all by himself, hundreds of miles away from the place he last grew roots in.

“Do you miss home?” you ask him, when he comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer in his hands. He looks at ease, much more himself than back at university. His jeans are faded, his shirt a little too big on his already broad frame, and his hair is clean and curly the way you like it – no gel twisting it into all sorts of un-Joel-like styles. Warmth floods your chest at the sight of him taking a swig of his beer. His crowfeet are a little more pronounced, and his hair has more grey strands than it did back home, but he’s still got that distinctly warm, no-nonsense feel to him.

“Sometimes,” he answers, offering you the second bottle. Your hand brushes his when you take it from him. “But I’m pretty busy here, you know, got a whole lotta lectures to plan, papers to grade and that sort of stuff.”

You nod, and sip at your beer.

“Have you…you know, met people? Made friends here?”

Joel plops down on the couch, and smiles up at you.

“You worried about my social life?”

You shrug, and smile almost timidly.

“You know me, kid, I like bein’ by myself.”

That’s true, for as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been alone. You know he has nieces and nephews who adore him, and your Dad mentioned a woman once, but it must have been at least twenty years since they were together. You wonder why Joel doesn’t seem to want that sort of a domestic life, surely many women would be happy to let him put a ring on them.

You walk over to the window, and watch a blackbird tug at a writhing worm.

“Have you met someone at uni you wanna be by yourself with?” you ask with a small grin, turning back to find Joel already watching you. “I heard Mrs. Carter’s still single.”

“She’s very intelligent,” Joel says earnestly. You give him credit for not laughing about his colleague, and suddenly you feel bad for calling her frumpy with Alva. “But I think I’ll leave her to her simulations. Why am I bein’ interrogated?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, and glance out of the window again, “just making conversation.”

“Your turn, then,” Joel answers, and takes another swig of beer. “Any frat boys catch your eye? Or frat girls?”

You glance at him, a smile on your lips, and raise your eyebrows.

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I thought, maybe Alva…”

“No,” you answer, feeling fond of him for considering the possibility. “Alva’s a friend. The guys are…well, they’re frat boys.”

Your voice carries enough disgust for Joel to laugh.

“Right,” he says, and his eyes are warm when they meet yours again. “Just us two loners, then."

“Cheers,” you say with a smile.

“Cheers.”

***

Joel’s cooking is a mystery to you – he loves to eat, and when he does cook, it’s always delicious, but he only ever makes one of five dishes. Again, that practicality shining through. Why try something new if you’ve perfected your routine? He made pasta for you, wasn’t sure if you’re still vegetarian and makin’ your Dad’s hair fall out, and you smile into the neck of your beer bottle, when you watch him drizzle dressing onto a carefully arranged side-salad. Throughout dinner, you tell him how much you love it at least five times, because you can tell he put effort into the meal. You know it’s not technically a date, but having a dinner he made just for you, in his home – it feels like one.

You steer the conversation away from heavy topics like your parents. Although Joel offered you this evening to make you feel better, you want to spend it with him rather than in your head, so you ask him about books and music, about his lectures, about Tommy and the kids. You like watching how his face lights up whenever he talks about something he particularly loves. Joel is a quiet man, but you found out years ago it isn’t shyness, but a disinterest in most mundane topics – he doesn’t like gossip or superficial small talk. When he tells you Tommy made him godfather of all of his children, the pride is evident in his voice, and you don’t have to fake your enthusiasm, although it amuses you, too – Tommy loving his big brother enough not to consider anyone else.

"She calls me uncle Joe," he tells you with a chuckle, "Can’t pronounce her Ls yet, but I’ve considered legally changing my name."

When you’re done eating, you help him clear the table, but when you reach for the sponge to do the dishes, Joel shakes his head.

"Let me do that later, kid. You wanna watch a movie?"

So the two of you plop down on the couch with a bag of M&Ms and another round of beer, and Joel hands you the remote.

"Go wild," he says, chuckling when you excitedly turn on he TV to open Netflix.

"Wow, a streaming service? I thought you’d just hoard DVDs for the rest of your life."

Joel huffs, and instead of answering, he leans forward, and reaches for something under his couch table. When he turns his head, he’s got glasses on his face, thick-rimmed and black, and so startlingly sexy, you almost drop the remote.

"You…you’ve got glasses?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes meeting yours, and you swallow. "When your eyesight deteriorates, that’s when you know you’re gettin’ old."

You hum but don’t answer, just hold his gaze for a second and look back to the screen. You try to ignore the familiar pang in your stomach at the sight of Joel in his new glasses, and skip through movie after movie, mumbling seen it, seen it, that one sucks, seen it, until Joel reaches over and snatches the remote from you.

"Hey–"

"I can’t read anything if you skip through them that quickly."

"You’re not supposed to read, you’re supposed to go with the vibe of the cover."

He glances at you with furrowed brows.

"Okay, sorry, didn’t know you’re a filmbro," you grumble, but it’s almost entirely fake – you couldn’t be annoyed with him, not when he pushes his glasses up his nose, and carefully considers which button to press on the remote.

"I don’t know what that means," he answers, and starts reading the description of a romantic comedy about Christmas.

"I’m not watching that."

"You don’t even know what it’s about."

"It’s September, Joel."

He huffs again, but finally reaches the horror movies. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take the two of you long to pick one, and the thought of two hours of brainless, scary entertainment on a couch with Joel makes you practically melt into his couch.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you during the opening credits, so you glance over and he smiles.

"Comfy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from relaxation.

"Yeah," you answer, and smile when hands you a blanket. He’s not exactly close to you, but it still feels a little intimate when you spread the blanket out and offer him the other end. He moves over a little, so that the blanket covers his legs, and when you concentrate you can feel his body heat next to you, so you try hard not to – and instead get lost in the movie.

It’s not particularly good, but the story does get under your skin a little, and when there’s an unexpected shriek, you violently jump and instinctively move closer to Joel. He chuckles, but doesn’t give any reaction to your arm suddenly pressing against his. He doesn’t move away, either, so you don’t, fear suddenly not being the only thing bubbling up in your stomach.

"Jesus," you mumble, the creeping music making you anticipate another jumpscare. You’re right, it does come, but prepared though you are, you still wince, and turn away from the screen slightly. Out of sight, out of mind. Joel turns around, too, and when he sees your widened eyes, he grins.

"How’s that Christmas movie lookin’ now?"

"I’m not scared," you say, and there is some truth to it, "I’m just not good with jumpscares."

When the next one comes, you can’t help it, you clutch his arm next to you, your nails digging into his firm muscle, and Joel glances at you again.

"Sorry," you say quickly, letting go of his forearm now marked with five tiny crescent shapes. "Jesus, Joel, sorry."

"It’s fine," he says, and the amusement is evident in his voice, "you sure you’re into this? There might be some cartoons–"

He stops talking when you glare at him, but his mouth is twitching under his beard. You’re determined to watch the entire movie, and you try not to let any reaction show, wanting to prove Joel wrong.

There is one particularly scary scene – it’s not necessarily violent, but the music and shaky camera movements make your pulse race, and you turn your head slightly, so as to look at something else. Joel glances at you again, but he doesn’t laugh this time, just puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. It’s grounding, the warmth of it, how his thumb digs into your muscle and his fingers spread out over your back and neck.

"You don’t gotta force yourself to watch this, kid," Joel says gently, all teasing humor gone.

"No," you say stubbornly, but move even closer to him. His touch is a welcome distraction from the movie, and although you know it’s stupid and reckless, you lean into him, and Joel puts his arm around you. It’s closer than you’ve been to him except for hugging, and your heartbeat starts to quicken for all the wrong, non-horror reasons. When you flinch, Joel tugs you against his side, and it feels natural to hide your face in his shoulder.

He was never touchy with you, or anyone for that matter, so something must have changed. You wonder if he’s trying to comfort you, or if you might not be the only one who can feel that strange pull between the two of you.

When the movie ends, Joel regrettably removes his arm from around your shoulders to switch off the TV, and although you’re slightly disappointed, you scold yourself for expecting something else.

"Not bad," Joel says with a small smile, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Very brave."

You scoff, but feel the corners of your mouth twitching, too.

"I used to be less of a wimp, but I guess you soften with age."

"You’re twenty-three," Joel argues, "that’s young."

Yeah, too young. Too young to lean over and kiss him, or climb into his lap, or expect anything other than paternal care when he’s got his arm around you. You look at your lap, all of a sudden feeling stupid and silly for having dreamed up an absurd fantasy about the man in front of you.

"Hey," Joel says gently, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, "nothing, I had a really great evening. Thanks, Joel."

You can tell you’ve confused him, but he nods, doesn’t question your sudden change of mood, and stands when you get up from the couch.

"Anytime, kid. You call me if you’re havin’ a bad time, alright? My door’s always open."

He’s so kind, so recklessly, stupidly, lovingly kind, and all of it is directed at you. You curse yourself for it, but again you feel that familiar burn in your eyes. Joel reaches out and easily pulls you towards his big body, hugging you the way he did in his office just this afternoon. He doesn’t ask you what brought on your tears, just lets you cry into his Led Zeppelin shirt that smells so much like home, like a childhood you won’t get back to. You remember whiffs of that smell when you were watching movies on his couch while he was at work, too pissed off at your parents to spend the summer at home. This scent was there when you attended a neighborhood barbecue after fighting with your father and Joel grilled some vegan sausages for you without comment or question. He’s always looked out for you like this, quietly, without demanding an explanation, just a solid, comforting presence in your life.

Your tears stop after a couple of minutes, and you take a step away from Joel, wiping your face. He looks so worried again, brows all furrowed and arms hanging limply at his side. Didn’t he flirt with you, though? Didn’t he prepare dinner for you the way a date would, ask you about your dating life, ask you to coffee? You don’t think you would be able to handle another evening like this one not knowing what Joel really thinks, so in a moment of hazy recklessness, you lean up.

His eyes meet yours, all warm and strangely unguarded, but before your lips brush his, a hand on your shoulder stops you. Without saying something, you move away from him, and nod to yourself, his reaction all the information you needed.

"Sorry," you say very quietly, not managing much else now that you’ve humiliated yourself in front of the only person you really know in a six hundred mile radius. Joel runs a hand through his soft hair, and inhales deeply.

"No," he says, his voice a little strained, "no, don’t be. I just…Jesus, kid."

He rubs his palm over his beard in such a familiar way, your chest aches a little. It’s ridiculous how much you want to touch his face, to feel him again, skin on skin. So you don’t turn and run the way your embarrassed heart is telling you to, just watch him collect his thoughts, standing in front of him like a wet and beaten dog.

"Look," he begins, "I won’t say I’m not flattered, but that’s…it’s a bad fuckin’ idea. It’s…it’s chaos, and on top of that most people would argue it’s wrong."

You swallow. You know all of this, have turned it over in your head ever since you stared at Joel’s rolled up sleeves for two hours on that first Monday, but hearing him say it makes your stomach churn.

"Yeah," you mutter, and trace Joel’s shadow with the very tip of your foot, "yeah, of course. Sorry I put you in that position, wasn’t right."

Your face still feels puffy, and you know you’re probably all red and pathetic looking, begging Joel for scraps of his attention, but all of a sudden, he lifts his hand up to your face, and cups it in his broad palm. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you meet his eye, the expression on his face is tender.

"It’s alright," he tells you softly, "I can see you worryin’ at the speed of light in that pretty head of yours."

Something in your chest flutters at his words, at the rough and warm cadence of his voice. He reads you so easily, one turn of your head and he knows you’re lost to your thoughts.

"I shouldn’t have let myself toy with this idea," he continues, and your stomach flips. "I should’ve realized you’d pick up on it. It’s on me, alright? It’s on me not to start anythin’."

You can hear the implication – I’m the adult here. It’s not what you want to hear, but just the mention of Joel toying with this idea, as he put it, is enough to lift your spirits. So you weren’t crazy.

"I’m an adult," you say weakly, never having felt more like a child. Joel nods.

"You are, but I’m still in a position of power here. Be wrong, to abuse that."

His thumb is still moving over your cheek slowly, making it hard to think straight.

"So dinner and a movie doesn’t abuse it?"

You don’t want to argue, you don’t know why you keep disagreeing with him, and the way his face falls, you wish you hadn’t said it.

"No, it…it does, you’re right. Jesus, of course it does. I don’t blame ya for bein’ ang-"

"I’m not angry," you say softly, and tentatively turn your head in Joel’s hand. You press a kiss to his palm, his warm skin pressed right against your mouth. "I’m not your student, Joel. I mean, of course I am, but I know you. It’s different."

Joel’s eyes are glued to your face, and he looks so conflicted you wish he’d just throw you out of his house, if only to solve his dilemma.

"It’s still wrong," Joel mutters, his eyes glued to your lips since they brushed his skin "even if you take away the fact that I’m your fuckin’ professor. Your Dad…"

"My Dad is half a continent away and finds a way to be unhappy with whatever choices I make, so I might as well make the ones I want to."

The very first day, before you even met Joel, you decided to do what makes you happy while in university, and although this certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, you know it’s what you want. The only thing you want, in fact.

Joel sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Joel, I’m not trying to…look, if I’m wrong about this, just tell me, but I feel…I just wanna be close to you all of the fucking time," you say quietly, "and it’s okay if you don’t, really. I just…I want you to know it’s not nothing to me."

Saying I don’t just want to hook up with you would feel too straight forward or crass, but you think Joel gets the gist of what you’re trying to say, and he closes his eyes briefly. You study his face behind his glasses, the wrinkles and freckles from years in the sun. You do feel anxious about his answer, but whatever it is, you’re glad you told him. It’s out in the world now, the way you feel when he holds you, and he can do with it what he pleases – you’ve handed him the reigns.

"I…I know what you mean. Me too," he says very quietly after a beat, his eyes open and looking directly into yours again.

A triumphant pang of affection pulses through you, and you put your hand over Joel’s, which is still resting on your cheek. He looks conflicted, but his other hand holds your waist now, and tugs your smaller body closer to his again. He’s solid as a brick wall in front of you, and you figure you’re allowed to touch, so you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Joel mutters, and strokes your lower lip with his thumb. If you had more guts, you’d let it slip into your mouth, but you’re still afraid he’ll pull back if you make a wrong move, so you just let him caress your mouth tenderly.

"Whatever you’d like," you answer just as quietly, and you know it sounds sexual, but you mean it in every way – if Joel wants to be nothing but your professor, you’d take it, and if he wants to keep you here in his house indefinitely, you’d let him. Joel keeps looking at you, taking you in as if he’s considering whether the risks outweigh whatever magnetic or gravitational pull the two of you have between you.

"Stay," he say after a while, and although his face looks slightly regretful, his voice is determined, "just…sleep here tonight. I like havin’ you here."

You want him to kiss you, to pull you onto his lap on the couch, to take you upstairs right now, but Joel seems to be restraining himself, so you just nod.

"Me too," you whisper, echoing his words back to him, and for just a second, his thumb digs into your lip a little harder, but then he pulls away.

"Testin’ my goddamn restraint," he mutters, and takes a step away from you. "I’ll get you something to sleep in."

***

Joel gets you one of his band tees you love so dearly, and just the idea of being enveloped by something that smells like him all night makes it a little easier when Joel tells you he’ll take the couch instead of inviting you to sleep with him in his bed.

"No," you say softly, "it’s fine, you just sleep in your bed, Joel. I’ll take the couch."

He looks critical, so you offer him a soft smile.

"I don’t know if your back could take it," you tease, and he seems torn up between laughing and frowning. In the end, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds a lot like bad fuckin’ idea, and gets you a blanket and pillow.

He brings you a clean toothbrush and towel, let’s you use his bathroom (you look at the shower the entire time you’re brushing your teeth, trying hard not to think about what Joel looks like using it in the mornings), and when you’re done changing, you unlock the door again.

He’s there, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing over your form in his much too big shirt. It’s long as a dress on you, coming down to your naked thighs. Joel visibly swallows and gets up from the bed.

"You got everythin’ you need?"

"Yes. Thank you, Joel."

There’s a beat of silence and you almost think Joel’s about to cross the room, but he just runs his palm over his beard the way he always does, and nods.

"Alright. Just shout if there’s…well, you know. I’ll be here."

"I will."

"Alright. Okay…goodnight, kid."

"Night," you almost whisper, voice soft, and right before you reach the door, Joel clears his throat.

"I…you were right about dinner and the movie. I wasn’t just tryin’ to be friendly," he says quietly, and your stomach swirls. Before you can walk over to Joel and do something about it, he sighs.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

***

You wake to the sound of something dripping, and when your eyes flutter open, you can see Joel’s back from the kitchen. He’s wearing his work outfit again, a white button down and dark pants, sleeves rolled up. It smells like coffee, and with a smile you realize he must be brewing his beloved coffee – no machine, just a filter. He looks broad, even from your spot on the couch, and you enjoy peeking in on him. You study his movements, the way he reaches for a cup, how his fingers absentmindedly drum on the kitchen counter while he waits.

When he turns around, his eyes find yours, and he smiles.

"Mornin’. Did I wake ya?"

"’S fine," you yawn, pulling the blanket up to your chin, not yet ready to get up. "I have classes at ten anyway."

"’S eight," Joel tells you, "Coffee?"

"Yes please," you answer, and stretch your limbs under the blanket.

Joel brings you a cup, complete with a little bit of milk and sugar, and you move your feet so he can sit down on the couch.

"Sleep well?"

You sip your coffee, let it burn your tongue and close your eyes at the taste. When you open them, Joel’s gaze lingers on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, "thank you for…you know."

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at his lap. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s very quiet, and you feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

"Joel, do you want me to leave? It’s fine if you do," you ask him softly, not wanting to make things awkward for him. It would be rational of him to ask you to leave, the smart and ethical thing to do.

"No," he answers quietly, still not looking at you, "I want you to stay."

Stay? On a Tuesday morning, after you almost kissed him and he told you he couldn’t do that, after you spent the night on his couch? When you have classes in two hours, haven’t showered yet, are half naked and wearing his clothes, on his couch under his blanket? When you’ve got friends wondering where you are and probably ten unanswered messages from Alva?

"Alright," you say, agreeing as easy as breathing.

Finally, he looks up, and his expression is so conflicted you reach out for him. Your hand finds his and you squeeze it. He keeps looking at you, his hand limp in your grasp, as if any movement of his muscles would incriminate him.

"You shouldn’t," he tells you earnestly. "Stay, I mean. You shouldn’t stay."

"I know."

You don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move his away.

"It’s a really, really bad idea," he adds, and you’re not sure who he is trying to talk out of whatever this is. "It’s risky. Could blow up both our lives."

"Yeah," you say, and watch him sip his coffee, "okay."

Then, a tentative flex of his fingers against yours, and finally, he’s squeezing your hand just as tightly, and before you can process what that means, Joel is leaning over you, dangerously close. Your breathing quickens, you register how soft his hair looks, how strong his hand is. He leans in further and you sit up a little, still cocooned in his blanket. His face is close to yours, his eyes fiery with something you can’t pinpoint, and you sigh, when he closes the gap between you.

He tastes of coffee and toothpaste, and you wish you’d gotten the chance to shower, but the thought disappears almost immediately when you hear Joel groan. His kisses you languidly, deeply, and your fingers come up to his beautiful arm, barely wrapping around half of his biceps. He cradles the side of your face, pulls you closer, makes your stomach clench with need. It feels inevitable, the way he touches you, like you only exist in a physical form to be touched by him.

His free hand peels the blanket off your body, lets it slide to the floor without ever stopping his the kiss, and you moan softly, when his hand touches your waist. The sound makes him break away, stare down at you, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he mutters, nudging your jaw with his nose, and pressing a kiss there. "You should really, really go home."

Your head falls back slightly to give him better access to your neck, and he brushes his lips over your pulse point. Your heart skips a beat.

"I – I know," you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. His beard scratches your skin deliciously, and it takes everything in you not to whimper or beg. Joel’s hand slips under your shirt – his shirt – and instead of finding your waist again, he digs his thumb into your hip, stroking the fabric of your cotton panties. The fire in your stomach burns brighter, and you almost buck up into him. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller who until recently had a key to your childhood home, who lent it to you whenever you forgot yours inside – he’s sucking bruises into your skin, and toying with your panties. It’s dizzying, his familiar voice when he hums in satisfaction, even rougher than usually.

His fingers trace the waistband of your panties towards the front, until they find a small, silky bow, and Joel groans. He doesn’t take your underwear off, doesn’t even touch you where you need him the most, just keeps playing with the little bow, until your hips twitch without your permission. A little lower, and he would be able to feel how wet you are, how wet you have been all night. You didn’t do anything about it, not while you were a guest in his house. It would have felt wrong. You can’t imagine anything feeling more right than Joel’s mouth and hands on you, though.

"Jesus," Joel curses, "I should stop bef–"

"No," you whine, all dignity turned to hot air by Joel’s fingers, "please, Joel, please don’t stop."

He curses again, and moves his big body so that he’s not just hovering above you, but actually on top of you, your thighs falling open for him easily. At the movement, his shirt hikes up your thighs, and you know you’re basically on display for him, your soaked underwear leaving little to the imagination. He’s still fully clothed, his perfect button down all wrinkled now.

"Look at you," Joel breathes, lightheaded with desire, "this all for me?"

So he saw, when you moved to accommodate his broad form, saw how soaked you are, knows you ruined your panties just because he kissed you.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please–"

Before you can beg further, his finger presses down on your clit, and he watches your face contort in pleasure, as it shoots up your spine. You whimper, staring into his eyes, and he stares right back, as you start to grind your hips against his palm.

Your head feels blissfully empty, all worries about this relationship, uni, your parents, gone from you with a simple, practiced movement of his hand. The whimpers keep falling from your lips, and Joel curses.

"So beautiful," he mutters, "tell me what you need, angel."

It’s not a question, it’s an order.

"I – fuck, I need you i–inside," you groan, and Joel’s lips find yours again.

"Yeah? Need me to fuck you good, even though they’ll throw us both out?"

It shouldn’t turn you on. You’re jeopardizing both your own and Joel’s career, and he’s turning it into dirty talk. Still, your pussy doesn’t lie, and the way it throbs for him, aching to get him inside, makes all doubts disappear from your mind.

"Yes," you answer, unable to say much more as Joel keeps drawing tight circles into your clit.

Your hands drift from his arms towards his front, and Joel curses, when you paw at his belt buckle. It takes you a second, but then it’s open, the sound of the metal exciting you – it sounds like a promise.

Joel finally tugs your panties down, and for a second you’re self–conscious about not being clean shaven, but the second he sees you bare and glistening for him, his fingers dip into your folds, gathering your wetness with no hesitation.

"Fuck me," he groans, bringing his hand up to his face and tasting you, holding eye–contact the entire time, "prettiest pussy I’ve seen in my life."

You twitch under him, dragging your gaze away from his eyes and to his fingers. A moan escapes you, your hands have gone slack on his waistband, and Joel smiles down at you. Then, he does the same motion again, drags the tips of his thick fingers through your sticky arousal, but instead of sucking them clean himself, he holds them up to your mouth. His eyes burn, when you wrap your lips around them without a moments hesitation, and he feeds you your own slick.

"Taste so sweet, huh?"

You don’t answer, just swirl your tongue around his fingers, and suck on them. Joel watches your mouth intently, lets you take your time.

"Good girl," he praises you, and you clench around nothing, "so fuckin’ needy for me."

He drags his fingers from your mouth, and finally pushes into you, the stretch much tighter than with two of your own. Your head falls backwards, and Joel curls his fingers.

"No, baby, look down here," he orders, and immediately you lift your head again, and watch him pump two thick digits in and out of you. It’s dizzying to think it’s the same hand that waved to you from over his fence for years and years. You feel a coil building in your stomach, and you moan.

"Fuck, Joel," you moan, his name leaving a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. His beautiful forearm flexes with every movement, your slick is dripping down his fingers, and those damn sleeves are still perfectly rolled up.

With a few more curls of his fingers, you gush around him, barely having time to warn him, and he praises you, calls you his good girl, drags his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you until you see stars.

When he slips his fingers out of you and holds them up to your face again, you clean them up with your mouth as Joel watches with bright eyes. To think that he’s the same man who taught you Dirac not twenty-four hours ago – already, you want him inside again. When you’re done, he fumbles with his own clothes, and you watch him this time instead of helping.

"You look so good like this," you mumble, eyes raking over his broad form, "Professor."

His eyes snap up to yours, and you grin.

"Fuckin’ Christ, kid," he mutters, popping open the buttons on his shirt, "you can’t say shit like that."

"You don’t like it? You know, I watched you during your lectures and dreamed about…well, about this."

His expression is unreadable, but if you’re not mistaken, his hands move even faster now, and then he shrugs out of his shirt. You almost moan at the sight of his naked torso, so broad and solid.

"You need to pay attention in class," Joel answers, as he opens his pants. Your breathing grows a little shallow when he reveals his boxers underneath, his bulge huge.

"Can’t," you mumble, "not with you looking like this."

He chuckles at that, at the honesty and need in your answer.

"Don’t worry," he says softly, "I’ll fuck it outta you. Won’t be needing’ me in class, not if I’m still leakin’ out of you."

Your lips part, your pussy clenches – a smile tugs on the corners of Joel’s mouth at your reaction. He drags down his boxer shorts, and your eyes snap towards his cock, so thick and dripping in precum. You whimper, you can’t help it, and Joel’s smile widens.

"We’ll make it fit, baby," he says, reading your mind, and then bends down and kisses you again. You try to tug your shirt upwards, but Joel’s hands find your wrists and he holds them tight.

"No, want to fuck you in it," he breathes against your lips, and you press your hips upwards until he groans. He pumps his fist over his cock a couple of times, and aligns it with your entrance.

"Deep breath, baby," he mutters, and you obey, staring up at him as he starts pressing into you. It’s tight, much tighter than his two fingers, and your eyes glass over with pain, but Joel goes slow. His hand strokes your tummy, helps you relax, while he pushes on consistently. You feel like he’s punching the air from your lungs, eyes wide with the stretch of him, as he nips at your jaw and neck to distract you.

"Know it’s a lot, but you can take it, angel."

"Y-yes," you moan, and screw your eyes shut, "please don’t stop, Joel."

Joel’s breathing is ragged with restraint, and suddenly his hips snap forwards – and he’s fully buried inside of your tight body, nestled right against your cervix.

"Back to Joel, are we?" he teases, and gives you a couple of seconds to get used to him. You whimper and claw at his arm.

"I – ah – I’ll call you Professor Miller ’f you want," you slur, as he starts dragging his cock out of you again. You tremble under him, the feeling almost more intense than when he pushed inside of you.

"Yeah? That get you off? Or – fuck– is it the fact that I’m friends with your parents?"

It really, really should be a turn off, to be talking about your parents right now, but the way Joel says it, the way he points out just how debauched it is what you’re doing – you can’t help but moan. You blush, too, can feel the heat in your face, but you’re tired of being ashamed of wanting him the way you do.

"Both," you answer, and this time Joel groans, his hips snapping into you at a rougher pace. The head of his cock hits your spot every time, and you let out little sounds of pleasure with every drag of his cock, unable to form a coherent sentence. Joel’s hand finds your clit again, rubbing circles as his other one pressing down on your stomach.

"Feel that?" he asks you, and you do, you feel him all up in your guts, "you take it so well baby, take all ’f me."

"Yes," you answer, eyes glassy with pleasure, "want all of you, Joel."

He bites your shoulder, keeps rutting into you, and soon you feel another orgasm building.

"Close – ah – so close," you whimper, and Joel speeds up his thrusts just slightly. You clench around him, right on the edge.

"Come for me, angel, give it to me."

You do, your hips bucking, back arching.

"Ah – fuck, Joel, Prof–"

"Say it," Joel orders, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Professor."

He comes, too, twitching deep inside of you and spilling rope after rope of come. It feels right, like you’re his. His groan is rough, his thrusts sloppy, and you feel your pussy spasm around him in a third, weaker orgasm, or maybe it’s just aftershocks from your second. You’re limp underneath him, letting him use your body how he needs to.

"Fuck," he curses, "did so good for me."

He slips out of you, and you can feel his spend drip out of you. You’re weak, soft like jelly, sweaty and entirely satisfied.

"Jesus," you breathe, when he falls down next to you, his couch mercifully being big enough.

"Yeah," he answers, "Jesus."

***

Turns out, Joel Miller is a dirty talking bastard during sex, and a big softie afterwards. He makes you tea, strokes your hair while you sip it, then carries you up to his shower and gently washes your body his his sponge. Throughout, he’s quiet, and you wonder if it was too much, the mention of him being your professor, of your parents, but you’re too afraid to ask. He brushes your forehead with his lips when he dries you off, and pulls another of his shirts over you head. Your panties are entirely ruined, it’s all you’re wearing.

When you’re clean again, and relaxed, Joel pulls you onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms.

"Did you…was that too much?" he asks you softly fingertips tracing over your thigh lazily.

"It was just right," you answer quietly, and he hums.

"You didn’t feel like you…I mean when you called me Professor, you wanted to do that, right?"

You look up at him, and press a soft kiss against his jaw.

"Of course, Joel. Wanted everything we did, I promise."

He nods, but you can tell there’s still something bothering him.

"You know that’s not what you are to me, though, right?" Your voice is soft. "You’re just Joel."

He brushes the top of your head with his lips.

"I mean it," you press on when he doesn’t answer, "it’s like a costume, Joel. I know it’s your job, but it’s…I don’t think of you as like, an authority figure or something. I just thought you looked hot in that slutty shirt."

"Slutty–?" he sputters and you laugh.

"Sure, you know, with your sleeves rolled up, and that first button popped open."

"’S not slutty."

"You showed your forearms. Half the lecture hall felt like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

Joel makes an exasperated sound, half amused and half offended.

"I mean it," you say again after beat, humor gone from your tone, "and it’s not just sex to me. You know that."

"Yeah," Joel answers slowly. "’S more to me, too."

It’s a hell of an admission.

"What are we gonna do?", you ask quietly, and Joel sighs.

"You’re gonna go to class," he says, voice dark, "and I’ll try very, very hard not to call your father and tell him I’m fallin’ for his daughter."

You bury your face in his chest. With anyone else, it would be too much, too fast, too intense. But this is Joel. It’s not fast if you’ve known him your whole life, is it? You kiss his chest, and he seems to understand.

"We’ll figure it out," Joel says quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

For a second you do want your parents to know, want them to see that someone does treat you like an adult, want to look them in the eye and say I’m with Joel now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have my own life now and it includes this kind man. It’s childish, you know it is. You lean up, catch Joel’s mouth in a kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, “We’ll figure it out, Professor.”

#event horizon #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #professor!Joel miller #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x you #Joel Miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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backtothefanfiction · 1 day ago

Text

ONE | The Drone

Summary: Joaquin gets his very own version of Red Wing. Little does he know, there’s an actual person on the other end of the drone.

Warnings: none for this part, Joaquin just being his usual cute boyish self, reader insert

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: so after having this thought this morning I’m running with it. I don’t know how often I’ll update these but this is more an introduction to the premise. I have a couple ideas planned for this mini series but the idea is they are just quick things I can write. If I end up writing any spicy chapters I will mark them, but seeing as they are both at a distance from each other, this will be more slow burn fluffy pining. Anyway, enjoy!

“What is this? My birthday?” Joaquin asked eagerly as Sam approached him with a very fancy top secret looking briefcase.

“You wish.” Sam retorted stepping forward and swinging the briefcase up onto the deck.

Joaquin was practically bouncing from one leg to the other with excitement, his hands rubbing together in desperate need to touch whatever was inside. “What is it?”

There was a snap as Sam popped the locks on the case, but instead of opening it himself, he stepped back, his hand ushering his young protege forward to take a look.

Joaquin couldn’t believe his eyes. His fingers ghosted over the bird like drone inside the case, almost too scared to touch it as he took in the expensive and highly delicate piece of tech. His head whipped to the side, his eyes alight and giddy as the sought out Sam’s. “I get my own red wing!” He exclaimed.

Sam smiled at the younger man’s infectious and eager energy and almost let out a laugh. “Not quite. Red wing is mine. This is F.E.A.R.N,” he quickly explained. “Stands for Field, Environment, Artillery, Reconnaissance and Navigation. Your extra pair of eyes and back up in the field.” Sam said as Joaquin tried to keep his cool and seem at least a little professional. “You can talk to it and everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Why don’t you give it a go.” Sam encouraged,

“What is it? That button there?” Joaquin asked only slightly hesitantly as he let his finger hover just above the button directly on top of the drone.

“That’s the one.”

“This one?” Joaquin said again, as if seeking his Father’s approval in case he did something wrong.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“And I just press it and it starts?” Joaquin asked, checking yet again with a nervous yet giddy smile on his face.

“Yeah man, just press it!”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You swivelled back and forth on your chair bored. First day of your new job and most of it had just been spent sitting around. Luckily this new job meant you could work from home- seeing as you were on call pretty much 24/7 for whenever the new Falcon was sent on a mission- meaning you could just sit around eating super noodles, read your book and drink endless cups of tea, but you were eager to do something. You knew that Captain America was handing over the new bit of tech you were hired to help man today, you just didn’t know when.

So far you had been waiting three hours, which had equated to 7 book chapters read, four games of solitaire won, 3 cups of tea and a freshly painted set of toe nails. You were just fanning them dry with your fingers when your computer started beeping to let you know the new drone had been activated. You quickly pushed your feet off the floor to wheel yourself back to your desk, your fingers quickly hitting a couple of buttons that allowed the sound and video feed to pop up on the screen and you immediately began to hear voices crackle through the speakers as you reached to put on the headset draped over the top of the monitor.

“Well why don’t you say hello,” Sam’s voice came out loudly through the speaker before switching to the headset as the Bluetooth connected.

“Umm, hello?” A nervous voice said, unsure what would happen.

“Hello, Joaquin,” you said cheerfully into the mic at your lips and you had to stop yourself from laughing and remain professional as his whole body practically jumped at hearing your response.

“It knows my name,” Joaquin said, turning to Sam in disbelief. “It knows my name!!!” He said more giddily, his fingers latching onto Sam’s shoulders in excitement. You couldn’t help but smile at the Lieutenant’s boyish reactions.

“I know a lot more than just that.” You responded playfully, your eyes glancing back over the file on your desk again.

“Really? Nothing bad I hope.” He beamed and it really took all your effort to be professional. You knew he was attractive and his track record spoke for itself as far as what had been written down on paper, but no one had prepared you for his personality and you could already feel yourself growing weak at the knees.

“Now, now.” Sam said, breaking up the conversation to get things back on track. “Now you know how Red Wing works?” Sam prompted the younger recruit, his tone changing.

“Yeah,” Joaquin responded.

“Okay, well think of FEARN as being like Red Wing but on steroids. She can not only check the area for you and provide back up, but she’s your quick access to information. Anything you need, just ask.”

“So say I was on a mission in Budapest and I needed to find the closest toilet?”

“Uhh yeah, she can do that?” Sam said, slightly confused by the example Joaquin had used.

“Or if I needed a background check run on someone?” He said, his eyebrows raising as if to silently ask if that was a better question and Sam nodded. “Oh this is so cool!” Joaquin gushed again and another smile spread across your face as you watched them from the safety of your living room.

“Okay, so how do I control it. Is there a remote control type thingy or…”

“Just tell her where you want her to go, she’ll do it.” Sam said.

“Oookay, uh, FEARN?” Joaquin asked politely.

“Yes, Joaquin,” you responded with equal politeness.

“Take a lap of the room.” He said.

You nodded, although he couldn’t see you, before you began to use your controls to navigate the small bird like drone around the room, sweeping over and under the beams in the rafters of the warehouse before dipping back down to where Sam and Joaquin stood.

“Sweet!” Joaquin exclaimed and you beamed. “Do a flip.” He said and you once again used your controls to roll the small bird over. “Nice.”

“Come on now, let not break it before we get a chance to get it out in the field.” Sam said stepping forward, encouraging Joaquin to pack FEARN away until his next mission.

“Uhh, how do I-?” Joaquin fished, trying to work out the right command to get the drone to dock itself again,

“Just ask her to go home.”

“Okay. FEARN time to go home.”

At Joaquin’s instruction you began to manoeuvre the drone carefully back into its dock before you shut it off, your connection to the two men cutting out with it until the next time you were called upon.

In the sudden silence you couldn’t help but curl your freshly painted toes in happiness as you beamed from ear to ear over your new job and partner. After doing a couple of spins in your chair to alleviate some of the giddiness, you reached back over to the file on your desk and flipped to the picture that had been included of Joaquin Torres and sighed at your good fortune. He was the perfect work partner; cute, polite and a great personality and you couldn’t wait to work with him.

#joaquin torres imagine #joaquín torres #joaquin torres #Joaquin Torres x reader #mcu #Sam Wilson #captain america #the falcon #marvel

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caitified · 23 hours ago

Note

Hello! I absolutely love your family series so much. I love Caitlin’s family but can you please do Paige next?

Can it be like Paige introduces their baby to Geno and CD after Paige’s game (she’s in Dallas already) and idk just cute interactions and fans are eating it up. I hope you give this a shot. Thank you!

INTRODUCTION

PAIGE BUECKERS X FAMILY READER

notes: finally…after literally 100 requests i’m properly starting my paige family series. enjoy! (p.s i think i changed this a bit from the req, sry)

requests are open for this.

packing for any trip with a baby was always a process. no matter how much you tried to pack light, you always ended up with more than you needed.

“paige, we’re not moving to connecticut.” you glanced at her over your shoulder as you zipped up one of eva’s bags. “why does she have like four different pairs of sneakers in here?”

paige, sitting on the floor with eva in her lap, looked up sheepishly. “because she’s gotta look fresh?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile. “she’s not even walking yet.”

paige turned eva toward her, gently bouncing her. “tell mama you need options, baby.”

eva, six months old with bright blue eyes just like her mom’s, blew a spit bubble.

paige gasped dramatically. “see? she agrees.”

you laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed the last of your things. “fine. whatever. let’s just go before we miss the flight.”

—

the flight from dallas to connecticut wasn’t too bad.

eva, thankfully, was a pretty easy baby. after some snacks, a few rounds of peekaboo with paige, and a little bit of fighting sleep, she finally passed out in your arms.

paige, sitting next to you, smiled down at her before looking at you. “this is so weird,” she murmured.

you shifted slightly to look at her. “what is?”

her lips curled slightly. “going back to uconn. with you. with eva.”

your heart softened. “you’re excited, though, right?”

she nodded. “of course. but, like…” she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “when i left, i never thought i’d be coming back like this, y’know? like, yeah, i knew i’d visit, but—” she looked down at eva again, voice dropping slightly. “now i have a family.”

you reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “it’s a full-circle moment.”

she nodded, exhaling. “yeah. it really is.”

—

the game itself was electric.

stepping into gampel pavilion again felt like stepping into a time capsule. the energy, the fans, the love—it was all still there.

but this time, instead of sitting courtside just as paige’s girlfriend, you had eva in your lap.

instead of fangirling over paige as the uconn superstar, you were watching her experience the game as a wnba player, an alumni, a legend in her own right.

and, of course, you were just trying to keep eva from throwing her pacifier onto the court.

“baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her head as she wiggled. “no throwing things.”

she cooed back at you, completely ignoring your request.

the fans ate her up.

anytime she clapped her little hands? cheers.

every time she got excited when the crowd got loud? adorable gasps.

by halftime, there were already tweets circulating about how paige’s baby was a uconn legend in the making.

you glanced at paige, who was beaming, filming eva on her phone.

“she’s gonna steal your thunder,” you teased.

paige smirked. “i’d let her.”

—

after the game, it was time for introductions.

geno and cd were already waiting in the tunnel, and the moment paige stepped forward with eva, their faces lit up.

“there’s the real superstar,” geno said, grinning as he looked at eva.

cd, beside him, immediately reached for her. “oh, let me see her!”

eva blinked at them, big blue eyes full of curiosity, before reaching her arms out for cd.

paige gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “i can’t believe this. my own daughter is betraying me.”

you laughed, nudging her. “relax, babe. she just knows good people.”

cd beamed, adjusting eva in her arms. “she’s beautiful, paige.” she glanced at you, smiling warmly. “you two did good.”

geno crossed his arms, tilting his head. “i dunno… she kinda looks too much like paige. are we sure she’s not already stubborn?”

paige gasped. “coach!”

you smirked, shrugging. “i mean, she is kind of a diva.”

geno nodded knowingly. “oh, she definitely got that from her mom.”

eva babbled happily in cd’s arms, clearly enjoying the attention.

paige sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. “i can’t believe i came back here to get roasted.”

geno clapped a hand on her shoulder. “it’s what we do, kid.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile.

you squeezed her hand, grinning.

back home. but better.

i’m in now. keep the paige family requests coming

#wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

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rcvcgers · 2 days ago

Text

A Thousand Miles

this is how i would imagine the boys would react to "a thousand miles" by vanessa carlton while in the car!

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: none!

author's note: my sister turned this song on in the car today so of course i had to make a post about it!

Sylus

Sylus knows how much you love listening to music. He couldn’t stand to see you disappointed whenever you couldn’t listen to your playlist whenever you went on joyrides together.

So when he picked you up from your apartment with brand new helmets with bluetooth audio, Sylus knew he was the best boyfriend ever by your squeals and the way you peppered kisses all over his face.

He made sure your helmet had cat ears on it too because you’re his kitten.

Sylus chuckled as you jumped for joy, struggling to tighten the straps of your helmet as you swipe through your endless list of playlists.

Sylus helped you onto the bike, absolutely loving the way your body molded to his. He guided your arms around his torso, placing your hands on his abdomen just the way he likes it.

Ten minutes into your joyride is when the song comes on.

Sylus’s body goes frigid for a moment, having to listen closely as the piano notes rang through his ears. He didn’t even notice as your hands moved up his chest, gripping his pecs.

You sang along to the song and very innocently squeezed his pecs along to the beat of the chorus. You even alternated between the right and the left because you were in a silly goofy mood.

A smirk formed on his lips when he heard you singing the lyrics, “cause I need you, and I miss you!”

You need him? Well, who is he to say no to his kitten?

His grip on the throttle tightened, his fist turning it as his motorcycle lunged forward, weaving through traffic so he can show you just how much he needs and misses you too.

Zayne

Zayne is arguably one of the best drivers on the road. He doesn’t speed and he always makes sure to use his blinker when changing lanes.

He knows how much you hate it when he goes the speed limit, knowing that everyone in the world goes at least 5 miles over it.

That’s how you two settled into a fun routine of you putting on music and trying to get Zayne to break and sing with you. It hasn’t happened yet, though, but it doesn’t make you any less determined to make him crack!

“Alright, Zayne,” you smiled as you landed on the perfect song, “gird your loins because I’m going to get you to break!”

Zayne raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. His face remained stoic as the beginning piano notes flowed through the car’s speakers.

Really? This is your song? He shook his head and knew that this was the easiest challenge you’ve brought to him. He listened as you belted out the lyrics, matching the dramatics and tone of the song.

At one point, you even held your fist to his mouth as if it were a microphone. Zayne didn’t give in, though, and remained stoic as he weaved through the Linkon traffic.

What got him to break, though, was the beat of the song. It was…appealing to him. He liked the beat and how they repeated in a predictive order. He didn’t even realize that his finger was tapping against the steering wheel.

You gasped and pointed at him. You passed the music as he rolled his eyes, looking away.

“Did I manage to break the Dr. Zayne?”

“It seems like you have, my love.”

Xavier

Xavier was knocked out in the passenger seat of your shared car. After a long day of fighting Wanderers and arguing with Tara about who gets the honor of dealing with all the paperwork (which Xavier has admitted to never doing during his time at the Association), he was slumped to say the least.

You quietly played music to pass the time, opting to drive around just a bit longer so Xavier can get as much sleep as he can before, well, falling asleep yet again in your bed.

You held back an excited squeal when the song came on. You haven’t heard it in years! It brought back so many happy memories for you.

You gently turned the volume knob to the side, the volume increasing ever so slightly, as the singer’s voice sang the lyrics. You hummed along, popping your shoulders up and down, containing your giggles. When the chorus kicked in, you couldn’t help but sing along!

“And now I wonder…if I could fall, into the sky, do you think time, would pass me by?”

You turned your head and looked over at Xavier, who stared at you with those big blue eyes of his. It shocked you, though, and the car swerved before you quickly gained control of it.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said, looking out the window and at the moon, crossing his arms over his chest as he gets comfortable in his seat.

“What doesn’t make sense?” You followed up, glancing his way as you drove the car back to your apartment.

“How does one ‘fall’ into the sky? That’s not how gravity works.” Your snort earned a half-glare from him. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I don’t think she meant it literally, baby!”

“Oh…well that’s just lazy songwriting.”

Rafayel

Rafayel wanted to be the only one in charge of your weekend plans. He needed it to be perfect for you! Rafayel had the very bright idea of renting a convertible, since the city was known for its coastal views along the highway.

So he put you in charge of the weekend playlist!

Rafayel helped you into the passenger seat of the convertible, quickly making his way to the driver side. The two of you decided to buy silly sunglasses for each other from a local store for your scenic car trip along the coast.

Rafayel got you a pair with obscenely large lenses and the frames were bedazzled with red and purple stones. You got him a pair of children’s sunglasses that were way too small for his face with shark fins that poked from the lenses.

“This is an insult to sharks,” he grumbled, the car speeding towards the highway.

You flicked through the songs on your playlist, trying to find the perfect song to start off the drive. You clicked it when you found it, a smile growing on your face when Rafayel gasped, looking over at you.

It was your song. Cheesy, yes, but it’s oh so good.

You and Rafayel belted out the lyrics and put the volume on full blast, your hair flying with the wind. He pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor, soaring to top speeds.

It wasn’t long until sirens rang from behind you. The encounter ended with Rafayel getting a hefty speeding ticket. He looked over at you, shark sunglasses still on his face when he said, “sharks are always at the scene of the crime. Never forget that, cutie.”

Caleb

Your local movie theater was doing a weekend romcom extravaganza and Caleb decided to buy you tickets for a showing of your favorite movie. He showed up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and another bouquet of your favorite candy.

Were your jacket pockets and purse going to be filled with said candy? Yes. Absolutely. But Caleb was going to help you shove his box of MilkDuds into an empty crevice! So it was worth it.

He parked in a spot far away from the entrance and walked to your side of the car. You sat with the candy bouquet in your lap, beaming at him. The radio played in the background and he rested his forearm the open car door, leaning down.

“You ready, pip-squeak?” Caleb mused with a smile. You nodded and handed the bouquet to him.

“Stuff me!”

The two of you spent the next five minutes shoving bags and small boxes of candy into every pocket you had. M&Ms went in your jean pockets while mini Reeses were tucked inside the sleeve of your jacket. You stood in a t-pose while Caleb slipped more and more candy into your clothing.

The song on the radio was catchy and the two of you found yourself singing along, the lyrics echoing off the parking garage walls. You swayed your hips, dodging as he tried to slip red licorice into your pants.

“Stay still for me, pip-squeak!” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and obeyed, glancing at the clock in his car.

“Shit! Caleb, we’re late!” You gasped and he popped right up, scooping you into his arms as he ran towards the movie theater doors.

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norrisainz33 · 2 days ago

Text

fun fair || ls18

☆ summary: lance rents out one of your favorite places for valentine’s day

☆ pairing: lance stroll x reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for your request and your patience xxoo

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, estebanocon, astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial, yourbff, iamrebeccad, and 213,385 others

ynuser: a wild lance and y/n caught in their natural habitat. so lucky to have spent the last month in our happy place!!! now back home 🤍

view all comments

user1: and the cutest couple award goes to y/nlance

astonmartinf1: king and queen of the snow! we miss you both!! 💚

ynuser: miss you more admin!! looking forward to seeing you soon ❤️🥹

user2: everyone thank y/n for the lance crumbs

user5: thank you y/n for the sign of life

user6: ty y/n! we are eternally grateful

lance_stroll: love you princess 😘

ynuser: love you too handsome 🫶🏻

iamrebeccad: pretty girl 🤍

ynuser: counting down the days till we are reunited

user3: my most favorite unproblematic duo

yourbff: selfishly over joyed that you’re home

ynuser: and that’s valid

user4: brb buying a fuzzy bucket hat as we speak you have influenced me

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user7: crying at the effort he put in to make them himself and not buy them im

cholestroll: i’m not sobbing.. YOU ARE

ynuser: no bc you’re right i did fully cry

user9: lance once again setting the bar high for men

flavy.barla: why is this the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen

ynuser: girl i know 😭😭😭 i think we may be the 2 luckiest girls in whole world

flavy.barla: confirmed yes

user10: MAY THIS TYPE OF LOVE FIND ME

lance_stroll: i’m glad you liked them gorgeous

ynuser: i LOVED them!!!!!

lance_stroll: good!! but that’s not it! get excited for valentine’s day. i’m cooking up something even better

ynuser: lance 😭 stop 😭 you’re perfect 😭

user18: lance boyfriend content will literally never get old

lance_stroll has posted to their story

view all replies

user3: this called me single in so many different languages

chloestroll: eeeek today is the dayyyyyyy

lance_stroll: yes yes yes!!!!!

chloestroll: i can’t wait to have a little sister im gonna explode

user7: i love love so much

ynuser: you are a dream come true

lance_stroll: that’s you baby

ynuser: 😭🫶🏻

user8: i just looked at my partner and sighed

estebanocon: you better call me and flavy after 😉

lance_stroll: you know she’ll call flavy immediately

astonmartinf1: beautiful 💚

lance_stroll: 💚

user12: why are you so thoughtful and perfect?! where is MY lance

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user8: happy for you (laying in the street)

yourbff: you guys are sickening

ynuser: stfu you love us

yourbff: well obviously

user9: so you guys where the reason why the fair was closed today huh

chloestroll: 🫶🏻 hope you are having the best day

ynuser: i very much am!! literally a perfect day

chloestroll: i think it’s going to just keep getting better 😘

ynuser: do you know something 👀

chloestroll: nope! not a chance!

ynuser: you’re a horrible liar

lance_stroll: happy valentine’s day my forever valentine

ynuser: happy valentines my perfect lancey boy

iamrebeccad: adorable 😭

ynuser: right?????

user12: i might have to do something drastic if my future man don’t do this for me

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by ynuser, chloestroll, astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon, alexandrasaintmleux and 843,375 others

lance_stroll: an unforgettable day. here’s to forever 🥂❤️

view all comments

user18: i just fell to my knees

estebanocon: félicitations mes amis [congratulations my friends]

lance_stroll: merci esteban 🤍

user12: war is over! my favorite people are getting married!

ynuser: how lucky i am to get to spend the rest of my life loving you

lance_stroll: till forever mrs stroll 😘

chloestroll: best day of my life

lance_stroll: you and me both chloe

flavy.barla: same!!!!

user16: stood up in my room and applauded

user19: something abt seeing lance in love and happy despite that tractor they force him to drive has healed me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: pls pretend i posted this on valentine’s day like i intended to 🤪 likes and reblogs appreciated! thank you for reading 🧡

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

337 notes · View notes

rcklessheavn · 2 days ago

Text

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 ── ★ ˙🏎️ ̟ !!

f1 driver!matt x influencer!reader au

summary: after influencer!reader is invited to give interviews at the grand prix event, she meets matt and everything changes for both of them.

pt. 1

warning: none

disclaimer: english is NOT my first language

Yy/n.y/l posted

liked by nicolassturniolo, tarayummy, samgolbach, & 110.8k others

2,345 comments

y/n.y/l i am already in love with you, monaco <3

nicolassturniolo i'm so excited to finally meet you!!

y/n.y/l same king sameee💗💗

tarayummy yessss queen!!! i´m so excited for you!!!

y/n.y/l thx bff!! ily <3

vinniehacker see u soon sis!!

y/n.y/l i still can't believe youre coming... they let anyone in these days🤩

vinniehacker ok rudeeeeee😔😔

y/nfan.user OMG IM SO PROUD OF YOUUUU!!

y/n.y/l couldnt have done it without you guys!!!💐

y/n.sturniolos22 WAIT WHAT IF SHE MEETS MATT!!!!

y/nlovesferrari OH GIRL I JUST KNOW THE VLOG WILL EATTT‼️‼️

sturniolos_fan OMG FINALLY!! SHE MADE IT!!! CANT WAIT FOR THE CONTENT!!!!!

Back to the beginning...

It all started one morning when you were filming a ‘day in the life’ vlog, an audience favorite. Everyone loved seeing how monotone—or exciting—your day could be, depending on your schedule that day. Your specialty was vlogging, mainly showcasing how far from perfect your life actually was, while still expressing how grateful and blessed you felt. And everyone loved you for it.

That filming day, you were being productive: cleaning your apartment, running errands, and answering emails by midday. As you scrolled through your inbox, a red, very familiar logo caught your eye. It had just landed in your inbox. The bright F1 logo made you freeze in your tracks.

Your whole life, you’d been a fan of Formula 1—blame Cars the movie, and your dad and older brother for waking up early to watch races when it was still strawberry shortcake and breakfast time. You grew up alongside race cars and Formula 1, and more specifically, Ferrari. They were your team since you could remember. So when you quickly scrolled down, eager to verify if the email was real, you saw both the Formula 1 and Ferrari logos. You thought you might faint.

You composed yourself and started reading:

YOU’RE INVITED TO THE MONACO GRAND PRIX

Dear Y/N L/N,

We are huge fans of your content and find it extremely engaging. We’ve heard of your love and admiration for both Formula 1 and our Ferrari family. We are inspired by your adventurous spirit and would like to support you through a partnership and experience that could benefit both you and us.

Our Ferrari family would like to present you with a proposal to experience our Grand Prix in Monaco! We will cover all your travel expenses, including air tickets and hotel stays. We would also love for you to interview our drivers and create content for our social media.

We look forward to hearing back from you.

Sincerely,

The Ferrari and Formula 1 Family.

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. This was your dream, something you’d always imagined, and now it was actually happening. You grabbed your camera, focused it on yourself, and began recording.

“Guys! I just got the most exciting and unbelievable email ever! Without revealing too much, I just want to say how thankful and blessed I am to have you all with me! I’m about to fulfill a lifetime dream, and I couldn’t have done it without you! This vlog is going to be so exciting, so stay tuned!” With a bright smile, you stopped the camera, and the realization of what was happening hit you.

You quickly grabbed your phone and called your agent, Hailey, just to confirm it was real and that everything was going to happen. The phone rang twice before Hailey picked up.

“DID YOU SEE THE F1 EMAIL?!” you blurted out.

Hailey chuckled. “YOU FINALLY SAW IT! I’ve been reading it for over 15 minutes waiting for your call!” she said, and you laughed.

“Well, I just saw it! Please tell me I can do it and that I’m free to go!” you begged.

She sighed dramatically. “I’d rather jump out of my third-floor window right now than tell you no. Did you really think you wouldn’t go? Your dad would kill me, your brother would kill me, your mom would kill me, and YOU most of all would kill me. And listen, even if we had something scheduled for those dates, I’d call in every favor just to move it. Oh, girl, we are going to Monaco!”

Hailey’s excitement made you grin. “UGH, Hails, you're the best!” you said.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m employed,” she teased.

You both laughed, and then she became all business again. “Okay, I’ll email them back. You focus on looking for hotels, and we’ll regroup tomorrow to have a nice meeting and schedule everything. Sound good?”

“Absolutely perfect! I’ll call you tomorrow!” You both said your goodbyes and hung up. Everything felt like a dream, and you couldn’t wait for this adventure to begin.

The next few weeks were a blur of planning, scheduling, and packing for your dream trip. You vlogged every moment without revealing exactly where you were going, leaving your audience hanging. Your excitement was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t deny the nerves creeping in. The idea of being surrounded by people you admired, the ones you’d seen on screens for years, was crazy to you.

The one thing you were most excited about? The interviews. You had no idea who would actually be willing to sit down with an influencer, but you didn’t care. What made your heart race was the thought of interviewing a certain driver—Matt Sturniolo.

He was an American, a triplet, and a rising star in Formula 1. Was he your celebrity crush? Not really. But, you weren’t blind. He had an amazing presence, both on and off the track. Funny enough, his brother Nick was a mutual friend on Instagram, and you’d talked a few times about hanging out at the Grand Prix, neither of you knowing who’d be there. Nick was an influencer with his own lip balm brand, Space Camp, which you loved—it was genuinely good stuff.

Chris, the other brother, was a loud, lovable figure in the social media world, owning his own clothing brand, Fresh Love, which was wildly successful. As for Matt, he was the quieter one in the triplet group, but still had a natural charisma that came through, especially in his brothers' videos. His passion for racing started at a young age, eventually leading him to Ferrari—the team he’d always dreamed of driving for.

You were definitely looking forward to interviewing him. You hoped you’d get to see beyond his public persona and uncover a little more of who he was—at least on the surface.

Present Day...

You’d landed in Monaco 12 hours ago, and so far, jet lag hadn’t been an issue. You’d managed to sleep through the entire flight. Arriving in the morning gave you the chance to explore the city and even see the track with a few others who had arrived early.

That night, you had nothing planned, so you decided to treat yourself to room service and relax. Tomorrow marked the official start of the event and all the activities you had lined up. You couldn't contain your excitement, so you made a small post on Instagram, revealing where you were. You scrolled through a few stories, liked some posts, and finally went to bed.

Tomorrow was going to be unreal.

a story by rcklessheavn

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ series link

⋆˙⟡ tag list

⤷ authors note: AHHHH!!!! i cant believe i'm finally starting this!! i had so much fun doing this, i hope you guys enjoy this first one :))

@courta13 @matthewsroses @mattswifeyy @sturniolomatthewb @nessabarretswhore @nickmillersn1gf @mattslefttoenail @thecrawlys @tuttifruttixx @obsessedwiththesturniolos @period-queen1 @pair-of-pantaloons @b4by-hon3y @idkwhatthisis2009 @malsmind @matts-247

#۫ ꣑ৎ sports car by cam ۫ ꣑ৎ #༺ stories by cam ༻#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #chris sturiolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #rcklessheavn writes #chratt #chris sturniolo fluff

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maretinelli · 7 hours ago

Text

SECOND FAMILY

Lando Norris X fem!reader

Summary: Y/n is going to meet Lando's family, but this causes her to have a crisis because she is afraid of introducing her boyfriend to her own family who don't get along with her.

Words: 5.0K+

Warnings: A little sad because of Y/n's story, family issues, mentions of anxiety and vomiting, but Lando's family is loving towards her, cute, romantic and mentions of veterinary medicine content, walk in the countryside.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story.

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

The sweet smell of freshly baked cake filled the silent apartment. Y/n discreetly wiped the dry tears from her face, trying to contain the pain that tightened her chest. The news that her sister Lexie had given her minutes before still echoed in her head, breaking not only her heart, but her sister's as well.

The door opened and Lando's excited voice filled the room.

"Love? Where are you?" He called, leaving his keys on the table.

Y/n took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face, quickly wiping away any trace of tears before he saw her. But she didn't have much time to compose herself, because seconds later, Lando was already in the kitchen, with a few bags in his hand and the most loving smile on his face.

He came closer and left a loving kiss on her cheek.

"What's wrong? Why that smile?" Y/n asked, chuckling softly as she grabbed the oven mitts to take the cake out of the oven.

Lando shrugged, tilting his head with a charming smile. "You! I just happened to find you!"

"Idiot..." She rolled her eyes, laughing.

He chuckled before pushing himself off the counter and starting to clear things off the table. "The meetings went great today. And guess what? Tomorrow's one is canceled! So we can go to my parents' house early!"

Y/n flinched slightly upon hearing that. She wanted to meet his family, of course she did. I already knew them through video calls, I talked to his sisters on Instagram. But after what she had just heard, feeling the Norris family's love made her strangely uncomfortable. Not because I didn't like it—quite the opposite—but because I had never received that kind of love before.

And without realizing it, tears streamed down her face again.

Lando continued talking excitedly. "My mom and dad are super excited. She even said she's going to make something special for dinner. And my dad is also looking forward to meeting you in person! They always ask about you on the phone..."

He turned to face her and stopped abruptly when he saw her standing there, clutching the dish towel tightly, staring at the cake with silent tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, hey, love..." Lando crossed the space between them in seconds, gently cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "What happened? Was it something I did? Do you want to cancel the trip? Okay, we can wait-"

"No!" Y/n quickly interrupted, sniffling. "It's not that, Lan. I'm happy to meet your family, I really want that..." She took a deep breath before dropping the bombshell. "It's just that Lexie called me. She asked if our mom had invited me to the dinner they're having this weekend."

"And...?"

"I said I didn't know anything. And then Lexie told me that our mother is having a dinner party to introduce our little brother's new girlfriend." Her voice broke, and more tears fell. "And she didn't invite me or Lexie... Lex found out about this dinner party from other family members."

Lando's eyes softened, and he immediately pulled her into a tight hug.

If it were anyone else, they might say they were overreacting. But Lando knew. He knew what Y/n and Lexie had been through their entire lives. He knew how their parents neglected their daughters and favored the younger sons, Johnny and Mark.

I knew how, on their birthdays, the presents were scarce or inferior to those of their brothers, always with the excuse that the boys were too young to understand the difference. I knew how Lexie took on the role of mother from an early age, making sure Y/n had everything she needed until she was able to pursue her own dreams.

Y/n rarely visited her parents, and when she did, it was like a regular visit. They never treated her like the incredible woman she had become. Her relationship with her younger siblings was cordial, but distant. In the end, her only real family had always been Lexie. And now Lando.

"I don't want to introduce you to my family..." Still in his embrace, she murmured.

"Love..." Lando pulled away a little, holding her face tenderly.

"It's not because I don't love you, Lan." Y/n quickly clarified, sobbing. "But because I know how they can be. I know what they can say about you. And I don't want you to go through what I went through..."

The pilot stared at her for a few seconds before pulling her into an even tighter hug.

"I'd do whatever you want, Y/n." He whispered against her hair. "If you ever want to take me to meet them, I will. But I know they can be difficult, and I don't want you to get hurt anymore by this."

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n was still afraid to tell Lando everything. But one day, she felt safe enough to open her heart and expose every wound. And he was there, holding her while she cried, whispering sweet words and assuring her that she would never have to go through that alone again.

"I feel so loved by your family..." Y/n whispered, sniffling. "Even though I've only spoken to them on the phone, or heard you talking about them during our sleepless nights... I wish you could feel that way about my family too. But that's impossible, because I'm not even loved by them."

She cried again, and Lando felt his heart break.

"You don't have to feel this way, love." He tightened his arms around her. "My family has enough love to give to us. You're already family, Y/n."

He kissed her forehead and smiled softly. "And besides, I know how much you and Lexie love each other. And I love seeing that. You guys are amazing."

"Thank you for being here..." Y/n smiled through her tears.

"I'm not going anywhere, love. Ever." Lando caressed her face.

The only person in her family that Lando knew was Lexie and her fiancé. And from the first moment, he sympathized with them. He laughed and talked with his girlfriend's sister's fiancé as if they were old friends and, more than ever, he realized the strong connection the two sisters had, despite their difficult past.

And now, he would do anything to make sure Y/n never felt alone again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The building's parking lot was still silent on that cloudy morning, the ground slightly damp from the previous night's dew. Lando finished organizing the bags in the trunk of the car while talking animatedly.

"My mom woke up at five in the morning just to start making a bunch of treats for us. She's so excited, seriously. I think even my grandparents are going to show up there later."

Y/n smiled as she adjusted one of the bags inside the car. "That means I'm going to roll out of there from eating so much."

Lando chuckled, picking up the last suitcase and fitting it into the trunk. However, his smile faded a bit when he noticed Y/n suddenly go quiet and take a step back.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Y/n shook her head slightly, feeling her hands start to sweat. Without saying anything, she turned and ran to a small patch of grass nearby, bending over and vomiting.

"Y/N!" Lando hurriedly closed the trunk and ran over to her, placing a hand on her back as he waited for her to get up. "What's going on, love?"

She took a deep breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before turning to him.

"It was just... a side effect of an anxiety attack earlier. Don't worry, it's not pregnancy symptoms." She lets out an awkward laugh, but Lando doesn't laugh, as he's too worried about her.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I would have helped you, my dear."

"It happened while you were in the shower." Y/n explained. "I was thinking about my family and... well, it made me kind of anxious."

Lando sighed and held her face between his hands, looking into her eyes.

"You don't have to worry about them. You've become a brilliant, independent woman. You don't have to deal with this alone anymore, because most of all, you have me now. And I'm here for you too!"

"Thank you, for everything." She smiled, caressing his face affectionately. When Lando leaned in to kiss her, Y/n pulled away slightly. "You don't want to kiss me after everything I've thrown out, do you?" Y/n smirked.

"You think that's stopping me?" Lando rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek.

She laughed and, after making sure she was better, they went back to organizing the rest of their things before finally continuing their journey, and eventually Y/n went up to the apartment for a few minutes to brush her teeth again.

And then, they went on the short trip until they reached the Norris' country house, and while driving, Lando made sure to distract her by telling funny stories, or remembering cute and old things so she wouldn't think about her own family anymore.

"You have no idea how much my mom is looking forward to meeting you. Ever since I told her I was dating Flo's horse vet intern, she's been counting down the days." He quickly turns to his girlfriend. "Even more so when you started showing up on our phone calls!"

Y/n laughed, remembering the day she met Lando.

She was in her final year of veterinary medicine and was interning at her sister Lexie's equine clinic. On a regular day of appointments, Flo Norris showed up with one of her horses for a routine checkup. Y/n helped her, and during the procedures, the two struck up a light conversation and ended up becoming friends.

Some time later, Flo took Lando to the clinic as a chaperone while she waited for the horse's test results. He fell in love with Y/n at first sight, and at the end of the appointment, his sister unceremoniously handed him over.

"I remember Flo saying it would be cool if I went out with you." Y/n commented, amused. "At the time, I rolled my eyes, but a few days later you got my number from her and we started talking."

Lando smiled, keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel and the other on her leg.

"And now here you are, officially going to meet my family. And I'm telling you, Y/n, my family already likes you more than they like me."

Y/n laughed, looking at the road. Time seemed to pass faster with the light conversation between them.

The gate to the country house opened, and Lando slowed down, driving onto a lawn where he parked. Before turning off the car, he glanced quickly at Y/n and placed his hand on her thigh.

"Don't worry, okay? It's going to be amazing."

Y/n took a deep breath and smiled. As soon as they got out of the car, it wasn't long before Lando's family appeared at the door of the house.

Cisca, his mother, was the first to approach. Her loving smile lit up Y/n's face, warming her heart immediately. Without hesitation, she pulled her into a tight hug, completely ignoring her son.

"Oh my gosh, honey! I've been so excited to meet you! You're even more beautiful up close!"

Y/n laughed, feeling her face flush.

"Thank you, Cisca. I was really looking forward to meeting you too. But in a way, I feel like I've known you for years."

Adam, Lando's father, arrived soon after and quickly hugged Y/n, a sweet smile on his face as well.

"Lando doesn't talk about anything else but you."

"Dad!" Lando protested, making everyone laugh.

"Seriously." Adam continued. "I even thought about starting to charge rent to this girl who lives in my son's thoughts." He said amusedly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Y/n laughed, placing a hand on her face, embarrassed.

Then it was Cisca's turn, Lando's sister, to introduce herself. "Finally! I've been counting down the days until I meet you." The two hug each other. "Nice to meet you in person, sister-in-law!" She gives a gentle smile, lightly squeezing Y/n's shoulders.

Flo, who already knew Y/n, smiled excitedly before opening her arms.

"You're finally here!" She hugged her tightly and, looking at Lando, teased: "Now you're going to have to learn to share, little brother. I found her first."

"Hey, am I being put on the back burner in this relationship?" Lando said amusedly seeing his girlfriend being hugged by her sister and everyone laughed at his comment.

The morning weather was pleasant, still a little cloudy, and the damp grass beneath their feet betrayed the dew that had fallen earlier. Cisca, the Norris' mother, approached her daughter-in-law and gave Y/n a warm pat on the arm.

"Let's go inside! I made some treats for breakfast."

Lando gave Y/n an amused look before kissing her cheek. "I told you so, didn't I?"

Cisca went ahead, listing everything she had prepared. Y/n soon noticed something curious: among the options were several of her favorite foods. She looked at Lando, who just smiled and winked at her.

"Where's Oliver?" Lando asked as soon as he arrived in the kitchen, holding hands with his girlfriend.

"He'll be back later. Mila slept late last night, and they didn't want to wake her up early because she'd be in a bad mood all day."

They laughed, and Y/n sat next to Lando at the table, where Cisca made sure to serve her a little bit of everything.

"I didn't know exactly what you liked for breakfast, so I made a little bit of everything."

"This all looks like a big feast already! But if I have to choose, I love this cake." Y/n looked at the lavish table and smiled.

Cisca smiled, satisfied.

"Lando mentioned it once. So I thought it would be a good idea."

Y/n's heart raced, and she looked at Lando with immense affection.

The conversation continued lively, with Cisca and Flo telling funny stories from Lando's childhood, much to his dismay. At one point, Cisca asked about Y/n's family, unaware of the complicated relationship she had with them.

"So, honey? Do you have any siblings?"

Y/n shivered a little and Lando noticed, placing a hand on her thigh as a form of comfort, and then she smiled and responded politely.

"We're four siblings too. Lexie, who's four years older than me, Mark, who's 23, and Johnny, who's 20." She took a sip of coffee before adding, "I don't spend much time with them because of the distance. But I see Lexie and her fiancé a lot."

"Lexie and her fiancé are amazing. I've met them both before." Lando smiled at her, trying to comfort her.

Cisca smiled at Y/n. "I'm sure your family is as sweet as you, dear."

"Well... they are." Y/n lowered her head slightly and smiled.

Lando squeezes his hand on her thigh a little and sends a loving smile, soon changing the subject and making everyone forget to ask questions about Y/n's family. But it wasn't their fault, they were still oblivious to the suffering that the newest member of the family was going through.

Breakfast ended with laughter and funny stories about Lando's childhood, but soon Cisca, the pilot's sister, suggested that they show Y/n the farm. Everyone agreed excitedly.

The weather was still cool and cloudy, and the smell of wet earth filled the air. Lando put an arm around Y/n's shoulders as they walked through the countryside, listening to his sisters point out places and tell stories from their childhood. At one point, Flo laughed as she pointed to a fenced-in enclosure near the lake.

"That's where Lando almost cried because he thought the horse was going to bite him." She teased, making Lando roll his eyes.

"I was six, Flo," he said, huffing.

Y/n laughed, finding it adorable to imagine Lando small and scared of a horse.

As soon as they reached the stables, Y/n was enchanted. She approached one of the horses, gently running her hands along the animal's neck. The Norris sisters watched in admiration, seeing how naturally she was with the animals.

"Now you're going to have to learn more about horses, Lan." Cisca teased, looking at Lando with a mischievous smile.

Lando sighed dramatically. "Does this mean I have to read about horses before bed? My God, I'm surrounded by girls who like horses!" He said amusedly.

Y/n laughed, giving him a light push.

While Y/n continued interacting with the horses, and Cisca and Lando were further back playing sibling wrestling, Flo approached.

"What about university? Have you chosen a specialty yet?"

"I recently graduated and for now, I'm working with my sister in her practice. I'm still deciding on a specialization, but I really like horses." Y/n smiled, continuing to pet the horse.

Flo raised her eyebrows, impressed. "You graduated already? I didn't know! Did you have a graduation party?" She said excitedly. "I want to see pictures!!" Y/n laughed at her cheerful comment and shook her head, still smiling.

"I didn't want any parties, I just attended the certificate presentation ceremony. Lando was there with my sister, and then we went out to dinner at a restaurant he had booked," she said, smiling as she remembered the special night.

Flo smirked.

"I still can't believe I was the one who brought you two together."

"I remember well the day you suggested we go out. I thought it was funny at the time." Y/n laughed.

Flo shook her head, laughing. "And look where we are now. He loves you so much, Y/n. Every time he calls us, he only talks about you."

Y/n felt her heart warm and looked at Lando, who was play fighting with his other sister on the other side of the stable. She laughed as she saw him get pushed by his sister and grumble.

She loved him so much. And she didn't even know she could give and receive so much love too, because she never had all that in her childhood, besides the love of her older sister.

Flo smiled when he saw her expression.

"Want to go for a horse ride?"

Y/n turned around and smiled. "Sure! I'd love to."

And then, Flo smiles and gently squeezes her sister-in-law's shoulder, going to get the horses. Y/n excitedly walks quickly to her boyfriend and he smiles, hugging her waist.

"I'm going for a horse ride with your sister." She said excitedly.

Cisca, upon hearing this, smiled excitedly. "I'm going too!" She ran to get her horse, and Y/n laughed.

Lando turned to his girlfriend, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I told you my family would love you."

"They're amazing." Y/n smiled.

He pulled her into a kiss. It was slow and sweet, a reflection of the affection they felt for each other. Lando's hands roamed around her waist, over her Quadrant sweatshirt, while Y/n's fingers curled in the curls at the nape of his neck. He smiled into the kiss and then pulled away, giving her one last peck.

"Come with us!!" Y/n smiles teasingly, knowing that Lando wasn't a big fan of horses.

Lando grimaced. "I only ride horsepower... and four wheels... on the track."

Y/n let out a loud laugh.

The morning passed with Y/n riding alongside Cisca and Flo. On the other side of the farm, sitting on the porch of the house, Lando watched his girlfriend having fun with her sisters. Every now and then, her laughter echoed across the field, and he smiled without realizing it. His heart gave a passionate leap inside his ribcage.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Cisca walked over and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, she is!" Lando nodded, still looking at Y/n with a loving smile, and then his mother sat down next to him, to keep him company, but he sighed a little.

"She doesn't get along well with her family, only with her sister, Lexie..." He looked at his mother and continued. "I won't go into details, because she'll do that when she's ready, but what I can say is that she never received as much love as my brothers and I received from you as a child." He swallowed hard. "And seeing her have fun with the girls, feeling at home... it's wonderful."

"She's loved. By her sister, by you, and by us, you know!" Cisca nodded, smiling. "She's part of the family now, dear. An honorary Norris."

Lando smiled and looked back at Y/n, riding on the horizon, even from afar he could see her smiling and throwing her head back to catch her breath from laughing, as she always did. And then he realized he was right. His heart felt right in loving her.

"I want to marry her..."

The day at the farm went smoothly and pleasantly. In the morning, Y/n rode alongside Lando's sisters, enjoying the fresh wind and the vastness of the countryside. The connection with horses came naturally to her, which made her sisters-in-law even more enchanted by her presence.

Later, Y/n helped Cisca prepare lunch, between laughs and lively conversations. The four women got along well, exchanging stories about their childhoods, while Lando joined the conversation telling some of the adventures he and Y/n had already lived during the races. He mentioned the trips they had taken together, the races she had managed to follow, and the little traditions they had created over time.

In the afternoon, Oliver arrived accompanied by his wife and daughter, Mila. As soon as she got out of the car, the little blonde girl ran into her grandparents' arms, receiving warm kisses and hugs. Oliver and his wife greeted the brothers and, upon seeing Y/n, welcomed him with a kind smile.

"So you're the famous Y/n." Oliver joked, squeezing her hand lightly. "Welcome to the madness of the Norris family."

"Thank you!" Y/n smiles and then Oliver's wife hugs her and welcomes her too.

And then, Mila left her grandparents' embrace and ran to Lando, hugging her uncle's legs.

"That Country!"

Lando smiled, picking up his niece. "Hi, little one! Did you miss me?"

She nodded with a wide smile, but soon her attention turned to Y/n. She got off Lando's lap and stood in front of Y/n, still a little shy as she folded the hem of the shirt she was wearing a little.

"You must be Aunt Y/n, right?" Mila asks shyly, shaking her shoulders slightly.

Y/n looked at her and then at the Norris family, who smiled at the little girl's cute comment. Her heart warmed at being called 'aunt', even more so as it was coming from Lando's niece for the first time.

With a glint in her eyes, she bent down to the little girl's height and smiled warmly.

"Hi, I am! Nice to meet you, little Mila."

The girl smiled even more and, without warning, threw herself into Y/n's arms, catching her off guard. She froze for a while, but then returned the action, smiling and feeling some tears welling up in her eyes, as she hugged the girl.

"Uncle Lando talked a lot about you!"

The family laughed at the scene, and Y/n, while hugging the little girl, looked up at her boyfriend with a playful smile.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is he talking about?"

"Only good things, I swear." Lando shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face.

"He showed me a lot of pictures of you guys!" Mila then pulled back a bit, watching Y/n closely before letting out sincerely. "You're very pretty!"

Y/n smiled, delighted.

"Thank you, Mila! But I think you're much prettier."

The girl became shy and ran to Oliver to hide her shy face in his arm, causing the family to burst into loud, genuine laughter.

Lando then looks at his girlfriend, feeling that familiar love every time she laughed or commented on something with his sisters, or even the loving way she looked at Mila. As if he had known the girl for decades.

In the evening, everyone gathered around a large table for dinner. The atmosphere was cozy, with warm lighting and typical dishes prepared with care. Mila chose to sit between Y/n and Lando, showing how much she had already grown fond of her new 'Aunt'

During the meal, the little girl held Y/n's hand from time to time as she showed the toys she had brought and Y/n commented on how cool they were and that they could play together after dinner. Lando, watching the scene, smiled with a special sparkle in his eyes.

The conversation flowed naturally, between funny stories and childhood memories. At one point, Oliver made a joke about how Y/n had finally found a way to 'get Lando in line'.

"Finally someone has managed to tame this one." Oliver joked, raising a glass.

Y/n chuckled and winked at Lando before replying, amused, "Well, I'm still trying. But I think taming him completely is a lost cause."

The family burst out laughing, while Lando pretended to be offended, putting his hand on his chest as if he had been hit, increasing the laughter even more.

"That's not fair! I'm an angel." He said, crossing his arms.

"An angel who likes speed and lives running away from household chores." Cisca added, laughing.

"It's worse than that, Cisca! When I ask him to help clean my apartment he makes an excuse and I eventually end up falling for it." They laugh.

"Hey!" Lando protested, making everyone laugh even harder.

Dinner continued to be lively with laughter and conversation, and when silence finally fell over the Norris table, Adam raised his wine glass and asked for a toast.

"I just wanted to say that we're so happy to have you here, Y/n. Ever since you arrived, we've felt like you were already part of the family. So know that this is your home too, and that we welcome you with open arms. You're special to Lando, and that means you're special to all of us. Welcome to the Norris family."

They put their glasses together and toasted, while Y/n smiled and thanked him quietly. Already knowing that if she spoke loudly she would start crying. But with happiness.

Y/n felt her heart warm at those words. Lando squeezed her hand under the table, conveying his affection and silent support. She smiled, touched, feeling truly welcomed.

The night continued with laughter, stories and affectionate moments, as they gathered on the couch in the living room. Cisca and Adam told some funny stories from when Lando was little and Y/n believed that certain things still haven't changed, making them laugh and Lando hide his face in his girlfriend's neck.

She could feel that this day was becoming one of the most special days she had ever experienced in her 25 years of life.

It was already dawn, when they were getting ready to sleep, Y/n walked through Lando's old room, curiously observing the trophies, the miniature race cars, the posters and the old photos of him with his family. It was like diving into her boyfriend's past, and it made her smile.

She gently ran her fingers over a photo of Lando as a young boy, holding a trophy almost bigger than him. Her chest filled with emotion. Feeling part of that home, that family, was something she had never experienced before. Without realizing it, a few tears of happiness ran down her face.

It was at that moment that Lando entered the room. He was wearing a comfortable sweatsuit, his hair still damp from the shower. Seeing her from behind, admiring her memories, he smiled and silently approached, wrapping her in a hug from behind.

With his head resting on her shoulder, he murmured, "Do you like my sanctuary?"

"I loved it... I felt so at home here." Y/n smiled, leaning against him.

Lando tightened his hold, feeling her warmth against him. When she turned to look at him, he noticed the tears in her eyes and frowned in concern.

"Hey... What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Unlike last night, these are tears of happiness... Of belonging." She smiled, quickly wiping away the tears.

Lando watched her for a moment before smiling softly.

"You were already part of the family before you even met them. You fit in here perfectly." He chuckled softly. "Even though they can be a little intense sometimes and tell you all about my childhood embarrassments."

Y/n laughed, and before she could respond, he gently cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss.

It was a slow and emotional kiss, a soft and passionate meeting of lips that conveyed all the love and gratitude they felt for each other. Lando held her as if he wanted to immortalize that moment, while Y/n responded with the same intensity.

When they pulled away, Lando sighed against her lips and smiled. "I think my niece has adopted you for good."

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head.

"It seems I have no escape from the Norris family anymore."

"No way! I won't let you get away!" Lando cupped her face once more, his eyes shining with love. "I love you,"

"I love you, Lan." Y/n smiled, her heart warming.

And there, in each other's arms, they knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful story together. Y/n felt like part of the family and Lando knew that she was an important part of his life too. And no one was destined to escape each other.

And she found her second family.

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #imagines #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #marriage #fem reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader

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