#been listening to this song SO MUCH lately it's been stuck in my head

[iohera]

i only want what i can't have

"from now on we are enemies" - fall out boy

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[euthymiya]

content includes: female reader, drunk reader + mentions of alcohol, modern + non curse au sukuna, established relationship, unnamed friends, reader makes one (1) dick sucking joke, reader dips fries into shakes because she’s elite like that, he carries reader

It’s half past midnight when he comes to pick you up. Your face sours as soon as you see him, taking an instinctive step back.

“Nuh uh,” you say, wagging a finger back and forth in his face as he scowls. “It’s girl’s night. No men allowed—we’ve been over this!”

“As if I wanna join your stupid girl’s night,” he scoffs. Sukuna is tired. (Of you). It’s too late at night to be worrying about what ditch you’re going to end yourself up in after lord knows how many drinks, so regrettably, he takes matters into his own hands.

It’s a good thing he does, too, he thinks with a flare of his nostril as he eyes the drunk, mess of a woman that’s supposed to be your ride home. Designated driver my ass, he all but grumbles under his breath.

“Hey—” he looks over to the side with an irritated flick of his eyes as a hand smacks his shoulder. Your friend (in not better condition than you) levels him with a snarky look before she hisses, “You heard her! It’s girl’s night. Go away.”

Sukuna ignores her—because, well, that’s what he always does anyway. She talks far too much to be considered a normal amount, and he doesn’t like the shrill sound of her voice. Instead, he turns to you, gives you a firm, scolding look before he grunts, “We are going home. Now.”

You seem to catch onto the stern tone of his voice because within seconds, you’re slumping against him as you whine, “Fine,” with a pout. “Mean.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, “You know what’s meaner? Nasty men who find girls passed out in the middle of the streets. Now let’s go. We’re going home—all of you.”

A chorus of whines and petty insults makes him want to grab a drink himself—being inebriated seems like the only way your friends are tolerable, but as annoying as they are, he refuses to leave them here wasted.

So he does the noble thing, and sacrifices his ear drums as they play whatever stupid pop song is trending on the radio at full volume down the streets, heads sticking out of the windows and screaming the lyrics out to innocent passerby’s.

Sukuna is just a guy. Not the best, most chivalrous or charitable guy, maybe—but just a guy, all the same. He’s not done anything wrong to deserve this torture. He’s been nothing but a kind (usually) boyfriend that loves you unconditionally (most of the time), supports you wholeheartedly (when it suits him), listens to your problems (if he’s in the mood), and makes you feel special (as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him).

Still, he’s stuck basically being an uber driver—for free, no less—to your ungrateful, bratty, obnoxious friends that aren’t pretty enough to enjoy your company in the first place. They don’t even thank him when they get out as he drops them off one by one to their homes, opting to say goodbye to you as if you’re the one who pays for the gas in his car.

Finally, the last of your friends (who he likes to consider nuisances) leaves, freeing him of anymore radio pop songs and unnaturally loud giggles.

He grumbles as you ask, “Can we get milkshakes?”

“No.”

“Please?” You whine, “I want strawberry.”

“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, “The answer’s still no.”

“Please, please, please, Kuna? I’ll suck your dick on the drive there—”

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He hisses, fighting back flushed cheeks as he glares at you once the car rolls to a stop at a red light.

Usually, he’s the one making such lewd comments and getting under your skin—but lacking in sobriety is seriously forcing the two of you to switch roles. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he should be nicer to you—you deal with a lot. (Not that he’s mean. He considers himself a pretty generous boyfriend).

“I’ll even pay,” you offer.

“You didn’t bring a wallet, so it looks like I’ll have to pay,” he says blandly.

You grin, giving him an innocent smile as you excitedly ask, “So that’s a yes?”

“Are you going to be quiet if I say yes?” He clicks his teeth in thinly-veiled irritation.

You grin, nodding enthusiastically.

Well, he thinks bitterly, so much for no more pit stops.

It’s not long until he’s pulling into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint, rolling his window down to order your stupid, late night request.

“We’ll take one strawberry milkshake, please,” he says gruffly.

“Anything else?” Comes the tired reply of whoever is taking his order.

“No—”

“And large fries, please!” You lean over him to shout out the window and make sure the poor worker hears you. Sukuna glares, (gently) pushing you back into your seat as he hisses, “Put your seatbelt on! And you asked for a milkshake, not a damn meal.”

“Fries aren’t a meal,” you huff, “And they’re good dipped in the shake. You can’t have one without the other.”

“No—”

“I’ll scream that I’m being kidnapped,” you warn, “I want my fries.”

“Fucking fine,” he throws his hands up, exasperatedly caving to your request because, yeah, having some drunk, half-conscious woman in his front seat screaming bloody murder about being abducted at two a.m. is not a good look to a stranger that doesn’t know any better. “One strawberry milkshake and large fucking fries and that’s it,” he growls to the other person through the drive-thru speaker.

It’s not the poor employee’s fault, and he knows it, but he’s too tired and sleep-deprived to care about his snarky attitude.

“It’ll be ready at the window,” the man speaks tiredly, completely unphased.

“Yay!” You squeal.

It’s a pretty bothersome task to have to stop the car five minutes after receiving the food just to open the lid of your cup for you so that you can dip your fries into your milkshake easier, but he figures it’s better than a tiring drive home. Or worse, a spill all over his car seats at your own attempt.

He glances over at you wearily as he finally (hopefully) starts to drive home, watching as you dip your french fries into your frozen drink and happily eat away. He crinkles his eyes at the combination.

He’ll never understand people’s unnatural obsession with pairing anything remotely salty and sweet together.

“My friends think you’re weird,” you hum, taking a handful of fries to your mouth as you say between chewing, “They say you’re intense. Like, scary intense. But I told them, that’s just his face.”

Finally, a small smile cracks on his face, breaking through the grumpy, tired exterior. He snorts, shaking his head. “Drunk you has way too much to say.”

“Drunk me is honest,” you retort, clutching your fries to your chest as you huff, “Now I’m not sharing my fries anymore.”

“You weren’t going to anyway,” he rolls his eyes.

Finally, his car pulls into a familiar parking spot, just outside of your shared home as he parks and turns to you. You giggle at him before humming, “How’d you know?”

“Because you never do,” he rolls his eyes.

“That’s because this relationship is 50/50! You buy the food, and I eat it.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, shaking his head—still, there’s something endearing about the way you clutch your fries close to your chest, as if guarding them with your life. He leans over, snatching one easily anyway, smirking in amusement when you gasp and pout at the gesture.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, fighting back a fond grin before he asks, “Let’s go. We’re going in.”

With that, he comes around to your side of the car, pulling you out and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style as he marches over to the front door. Sighing happily, you admire his face as he walks.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He raises a brow, mildly shocked. “For?”

“For bringing me home. Same time next week?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely not. No more girl’s nights with those shit shows.”

[rafesdollette]

LATE NIGHT DRIVES

PAIRING: BSF!RAFE X SWEETHEART!FEM!READER

summary: Rafe cherished these drives with you. Where you both would blare your wildly different music, talk about anything that came to mind, and stop at random convenience stores for snacks. It was the only time where he felt genuinely relaxed and content.

a/n: okayy new setup? 🫣 I dunno, I'm trying it out but I likee. very professional, very cutesy. Anyway, this is my first well thought out writing so please do leave constructive criticism if you think I could do something different next time...

word count: 0.6k

The route to your house was second nature by now. He's been there so much that he almost knows it better than his own home. which he doesn't mind at all, cause your house was basically his second home.

As you lie in your bed, your phone buzzes with an "I'm outside" text from Rafe. So per routine, you get up, throwing on the first hoodie in reach and heading out of the door.

He blows out out a breath, letting out a low "Its about fucking time" as you get in his truck.

"yeah yeah, it wasn't that long. you're just impatient"

he pulls out of your driveway, scoffing slightly "I must have plenty of patience, I deal with you, don't I? and put your seat belt on."

Once your seat belt is fastened, he begins driving on the road, having no destination in mind like usual. For a while, it's just silence between you two. Which isn't uncommon for both of you, it's familiar and more comforting than he'd like to admit.

"Lets stop at a gas station for snacks" you request, looking out the window

He nods, a murmured "sure" leaving his lips as he drives in the direction of the nearest gas station.

Entering the gas station, you immediately make your way toward the section with candy, picking out packages of a variety of candies while he heads towards the chips.

Once you both have gathered a good amount of snacks for each of you, which you both are gonna end up sharing anyway, you set them down on the counter as the cashier to rings up all of the items that he ends up paying for like usual since he'll throw a fit if he doesn't.

When you both make it into the car, he drives to the usual spot you both spend nights at. An empty parking lot. "Oh my gosh, turn it up!" you motion to the radio, smiling widely.

He groans as he turns up the radio "What the hell is this? Taylor Swift?"

"Sabrina Carpenter" you correct "And it's good, just listen."

"Yeah, I'd rather not" he replies as he takes a few gummy bears from the bag in your lap. He always claims to hate your music taste but you always find him humming a beat to one of the songs you pick out during a drive.

He leans back into his seat, chewing slowly as he listens to the lyrics. "You listen to some dirty music" he chuckles

"Hey, she's not that bad. You should see her on tour though, you'll have a stroke."

he raises his eyebrow, an amused expression on his face "really, huh? what, are you gonna go?"

you hum, shaking your head "No. I want to, though. But her tickets are kinda pricey. Maybe if I have extra money to spend soon."

"I'll take you."

The Skittles you were eating nearly get stuck in your throat as you look at him in bewilderment "What?! No! Rafe, that's too much money."

he shrugs "It's fine. I wanna do it. Just let me? Please?" of course he wouldn't bat an eye at spending that much money, he was loaded.

you hesitate for a moment, but seeing the insistence in his eyes, you eventually nod slightly "Fine. You can take me. But I'm paying you back eventually, alright?"

"Mm okay, sure. Deal." he agrees, even though he knows when it comes time for you to pay him back, he'll either give the money right back to you or refuse it.

"Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate it." you smile, genuinely touched by his willingness to spend that much money on you. It was rare that he went out of his way to please someone.

"Mhm, of course" he smiles back before throwing a gummy bear your way "consider it a late birthday gift."

"my birthday was like nine months ago, but okay."

"Mm yeah, just go with it" he chuckles, reaching over and talking your hand.

That was definitely new...

[2tarbell]

https://www.tumblr.com/2tarbell/756490945730576384/hiiiiiiiiiiii-my-loves-talk-2-me-plzz-and-i

hiii been thinking about bfb w rafe tonight… sleepovers at sarah’s with kie (& omg bonus points if reader is in the pogue friend group i can never get enough pogue reader + rafe content) where he’s kinda perving on reader but she’s kinda into it (oh no she must’ve left her panties at sarah’s house!!! whatever is a girl to do sigh)… she’s all giggly n blushy n flirty n shit when she runs into rafe late at night while getting some water from the kitchen, making sarah and kie wonder what could possibly be taking her so long?

maybe they start texting, out of convenience obviously of course being his little sisters best friend and all, and then maybe it turns into sexting, until rafe can’t take it anymore and some sensually filthy smut happens🥰 you can decide the rest if you choose to write this but either way ty for listening to me horny ramblingxhxhjd

ೀ

SURE OF IT

warnings! best friends brother, pogue!reader, sweetheart!reader, maybe ditzy!reader, rafe is kinda chill? i guess?, mention of weed, reader and rafe are pervs, fingering, pinv smut, unprotected sex, car sex, daddy kink, dom!rafe, slapping, choking, lmk if i missed anything :)

your best friends brother is the one for you. (3.3K words, fic, © 2tarbell 2024)

“—and rafe is somewhere upstairs— i know, but we can just ignore him—”

as if.

the beating of your heart picked up at the mention of the eldest cameron.

a small, wicked part of you hoped he would make an appearance. hoped he would taunt and tease you in that deep voice that haunted every single one of your wet dreams.

sarah and kie couldn’t know that, of course.

so you made a show of pursing your lips in distaste, sharing a look with kiara that you prayed didn’t say “i actually wanna fuck him”.

it wasn’t as if you had this crush on him outta nowhere.

no, your best friends brother wanted you just as much. you were sure of it.

as you walked further into the large home with sarah and kiara, you felt a pleasant nervousness settle in your tummy.

you stood straighter as soon as the three of you turned a corner and crossed paths with the man himself. your heart flipped and stomached tighten with arousal.

rafe stood there with his hands in his pockets, obviously not expecting to see any of you.

biting back your smile was hard as you looked up at him. his eyes were narrowed, brows drawn together that mirrored the small pout on his lips.

“the fuck kinda pogue convention is this—?”

“shut up and leave us alone,” sarah was quick to cut him off, moving past him with a shove of her shoulder against his. kiara smirked and pulled you along.

following after your friends like an obedient little puppy was second nature to you. but you stopped a few steps behind, dropping kiara’s hand casually.

you smiled as you looked over your shoulder at rafe. batting your eyelashes and and biting your glossy bottom lip.

“hi, rafey,” your voice was sugary sweet.

a singular brow raised, his gaze softening just so.

“uh— yeah, hi.”

you only giggled softly at his annoyed tone before skimping off to catch up with your girls once you heard kie call for you. missing the way his eyes lingered on your form, taking in the length of your legs and where they disappeared beneath your hand-me-down babydoll dress.

he almost choked when he saw the hem of your dress inch up just enough to catch a glimpse of the bottom of your ass cheeks.

rafe raked a hand through his hair and continued his way through the house, now an uncomfortable tightness in his khakis.

and if he hurried off to a bathroom to jerk off, that was nobodies business but his own.

you couldn’t sleep, no matter what you tried.

counting sheep like jj had taught you to one time, singing a song in your head, nothing was working.

you could only blame it on the dampness in your panties. the white lace stuck to your skin and caused you to shift around on the makeshift blanket bed uncomfortably.

since briefly seeing rafe earlier, your thoughts were caught up entirely in the interaction.

you played it back constantly and found yourself smiling and squeezing your thighs together anew.

thank god you had convinced the girls to let you sleep on the floor — you bit your lip as you slid off your shorts and panties. you balled up the lacey garment and stuffed it in the pocket of your sleep shorts once you had pulled them back up your legs.

you had a plan.

you tiptoed to the door, looking back once before you were gone down the hallway and steps. you saw light from under rafe’s door, and you smiled to yourself. before long, you found yourself in the kitchen.

maybe a glass of water would calm you down enough to sleep — where did they keep the glasses again?

cabinets opened and shut as quietly as you could manage, fearing waking anyone up, but making just enough noise.

just as you were beginning to run out of faith for water and your plan, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

you’ve never snapped your head around so quickly, it’s a surprise it didn’t just keep rolling and onto the floor.

“oh my god—!”

the squeak you let out caused rafe to smirk. he quickly gave your body a once over — heat rushing to his abdomen at the sight of your pebbled nipples peeking through the thin sleep shirt you wore.

one of your dainty hands clutched your chest, trying to will your heart to settle. a giggle bubbled up your throat.

“rafe! don’t scare me like that…”

he chuckled breathlessly. a sound that made your pulse quicken even more.

“what’re you snoopin’ around for, huh?” he mumbled, voice gravelly from being unused.

you looked cute — hair fluffed up and feet clad in stripped socks. cute in a way that made him wanna bend you over the counter and take you right there, middle of the night be damned.

“hmm? oh, jus’— wanted a drink…” you hum, turning and opening the cabinet.

“oh, so y’not just being nosey?”

“and what if i am?”

“i’d say you know better, sweetheart.”

his use of the pet name made you feel faint. you set the cup down next to you on the counter.

you weren’t a stranger to being called that. or anything like it.

the pogue boys often referred to you as such, patronizing in a way. but you never thought it could sound so good. never cared for it until now.

“it’s such a maze in here…” you changed the subject, leaning back against the counter. crossing your arms in a way that you knew made your breasts bulge.

you didn’t miss the quick glance down from rafe. or the harsh swallow.

“yeah? wouldn’t expect you to know anything ‘bout a house like this.”

he was teasing you. outrightly poking fun at the main difference between you both. kook and pogue.

you cocked your head at his words, batting your eyelashes, “c’mon, don’t be mean…”

he smiled and you felt hot all over.

desire completely flushed out any rage and embarrassment. you watched with bated breath as he adjusted his stance and tongued the inside of his cheek.

“did i lie?”

“… yes.”

he scoffed and leaned back against the counter opposite you. the mere feet between you both was charged with sparks.

the way he said your name in that playful, commanding tone had shivers going down your spine. his eyes freezing you in place.

“y’too pretty to be playin’ stupid like that.”

you bit your lip and smiled, “you think ‘m pretty?”

rafe bounced around for a response, trying to seem cool and collected.

suddenly you were all too aware of the stickiness between your thighs. all too aware of sarah and kiara sleeping upstairs. all too aware of the panties you stashed in your pocket.

you smirked and pushed off the counter.

“goodnight, rafe…”

he didn’t say anything as you walked off out of the kitchen, but you heard an intake of breath when you dropped the underwear out of your pocket.

you stopped in your tracks when you heard him choke out your name.

“hmm?”

sparkling eyes and a pretty smile made rafe forget all semblance of how to act.

after all, he was a selfish man.

“nothin’, uh— night, kid.”

too easy.

you hurried back up the stairs, looking over the banister and watching as he bent down and picked up your panties.

a moan threatened to slip past your lips when he brought them up to his face and smelled them.

needless to say, neither of you got any sleep that night.

rafe was losing his mind. he had to be.

what other explanation was there for him to have fisted his cock all night with your panties? painting his hand over and over and it still not feeling like enough.

he was embarrassed, yes, but he also wanted more. he wanted you.

it felt like divine intervention when he phone buzzed and your name popped up on his screen.

—

hiii

sent at 7:48 pm

—

he had been thinking about you all day, completely in his head.

anger and arousal fighting for dominance. it seemed arousal always came out on top.

—

What do you want

sent at 7:50 pm

—

rafe knew he was fucked when he actually felt bad for being short with you.

he scrolled back up through your previous messages. they were all innocent — you simply asking him to open the front door or even begging him to get you and the girls some weed.

he doesn’t know exactly when things changed, when you changed.

bzzz!

—

can u give me a ride :C sarah said she can’t

sent at 7:51 pm

Where you at

sent at 7:51 pm

—

yeah, rafe was thoroughly fucked.

but he really didn’t care anymore as he grabbed his keys off his nightstand and and shoved his feet into some shoes.

he couldn’t stand it anymore. and as he pulled out of the driveway, he knew something had to give.

“you’re a lifesaver, rafey.”

he only hummed in response, putting his truck in reverse and driving out of your quaint little workplaces parking lot.

some dumb pogue flower shop. rafe really didn’t give a shit if he was honest.

he stole glances at you in his passenger seat, looking so perfect and pretty. like you belonged there, belonged next to him.

he could feel himself start to grow hard in his pants when you crossed one leg over the other. the plush of your thighs looking oh-so inviting.

you smiled at him, and rafe rolled his eyes, looking back at the road ahead.

“what?”

“hmm? i can’t look at you?” you teased.

the scoff he let out made you wanna laugh, so you did. a sweet sound that often drove him insane.

and looked at him you did. eyes taking in every inch of exposed bicep that was peeking out from his polo. his skin was tanned from the summer sun and you found yourself wondering what it would look like with your lipstick all over it.

he grit his teeth, setting his jaw.

“y’know i— you’re not— you’re not slick,” the words fell from his mouth in a grumble.

“what—?”

you felt a rush of adrenaline when he pulled the familiar white lace out of his pocket and threw it onto your lap.

before you could question further, rafe pulled the truck to the side of the road. it was hidden between two trees, the setting sun helping to conceal it.

“y’think this shit is funny?” his voice was rough and you were unsure if the question was rhetorical. you stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

it was tense and you couldn’t move. just stared at him blankly.

“i didn’t think that—“

“nah, you didn’t think, did you?”

“i’m— i—“

you didn’t know what to say or do. the last thing you expected was to be scolded by him. confronted by your own actions. but you couldn’t suppress the wave of need that surged through you.

“you— you want me? you want this?” he mumbled, eyes flickering between yours.

the question made you flush again. never in a million years did you think it would end up like this. that you would actually have him. your answer felt obvious.

“mhm.”

“words.” his command made you melt.

“yeah, yes, please,” you breathed and watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

rafe grasped your jaw and pushed his thumb into your mouth, feeling the warm muscle of your tongue wet against his skin. you responded eagerly, sucking on the digit.

“a’ight. then get in the fucking back.”

you registered to click of your own seatbelt and blinked as he reached past you and pushed open the door.

his thumb left your mouth with a pop and he pushed your face away, that mean way that you had always dreamt about. you had half a mind to do anything but what he told you to.

before you knew it, you were on your back and sprawled in the backseat with rafe on top of you. his hand shoved up your skirt, knuckle tortuously rubbing up and down against your panty clad clit.

you were a mess already.

rafe spent at least ten minutes grumbling about how much of a tease you were. detailing every time he just wanted to grab you and fuck you senseless. he made fun of you, of your slickness and delicate (although cheap) panties that were damp by your arousal.

he mocked you as you whined, but let you press pink lips up his arm. the kiss marks looking just as delicious as you thought.

despite the dirty talk and his hand now around your throat, he had yet to kiss you. you watched his mouth form words but you could hardly hear anymore, desperate for more. for anything he would give you.

“hey, hey, ‘m talkin’ to you. dumb fucking girl—“

his palm lightly connected with your cheek, the slight sting bringing a dazed smile to your lips.

rafe chuckled at the already fucked out expression on your face. he’d hardly done anything yet and you were already melted beneath him.

too fucking easy.

his voiced cooed lowly, squeezing your throat tighter, “c’mon, sweetheart. focus, yeah? can you do that f’me?”

you were nodding before he even finished speaking, hips rolling up against his hand as he pushed your panties to the side.

“kiss me? need it, please— need you, rafe—“

the harsh slap against your weeping cunt makes your eyes flutter and a gasping moan is drawn from your lips. you watch with an agape mouth as rafe leans down closer, lips just inches from yours.

“s’not my name, is it?” he tuts.

no fucking way.

you’re breathing heavily against his lips. chest heaving and hands grasping at the front of his shirt.

you knew what he wanted you to say. and you wanted it just as bad.

“daddy, daddy, please—“

that soft plea was all it took for him to lean in and close the gap between you. he devoured your mouth eagerly, parting your lips with his own.

you welcomed his tongue into your mouth, feeling it twist and swirl around yours. you did your best to keep up, but his fingers had started to rub circles against your clit. you were completely gone when he slid a finger in.

“y’got such a needy little pussy, huh? sucking my finger so tight—“

the way he mumbled against your lips would haunt you. he began curling his finger inside of you, searching for that spongey patch that would cause you to see stars.

once he found it, you couldn’t focus on kissing him back anymore. you sat open mouthed, soft sighs and bucking hips spurring him on.

“there it is— gooood girl. c’mon, gimme one and i’ll fuck you like you need,” he rasped out, sliding in a second finger.

the want you felt was unlike anything else. it didn’t take long to have you writhing helplessly beneath him. a half hearted warning of your impending release only making him devilishly smile.

you were brainless by the time he removed his hand and brought glistening fingers to your lips. it was second nature to let your mouth fall open and suckle his large fingers.

the trance only ended when you heard the clinking buckle of his belt. rafe pushed your knees against your chest, not before pulling the neckline of your tank top down to let your tits spill out. (“perfect fuckin’ tits. knew they’d be so gorgeous…”)

your hands pushed up his shirt, needing to see his toned chest. rafe pulled it over his head with one hand, the action alone could’ve made you cum again.

“gonna be a good girl and take it all?”

his words were emphasized by the head of his cock slotting between your folds. the sensation of his tip bumping against your swollen clit making you flinch.

he didn’t move until you spoke, words coming out rushed and slurred from arousal, “mhm, yeah, yeah—“

feeling him push into you made you see stars. he held your gaze and you watched as his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth dropping into a low moan. he was so unfairly attractive.

once he bottomed out, you knew he ruined your pussy for anyone else. never had you felt so full. every vein and ridge of his dick suctioned by your gummy walls.

“nnngghh— ohmygod—“ you gasped out, feeling unable to breath as he spilt you in half.

rafe was unbelievably deep. his hips pressed right up against yours. he was watching as he disappeared into you, glazed over eyes as you arched your back off the seats.

his voice was strained, “s’pretty like this. taking me so well.”

you couldn’t make coherent sentences, you felt felt him everywhere. the way he had your knees pressed against your chest allowed him to slide in and out somehow deeper each time.

“i can’t— can’t— nnnngghhh—“ the sounds you were making sounded like sobs.

“yeah— yes, you can, baby. doing so well, letting me ruin this pretty cunt…”

rafe reached a hand down and pressed on your lower stomach. the pressure allowed for more stimulation of your g-spot but also allowed him to feel his cock thrusting in and out.

he took your hand and placed it, holding it against your abdomen with his. you choked at the feeling.

“feel that? that’s me. that’s daddy fuckin’ you stupid, yeah?”

“jesus fucking christ—“

rafe breathed out a laugh at your curse. you were becoming less and less coherent as he fucked you, your eyes threatening to roll back when his thumb found your clit again.

he slapped you again, urging your eyes back on him. “nuh-uh, look at me, kid, there ya go—“

tears flooded down your cheeks as his hips slapped against yours with more fervor. it was too much, your body was aching for release.

he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. the warmth of his mouth made you start rocking your hips to meet his. rafe groaned and increased his pace, the sticky wet sounds filling the truck.

it was sloppy and messy, you were almost embarrassed at how wet you were. rafe didn’t care though, not when he was finally claiming the girl he’s wanted for so long.

“mmf— y’gonna cum on this cock? gimme that shit, c’mon—“

you didn’t need another invitation. you were creaming on his pulsing length in seconds, hot white blinding your vision and a pleasant fuzziness blocking out your senses.

the warmth of his release made you shudder as he shallowly fucked into you with low groans that curled up into whines. his own orgasm made his rhythm stutter. he collapsed onto you in a sweaty heap.

neither of you spoke for a few moments, caught up in an intimate quiet that seemed so fragile. rafe littered kisses across your neck and collarbone. his touch soft in a way you’d never expect. you scratched his scalp with your painted nails, feeling a rush of affection when he practically purred.

finally you whispered, “are you… mad at me?”

his head snapped up, questioning and lingering lust clouding his blue eyes. he brought a hand up and brushed hair away from your face.

“no, ‘m not mad. never was…” he mumbled hoarsely.

the relief was visible in your tired features. rafe felt a pang of something in his chest… guilt? longing?

“do you… i mean… what just happened?” you asked dumbly, feeling the weight of confusion settling in your bones.

he shushed you, pressing his lips to yours so tenderly, it felt unreal. a stark contrast to the heated encounter you two just shared.

“lemme… take you out?”

the question felt foreign on his lips, a soft tone he never really used.

but your smile was radiant.

rafe felt stupid for not asking sooner if it meant he got to see that reaction. you nuzzled his nose with yours gently.

he huffed, feeling himself grow mushy under your adoring gaze. you just giggled in that precious way that made him feel weak. nodding eagerly and wrapping your arms around his neck.

your best friends brother was the one for you. you were sure of it.

© 2tarbell 2024

[nhlclover]

LAST CHRISTMAS QUINN HUGHES

pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes

summary: you are forced to confront lingering emotions and the complexities of a past romance when you and quinn cross paths at a holiday party.

warnings: no unfaithfulness but pretty damn close, quinn not being the greatest person/boyfriend, reader isn't that good either

wc: 2.82k

notes: based on 'last christmas' by wham!. i am fully aware that this is an extremely gay song, but i love the plot so i altered the interpretation a bit. hope you enjoy :)

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day, you gave it away

The house hummed lowly, holiday conversations bouncing off the walls. You navigated the crowded living room, clutching a cocktail glass that held the homemade mixture that Colleen was calling ‘Mistletoe Kiss’. It was tart and slightly bitter — much like the season itself. Colleen was hosting a last-minute bash before everyone scattered for the holidays, a final get-together before the new year. The rush of the holiday season was clearly getting to everyone, seasonal jet lag laced in all your friends' eyes.

You were doing your best to keep your head down, getting yourself stuck in conversations to keep yourself occupied, and never exposing yourself to a potential interaction with Quinn. 

The knowledge of his presence had landed like a gut punch earlier when Colleen’s boyfriend, Kyle, casually mentioned he’d arrived. “Yeah, Hughesy just got here. Grabbed a beer in the kitchen,” he’d said, completely oblivious to the ripple it sent through you.

Your history with Quinn was beyond complicated. For years you liked him — really liked him. When Colleen introduced you to one of her boyfriend's friends, you weren’t expecting to fall as hard as you did. 

Quinn had this way of making everything feel lighter just by walking into the room. His smile, easy and genuine, had a magnetic pull, and his laugh — deep and sincere — could dissolve any tension in an instant. It wasn’t just his looks, though they were undeniable. It was how he made you feel like you were the only person in the room, even when the place was filled with people.

But back then, Quinn was in a relationship, and you were the friend. The one who listened when he vented about the highs and lows of his relationship, the one who offered advice when things felt rough. You never let your feelings show — kept them buried deep, a secret you couldn't share without risking the delicate balance of friendship you’d worked so hard to maintain.

Then, the inevitable happened. Quinn and his girlfriend broke up. The breakup was messy, full of unanswered questions, lingering emotions, and unspoken regret. But through it all, you were there for him. The late-night phone calls, the long walks that turned into marathon chats about life and love. You were there as he processed his feelings, as he tried to make sense of everything that had unraveled. You listened, you comforted, and you kept your distance — telling yourself that you were just being a good friend.

But when he kissed you that night, everything shifted. It was a quiet evening, after a few too many drinks, the weight of the conversation having settled into something more comfortable between you two. You were sitting on the couch, the hum of the party muffled in the background, and Quinn, in that way of his, leaned in close. His eyes searched yours for something, as if asking for permission, and then his lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss.

For a moment, you thought you might wake up from some kind of dream. You never expected it to happen. The line between friendship and something else had been so carefully drawn, and yet here you were, tangled in the blur of it all. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed him back, your heart racing as the world around you disappeared.

That kiss changed everything. It was the moment you realized that maybe you had been falling for Quinn all along, not just in the way of a casual crush, but in a deeper, more consuming way. It was never just about being his friend. Somewhere along the way, you had become someone who wanted more than just to comfort him through the pain of his past relationship. You wanted to be a part of his future.

The shift in your relationship was seamless, like turning a page to the next chapter. Quinn wasn’t the type to make grand declarations, but in his quiet, steady way, he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. He showed up with coffee when he knew you’d had a rough day and pulled you into late-night drives just because he wanted your company. For a few fleeting weeks, everything felt like it was falling into place.

But there was always a part of you waiting for the other shoe to drop. Quinn was kind and thoughtful, but he was also guarded — his walls didn’t come down easily, even for you. You sensed that he was still carrying the weight of his past relationship, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

Just a few days after you’d rung in the New Year with a sweet connection of your lips, Quinn was sat on your couch with his hands clenched in his lap, telling you he wasn’t ready for anything. The sting of his previous relationship still lingered despite reassurances that you’d helped him get through it. 

The winter months after that conversation were some of the hardest you’d ever endured. It wasn’t just the biting chill in the Vancouver air or the relentless gray skies; it was the hollow ache in your chest that followed you everywhere. The city itself felt like a constant reminder of Quinn. His face was plastered on billboards, buses, and newsstands, the unmistakable symbol of the Canucks’ future. You couldn’t even grab a coffee without overhearing someone discussing his latest performance on the ice.

You buried yourself in work, determined to fill your days with enough activity to keep your thoughts at bay. But no matter how much you distracted yourself, memories of him crept in like the cold drafts under your door. The moments you’d shared replayed in your mind on an endless loop, leaving you wondering if he regretted kissing you or if it had meant as much to him as it had to you.

By the time spring arrived, you were ready for a change. The first thing was your hair. You traded your usual style for a rich, darker color and committed to letting it grow long for the first time in years. There was something cathartic about watching the stylist cover up the light color that felt too tied to your old self. Next, you tackled your wardrobe. Out went the comfortable but somewhat juvenile staples, and in their place came sleek blazers, tailored pants, and minimalist jewelry. You wanted to project confidence and maturity, even if you were still trying to find your footing internally.

Spring turned into summer, and with it came an unexpected lightness. You threw yourself into hobbies you’d neglected — morning yoga classes, weekend hikes, evenings spent sketching at the beach. It was during one of those hikes that you met Caleb. He was warm, easygoing, and funny in a way that caught you off guard. He didn’t play hockey — thank God — but he shared your love of the outdoors and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.

Dating Caleb was simple in a way that being with Quinn never had been. He made you laugh and let you take the lead when you needed space. Over time, you convinced yourself that you were moving on, that you were happy. And you were — mostly. But there was always a part of you that felt like you were lying to yourself like you’d left a piece of your heart behind with someone who didn’t know what to do with it.

By the time fall rolled around, you had settled into a comfortable rhythm with Caleb. But Vancouver’s hockey season was back in full swing, and with it came the constant reminders of Quinn. You saw him in advertisements along the streets, in post-game interviews on TV, and in casual mentions from friends. He was everywhere, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the shadow he cast over your life.

Now, standing in Colleen’s crowded living room, the knowledge that Quinn was here felt like a cruel twist of fate. You avoided the kitchen like the plague, keeping a safe distance while you plastered on polite smiles and engaged in surface-level conversations. Every nerve in your body was on edge, hyperaware of the possibility that at any moment, you might turn a corner and see him.

It wasn’t fair. You’d done everything you could to move forward, yet here he was, pulling you back into the orbit of what could have been. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way. Did he think of you when he passed your street? Did he ever regret telling you he wasn’t ready, or had he moved on completely?

You moved through the space, finding a new conversation to occupy yourself in every time the old one faltered, doing your best to avoid Quinn. You stopped at the entry of the living room, spotting Kyle holding court near the fireplace, his animated storytelling drawing bursts of laughter from the small crowd around him. 

Caleb stood nearby, his grin soft and familiar as he leaned against the wall, his broad shoulders relaxed in the easy way that had initially drawn you to him. Watching him, a small smile tugged at your lips. Caleb didn’t demand space in your life — he simply filled it, effortlessly complementing your days. Being with Caleb was uncomplicated. He didn’t carry the weight of unspoken feelings or unresolved emotions. It was light, refreshing.

But light wasn’t the same as fulfilling.

A pang of guilt gnawed at you as you realized your thoughts had wandered from Caleb to the person you’d spent all evening avoiding. Despite your best efforts, Quinn remained an unfading part of your narrative. No amount of moving on seemed to erase him completely.

As you lingered in the corner of the living room, trying to fade into the background, a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Your heart jolted. You turned, your eyes landing on Quinn. He stood just inches away, his presence as commanding as ever. He had one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his dark jeans, the other holding a bottle of beer. His hair was slightly longer, curling at the ends, and the familiar cut of his jawline sent an unwelcome pang through your chest. His eyes raked over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious of the changes he was referencing — the darker hair, the clothes.

You find the strength inside you to muscle out some words. “Yeah well… it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me.”

Quinn lets out a soft laugh, nodding slightly. “The hair suits you,” he added, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks,” you managed, your voice steady despite the storm brewing in your chest. You felt the heat of his gaze, his attention unnervingly focused. “You look good too,” you added, gesturing vaguely toward him. It was true — he always did, but now there was something different. An ease, maybe, or a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” Quinn said, his tone light but his eyes searching.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you lied, taking a sip of your drink to buy yourself a moment. “Just…busy, you know? Catching up with people.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, the kind that lingers in the space between two people with too much history and not enough closure. You glanced over to Caleb, hoping he saw you talking to your ex, hoping he’d come over and rescue you from the situation you couldn’t seem to tear yourself away from. However, the stayed intensely focused on the story Kyle was telling, leaving you to your own defenses. 

Quinn followed your gaze across the room, landing on the guy he’d seen you arrive with earlier in the night. “Who’s he?”

Your eyes snapped back to Quinn as he tipped his beer bottle to his lips. You felt your cheeks warm, though whether from the cocktail or the sudden shift in conversation, you weren’t sure. “Caleb,” you said, his name firm and steady in your mouth, a reminder to yourself as much as to Quinn. “He’s…he’s great.”

Quinn nodded, his eyes locking on yours with that steady, unreadable gaze he always seemed to have. “That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

You hesitated, unsure why you felt the need to elaborate but knowing you couldn’t leave it at that. “He’s been really good to me, actually. Supportive, kind… everything you’d hope for.” The words came out earnest, almost defensive, like you were trying to prove something — to him, to yourself.

Quinn’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “That’s…that’s what you deserve,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice cutting through you like a knife. The words were kind, but the way he said them made your chest ache. You opened your mouth to respond, but Quinn stepped closer, the subtle movement making your breath hitch. He studied you intently, his eyes tracing your face like he was committing it to memory.

“Are you happy?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart stumbled, the question catching you off guard. “Quinn…”

“Are you?” he pressed, his tone gentle but insistent. His gaze dipped briefly to your lips, and the air between you crackled with tension. “Because I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m okay with this — with seeing you with someone else — but I’m not. I miss you.”

The world seemed to narrow in that moment, the low hum of Colleen's holiday party fading into a distant echo. Quinn's words lingered in the air between you, heavy with longing and regret, and you felt your pulse quicken as he stepped closer. His familiar scent—a mix of fresh pine and something distinctly his—wrapped around you like a memory you couldn’t shake. The ache in your chest deepened as his gaze flicked to your lips again, and your breath caught.

You were terrified. Not of him, but of yourself. Of how easily you could lean into him, let him kiss you, and lose yourself in the familiarity of his touch. And the scariest part? You wanted to. Despite Caleb, despite everything, there was a part of you that ached to feel Quinn’s lips on yours again. To know, even for a fleeting moment, that he still cared.

But you couldn’t. Could you?

The sound of Caleb’s laughter cut through the moment like a lifeline. You turned your head toward the fireplace, where Caleb stood, his grin wide and carefree as he laughed at something Kyle had said. His warmth, his steadiness, and the way he had so effortlessly become a part of your life came rushing back to you. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be a footnote in a story still haunted by Quinn Hughes.

Stepping back, you forced yourself to put space between you and Quinn, the cocktail glass trembling slightly in your grip. “Happy Christmas, Quinn,” you said softly, the words catching in your throat but firm enough to leave no room for ambiguity.

Quinn blinked, caught off guard by your sudden retreat. His brow furrowed slightly, as though he wanted to say more, to stop you, but he didn’t. He simply nodded, his jaw tightening as he stepped aside to let you pass.

You moved through the room on autopilot, weaving through clusters of partygoers until you reached Caleb’s side. He looked up as you approached, his easy smile breaking into something warmer when he saw you.

“Hey, you okay?” Caleb asked, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The gesture was small but grounding, anchoring you in the moment.

You nodded, forcing a smile as you slipped your hand into his. “Yeah, I am now.”

He smiled back, leaning in to press a light kiss to your temple. The simple gesture was everything you needed in that moment—a reminder of what you had, of the life you were trying to build, even if it wasn’t perfect.

But as Caleb’s attention shifted back to Kyle’s story, you couldn’t stop the fleeting glance over your shoulder. Quinn was still standing where you’d left him, his expression unreadable as he watched you. For a moment, your eyes met, and the weight of everything unsaid settled heavily between you.

You looked away first, turning back to Caleb and focusing on the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his hand in yours. You had made your choice—at least for now. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t over. Quinn had a way of lingering, of leaving his mark on your life even when he wasn’t trying.

And no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, part of you still wasn’t sure if letting him go was the right thing to do.

[soobnny]

ten things han jisung says when he thinks you’re asleep — fluff, established relationship, little angst

chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | HAN | felix | seungmin | jeongin

that marks the end of this series!

one. there's this song that's been stuck in my head for days now. it's called love me harder by the woodz. i think you'll really like it too. i think i can't stop listening to it because it reminds me of you. there's a line that goes, 'everyday in my head, i think you're the one', and i always find myself thinking about you. i really think you're the one for me, pretty girl. i'll find a time to tell you this when you're awake. i'm just nervous i'll scare you away if you found out just how much i love you.

two. i still think about the first time you ever kissed me. i don't think i'll ever forget about it. ah, you have me wrapped up around your finger, darling.

three. lee know makes fun of me because i've been watching a lot of romance anime lately. he's just jealous because i have someone as lovely as you to think about when we watch them together.

four. thank you for being exactly the way that you are and for giving me a love i've needed my whole life.

five. i don't think my jokes are very funny. i said the same joke i told you last night to the boys today, but they didn't laugh as hard as you did. seungmin even made fun of me. thank you for laughing at all my jokes. even when they aren't funny. seeing you smile is enough of an accomplishment for me.

six. ah, i can't believe i'm with the girl i've been in love with for forever in college. someone pinch me, actually let me pinch myse—ouch. okay, this is real. this is real. oh my god, this is real, and i'm in love with you and you're in love with me. i love you. i'm completely, endlessly, madly in love with you. i can't believe you're actually here and sleeping next to me. i'm not dreaming this up, not in the way i did before. this is real. wow.

seven. you know, there were so many times i thought of giving up. but, you believing in me was enough reason why i didn't stop even when i lost hope sometimes. thank you for believing in me. you make me strong.

eight. it's getting bad again. i'm scared you'll eventually see me the way that i see myself, and you'll end up leaving.

nine. you're my person, did you know? in that show you keep talking about. what was it, grey's anatomy? i can be your meredith, or the other one. i don't really know how this works because i haven't seen a single episode. i just listen to you when you rant about it. but you're my person. my favorite person, in fact.

ten. you make me feel so human.

[clementinegreye]

the sweetest sin of all

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader ||

summary: in the midst of investigating a serial killer who chooses victims based on the seven deadly sins, aaron hotchner finds himself entangled in more than just the case (inspired by hozier's new song 'too sweet'):

word count: 3.4k

warnings: heavy tension, hurt comfort, crossing professional boundaries and general talks of CM violence and murder (nothing graphic):

a/n: hi! i wrote this entire thing for a friend, but maybe you might enjoy it too! this is my first piece of writing on this new blog so if you like feel free to like, reblog or even just let me know! and hopefully if it goes well there'll be more soon!

a/n update: it went well, here's part two!)

From the dim lighting of the office it was almost impossible to tell the exact lateness of the night. His watch consistently ticking, remained a steady rhythm. He ran a hand across his face, his tie undone and lying, long discarded on his desk. The first few buttons of his shirt undone, unbuttoned and an almost vulnerable step away from his usual armour. Papers containing violence were spread haphazardly and with chaos across his desk. A nearly forgotten glass of strong neat whiskey sat in place of his usual bitter coffee.

His team had been on the case for nearly a week, and Hotch felt they were no closer to catching the Unsub. The whole team was feeling the pressure. The profile told him they were dealing with a moral enforcer, a highly organised, violent offender with a clear mission. It should have been easy for them but bodies seemed to be continuously appearing and everyone was feeling uneasy and frustrated.

He was drowning in the details of this case, the Unsub's pattern ever-present in his mind. He thought of the remaining sins - envy, wrath, and lust - and something burned deep within his chest. It was a dangerous game they played, one where the stakes were higher than any case he'd ever worked on.

Being head of the team he felt the responsibility more vehemently than the rest, and he was doing something he’d promised the team he wouldn’t. He was letting it get to him.

There’d been four victims so far, each killed to match one of the seven deadly sins. So far his victims had been; gluttony - an overzealous upscale restaurant critic who binged food that he slated publicly, greed - a high-profile stock broker with the inability to control his obsession with obtaining more of his client's money, sloth - a wealthy trust fund baby who squandered their university scholarship out of laziness and pride - a wealthy woman with a shopping addiction who frequented beauty salons and had an intense social media presence flaunting herself.

Each victim came from a different geographical area of the city and Garcia hadn’t been able to uncover any crossover between their lives where it might have been somewhere they could have met the Unsub. There were no leads and the team felt at a loss. 

Knowing the Unsub was three victims away from the end of his mission, Hotch knew they were close to losing him if they didn’t catch a break soon. He’d sent the team home to get some sleep and told them to be ready bright and early the next day. Yet Hotch couldn't bring himself to leave the office, hoping the crime scene photos might uncover something he'd missed. He thought everyone had listened to his orders until he was drawn away from the graphic images in front of him by a gentle knock at the door.

"Come in." He croaked harshly, the hours of not speaking catching up to his vocal chords.

It was her. Of course, it was her.

She always had a way of pulling him from the edge, of grounding him when the world became too much. In the chaos and uncertainty of their work, she was his constant, his unwavering beacon of light. She was his solace, his calm in the storm, and in that moment, he allowed himself to get lost in her.

She was like honey, dripping out and pooling where flies could get stuck on the intoxication and drown. He could feel it, the danger she could be. If he’d been a man less controlled he could see how she could be his every downfall and triumph. In her, he saw a reflection of all his desires and fears. She was every strength and weakness. In the moment, he couldn't help but want to drown in the intoxicating allure of her, his deadly and dangerous, yet irresistibly sweet sin.

‘I’m heading home for the night…’ Her voice trailed off in a quiet hush to match the silence of the office. 

The creases in his forehead from pouring over crime scenes and endless theories seemed to smooth out. He breathed out hours' worth of tension in a single breath, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn upwards so quickly that unless she’d been a profiler paying attention she might not have noticed. The way his body language shifted was subtle enough to the untrained eye, but not to her. He couldn’t conceal himself in his controlled, cold-edged front as well as he usually could when she was around.

"I gave those orders hours ago." He mused, leaning back in his chair, the breath of a sigh dying on his lips.

She gently shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "I thought you might be used to me defying your orders by now, Hotch. You should take your own advice, didn’t you promise to stop working so late," she replied, a glint in her eyes that held an irresistible challenge. Their playful banter was a welcome change from the dark seriousness that he’d been so consumed by moments ago.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief waiting for his retort.

"I didn’t promise anything." He huffed.

She didn’t wait for an invitation, she didn’t need to. Crossing the threshold of his office and making her way to the imposing desk of the Unit Chief.

She’d not seen her boss look so troubled by a case in a long time. Her gaze was drawn to him as his elbows leaned against the desk, his usually impeccable suit dishevelled. She noted the way the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of the man beneath the stoic FBI Unit Chief. It was a stark contrast to the man who was always put together, always in control. Yet, in that moment, he looked anything but. Not yet unravelled, but on the edge of it.

She moved further into the office, she was not someone who second-guessed her decisions. She walked with confidence, and perched herself on the edge of his desk, letting her legs dangle over the edge her black work trousers tight across her thighs. She rested her hand on the desk, dangerously close to her Hotch’s, mere centimetres.

His gaze shifted from the papers in front of him and followed the contours of her face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. He swallowed hard, his mind flickering with thoughts he'd held at bay for far too long. But he was Unit Chief, and professionalism might as well have been his middle name. He lightly shook his head, feeling the back of his eyes burn from the focus he’d had all day.

Hotch wasn’t one to open up, he was always controlled but around her, there was a tug at the stitches of his personality.

‘I have a bad feeling about this case.’ He hummed, the night breeze catching against the window. He could smell her perfume, mixing with the scent of burnt coffee and paper. He dare not think about it too long.

He reached across his desk and grabbed his near-forgotten whiskey, downing it in one drag. He bent towards where her legs were hanging over his desk, motioning for her to lift them. She drew them up towards her chest and he opened the drawer beneath her pulling an expensive-looking bottle from it and refilling the glass, this time handing it to her. Their fingers grazed slightly with the exchange. His warm, hers icy cold - meeting to form the perfect temperature.

‘We have no leads. I always trust the profile, but this case… We’ve got nothing.’ His eyes watched her as she swirled the liquid around the glass, her eyes watching it splash against the sides. He sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands before leaning his head back, a deep exhale exiting his thin lips.

‘We’ll get him.’ She said confidently, something shifted in her tone. It was like a dagger's sharp edge, certainty dripping off it like blood. He almost believed her, but she could see the already dim light dissipating from his dark eyes. She felt sympathy pooling in the tips of her fingers. If she didn’t hadn’t been holding their shared glass she might have reached out and touched him so that it could bleed from her into him, so that he would feel less alone.

She leaned back slightly, her eyes searching his. It was unclear what she was searching for in them. He couldn’t read her entirely, even with all his years of profiling. When she smiled, he felt his heart catch in his throat. It was like looking directly at the sun. Burning and bright hot.

‘You should follow your own orders… And for once so should I. Go home. Get some rest.’ She downed the liquid with a swift tip of her head. Hotch watched the curve of her neck as she moved and the way she licked her lips catching a fallen drop of liquor. She laid the glass down on the desk, allowing her hand to brush over his. His skin crackled with electricity.

She moved with grace as she climbed down from his desk. That one moment shared more intimate than she’d expected it to feel, with their proximity, the lateness of the hour and the unusually undone Aaron sitting at his desk.

His eyes followed her every movement, skin stinging as if he’d been burned. She was halfway to the door before he heard himself call out to her. It almost didn’t sound like his own voice.

‘Wait. Don’t go yet. Come here.’ His voice was firm like it always was, but there was a depth to it that she hadn’t heard before. One she’d always longed for. His eyes glinted with dark hues as he watched her turn from the door. He almost breathed out in relief.

She had an unreadable expression. One that set the blood in his veins on fire. She lowered her head, and with it, her eyes darkened. He stood from his desk, making his way over to her with steps that felt dreamlike. Their eyes met with an energy never shared before and once in front of her he reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear so that he had an unobscured view of her whole face. The same face that had the power to completely undo him.

Her eyes widened slightly as if surprised by his gentle touch, but at the same time, there was a knowing in them as if she’d been waiting for it all along. She remained still, and his heart pounded in his chest as he looked into his eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them. It felt like any words would have made the moment less intimate.

His hand lingered against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his touch was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of his office. Her skin felt like it was burning under him. The silence between them was palpable, filled with the yet unspoken words and emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Hotch, usually so controlled in his feelings suddenly felt so unsteady. His heart beat suspiciously with the feeling that perhaps he’d crossed a line.

‘How do you know?’ He whispered, eyes scanning hers as if he were a detective trying to uncover the evidence that gave her certainty. In the light of the office, she looked like she’d been hand carved, art that he’d been lucky enough to be in the presence of. He traced his thumb over her lips, eyes heavy with a mixture of desire and something else she couldn't quite place. It was a dangerous gesture, one that could endanger his whole career.

'I trust you, and that’s all I need to know that we’ll get him.' she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes glazed with a devotion that almost made him groan. The conviction of her words pierced his wavering confidence. He’d gone from feeling almost hopeless to buzzing with determination.

He let his hand fall away from her face, but the warmth lingered, an almost promise that what she’d been sure she’d felt moments ago had indeed been real. Reality swarmed his brain, aware of the situation he’d almost found himself in. He straightened up, posture contrasting his relatively dishevelled exterior.

"You’re right, you should follow my orders. Go home, get some rest. I told the team we’d start fresh in the morning," he instructed, a softness in his voice that was rarely displayed. But she didn’t move, and he didn’t either.

He watched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, the tension in the room was palpable, an electrifying current that Hotch didn’t dare to break. Silence blanketed them, only broken by the ticking of his watch. It was a solitary reminder of the passing time, yet the urgency of their case had fallen to the back of his mind.

‘Close the door.’ She instructed, using the same authority that Hotch usually spoke with. The change in dynamic almost made him falter, but with a small smirk, he moved towards the door. He’d been aware of the power imbalance he held in his position but with the tone of her voice, there was a subtle shift in the air between them. She moved back towards his desk with certainty. Moving his name tag so she could perch to face the dark space of the office.

Their eyes met across the room. She tilted her head to the side, examining his body language. As he locked the door behind him, the air seemed to constrict around them, the room becoming a world of its own where only they existed. The only sound in the room was the soft click of the lock and their breathing. It echoed throughout the office, bouncing off the walls and settling into their bones. The tension escalated, but it was different now, charged with an anticipation that neither of them could ignore.

He might have been unit chief, but right here, right now, she was in charge. The line between professional and personal blurred dangerously as their eyes locked, a promise of something more hanging in the balance. The air was charged now, they were poised, daring each other to make the first move. They both knew that they were on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could have dire consequences professionally.

Yet, the pull was too strong to ignore, and for the first time, Hotch allowed himself to teeter on the edge, his resolve tested by the powerful undercurrent of desire that crackled between them. Tonight, they were not just colleagues, they were two individuals drawn together by an irresistible force. In the room, the undeniable chemistry that had been simmering under the surface for far too long had nowhere to hide.

On the desk, she rested each hand palm down to the side of her thighs and opened her legs wider to create space for his body to fit. She moved her head in a motion for him to step forward. Hotch couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, pupils were blown wide from more than just the darkness of the room. How long had he craved something so forbidden, how long had he denied himself the idea that this could ever happen?

As he moved closer to her, he couldn't help but think about the deadly sin of lust, a strong passion or longing that was deemed sinful. Here he was, teetering on the edge of crossing professional boundaries, something he’d never done. The balance of energy in the room was no longer solely from the stress of the case, it was about them - about her. He could have tried to argue that it was, but no jury in the state would believe him. If this were a trial, he was about to be found guilty.

The Unsub's deadly pattern echoed in his mind - the three sins he’d yet to kill for; envy, jealousy over another's life or possessions, wrath, a violent anger driven by hatred, and finally, lust, a powerful desire that can become all-consuming, much like the craving he was experiencing in that very moment. Looking upon her he felt envious of anyone who had ever been allowed to touch her, he felt wrath for anyone who had ever wronged or hurt her, and most of all he felt lust. He definitely felt lust, his desire for her taking over all his senses.

Was he caught between duty and desire? No, he had no doubt in his mind. The sheer intensity of her shared gaze and the way she was beckoning him forward smashed the boundaries of their relationship. He’d never seen her in this light, never dared to allow himself to think of her like this. But now she was in front of him how could he ever deny himself something so sweet?

Hotch had always been a man of control, a man who kept his emotions in check. But in this room, with the charged atmosphere heavy between them, he felt his resolve wavering. He was caught in the powerful current of the desire for her that he’d managed to keep at bay. He didn’t want to be in control anymore. 

He closed the distance between them, fitting himself between her legs, his hands landing on her hips as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She brought one hand off the desk to hold the waistband of his suit trousers, tugging lightly.

“Are you finally going to kiss me, Agent Hotchner?” She asked, voice dripping with honey. Sweetness laced with danger that hit him right in the chest like a bullet.

She was an intoxicating mix of all seven, a deadly sin in her own right. She was his lust, his unending desire. She was his gluttony, the one he wanted to consume endlessly. She was his greed, the one he wanted all for himself. She was his sloth, his reason for inertia. She was his wrath, the one who could ignite a fire in him like no other. She was his envy, the one he admired and coveted. And she was his pride, the one who made him feel like he was on top of the world.

‘You will be the ruin of me.’ He breathed, his eyes almost black. He looked down at her taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. He was entirely wrapped around her finger. Tonight, he decided, he would willingly drown in this sweet sin, consequences be damned.

‘That is entirely my intention.’ She chuckled and he groaned, a guttural sound that felt foreign to him.

"Only if you promise not to tell the team," he murmured, a playful undertone to his voice.

As he leaned down to capture her lips with his, he knew without a doubt that this was a deadly sin he was willing to commit. It was both sweet and intense, a perfect reflection of their now complicated relationship.

Her lips tasted of the whiskey they'd shared, sweet with a hint of burn that left him wanting more. She tasted like a curse, sickeningly sweet as if to cause him decay. He deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. He was standing on the cliff of the unknown, and he was more than willing to jump and fall headfirst.

As he pulled away, he couldn't help but study her face. He’d come face to face with endless serial killers, and been in the presence of pure evil. But he’d never been so close to something so dangerous. She was a temptation he couldn't resist. Sweeter than any apple in the Garden of Eden. He traced the contours of her face with his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers.

He could still taste her on the back of his tongue, sugar and shared whiskey burning. He’d never been so certain that he’d been willing to trade his control for the intoxicating sweetness that was her. She was a forbidden fruit that was too alluring to resist, and Aaron Hotchner had no more resistance left in him. Not now he’d tasted something so delicious.

After all, wasn't life about balancing the deadly sins and virtues? Tonight, he chose to sin.

(you can now read part two here!)

[fortunapre]

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ♫ Lando Norris x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ♫ You Lando can’t stay away from each other, no matter how bad you should be running for the hills.

This is heavily inspired by the song “Run for the Hills” by Tate McRae

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 16+, use of Y/n, 3rd Person POV

♪ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 ♪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ♪ 𝐋𝐍𝟒 ♪ 𝟐.𝟓𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

Did this idea also come from the possibility that Lando (or his car) might be featured in Tate’s new music video? yes. Yes, it did.

Never gonna ever be more than just something that’s fucking me up,

Should run for the hills, should run for the hills

Should be running for the hills the way you touch me.

This dilemma you’re in, is nothing new. Partners with benefits? Friends with benefits? Sure, but it's a bit more complicated than Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake. 

If anyone, meaning anyone, found out about your relationship (if you could even call it that), you’d both be fired. Ended. Then in your case, probably disowned. 

Across from the table, your secret sits a few seats away, chatting with another member of the team. Occasionally, you make eye contact and its never casual glances because his eyes hold a type of want that makes your skin burn. Each time your eyes meet, it’s like a secret signal. His hazel eyes hold promises that you swear could end wars. Or start them. Whatever he wanted, probably. 

No matter how much tension and stolen glances passed between you two, nothing could ever come of it tonight. He, Lando Norris, is a McLaren Formula One racing driver, and you are untouchable to him. Because you are the daughter of a rich man, a rich man who happens to be the leading sponsor of the McLaren Racing team. Your father’s business is so large, that if any reporter, coworker, friend, or teammate caught wind of an interpersonal relationship between you and Lando, he’d be ruined. Nothing stops the media from taking lies and twisting them for any audience that’ll listen. 

It’s been about six months of team dinners and other events since your family became a McLaren business partner. Six months where you’ve gotten way too close to Lando. Originally, you listened to your father’s warnings about dating anyone McLaren-related, but with Lando, you couldn’t help yourself.

The flirting became more than playful, and the careful touches became purposeful. Up until last night, the most you two had ever physically interacted is small brushes of your hands in crowded rooms, or that one time you swear he grazed your leg while sitting in a conference. Then last night, at the hotel your family and him were conveniently sharing, you let your needs win. You went to his room because you couldn’t sleep and wanted company at first, but then he invited you to his room's patio hot tub. 

Hotels, late nights, hands through my hair,

Long talks, red eyes, clothes everywhere…

You talked a bit, kissed a bit, kissed more, explored each other, but never did anything serious. Eventually, you both shared the realization that your family might come looking for you, so you stopped. However, ever since you left him last night, you’ve only been able to think about his hands and his lips. Little did you know, he was stuck on the same thing.

You both wanted it, and were willing to throw everything out of the window just to be in each other's reach. So, what was stopping you?

That was the same question that was running through both you and Lando’s mind tonight.

‘What’s stopping us?’ Your eyes tried to communicate to him, while tilting your head a bit. 

He let a smirk slip at first, but then immediately hid it, hoping no one caught him. If anyone followed his eyesight, they’d easily catch you two looking at each other with more fire than the hibachi stove next to you. 

You ate silently and talked to other business moguls around the table, trying your hardest to ignore how Lando was practically undressing you with his eyes. 

“So, Y/N, how’s life treating you?” A man who is two seats away from you changed the subject from baseball and directed it to you. He was wearing a classic pinstripe 3-piece suit that looked like it was going to pop open any second. He had an air that absolutely radiated money, or perhaps that was just the cologne that’s been burning your nose all night. 

You twitched your nose at the smell, then plastered a fake smile when looking at the man. “As good as it can get, I guess.” You answered him and took a look around the table, seeing how everybody has stopped to listen to your conversation. 

There were some people that you recognized, and some that you didn’t. (And one person that you wished you knew everything about.) Some people wore nice clothing, and others were dressed in casual or orange. 

“Good, good,” the man added while stabbing a piece of steak, swirling it in brown sauce on his plate. He shoveled the food into his mouth and continued nodding like he was still going to speak. He waved his fork in your direction, as he chewed. At first, he looked like he would never swallow the food. Finally, with what looked like a painful gulp, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “You, uh, getting into the family business anytime soon?”

“Sorry?” I asked, slightly confused with his wording. I was already in the family business, and I was sure he already knew that.

“Excuse me,” he began again. “I only meant to ask if you had put any thought into properly naming yourself an owner of your family’s company.” 

You were at an age where most business owners started inheriting the business, but your father was as healthy as ever, so there was no need to think about that. Maybe the man was looking for an opening to join your family’s company? 

“Oh, um, I’ve already prepared myself to inherit the business when the time comes, if that’s what you're referring to, but my place as a business representative is serving me well enough at the moment.”

The man nodded again, shoveled more meat into his mouth, nodded more, then gulped. “Ahhh, I see.” 

His words shouldn’t have meant anything rash, but his tone was so sour that I almost flinched. Anyone that wasn’t in the industry wouldn’t think twice about his wording, but when you’ve been surrounded by people like him all of your life, you catch the real meanings. In high class motorsport business, people rarely ever say what they actually mean, so you have to learn to understand their underlying cues. 

For example, someone could say “your business has been running pretty consistently recently,” when they really mean “I know you're going into debt nana nana boo boo.”

This man said “Ahhh… I see,” in a way that sounded very impolite.

“Sorry, but it almost sounded like you were doubting my daughter’s future.” Your father spoke up, cutting off the man who was speaking to you. Your father must have also caught on to the man’s tone. The man shook his head quickly and looked around the table, trying to explain. Everyone’s attention was still on our conversation. 

Even Lando’s. Especially Lando’s.

Lando looked like he wasn’t enjoying the man’s accusations, eyes almost predatory. 

You looked away from him, and back to the blubbering man. “No, no, no, no, no, sir. You must understand. I was only curious whether your daughter’s recent affairs had affected the re-”

“Affairs?” My father spoke louder. He didn’t look at me for clarification, he just looked angrier at the man. 

“Well, I mean, everybody’s noticed her and the McLaren racer becoming uncomfortable close for a business relationship.” The man looked both nervous, yet proud of his words. 

Your eyes widened. You were not expecting this man to know anything about this. You were mortified, safe to say. He had just outed you and Lando to a table full of people you were keeping your relationship the most secret from. 

“Get out.” Your dad stood from his chair quickly, asserting dominance, and showing his power. Two people from your father’s side ushered the man out quickly.

You were thankful for your father’s actions, but also terrified of how he might react to this new drama floating around the table currently.

Whispers clouded the table: “Y/N and Lando? No… maybe Oscar?” “You've seen them, right?” “No way!”

You looked at your father, as he sat back down. You wanted to explain, but he spoke first. 

“Honey, I know he was just trying to get under your skin. I never liked him anyways.” Your father spoke, trying to comfort you. “Plus, I know you are smart, and you and that Mclaren boy’s relationship is nothing but friendly business.”

Instead of fighting him, you let him believe that lie. “Yes. Yes, just friendly business, Father.”

He smiled with agreement and went back to the dinner. 

Your mind was still reeling with the events. Hopefully everyone else believes the same thing as your father. Hopefully no one knew the truth: that your's and Lando’s relationship was anything but professional or business-like.

The dinner had reached its end very soon after that altercation. Now, you and your family were pulling up to the hotel. As soon as you stepped out of the limo, you caught sight of a familiar body standing near you.

“Sorry.” you heard Lando speak up, facing your father. “I was wondering if I could speak to Y/n.” Lando asked very confidently, like he his request was nothing out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, your father looked at Lando with one of the most intimidating frowns you’ve ever seen. 

You touched your father’s arm lightly, signaling that he could trust you. So, your father let you go, reluctantly, but he trusted you. Maybe he shouldn’t. 

Lando waited until you were out of sight from your family, around a corridor, when he grabbed your hand and dragged you into a nearby room. You can’t say you didn’t expect this.

“Lando- what?” You tried to reason that your family could be waiting but Lando cut you off fast. 

His lips met yours with force and determination. You let whatever you were going to say die into a small moan against his mouth. 

Your mind was running again with scary thoughts of your father catching you two, or maybe even Lando’s boss. However, those thoughts instantly fizzled away when Lando slipped his arm around your waist, bringing your bodies close.

You were flush against each other, sharing body heat. Lando being so close was the exact remedy to any and all anxiety-inducing thoughts. You were this close before, sure, but this time felt so much more intimate.

It’s almost like the tension had built up from the dinner, and this small feeling of body-near-body made that dam break. Now tension and lust were washing over the two of you in a tidal wave. 

However strong your feelings for Lando were building, his are easily doubled.

Lando has been waiting to touch again ever since last night. The insatiable need to be near you, feel your body, hear those whispering noises you make when you kiss, was incredible. If it wasn’t irrational, he could have pulled you away during the dinner. Recently, that line between rational and irrational has been blurring more and more every time he’s near you.

He, of course, got the same warning as you about workplace relationships. Actually, he was basically threatened and scolded, because Zak couldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him when it comes to romantic relationships. Or keeping anything professional. 

He knows how worried you are about your business, and what bad publicity could do to it’s reputation. So, despite how bad he wants to ignore the warnings, he goes along with it to keep you safe.

In general, the entire relationship is just a god-awful idea. You should have stopped as soon as it started, but after last night…

Maybe the danger’s covered by the thrill,

‘Cause I know I should be running for the hills.

The way you touch me…

You tilted your head up slightly, deepening the kiss. He felt your submission and licked a stripe across your bottom lip.

Anytime you two have been intimate, kissing has been a key part. At first you were disappointed when Lando kept teasing your lips instead of your body, but the longer you kissed him, the more you never wanted to stop. Lando was a phenomenal kisser, and he knew that. 

The kiss moved from soft to hot and frenzied. You felt his tongue trace along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in and he quickly dominated your mouth. Anything Lando did with the kiss was insanely sexy, like he knew he could do no wrong.

You broke away, hoping to only catch your breath and go back to his lips, but he pulled away.

“Wait, Y/n. Listen, I’m sorry. I know how us being seen together could create a whole lot of shit…” He was silent for a bit. His words brought back the anxiety pounding in your mind.

You were worried he was rejecting you, but his next words were unexpected. 

“But, god, Y/N. I need you. I couldn’t fucking care less about your father’s rules or the media. I know we should stop. Trust me, I’ve tried mentally slapping myself anytime I think about you.” He started moving back to kiss you. “But no matter how hard I try to stay away, you keep pulling me back in.” He said the last part against your lips. 

All you could do was breathe harder. Of course you agreed with him, but no words were coming out of your mouth. You wanted to spill all of your feelings just as he did, but your thoughts were just fog at the moment. Perhaps, if you’d actually even said anything, it wouldn’t be comprehensive at all.

So instead you settled by pulling him closer by his tie and smiling. He must have gotten the hint because he dove back into the kiss. 

After you both finally express your feelings, nothing should come between your relationship anymore right? 

Except, like it was described at the beginning, this is much more complicated. 

Days later, you still weren’t dating. Actually, you didn’t know if you would ever date Lando. 

Either way, again and again, you still meet up in dark corridors and hotel rooms. 

“I need you, Y/N.” Lando told you after you tried to end it out of worry that you’d be caught.

“Lando…” However hard you tried to stop seeing him, your body fought against you. “Alright, but we need to be especially quiet. Please…”

Don’t tease me, and keep me around like it’s easy,

When you know deep down that it’s

Never gonna ever be us.

You were like magnets that could never be apart for too long. No, you were never going to be able to publicly date, and this secret partners-with-benefits ordeal was insanely risky. But, like a hobby that turns into an obsession, or a flame that turns into a bonfire: A little taste was never enough. 

I get obsessive with you.

All that I want is attention from you

Break into my life and break all my rules, it's true…

Fortunapre Taglist:

BTW IF YOU WANT TO BE INCLUDED, TELL ME!! :))

@zupercoolgirl

@iloveotters11

[cjlouwho]

ooooh. A prompt. Maybe Tommy could use some TLC. Some hurt/comfort?

tags: mentions of past physical and verbal abuse, also first I love you's

Just take those old records off the shelf, I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself

It was a little bit jarring when he first heard it. He'd been coming to this bar for years now and this song had never played before.

Today's music ain't got the same soul, I like that old time rock 'n' roll

He could already feel a thin layer of sweat above his lip. His hands were clammy almost instantly. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

And he was stuck in the booth, wedged between Buck and Chimney. Everyone was there. Hen, Karen, Bobby, Athena, Maddie, Eddie, Ravi. They were all celebrating Bobby getting reinstated as captain of the 118.

Don't try to take me to a disco, you'll never even get me out on the floor

He needed to get up. It was too hot. Buck was right up against his side, hand on his thigh, and if he moved closer to Chimney they'd practically hit second base.

In ten minutes I'll be late for the door, I like that old time rock 'n' roll

“Need'a gotothe bathroom,” Tommy mumbled out in whisper to Buck. He wasn't drunk. They'd only been there half an hour and he had just finished his first beer. But the song was completely throwing him off.

Still like that old time rock 'n' roll, that kind of music just soothes the soul

Buck looked at him, confused, squeezed his thigh in a way that would usually be sweet but right now felt like too much. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Bathroom,” he repeated, clearer this time.

I reminisce about the days of old, with that old time rock 'n' roll

“Oh, okay.” Buck scooted out of the booth and Tommy managed to get out without banging his knees on the table. “You okay?” Buck asked, reaching down for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You're pale.”

He felt like throwing up. Tommy unwrapped his hand from Buck far too quickly for him to not suspect anything, he knew that, but he couldn't help it right now. “Fine,” he managed with a forced smile.

Won't go to hear 'em play a tango, I'd rather hear some blues or funky old soul

He headed for the bathroom, but took a left instead of a right, opting to head outside instead.

Buck glanced back at everyone at the table, who all looked confused. Tommy's abrupt shift in mood was impossible not to notice.

“I'm guessing he knows he didn't just go to the bathroom?” Eddie questioned.

Buck sighed, tossed a few dollars on the table. “I'm gonna go check on him.”

When Buck got outside it took him a minute to spot Tommy. He was a few feet away from the door, swaying slightly from side to side with his hands in his pockets, staring out into the parking lot.

Buck walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, retracting it quickly when Tommy jumped at the touch.

“Sorry,” Buck said, startled.

Tommy closed his eyes once he saw it was Buck, letting out a deep breath. “No, Evan, I... Sorry, I was in my own world.”

“S'okay. Are you okay?”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh, his gaze falling down to his feet as he kicked at some rocks with his shoe. “Um, I'm a little embarrassed, actually,” he admitted.

“What for?”

“The song playing in there,” he said, turning back toward the bar, “it reminded me of a... a not so great memory.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

His eyes met Evan's and all he could see was concern. Tommy knew he wasn't asking because he felt like he had to, or because he thought it was what Tommy expected of him. He was asking because he was genuinely worried, and wanted to be there for him.

“You wanna go sit in the back of my truck?” Tommy asked. He could still hear a slight beat from music inside the bar and, while he was sure they weren't still playing that same song, it's the only thing he could think about when he heard any music at all.

Buck nodded. “Yeah, let's go.”

When they got to the truck, Tommy lowered the tailgate and they both hopped up, their legs dangling over the edge.

Buck stared up at the sky, stars a little more visible in their location than anywhere else in Los Angeles. He waited for Tommy to speak, not wanting to pressure him.

The feeling of Tommy's hand slipping into his brought his attention back to Tommy. Their fingers intertwined, but Buck didn't squeeze too hard. He didn't want to scare him again.

“I haven't really ever told you very much about my dad, have I?”

“Little pieces here and there,” Buck replied. “You said a few months back that he was a lot like Gerrard, and mentioned you haven't spoken to him in ten years.”

Tommy nodded. “Both things are true. He was... There was more to him than that though. He was not a good man, Evan. He'd go to church every time the doors were open, smile on his face, mom and me by his side. The perfect family. That's what everyone told us anyway.”

He scooted closer to Buck, placing their hands on his thigh. He took his free hand and rubbed it gently over Buck's knuckles, finding comfort in his boyfriend's touch. “Then we'd get home, and lunch or dinner wouldn't be ready on time, or the roast would be overcooked, or he saw me yawn during the service, or he thought mom smiled at the youth pastor for too long and-” Tommy's voice broke as he spoke. He cleared his throat, trying to keep it together.

All Buck wanted to do was wrap him up tight and make all his pain disappear.

“-and God, Evan, he'd get so angry. He'd get out his records and we knew, if he played one specific song, one of us was about to get it.”

It all clicked. “The song in the bar."

Tommy nodded. “The song in the bar.”

“Would he,” Buck paused, choosing his words carefully. “Did he hit you?”

“Not with his hands,” Tommy replied, “and never on the face. But he was a big believer in 'spare the rod, spoil the child'. He liked to use his belt.” He felt a phantom pain on his back, from lashes so painful he'd have to lean forward the whole time during the next church service. How it would hurt to sit down at school, often for days. How the belt would sometimes whack against his thigh and he'd have to wear pants for PE, even during the hottest months of the year, just so his shorts wouldn't ride up and someone see the marks. “It wasn't just physical stuff though,” Tommy added. “The things he'd say were worse, somehow. He'd call my mom every name in the book, shout slurs at me before I even thought I was gay. Tell us how worthless we were. Stuff like that. Then, by the next service, there were were, front and center. The perfect family.”

“Tommy, I- I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry you went through that.”

“I'm okay,” he said, then huffed out a laugh, “except when I hear that song, apparently.”

“Triggers are funny like that, aren't they?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “a real hoot.”

Buck let go of Tommy's hand just long enough to wrap his arms around him, letting Tommy rest his head on his shoulder. Buck pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Why don't we go to my place?” he suggested. “Put on a movie, eat a pint of ice cream.”

“We're supposed to be celebrating tonight, Evan.”

“We will be celebrating,” Buck assured him. “We'll be celebrating survival. Celebrating us. Celebrating, I don't know,” he laughed, “we'll think of something.”

Tommy raised his head just enough to look into Buck's eyes. “Love?”

Buck stared back, a smile growing on his face. “Love. Yeah, that, um, that sounds perfect.”

“Okay,” Tommy relented easily. He didn't feel like going back inside anyway. “You sure you don't wanna go back in? You can get a ride home with Eddie.”

“Tommy, I want to be with you. Everyone in there will understand. I'll send Eddie a text, tell him we're headed out. You pick the movie.”

They untangled themselves from each other so Buck could get his phone.

Tommy thought for a moment. “The Notebook, maybe? I feel like crying.”

He'd never been in a relationship before where he could admit something like that. Admit that sometimes he wanted to cry, needed to cry, and a movie could help him with that.

Evan was different though. Evan was safety. Evan was a person Tommy could talk to about anything, and never feel judgement.

“The Notebook is perfect. I'll order ice cream to be delivered while we're on the way.”

They got off the back of the truck and Tommy raised the tailgate. Before Buck could head for the passenger seat, Tommy placed a hand on his hip, spinning Buck back in his direction.

“I really do love you, Evan,” he said, his thumbs stroking at Buck's hipbone.

Buck reached up and rested his hands at the nape of Tommy's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I really do love you too, Tommy.”

As they got into the truck, Buck made a mental note to contact the bar tomorrow and ask them to change their playlist.

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

SUMMARY: Steven Grant has come to the devastating conclusion that he was fated to be single forever. Marc didn't care for romance, Jake was only interested in one-night stands, and Steven was--well...Steven.

But when you started working alongside him at the museum's gift shop--a pretty girl younger than him with a bright smile and a cloying kindness he hasn't been the recipient of in a long time--he begins to think that maybe romance is in the cards for him.

Especially when you are just as awkward as him and sinfully lovely.

AKA "the man without love" falls for "the virgin".

RATING: 18+ minors please do NOT interact!!! This fic will contain romance, smut, and generally mature content (though not ALL parts will have explicit smut).

NOTES: I recently rewatched Moon Knight and have been in the mood to write my own fic after reading countless of amazing ones on here, then outta the blue Madonna's song Like A Virgin got stuck in my head and it got me thinking "Huh... This song is cute for Steven if he gets a girlfriend. ACTUALLY WAIT A DAMN MINUTE IT COULD FIT ALL THE MOON KNIGHT BOYS"

And so... Tada! Here's le result~ Although I'm still working out the details, this fic will have ✨️6 PARTS✨️ This fic will PROBABLY be quite self-indulgent, and at times the way the reader is written could be a bit similar to an OC. I'm so sorry if that is the case, but please understand that I'm writing this for fun and I'm just going with the flow!

Some things will also be different from the show. For example, all the boys are actually aware of each other in this fic. I try to stick as close as possible to the source material, but hey this is my fic and like I said I just wanna have fun 😂

Thank you sooo much and I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are STRONGLY encouraged and appreciated so please don't be a silent reader!

Now... Join me as I hopelessly thirst over this RIDICULOUSLY gorgeous man both in fiction AND reality \(^o^)/

Part 1: Didn't know how lost I was until I found you

Steven willed his legs to go faster, pushing through London's usual busy morning crowd and into the museum he was cursed to work at. Clutching his bag in one hand, and the other holding his small thermos of coffee as he prayed to any Egyptian god listening that Donna wouldn't catch him this time.

But, of course, the only Egyptian god within Steven's vicinity was Khonshu. And the old bird only cared about how his Moon Knight was upholding his duties as his "Fist of Vengeance", not of his Avatar's petty human responsibilities such as "keeping a job".

"Late again, eh, Stevie?" Donna's annoying voice mocked Steven, pausing in his tracks as he sighed deeply and begrudgingly turned towards his boss.

"Sorry, Donna." He shot the blonde a forced smile, his grip on his thermos tightening. "Got stuck in traffic. You know how it is, yeah?"

"I wouldn't because unlike you, Stevie, I'm never late." Donna returned his fake smile along with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, enough chatter. You've got someone working with you at the gift shop from now on. Maybe this way you won't be late, yeah? Teach her how to actually sell some bloody candy."

Steven opened his mouth to retort, but was quickly cut off when his new co-worker--you--stepped out from behind Donna. You were younger than him, around your twenties, and you were such a shy little thing with your head slightly ducked down. Your E/C eyes peeked out from behind the glasses framing your delicate features, long lashes fluttering as you flashed him a sweet smile. Your fingers fiddled nervously with the pink midi skirt you wore, matching the dainty pink ribbons that tied your H/C hair in two low pigtails.

Your smile faltered as your gaze met Steven's dark brown ones. He remained silent, mouth hanging agape as he stared at you as if you grew two heads. Your eyes lowered, heart threatening to burst right out of your poor chest.

Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should've ditched the ribbons, you looked ridiculous, right? Why was he staring at you? Oh, god, why was such a HOT guy staring at you?!

"Hello, uh, I'm Steven Grant." Your head snapped up, witnessing the twist of Steven's lips into a kind albeit awkward smile that accompanied a friendly little wave. "Steven..." He seemed to be rethinking his words before, ultimately, the dorky side of him won. "...with a V."

A smile once again bloomed across your face, feeling more at ease this time. "Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. With anxiety!" You chirped the latter a little too cheerfully, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you inwardly slapped yourself. No, punched yourself. "O-Oh, uh, I-I didn't mean that! I-I mean, no, it was just a joke--but a really BAD one, oh god--"

As you rambled nonsensically, Donna arched a judgmental brow at you before noticing the utterly smitten expression on Steven's face as he watched you with a huge goofy grin. Now both of Donna's eyebrows were raised to her hairline before she slowly backed away, leaving you two to fend for yourselves.

At least this time, though, Steven wouldn't be late anymore.

'She's so...'

'Weird.' Marc piped up in Steven's head.

'Amusing.' Jake snickered.

'...lovely.' Steven finished, eyes gleaming the same way it does for Egyptology as he continued to look at you as if you hung the moon in the sky.

He adored you instantly.

♡•••🌙•••♡

It's been two months since you started working at the museum's gift shop. During that time, you and Steven got closer. He discovered that you were a college dropout, reaching a stressful breaking point one day and deciding to just work for the meantime before figuring the rest of your life out. And as it turns out, you weren't so shy after all; once you were out your shell, you were just as big of a dork as Steven was and whenever you two were together, your shift passed by quickly--too quickly.

From the very first moment, you and Steven got along splendidly. He was a complete sweetheart and it always shattered your heart whenever Donna harassed him with any snarky and insensitive remarks.

Steven was used to it so he didn't mind it too much. What he wasn't used to, though, was you. You who was always so kind, lending a listening ear whenever he went on a passionate tangent regarding Egypt and even encouraging him on his dream of becoming the museum's tour guide. You who always graced him with a genuine smile that reached your ears, eyes sparkling whenever you see him as if he was your favourite art piece in the entire museum.

You who always made his heart race, palms sweaty, mind swirling without fail.

You had an intense crush on Steven--a longing, really--but what you didn't know was that he felt the same about you. But perhaps it was more than that. He practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and it certainly didn't miss Donna's unexpectedly sharp eyes. She'd tease him whenever you left earlier than him, looking like a kicked little puppy as his gaze trailed after you.

Today was no different as he stared helplessly at you, and it was a wonder you didn't feel the invisible daggers boring into you. There were only ten minutes left before you were done for the day and you both were stuck in inventory, but for once in his life he loved doing inventory and he desperately wished that this incredible moment with you, alone, would last forever.

'You're so fucking pathetic, ese.' Jake echoed in Steven's mind.

Nowadays Jake was becoming more vocal, at least when you're around. Marc, on the other hand, remained tight-lipped. The mercenary would much rather have absolutely nothing to do with you at all costs.

'Shut up, mate.' Steven silently argued, brows furrowing as his eyes finally broke away from you and focused on organizing some Taweret plushies.

'Only saying the truth, ese. You've got her all to yourself and the only thing you can think of is that you wish this time would last forever?' Jake scoffed. 'Be a man and step the fuck up. You know you want to, especially with the way she looks today.'

Steven's burning gaze was right back on you, eyes darkening slightly. He hated to admit it, but Jake was right. You were always so pretty, but something about today made you look that much more.

You always dressed modestly, but with the weather warming up lately you opted for a black pleated skirt that fell just above your knees and a tucked in short sleeved yellow blouse with the top few buttons undone exposing the tiniest bit of your cleavage. You also wore matching yellow heels that perfectly accentuated your legs and it made him feral.

"Steven? Are you okay?"

His eyes met yours and a smile instantly curled up his lips, nodding his head as if he wasn't just ogling you like a total perv. "Yes, I just zoned out. Sorry, love." Ugh, the way he called you 'love' so casually had you swooning.

If only he actually meant it.

You nodded back, shoving your thoughts away and returning his smile before glancing towards a portrait. "A shame what they did to this, huh?"

Steven curiously followed your line of sight, seeing a portrait of the Ennead.

"Whoever did this made a major blunder. Isn't the Ennead supposed to have nine gods, not seven?"

"YES!" You flinched slightly at Steven's exclamation, whipping your head towards him only to see him with the cutest blush ever.

"Erm, s-sorry, uh..." Steven cleared his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his unruly locks. "I just got excited. I'm surprised you knew that. Not a lot of people do--or care."

"Well, I happen to know a fantastic teacher always talking about Egyptology." You giggled, grinning at him. "And thanks to him, he's caused me to become interested in it myself and do my own research."

"Really?!" The way his eyes lit up felt as if an arrow was shot straight to your heart, and if you didn't have any self-control you would've dropped to your knees and asked--begged--this gorgeous man to marry you right then and there. "Any particular god or goddess that you're most interested in?"

"Hmm..." You pursed your lips thoughtfully, and Steven had half a mind to kiss them senseless. "I'd have to say Khonshu."

'GOOD ANSWER. KEEP HER, WORM.' Khonshu's thundering voice suddenly boomed in Steven's head.

"She's not a dog, you stupid pigeon." Steven grumbled, rubbing his temples exasperatedly.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" Steven answered quickly, forcing out a laugh. "Err, why Khonshu?"

"Well, I really like Astronomy!" You beamed. "And I find the moon to be one of the most beautiful things in our universe, so it feels fitting for my favourite Egyptian god to be Khonshu."

Despite Steven's distaste (to put it nicely) for the old bird, he could never find your response as such. Not when you looked so happy and comfortable sharing your interests with him, even though he did disagree with just one thing you said.

The moon doesn't even come close to being one of the most beautiful things this universe boasts. No, not when you existed.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The alarm on your wristwatch cruelly popped the blissful little bubble you both were in, you turning it off as you saw that it was the end of your shift.

A regular person would be over the moon that they were finally free from their corporate prison, but not you. Not when you wished you could spend more time with Steven.

"Well..." Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, a pout forming on your lips. "Guess it's time for me to go home."

"It appears so..." Steven mumbled, his heart sinking to his stomach as he watched you put away the remaining items you were in charge of.

'It's now or never, Steven. Do something.' Jake urged.

'Do WHAT?'

'Fucking Christ, you're hopeless.' Jake sighed frustratedly, Steven's eyes rolling to the back of his head and his shoulders slumping. After a few seconds, he straightened up once more and approached you.

You were faced away from Steven, and you were having difficulty setting the final box of souvenirs you had on a shelf when Steven's hands reached from behind you and easily lifted them.

Your breath hitched, feeling his broad chest pressed against your back. He was so close you could feel his warm breath tickling the nape of your neck, making you gulp.

"T-Thank you, Steven..." You murmured meekly, feeling so small as he had you completely caged. You tried to turn, but his hands suddenly dropped to your hips; keeping you in place with a gentle but firm grip.

"You look so pretty today, Y/N." He leaned down, voice deliciously low as his lips ghosted just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. "But I think you can look even prettier. How 'bout tomorrow you dress all nice, and we can meet up around seven p.m. and have the best steak in town?"

Your thoughts were all jumbled up. Was this really happening or just another one of your silly fantasies? Where the hell did Steven get this sudden confidence from?

And, perhaps you were just imagining it, but he sounded...different. Not quite like the Steven you knew. He had an accent, but not the one you've gotten so familiar with and loved.

But the ache in your heart--and another part of you--was much too strong to bear. You've waited so long for this, dreamt of this, and it was finally coming true.

You definitely made the right decision to dress the way you did today and you sure as hell weren't going to let go of such a grand opportunity.

"I-I'd love to, but..." You placed your hands on top of his own still on your hips, and you wondered if he can tell just how embarrassingly sweaty your palms have gotten. "I...I know you're a vegan, Steven, so let's go somewhere else. There's a new restaurant that just opened and they've got vegan options. Um, y'know, if it's okay with you..."

The corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile and he couldn't stop himself as he nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and revelling in your addicting scent.

"Perfect." He then spun you both around so that his back was against the shelf, but you still couldn't see him. His fingers slowly, teasingly trailed upwards along your stomach before reaching your blouse's breast pocket, slipping off your name tag and putting it in one of your hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, hermosa." He chuckled huskily, giving you a light push.

You were utterly dazed, cheeks flushed and stumbling in your steps slightly as you exited the room.

'What the bloody hell was THAT?!' Steven panicked.

"What do you think, ese?" Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I just scored you a date."

'Well, I hope you're happy! Y/N looked so shocked!'

"I feel like a million dollars and Y/N looked like she liked it." Jake snickered. "Quit whining like a bitch and just be grateful, Steven. And hey, she even chose some hippie vegan place for you. Doesn't that prove she's into you?"

That immediately shushed Steven, and Jake can feel that despite Steven's complaining Steven was very much overjoyed and was already overthinking the date for tomorrow.

Jake looked down his hands, still remembering the soft curve of your hips even through your clothes and smirked.

You won't be wearing any for long now.

[ataliagold]

I'll Sing Silence

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, background Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler

Rating: T

W/C: 2706

Tags: established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, autistic Steve Harrington, sensory issues, stimming, autistic shutdown, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care Of Steve Harrington

Notes: Title from Drinking Song For The Socially Anxious by The Amazing Devil. A lot of this is based off my own experiences with autism, other stuff I've added in.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events leads to a bad day for Steve. Luckily, Eddie's there to take care of him.

___

It was a series of unfortunate events that led to Steve’s meltdown that evening.

First of all, he hadn’t slept well last night which had led to him sleeping through his morning alarm since he’d been so tired, and then he hadn’t had time for a shower before work so he was feeling sweaty and gross, and it was already hot when he stepped outside which led to his clothes sticking comfortably to his skin and he was already upset by the rupture in his morning routine but then Robin was running late and he’d had to sit in the car outside her house and stare anxiously at the minutes ticking by on his watch while his leg jiggled impatiently and then he’d had to pretend everything was fine when Robin asked why he looked so tense…

They were late opening Family Video, late to clock in, and Steve hated being late.

He had a routine, he had a system, and when it was upset it took him a long time to settle again.

But he’d listened to Robin chatter away while they rewound tapes and put them away, murmured non-committed responses and retreated back inside his own head a bit until he started feeling semi-normal again.

Just as he was starting to feel a little better, lunch time had rolled around, and he realized he’d forgotten his lunch in his rush this morning, and he’d stood in the breakroom with his fists clenched and his heart pounding because now he was going to have to rush to Melvalds and try to find something to eat but he wasn’t sure he had enough time and he’d never gone there before during a lunch break, it was out of routine and it shouldn’t be a big deal but it fucking was because there was something wrong with him, why was he so upset over fucking lunch…

He was wasting his break. Couldn’t get his brain to cooperate and just choose a constructive path to follow, became stuck in a frustrated loop and frozen in place as the minutes passed.

He did nothing, in the end.

Spent his time staring at the wall of the breakroom, trying to breathe slowly, trying to settle himself but without something to eat he couldn’t find anything for his hands to do, ended up stuffing them into the sleeves of his jacket and clutching the fabric hard, hard enough that his fingers started to ache and it was making him too hot but it felt good to just squeeze something…

Robin found him. Frowned, offered him half her own sandwich which he gratefully took but it wasn’t right, there was too much ham and the cheese was a different brand to what he usually bought and it didn’t feel right in his mouth.

A run-in with a grumpy customer that afternoon almost tipped him over the edge.

He’d felt tears building, felt that familiar tight feeling in his throat, the way his lungs were starting to constrict and his hands were starting to tremble even as he frantically twisted the bracelet on his wrist, the one Eddie had given him after seeing him constantly play with Eddie’s own jewelry…

The woman was saying something, her face twisted and angry while she waved around a tape in her hand, but she wasn’t giving Steve any time to process her words and every time he tried to talk she’d yell over the top of him and Steve had had enough.

Before he could lose it in front of the customer, he backed up. Turned on his heel, strode away, threw a pleading look at Robin as he passed her.

She nodded, smoothly intercepted the woman with a fake smile plastered on her face, and Steve retreated quickly to the relative safety of the breakroom.

He breathed. Stared unblinking at the floor, still rotating the brown leather bracelet, running his index finger over the intricate design etched into it.

You’re fine, calm the fuck down, stop being a fucking child.

But he couldn’t.

He knew this wasn’t normal, that he should be able to deal with the day like any other person, but it was like there was this block in his brain telling him otherwise.

“Steve, you ok?”

Robin interrupted his downward spiral, placed a hand on his back and Steve immediately leaned into it because the pressure was good, the weight of her hand comforting and grounding.

“Mmm hmm,” he mumbled.

“Ignore Mrs Brown, she’s a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“Tried to tell me the tape didn’t work, I put it in the store player and it was totally fine so it’s probably an issue with her player but I swapped the tape out anyway because I really couldn’t be bothered arguing it further…Steve?” Robin’s tone was concerned, her hand rubbing small circles into his back.

“Mmm?”

“You don’t look too good, what’s happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, it’s clearly something -”

“M’fine.”

“Do you want to head home early? I can finish off here and call Nance to pick me up.”

No, because that would mess up his routine even more and he didn’t think he could live with that today.

Steve shook his head.

“Well…we can skip dinner tonight, if you want. We can just postpone it, if you’d rather go home.”

He would rather go home. Or preferably to Eddie’s, where he could curl up on his boyfriend’s bed and let Eddie wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tight and pull the blanket up over his head and just shut out the rest of the world until he was ready to crawl back out and deal with it again.

But they’d been looking forward to going out to the diner for a while now – Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy – their schedules had finally aligned, and they’d eagerly organized the double date.

Everyone was looking forward to it, and Steve wasn’t going to let them cancel it just because of him.

Just because he couldn’t deal with a few minor inconveniences in his day.

He shook his head again.

“You sure?”

“Mmm.”

“Ok, well…how about you just sit out here for a few minutes, ok? Come back out when you’re ready.”

Some days, Steve went about his day and felt almost like a normal human.

He woke up, he went to work, he chatted to his friends, he’d see Eddie whenever he could, kiss him and watch movies and eat dinner and everything was fine.

But some days, everything was too loud. The tag on the back of his t shirt scratched at his neck, the door to Family Video creaked a little too much and he felt it in his teeth, the lights overhead were too fucking bright and there were too many people demanding his attention all at once and it was like a flip switched somewhere and he went into shutdown.

He wasn’t quite there yet, but he was about to crest that wave, and everything would come crashing down then.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, too slow and too fast at the same time, and Steve waded through it like molasses, heavy and slow.

When Eddie sauntered in at the end of Steve’s shift, all warm smiles and soft eyes and familiar scent, Steve felt his heartbeat slow a little.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie murmured, looking him up and down and immediately wrapping his arms around him tight because there was no one else in the store and he knew, he always knew when Steve was having a bad day.

Steve sagged a little, pressing his face to Eddie’s neck, breathing him in, hands curling in the soft material of his Metallica t shirt.

“You still wanna go out, sweetheart?” Eddie whispered.

Steve nodded, most of the motion lost due to the fact he was practically burrowed into Eddie.

Eddie kept a hand on him the whole way to the diner. Whether it was holding his hand in the car, or allowing their pinkies to just brush as they walked side by side to the diner, or the gentle grip on the back of Steve’s shirt as they rounded the corner and saw the large queue outside the diner.

Steve’s stomach dropped.

He liked the diner.

It was familiar, he knew the menu by heart, he knew what he liked and the staff were friendly and happy to swap out a couple of the things on his plate because he always preferred his sauce on the side and he didn’t like tomato in his burger, and the music was never too loud and the lights were just dim enough that they didn’t irritate him to hell and back.

They hadn’t bothered to book tonight because it was never usually this crowded.

“I’m gonna go see what’s happening,” Nancy announced, striding past the queue towards the door.

Steve swallowed, shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie leaned in. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he breathed, “if it’s too busy, we can go home, ok? We can come back another day.”

He nodded.

Nancy returned, looking mildly irritated. “It’s some special they’ve got on, you get your food half price before seven pm, it’s already completely full in there.”

Eddie tilted his head, contemplating. “We could come back after seven, when the crowd’s thinned out?”

Robin groaned. “I’m starving, I gave half my lunch to Steve because he forgot his.”

Eddie glanced at Steve, fingers brushing the back of his arm briefly.

“We could go to that new place?” Nancy suggested. “The one on the corner? It only opened last week, it might be quieter since half the town’s here.”

Eddie’s gaze flicked to Steve again. “Maybe we just go home, do this another day,” he said carefully.

Steve wanted to speak, found his mouth glued shut, pulse thrumming in his ears.

“It’s Mexican, right?” Robin asked excitedly. “Yes, can we go there? Please?”

Steve liked Mexican food - when he could cook it himself, or when he’d been somewhere before and knew exactly what to order. But he’d have to study the menu at this new place, have to no doubt awkwardly ask them to omit some ingredient or another and what if they didn’t like that, he didn’t want to complicate things or make it uncomfortable for the others, and what if they had the music up too loud and he wouldn’t know where the bathroom was to retreat to so he might have to ask but what if he couldn’t get words out…

“Steve?” Robin was saying.

“Mmm?”

“Can we go?”

“Sure,” he said, because he’d give Robin the world if he could.

Robin clapped her hands, darted ahead with Nancy.

Steve went to follow, but was stopped by Eddie’s hand on his wrist, turned to see him looking at Steve with concerned eyes.

“Stevie…lets go home, huh?”

Steve shrugged him off. Started to walk determinedly, because Robin was excited and she was bounding ahead and Nancy was smiling bright at her and he wasn’t going to ruin this even though he was currently swallowing back tears.

“Steve -”

“It’s fine,” Steve snapped. “It’s nothing, ok? We’re just going to a different fucking restaurant, it isn’t a big deal, ok?”

“Sweetheart, just breathe for a second, ok.”

“I don’t need to…I don’t need to fucking breathe, we need to get to the restaurant because we’re already later than we usually are which means we’ll get home later which means I’ll have to be quicker to get ready for bed tonight so I get to sleep on time so that I’m not so fucking tired tomorrow and -”

Eddie pulled him to his chest. Hugged him tight in the street, in view of any passerbys, because Steve was about to fall apart and there was no other option.

Steve was crying, was still stammering his way through his explanation, his world shrinking to just Eddie and his own heartbeat booming in his ears.

Faintly, as if underwater, he heard Robin and Nancy, their concerned voices saying his name, Eddie telling them he was going to take Steve home, that he was ok, that they should carry on to dinner and he’d call them later.

“…Mrs Brown, she was yelling at me and her voice makes my skin crawl and she wouldn’t stop yelling and everything’s so loud today -” Steve was whining into Eddie’s chest, as Eddie ran a hand over the back of his head, scrubbing his fingers through his locks in the way that Steve loved but right now he needed to get away from here, needed to go home.

“Shhh, baby,” Eddie murmured to him. “I’ve got ya, we’re gonna head back to the car, ok? You can come home with me, I’ll run you a bath if you want one and get you something to eat, ok?”

Steve nodded as best he could, followed Eddie back down the street.

“Robin -” he started, voice miserable as they approached his car, as he wordlessly handed the keys over to Eddie because they both knew he couldn’t drive in this state.

“ – will be fine,” Eddie told him gently, “she and Nancy will have a nice night, and we’ll hear about it tomorrow, ok?”

“I ruined it,” Steve sobbed, breath hitching.

“You didn’t,” Eddie insisted, opening the door for Steve and gently guiding him into the passenger seat. He reached over, clicked Steve’s belt in, pressed a brief kiss to the side of his head. “Sweetheart, you didn’t. You’re allowed to have a bad day, ok? Shit, you know I’ve had plenty, and you’ve looked after me every time. Let me look after you, ok?”

Eddie kept the music on a low volume as they drove to his trailer. Loud enough that Steve could hear it, that it softly filled the silence because silence would’ve been too loud right now, but quiet enough that it didn’t irritate him at all.

It was just right.

And Eddie had one hand on the wheel and one hand cradling Steve’s, rubbing circles into the skin over his knuckles, keeping Steve here, keeping him present.

Wayne was working a night shift, which was fortunate for them tonight. Not that Eddie’s uncle would’ve minded Steve being there in this state, but Steve hated anyone seeing him like this – the less people around right now, the better.

Eddie led him inside, sat him down on the couch, gently lifted Steve’s arms up above his head and peeled his t shirt off him.

Steve sighed in relief at the tag no longer itching his neck, and then Eddie was draping the throw from the back of the couch over his shoulders, the soft one Steve loved to burrow under while they watched movies.

Eddie lay down at the other end of the couch, gestured for Steve. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Steve went. Draped himself over Eddie, fell into him easily, chest to chest. A soft noise escaped him when Eddie’s arms circled about his waist and squeezed, the pressure fucking lovely and Steve pushed his face into Eddie’s collar and hummed, index finger and thumb playing with a belt loop on his boyfriend’s jeans.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay like that. Eddie had turned the TV on at some stage, some nondescript show playing to give Steve a tiny bit of background noise. His eyes were closed, his breathing was evening out, his tears drying on his cheeks and on Eddie’s t shirt.

“Stevie?” Eddie whispered eventually. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Toast?” Steve asked quietly, hopefully, his voice small.

Eddie smiled into his hair. “Sure.”

Steve tipped his head back a little, feeling groggy and heavy and slow but better, calmer. “And please can you -”

“- cut the crusts off?” Eddie chuckled softly. “’Course I will.”

Steve smiled tiredly. He didn’t always need his toast like that, but today was very much a no-crusts day.

“And then if you’re up to it I’d like to run you a bath, ok?”

Steve nodded, briefly unhappy when Eddie detangled himself from him, slipping out from under Steve carefully.

When he turned to head for the kitchen, Steve reached out, clutched at Eddie’ wrist.

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Stevie.”

___

[verycoolusername1]

I've Ever Seen

Summary: You get drunk on a night out with the wags and the team which leads to you admitting something to Cole.

Warning! Mentions of being drunk!

A/N: ... surprise! I caved in and started writing for Cole lol(send in requests!!) And this song has been on repeat lately(beabadoobee is amazing)

I also never been drunk before so I don't know how drunk people act-

You giggled as Kirby said a stupid joke, the drinks catching up to you no doubt. For some reason, this light makes Cole look different, almost dazzling.

Cole sensing someone's eyes on him looks at you almost instantly, he sends a little smile before making his way to you.

He looked down at you with a smile. "Hey baby. You okay?"

You nodded hazily. "M'fine. Fine."

"So there's no reason as to why you're looking at me like you wanna devour me?" Cole chuckles.

You shook your head. "Just admiring."

"Admiring huh? If I didn't know any better I'd say you got a little crush on me." He pinches your cheek as he teases.

Your face flushed, taking him seriously. "I- I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're cute when you're flustered, very cute." Cole kissed your head.

"Can we go home?" You ask quietly, not wanting anyone to see you like this.

Cole nodded. "Of course baby."

He takes your hand in yours and the two of you leave the bar, well you're stumbling but nonetheless made it out.

He opens the car door for you to get in which you do before getting in the driver's seat.

Throughout the drive, you ramble about anything and Cole listens with intense focus despite not knowing what you're saying in half of it.

"Alright we're here." Cole looked at you to find you already staring at him, stuck in a gaze. "Hey... you alright in there?"

You blinked slowly. "Sorry just distracted." You looked away and missed Cole's signature grin.

The two of you went up to your apartment, Cole's grip tighten on you as he unlocked the door.

He let you in first and watched as you kicked your shoes off and headed to the bathroom, Cole opted to go to the bedroom and get ready for bed.

You came out minutes later, your posture sluggish as you landed on the bed right on Cole who let out a low groan at the sudden action.

"Sorry." You mumbled. "Didn't see you there."

You quickly got up and changed into your pajamas and got in bed next to Cole.

"It's okay, we all have accidents." Cole went to turn off the light, the TV already playing Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

"Wait!" You stopped him, he looked at you in confusion but you said nothing.

The two of you making eye contact longer than what was necessary, you then let out a low sigh in realization.

"Oh my god, beabadoobee was right." You looked at Cole, one of your hands coming up to cup his cheek.

Cole knew about your love for beabadoobee but didn't listen to her as much as you. Making his confusion grow even more.

"What... what was she right about?" Cole held his breath in anticipation.

"You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen." You confesses.

Cole's face flushed at your words. "Oh... uh thanks baby." He smiled shyly.

You tried to kiss his cheek but ended up kissing his nose which he laughed a little at.

"Goodnight baby." He tucked you in his arms.

"Goodnight." You sighed before closing your eyes.

[laiiaaa]

THE PART WHERE YOU KISS ME — JJ MAYBANK

summary: You're stuck with the job of getting a very drunk, very lovesick JJ into bed.

length: 2.4k

contains: tooth-rotting fluff, obsessed boyfriend JJ, soooo touchy he can't keep his hands off of you (can you tell my love language is physical touch lmfao???), mentions of heavy drinking of course, zero plot, he's a flirty little freak and i hate him

note: Not the happiest with this but I haven't posted in a week and I'm in the middle of writing three other pieces right now...so take this as an apology gift for not having the GFAW chapter out yet <3

Driving to the Chateau this late is never ideal, especially when you’re tired and ticked off from a busy shift. Your feet and back ache, your head could use a few Advil, and you would be perfectly happy to stay home and sleep for twelve hours. 

But when Kie calls you, groaning and saying Your boyfriend is wasted and won’t shut up about you and you need to come pull him to bed, you go. It’s as simple as that, really. Partially because JJ is already painfully stubborn when sober and only gets worse as the night goes on (code for: he won’t listen to anyone but you), and partly because you get a sweet kick out of his clinginess and extra loving.

So when you finally pull up and hop out of your car, the sound of Pope sighing Finally doesn’t surprise nor offend you.  Kie and Sarah scurry over, welcoming you with hugs and jokes about how sorry they are they had to call you while John B and Pope still tend to the drunken blonde.

“It’s alright,” you assure them, “I don’t mind.” And you really don’t, not at all, not when he acts all the more helplessly in love with you.

The bonfire still burns on, red-hot embers breaking off into the midnight sky. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon plays from a speaker nearby, and beer bottles litter the ground as you approach. The fire’s warmth wraps around you, a handle of Tito’s—only half full—entering your field of vision as you find JJ reclined back on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes while his other hand taps along to the song. You crouch down next to him and hear him hum in tune.

John B stands behind you, feeling a little helpless. “He’s been talking about you nonstop since he got, like, three shots deep.”

“And as much as we love you guys together,” Sarah adds, leaning into the boy’s side, “He doesn’t listen very well once he gets started.”

You shoot them a smile over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I get it. You guys can head in if you want, this might take a while.” The two lovebirds wave you goodnight as they walk back inside with Kie and Pope, and you turn your attention back to your exceptionally troublesome boy. “JJ? Time to go to bed.”

He grumbles without moving an inch. “I told you to fuck off, Sarah, I just wanna see my girl.”

Your heart flutters at the name—his girl. You’ve never heard him call you that. Does he seriously think you’re Sarah? “Your girl?”

“Yeah, you know the gorgeous one?”

“Might ring a bell.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the most…the most beautiful person in the history of…of forever, and she’s mine, so get outta here n’…go flirt with John B or somethin’.” He lazily waves you off, mumbling something you don’t quite hear.

A smile fights its way to the surface, and you gently place your hand on the smooth plane of his shoulder. “Oh, but I wanted to flirt with you instead. How’s that sound, hm?”

He quickly pushes your touch away. “It sounds like my girl’s gonna kill you any second now, so watch it, Blondie.” He slurs his words as he speaks, pulling giggles from your lips. You gently take his wrist in your hand to remove his arm from his eyes and press a kiss where your fingertips touch him. His eyes stay closed, and he juts his chin in the opposite direction in protest.

“Jay, baby, I’m not killing anyone anytime soon,” you coo, leaning over his chest and face while running a hand through his hair. 

He opens one eye, suspicious of your claims, but quickly realizes it’s you, and turns to look at you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, his expression swallowed by a smile. “When did you get here, baby?”

“Oh, just now,” you answer, laughter lacing your words, “Kie called me over.” You press a kiss to his forehead before sitting back up, your hand quickly taken by his.

“You should’ve come sooner.” His other hand makes its way to your thigh, smoothing over your skin. “I was waiting for you, all by myself, and—” he abruptly sits up— “there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers. He casts a glance to the Chateau. “It’s top secret.”

With him this close, you can smell the vodka on his breath. “Yeah? What is it?” You loop your arms around his neck and scratch at the nape of his neck, to which he instinctively responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing the palms of his hands along your back.

“This is top secret, classified information, princess, you can’t just get it for free. Everything comes with a price.” A sly little grin comes over him, tugging you a little closer.

Knowing JJ, you already know where this is headed. You decide to play along anyway: “Name it, then. I’m sure we can strike a deal somehow.”

He mulls over his words before saying, “Hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“You—” he points at your chest— “give me three—no, five kisses for the info up front.” When you raise your eyebrows in suspicion, he continues, “And every follow up question is worth another kiss.”

“This must be very important information.”

“Very.” His hands, still soaking in the feeling of you beneath them, start to play with the hem of your tank top, fingertips slipping beneath the fabric to feel skin. “Better pay up soon.”

You feign a look of shock and place a hand on his chest. “I didn’t even agree yet, don’t get too excited.” 

He pouts with furrowed brows, convinced his offer would be impossible to resist. “Why? Baby, come on,” he urges, holding you tighter, “This is the part where you kiss me.” His eyelids droop with drunkenness and fatigue as he presses his lips to your neck, but you quickly take his jaw in your hand and pull him away. 

“Ah ah ah,” you tease. “You come to bed first, then I’ll give you kisses for your secrets.”

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” His hands work their way from your waist down to your hips again, soon grazing your thighs the way he knows erupts butterflies in your stomach. “I wanna stay here with you…have you boss me around. You’re very sexy when you do it.” He smirks while looking up at you, and you know for a fact he’s just trying to push your buttons.

You roll your eyes and push his face away as you start to stand up. “You’re a pain in the ass, I hope you know that.” As bitter as you try to sound, you’ll always have a soft spot for him the way he does for you, especially when your bitterness is met with that beautiful smile of his. You hold out both hands, towering over him and urging him to stand. “C’mon, Jay.”

He leans his weight onto his hands, stubborn as always. “Will you stay the night?”

“Not if you keep this up, I won’t.” You lend him a condescending smile. 

“But Baby,” he groans, finally complying now that the stakes have been raised. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I miss you.” He starts to shuffle where he sits, taking hold of your hands as you pull him up, dizziness causing him to stumble into your arms. “Can’t a boy just get some love from his girl?” 

There he goes again—his girl. 

You loop his arm over your shoulder and wrap yours around his waist as you lead him into the Chateau, surrounded by his warmth and the smell that’s so distinctly him: a bit of beachiness, mandarin and musky from his body wash, a hint of marijuana.

“You’re very kind,” he rambles on, “for coming here so late. I missed you.”

“I know, baby. You told me.”

He makes his way up the steps with you, following as you open the door. “Well, I’m making sure you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, love.” You smile to yourself, a little caught off guard with how open he’s become.

“I still have to tell you that top secret information,” he whispers, leaning down to your ear-level. His body wraps around you as you stand in front of him to open the door to his bedroom, his arms start to wrap around your waist again. “And you still owe me kisses for it.”

You usher him into his room, shutting the door behind you. “C’mon, let’s get into bed. That was the rule.”

He does as you wish without complaint for once, though when he does sit at the edge of his bed, he also pulls you to stand in between his legs. “I’m in bed now.”

“I can see that,” you giggle, hands massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a kiss now?”

“Not yet.” You tug at the fabric of his shirt. “Take this off, please?” You don’t think much when you say it, but once the words slip out and you see JJ’s brows raise as a cocky smirk crosses his face, you realize you need to cover your tracks.

He bites his tongue to oblige, nabbing the back of his tee before pulling it over his head. Revealed to you are his broad shoulders, his chest, those toned arms that are, admittedly, to die for, though you’d never tell him that directly. 

“You’re trying to undress me, baby?” he asks, too quick for you to correct yourself. His hands take purchase of your hips before taking up your thighs, his hands molding to your curves and getting treacherously close to your inner thighs.

Your face goes hot—why is he so good at this?—but you keep a straight face and grab his face, one hand cupping his jaw while the other supports the back of his head. “Do you want your kiss or not?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, almost immediately. His eyes glaze over, entranced by everything you are. A drunk smile is sent your way, and he can’t really tell whether the tingling all over his body is just from the vodka, or if it’s your hands on his body, your snippy tone that he knows is full of love. He’s sure that no matter how flustered he can make you, it’ll never compare to how you make him feel with even the slightest of touches.

Your grip goes soft, and you rake your hand through his hair, his eyes falling shut and his head gone slack into your hands. “You’re beyond wasted, aren't you?”

He laughs heartily now, eyes still shut as he nods his head. “I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, princess.” Giggles line his words and his face scrunches in a smile, dimple on display.

“How much did you drink?”

“A few beers.”

“And?” You tug lightly on his hair.

“Mm, some vodka, maybe. A few shots.” His hands drag from the backs of your thighs, to your hips, to your waist.

“JJ.” You stare down at his clearly vodka-dazed face. “How many is a few?”

He hums to himself, as deep in thought one can be when wasted. “Maybe seven…or nine…don’t remember,” he mumbles.

You sigh to yourself, not surprised by his recklessness but still not all too happy with it. 

But before you can formulate a single thought, a single articulated response, he starts to pout—eyes still closed of course, because your boy is nothing if not a truth-teller. “You sound mad.” Even when wasted he knows you so well.

“I’m not,” you fib a little, for his own sake. You kiss his forehead, then his cheek before letting go of him entirely to pull back the covers for him. “Come on, time to sleep, yeah?” You give a soft tug on his hand as his body goes pliant.

He slowly but surely crawls properly into bed, giving you a show of his back muscles flexing and relaxing before falling face-first into his pillow with a hmph. You lay down next to him as he lifts his arm with all his might, slowly turning onto his side to make space for you. Legs intertwine without words, the warmth of his body blankets your senses, his weight grounds you.

“You need to hurry, princess. I need to…need to give you the information.” The words are half-muffled by his pillow, and his eyes are still shut. 

“Oh. We’re still doing that?” You’re surprised he even remembers the information at this point—whatever it might be. 

He squeezes you tighter into his body, pulling a smile from you as he groans. “Yes, we’re still doing that…it’s important. You need three more…”

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. “Does that count?”

“Mhm, two more.” A stupid, drunk, terribly charming grin crosses his face, and it feels like you’re falling for him all over again, teetering at the edge of a cliff. His arm, still heavy on your waist, shifts a little, and his fingers dance along your back and light fires where they touch.

You curl your hand, gently, along the crook of his neck and kiss his jaw. “And that counts as well?”

With the way you’re whispering your words into his neck, JJ swears he could die happily. “Mm, sure does.”

For the fifth and final kiss, the corner of his mouth. It curls into your kiss like he knew it was coming, and you give him one more just for good measure—and, maybe, because seeing him smile is worth his weight in gold. You brush your hand through his hair before hugging him a little tighter towards your chest, all too aware now that you won’t be getting any information out of him the rest of the night. This minor inconvenience, however, doesn’t seem to compare to having him in your arms, his breath against your neck, his arm wrapped around you to tell you he’s there, and he’s there to stay, and he wants to be there more than anywhere else.

You think that you could play this game a million times over. The part where you kiss him—that is, when his lovely, sweet little smile peeks through that rough shell—will never get old enough to retire.

(But for tonight, you can live without more of his drunken teasing. Just for tonight.)

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 20 🍒

"Baby Loves Me"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 8,823 (she's a big'un)

Summary: A blizzard, a wedding, family secrets, and two people who can't stop thinking about each other. Are these fateful events going to drive you apart for good, or bring you even closer together?

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place a few days before Christmas 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of health issues, oral (m & f receiving), Ellie has anger issues, use of guns for recreational shooting, jealous!Joel, mutual pining, reader wears makeup and dresses, unprotected piv, creampie, TW for minor heart attack and hospitalization (everything is okay in the end), getting back together and having a happily ever after. In this universe everyone is alive and happy.

Author's Note: this series was the first story I ever posted on AO3 and then recently here on tumblr. I had no idea so many people would love it, and it's currently my most liked, most commented-on, and most bookmarked work on AO3 ♥️ It feels so good to finally have this complete, but I will write some one-shots about this couple in the future, because part of me really doesn't want to let them go. Much love to those who stuck around and showed their support while I got this story hammered out. I love and appreciate all of you!

Please enjoy this playlist for your listening pleasure, songs that either appear in the series or provided inspiration

Series Masterlist

It's early when Joel wakes, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he puts his hand to his heart, eyes scrunched closed tight as he prepares himself for the increasingly painful palpitations. He grunts in suffering at the agony of the erratic pounding of his heart, body tense until it passes, and he sighs with relief, head in his hands as he runs his fingers through his greying locks.

It's been almost a week now that he's had these pains, happening every day now that Sarah's wedding day is nearing. He gets them on and off but lately stress has been catching up to him and reminding him he's not in his thirties anymore. Hell, he'd give anything just to be in his forties again.

He gets up to get a glass of water, quickly throwing on a shirt before going downstairs. The house is quiet though he can see the electric glow of the television light on underneath yours and Ellie's rooms. He hesitates just outside of your room, putting an ear to the door, hoping to catch some tidbit of your voice, some clue as to what you're doing in there, but it's quiet, just the low volume of something playing on TV.

With a sigh he goes down to the kitchen.

Alone with his thoughts, affected by the presence of you and Ellie under his own roof, he takes stock of his life, of all the moments he failed you when he should have been there for you.

That first night he set foot back in Austin after serving time in the Bexar County jail, wondering if he should call you, he'd gone instead to a bar and met Hailey. He didn't recognize her at first, but she'd come on so strong, and the alcohol ran freely that night, so by the time he'd taken her home and her warm, tight little mouth was wrapped around his cock, it was too late. He didn't expect that that one night would lead to her wanting more, but by then you were gone, tucked back safely away in Houston where he couldn't get his hands on you and where you could (he'd hoped) in time forget about him. You were too much of a good girl with too much potential to waste it on someone like him. Hailey was someone who was always going to be stuck in a small town, so he didn't have to worry he was holding her back. But he soon came to realize that all they had between them was fucking. Not that he'd ever minded it in the past, but after having you, experiencing what real love was like, what Hailey offered felt like a cheap replacement, and he just wasn't that man anymore. He knew Sarah hated her, so when he caught Hailey stealing from him he knew that was the last straw and ended things.

Sad to say he went back to his usual routine from before he met you. Working from sunup to sundown, coming home with new aches in his joints to a meal Sarah had had to cook herself, or pizza that had gone cold. On the weekends he'd be at the bar, either with Tommy or more often alone, and he'd find a woman and wind up at her place. He could never bring them back to his, not in his bed that he shared with you.

Seeing you in New Orleans that summer night had been a shock to his system. He thought he'd managed to get over you just a little, but seeing you, a little older than the last time, looking soft and happy and bright-eyed as you laughed with Tommy.. and that fucking rock on your finger that signaled you were taken. Something primeval in him stirred when he ran into you in that restroom hallway, your lips full and glossy from making out with his brother, jealousy surging through him that you'd be so willing to cheat on your husband-to-be with someone other than himself.. it led him to want you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Leaving you the next day had been the hardest thing, but he had to remind himself you were going to belong to another. He couldn't get in the way of that, not when he'd only shown his love for you by fucking you in a bar restroom. You were going to marry a military man and have a respectable life, that was what he wanted for you. To have a life with Joel would only make you sordid, ripe for gossip. He was old enough to be your father and you were in fact his his best friend's daughter. He couldn't sully your life with his mistakes.

On a last minute whim he'd come to your wedding, sat at the very back as you were oblivious to him, staring into your husband's eyes as you spoke your vows, each word a piece of jagged glass in his heart. He'd left before you could see him, driving back to Texas at a high rate of speed, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Why hadn't he just objected? He could have done it, raised his hand and told the entire congregation that you were his god damn it. He would have led you out, carrying you bridal style, ripped your damn dress off you and fucked you senseless.

It was later that Tommy suggested the dating app. Joel wasn't a fan of technology, and in fact still had his old Nokia phone that Sarah was warning him was becoming obsolete and cajoled him into upgrading to a smartphone. Once she and Tommy had helped him with setting up a profile on eHarmony, the requests piled in. Women from all over the state showed their interest. He had his pick of almost anyone. While he went on a few fruitless dates (some of which actually ended up in sex) there were few that actually interested him.

Until Tess. She was so much like him, and more suited to his age. A divorcee, she knew what she wanted in a relationship and stuck by her values. Beneath her tough exterior Joel found she was actually very kindhearted, even sweet. She cared about animals, liked beer, and was a homebody. She'd resisted his charms at first, but eventually neither could give in to the spark they felt. It took some convincing to get her to marry him. She accepted only on the terms that he move to Boston. She'd visited Texas a few times on business, but she wanted to stay in the northeast, and Joel, in love again for the first time in years, acquiesced.

The problem was they were too much alike. Both wanted to lead, and while he was happy to let Tess have the reigns now and then, it became an issue. This led to more arguments, tense discussions over things that shouldn't have mattered. The divorce, when it finally happened, was a blessing in disguise. Joel followed Tommy away from Boston and found comfort here in Wyoming, in a place he could start anew.

Sarah had been none too subtle when she brought you up in conversation. "Did you know she's a teacher?" "She's single now, divorced actually." "She's in California with her daughter."

Every damn day there was a phone call or a text where you were mentioned. And now, with you here under his roof at Sarah's behest, it was apparent that she was trying to get you two back together again.

He knew he needed to speak with you about that comment you uttered, about "our" daughter Ellie. He'd done the math in his head, just to be safe, and had calculated that he could indeed be her dad. But he had to get the honest answer from you.

It'd be easy if you would at least acknowledge his presence.

Your cold shoulder is more like an arctic icy blast. Your refusal to even meet his eye is like an arrow through his heart. He wishes that you would at least glare at him, or say something sarcastic or hurtful, but your silence is the coldest thing, even with the blizzard outside.

He's hopeful during one moment the next morning, as he's going into the hall restroom while you're coming out. Freshly showered, you're wearing a towel around your body, skin glowing, hair combed back and damp. The steam that surrounds you from your hot shower makes you look like a figure from a movie, an ethereal angel come to earth. His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your beautiful eyes wide and plush lips parted. Then you resume your coldness, pulling your towel tighter around you as you go to your room. When he steps in he smells the jasmine aroma of your body wash still in the air around him his dick hardens in response.

Hearing that Sofia has arrived is the one bright spot in your time here.

You meet her at the Tipsy Bison after everyone has helped out shoveling snow off the path. You'd found yourself working next to Joel and said nothing to him, ignoring his silent appeal for you to talk to him.

Now the crew is indulging in some food and beer at the bar while you catch up with your cousin.

"How did you get in? I thought the roads were impassable," you tell her after a big hug and an introduction to her fiancee Ruby. It had come as a surprise to you when she'd told you she was marrying a woman, but Sofia had said she'd only followed her heart and didn't consider herself stuck to any sort of label. Ruby was the perfect person for her and there was no looking back.

"Tommy sent a pilot friend of his to pick us up from the airport when our taxi couldn't make it through the snow," she says, nearly knocked over as Ellie pummels her with a bear hug. "We were helicoptered in, like a couple of VIPs."

It's like old times as you share a booth altogether, different kinds of appetizers in the center of the table as you catch up on things.

"How did you manage to still stay friends with Tommy?" you ask when Ruby and Ellie go to make change for the jukebox. Hearing that Sofia is staying with Tommy and Maria during their visit, you can't help but wonder how other people can so easily put aside the past.

"I think it helped that we were friends before we started dating," she shrugs. "And.. to be honest, our relationship never got that serious. Not like you and Joel," she finishes in a whisper, darting a glance at the elder Miller brother, who's knocking back some beer with Tommy and a few others.

"Why do you ask?" Sofia continues.

"I don't know how to deal with being under the same roof as Joel," you admit. "Everything that he put me through.. I know we're only here for a few days but it feels like an eternity. It's becoming harder to avoid him."

"You should talk to him," she says gently. "You don't have to be best friends or anything, but you're a friend of the bride. You should at least be civil."

You sneak a look over your shoulder at him, just to find he's already staring at you. You quickly turn away.

"Does he know about.." Sofia motions with her head toward Ellie, who's at the jukebox with Ruby.

"No," you respond. "And he doesn't need to know."

"That's not fair to him," she softly scolds you.

"You are the only one I've trusted with this, Sofia. Please do not make me regret telling you."

Sofia is really the only family you have left. You never saw you father after that fateful night when Joel fought him, and your mother disowned Ellie when she came out, causing you to disown your mother in return. Your circle is small but faithful.

She backs off. "All right," she relents. "But what about Ellie? She'll resent you for keeping this a secret this long."

You watch your daughter, who's drifted from the jukebox to one of the pool tables, mindlessly spinning the cue ball upon the soft green surface. She's distracted when she sees another girl across the room, a pretty dark-haired girl around her own age, watching Ellie furtively, as if fascinated.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Ellie shouts, causing the girl to run away.

"Ellie!" you snap at her, and to your astonishment Joel walks past you to go to her. You freeze, watching their interaction, but all seems to be okay as they talk quietly.

"I don't know what to do for her. I don't know how to help her.. she's so angry, especially since the divorce. And Justin rarely ever sees her. The only thing he's good for is the child support." You swig your beer, itching to go and talk to her, but the stubborn side of you refuses to be closer to Joel than is necessary.

Sofia folds her napkin in sections. "She called me and told me about Riley.. and the little mishap at the mall."

Earlier that year, Ellie and Riley had been picked up by the cops for trespassing in an abandoned mall and vandalizing some stores. It was completely unlike her, and even though you both sought family therapy for all the issues you were going through, it didn't seem to be making much leeway.

"She doesn't seem so angry now," Sofia mentions, and you turn to see Joel and Ellie starting a game of pool. You both watch as she tries to pull off complicated trick shots and Joel just shakes his head in feigned frustration. Once again your gaze lingers too long and you lock eyes, but this time you offer a tiny smile, mouthing 'thanks.'

"Hey Mom, can I go with Joel and Finn? Joel said I have to ask you."

You look up from where you're steam-cleaning your dress for the rehearsal dinner tonight. "Where are you going?"

"It's near the woods on Joel's property. We're just going for a hike," she shrugs.

"I guess.. just behave yourself, okay?"

She grins, glad to have gotten permission. You follow her down to the foyer where Joel and Finn are getting their hats and gloves on. "Be careful," you tell them, though it's mostly meant for Joel.

"Of course. You're okay with her shootin'?"

"What?!"

Ellie manages to look chagrined. "I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew guns would be involved."

"Well you thought right!"

"I won't let her if you won't allow it," Joel offers.

"Come on!" Ellie groans.

"Just remember that you're on thin ice back home," you tell her without wanting to let on to the others about Ellie's troubled past.

"Somethin' the matter?" Joel asks, eyes darting between you and her.

"Nope," Ellie's all smiles when you hesitate to answer. "Let's get going!"

She and Finn race out the door into the snowy yard just as Joel stops for a brief moment. "I won't let her shoot if you don't want her to," he says solemnly.

The nearness of him, the rich baritone of his voice could easily bring you to your knees. It feels like a chore just to swallow that emotion and consider it dead, a mistake.

"Just be careful," you repeat, a smile flitting on your lips. Heat rises in your face when you see his gaze drop down to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his own lips.

"You could come with us."

Your first instinct is to refuse, to keep that wall built between him and yourself. Good fences make good neighbors and brick walls keep people from reliving past trauma.

But damn it's hard to say no when he's here right in front of you, after all this time, and the parts of you that have healed just want to give in, to go into his arms again.

It's not a surprise when you're in the passenger seat of his truck, like old times. And though it's a newer model and the seats have warmers and the upholstery makes the whole car smell like it was just driven off the lot, in a way it still feels like summer 2003.

Finn's done this before, the apple of his grandfather's eye. Even with the skill of a child, he shoots with ease, knocking down most of the targets Joel had set up on a fence.

When it's Ellie's turn she's eager for the gun, but her practice shots are haphazard: off an old fallen tree, a random snowbank. She huffs in frustration.

"Wide right," Joel tells her. "You're flinchin'."

Ellie shakes her head. "The target's too small."

"I made it bigger than I should've. Eject the cartridge."

You watch your only child move with precision, handling the gun with ease despite being new to this. "I'm not flinching, the rifle just sucks."

You and Finn exchange a look, suppressing your laughter.

"Okay, give it." Joel changes places with Ellie, who quips, "It doesn't aim right, you'll see."

It's hard to tear your eyes from him as he sets up, moving with the ease of someone half his age. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it," he says, ignoring Ellie's teasing remarks. "Gentle, steady, nice and slow."

"You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" she smirks, and when you laugh out loud Joel shakes his head, pulling off the perfect shot.

After, you rest on the tailgate of the truck while drinking warm beverages from your thermoses. Ellie and Finn gather their energy quickly enough, playing in the snow and chasing each other. It brightens your day to see your daughter smiling.

"I wanna apologize for the other day," Joel says, his eyes flicking to you. "I was outta line. I've apologized to Ellie too. I think she and I are good now."

You nod, somewhat relieved that he'd brought it up first. "I'm sorry too. I guess I get pretty riled up when someone tries to out-parent me."

Joel looks away, towards the mountains that peak their grayness against the clear blue sky. "He been outta the picture long?"

"Who? Justin?" You notice Joel winces at your ex husband's name. "Long enough. He was supposed to spend time with her for Christmas but chose his new wife over his own daughter. She didn't take it very well."

"Fuckin' bastard," he mutters. "Always figured there was a reason for me to not like him."

You give him a strange look. "You didn't know him."

"Didn't need to. He took you away from me. That's reason enough."

"Joel," you say quietly, both a scolding and a scoff. You remember his body against yours that night, the way your sheets bore his scent until the day before Justin came back from out of town and you had to wash away the evidence of your betrayal.

"I'm sorry I didn't go after you. There were a million opportunities and I failed each time."

You say his name again, with softness this time, your hand finding his, his palm almost completely dwarfing yours. You think about his fingers inside you, teasing you for the first time, showing you how to open up to him, and how you ended up giving away your whole heart.

In the moment where you can say the most heartwarming or romantic or even angry thing, what comes out of your mouth is: "You never accepted my friend request."

Joel looks puzzled. "What?"

"My friend request. On Facebook. I tried to add you but you never accepted it, so I canceled it." Cringing at your own words, how needy they sound, you take your hand from his, but he traps it within his own again.

"Darlin', I never look at that stuff. I only got one 'cause everyone else goaded me into it." His eyes look mirthful as he sees your doleful eyes.

"And that's how I found out about Tess.."

"Oh." The mirthful look is gone, replaced by a dark, blank look. The first marriage, the only marriage he ever had, so late in life, ended.

"What was she like?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He looks at the ground, as if the snow is so interesting. "What was that idiot fuckboy husband of yours like?"

You almost laugh, surprised that he's jealous, even after you've moved on from your marriage.

"He wasn't as great as I thought," you shrug. "But that doesn't matter now."

Joel smiles, agreeing. "Tess was.. we were good for awhile but you're right, doesn't matter now."

"Because we both turned out okay.. me and you."

He thinks it over a bit, eventually nodding. "Yeah.." His deep brown eyes meet yours, and you catch a glimmer of the man he was before, twenty years past, a single dad with a teenage girl and an interest in the new girl next door. "I'm sorry.. for everything. We happened so fast that my brain had to catch up with my heart."

You're afraid that if you think about it for too long you'll cry and never stop. "We don't have to talk about that.."

He nods, looking a little sad that you declined. "You're right, we don't."

"Look at you with all this land," you smile, gently teasing him to change the subject. "What are you gonna do with all of it?"

Joel shrugs, looking at his property, thinking again of the possibilities. "I might decide to turn it into a ranch, raise sheep," he shrugs. "They're quiet and do what they're told."

He's quiet another moment, before his voice drops an octave. "I'm really glad you came, babygirl.. it's really good to see you. Don't think I said that before."

A smile graces your lips, a genuine one, and the warmth of his words melts what's left of your defenses. "Joel.. there's something I need to tell you.. about Ellie.." The words are out before you even think.

Your heart pounds, taking residence in your throat as if to keep the truth from spilling out. Joel turns his whole body to you. His eyes search yours, without question or condemnation, as if he's willing you to say it because he already knows, because he just wants it made real.

When the moment passes it's a disappointment to both of you. It's getting later in the afternoon and you still need to get ready for tonight. The kids trudge back to the truck and you get in next to Joel in the front. There's a quietness that fills the space, thick and somewhat desperate.

The Tipsy Bison has gone through another temporary makeover for the rehearsal dinner: garlands of lights arch across the ceiling from beam to beam, creating a pleasant, dreamy atmosphere. People mill around waiting for the bride and groom who are running a little late. Drinks are served and tables of food boast different kinds of cuisine.

Ellie makes a beeline for the hors d'oevres, immediately picking out what she wants and stuffing it straight into her mouth as if she hasn't seen food in months. Joel watches her from the next table over, trying hard as hell not to call her out too harshly, but as his stomach growls he joins her in the hunt for sustenance.

A tray of pastel-colored macarons catches Ellie's eye and she takes a light green treat with her fingers. "What are these?" She scrutinizes it, taking a quick sniff.

"It's some kinda cookie.. or something.. how the hell should I know?" he grumbles.

"Pistachio," she grunts in disgust, putting it back on the plate.

"Well, now don't put it back, you've already touched it and sniffed it and everything.." Joel quickly pops the discarded macaron into his mouth.

"If you want 'em they're all yours," she says, giving his shoulder a couple heavy claps before moving on down the line of food.

He just shakes his head, looking around for you for the tenth time tonight, finding you with Sarah and her soon-to-be inlaws at the bar. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you in a dark red dress, long-sleeved, cinched at the waist, and he feels a familiar rush of blood to his cock as he eyes the thigh-length slit on one side of the skirt.

"That color is sensational on you."

You turn to the voice you've just heard, as the group you were talking with disperses.

"Hi," you tell the older, well-dressed man in front of you. "I don't believe we've met." But then it hits you, and just as he introduces himself you realize you already know his name.

"I'm Frank," he says, a Duchenne smile lighting up his features and crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. He's handsome, and very friendly. And he was friends with Joel during his marriage to Tess.

He introduces you to his husband Bill, who regards you with a certain suspicion and gives a gruff acknowledgement to your hello. "He's like that with everyone," Franks explains in a stage whisper, while rolling his eyes. "He's just a big grump, but I love him."

"I'm a friend of the bride," you tell them after giving your name, and also introducing Ellie, who's arrived next to you with a plate piled high with shrimp, pulled pork sliders, and mini cheesecakes.

"She's a friend of Joel's," Frank tells Bill, as if to clarify.

"Um, yes.. I'm also a friend of his," you agree. Pretending to spot someone across the room, you excuse yourself, giving a subtle motion for Ellie to follow you, but she stays where she is, popping a whole shrimp in her mouth, eyeing the couple.

"There's a story there," Frank says enticingly as he sips his beer.

"What do you mean?" she asks, curious about the gossip.

Bill gives him a look and shakes his head. "She's a kid, she doesn't need your dramatic stories."

"Now I have to know!" Ellie insists.

Frank feigns annoyance. "Oh all right."

He weaves the tale of Joel and his wife Tess: happily married at first, so alike in attitude and hobbies. She thought she knew everything about the man she married, but when Tommy, in a drunken game of poker one night, recalled a certain young woman who Joel knew, a woman who could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue, Joel told his brother, in a similar drunken state, that he remembered her fondly, missed her like crazy, she was the one who got away.

Tess wasn't the type to hound someone for details, but she didn't like there was a part of Joel's past that she didn't know about. Especially if that past was filled with him falling in love with and screwing a college girl. This naturally led to arguments that Tess refused to drop. Joel didn't want to relive that time with you, and insisted it meant nothing since you were well and truly out of his life.

But the damage had been done, and the thorn of jealousy had pierced Tess's heart. You were a stranger to her and still could not be defeated.

Frank recalled with suppressed glee the night Tess had stormed out on a dinner party, ranting at Joel about "not being able to get over a stupid ass teenager" and causing a scene for the others to eat up. It had embarrassed Joel deeply, but when news of Sarah's wedding had become known, Joel couldn't keep it secret from the friends of his ex-wife. He'd come to like them in his own way, especially Bill, with whom he shared a predilection for quiet and keeping to one's self. They hunted and fished like old times and soon enough both he and Frank were invited to the wedding.

"There's a saying that goes," Frank is telling Ellie, "'everyone can see it but them.'"

Ellie glances at you across the room, and then at Joel. You and he trade silent, surreptitious glances at one another, filled with longing. You glance at him and he catches you before you glance away, and vice versa. The signal between your gazes is irrefutable. There's something there, has been all this time. All it needed was a little meddling from Sarah to bring the spark back to life.

For the first time Ellie sees you as something more than her mother. She realizes you had a past, a life before she was born, and a fraction of that life was spent in love with a man she just met a couple days ago.

"Hey Mom, can you help?"

Hearing Ellie, you immediately shift into Mom Mode, stopping your own get-ready routine to assist her. She's in your doorway, holding out her wrists. She picked out the suit herself, but the cufflinks are something new.

"Did you get these from your dad?"

"Joel let me borrow them for today."

It's finally the day of the wedding, and as the ceremony isn't until the evening, the whole house is a kind of organized chaos from morning through the afternoon. As if your nerves weren't already on fire, Sarah had approached you early that morning (fortunately for her while you were drinking your coffee) and asked if you'd replace one of her bridesmaids who'd come down with a cold overnight and couldn't attend.

You'd reasoned with her that you didn't have a bridesmaid dress, but that was easily solved when it was revealed the bridesmaids were all wearing jewel tones, and the sapphire gown you'd purchased off the rack would do just fine.

You had anticipated being part of a crowd. Now you'd be at the front of the congregation, all eyes on you, especially Joel's.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you finish helping Ellie with her cufflinks and let her entertain you with whatever teenage thought is flipping around in her brain while you touch up your makeup.

"I'm supposed to meet with Sarah and the bridal party at the church. You can ride with me or you'll have to find a ride with someone else."

"Joel will take me."

You brush away some stray powder on your cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe he could take both of us. Want me to ask him?"

"No--"

But she's gone before you can stop her.

You feel Joel's eyes on you as you during the short drive to the church, and you blame the heat you feel coursing through your body on the seat warmer.

"It's a nice thing you're doin' for Sarah, steppin' in at the last minute," he says, eyes finally on the road.

"I can't let down a bride in need," you say somewhat cheerfully. "She'd do the same for me."

"Maybe at your next wedding." Ellie pipes up from the backseat, and Joel's frown is not lost on you.

The lead-up to the actual ceremony is a blur, as it was at your own wedding fifteen years before. The bridal party clusters around Sarah, who looks radiant, as she promises she isn't nervous. You can sense her agitation in the way her knee bounces as she's seated, one of the bridesmaids doing a last minute touch up to her hair. The air is heavy with excitement, the scent of hair spray and perfume all around you, reminding you that you're flammable.

"Remember this day," you advise her, and she looks up at you with a grateful smile. "It goes by unbelievably fast."

You wonder if you'll ever have this again, the butterflies in your stomach as you wait for the moment when you see your man at the aisle, awaiting you. You were lucky to have it once. Twice would be an anomaly, considering you haven't had a real relationship in so long.

Joel knocks and, granted entrance, the bridesmaids flutter about, getting ready for their entrance into the church. The bride and her father are left alone, no doubt exchanging words of love before he gives her away to her true love.

You had no one to walk down the aisle with when you were a bride, and the memory threatens to cloud your mind as you take your small bouquet of white roses and camellias. "Canon in D" starts, and the line makes its way down the aisle, towards the altar where Theo and his groomsmen wait.

Situated at the altar, the congregation rises as the music changes, and Sarah walks in, arm in arm with Joel.

Your eyes are on him the entire time, and your heart feels to big to fit in your chest. You've never seen Joel in a suit, but this one is perfectly tailored to his broad, strong physique. His hair is perfectly styled, his grey visible through the curls you long to run your fingers through.

When Sarah and Theo exchange vows your gaze unexpectedly meet Joel's and this time neither of you look away. You catch the glimmer of a tear falling down his cheek, which he does not wipe away. The bride and groom's words seem to ring loud and true: a promise of love through hard times and illness; of love that only grows in each others' absence; of love that does not die even after death.

The reception is held at the Tipsy Bison, and you marvel at how it's managed to disguise itself once more from a saloon to an elegant wedding atmosphere. A lot of money has gone into the week's events, and you know it's all Joel's doing. He's giving away his daughter, sending her off in style, giving her a day she'll remember forever.

You watch Sarah and Joel during their father-daughter dance, a tradition you didn't get to have yourself. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland starts up by the band onstage, and it tugs on your heartstrings to watch them. In the back of your mind you see them, Joel still thirty-six and Sarah still fourteen. By the time Sarah and Theo have their first dance as husband and wife you're already in the ladies' room, splashing cold water on your face so no one can see you've been crying.

Later, the bridesmaids and groomsmen have scattered, dancing or drinking at the bar, mingling. You stay at your seat at the now nearly-empty wedding party table, fingers twirling the stem of your champagne glass.

Mired in your own thoughts, you don't realize Joel has approached, crouching next to you.

"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice nearly a rasp with how nervous he is.

Wordlessly you take his hand, which practically dwarfs your own, as he leads you to the dance floor. You fall into a rhythm as the band starts up "Tennessee Whiskey", swaying softly to the music. His right hand rests on your lower back, gently guiding you. Your heart pounds as you gaze into his eyes. You haven't been this close to him since the night you conceived Ellie, the fateful night that threw a wrench into all your plans.

"It was a beautiful wedding," you lean in close to be heard over the music.

Joel shivers at your proximity, the brush of your lips against his ear, and he pulls you a little closer. "I'm happy you came all this way for it. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you affirm, your hand gliding up to his shoulder.

The air is thick with tension, much like in the days you'd first met. You have to turn away or risk your feelings made known to everyone here.

Ellie's at one of the booths with the dark-haired girl from a couple days ago, watching something on her phone. As the girl laughs you see Ellie looking at her with a warmth you haven't known her capable of for anyone else.

"She's going to hate me for having to take her away again.." you tell him. "I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

He clears his throat. "Maybe now she has a reason to return." He nods towards Ellie and her new friend.

Your limbs stiffen a little in response. You're not yet ready to think about the future, the possibilities it holds. You've barely begun to mend your friendship with Joel.

"Maybe," you relent, quietly, a promise made in the ether.

Joel's silent as the music moves smoothly in the air between you. His grip tightens on your body as he asks, "She's mine, ain't she?"

You snap from your thoughts, your heart in your throat as you stop dancing. "Excuse me?" Your eyes bore into him, daring him to speak the truth for himself.

"The other day you said 'our daughter'.. the timeline's right, I'm not that bad at math," he manages a smile.

"Joel, I.." you shake your head. "It's all too much. I can't think about this right now."

"Just tell me the truth," he says quietly.

"What would it matter if she was?"

"It'd make a whole hell of a difference. Two daughters, two Miller girls. Don't you think somethin' like that would make me happy?"

For a rare moment you let yourself think about the day your mother came to get you, pull you back home to Houston seeped in shame and regret. She'd lied and manipulated facts to get you on her side. You vowed you'd never be like her or put Ellie through that.

"Yes, Joel.." you whisper. "She's yours.."

The joy that shines in his eyes is like nothing you've ever seen before. When his arms wrap around you your lips find his as if twenty years has never passed between you. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, you're making out like teenagers.

"I want you," he growls.

"Let's get out of here," you agree.

You're barely through the front door of his home when he presses you to the wall, his mouth hungry for yours. You hadn't thought you'd experience this level of passion again, but time has not diminished it for either of you.

"Joel," you moan as he presses himself to you, the blunt hardness of his erection teasing you. "Fuck me, Joel.."

He groans at your words, body aching with desire as he goes to his knees in front of you, lifting the hem of your dress. He presses messy kisses along your thighs while his hands roam over your hips and ass, his breath hot against your skin as he approaches the spot he most wants to taste again.

"Been too long, darlin'," he murmurs as he pulls your lacy underwear down your legs. "Been too damn long since I had you like this."

You kick your panties off, hooking one leg over his shoulder as he dives in, tongue lapping at your sweet pussy like a thirsty man finally finding water.

He stays there, tongue dancing between your folds and then tickling your clit, tasting you so deeply that you cry out, head falling back, body arched towards him, fingers tangled in his hair. Joel feasts like a man starved, slurping you up, inhaling your scent that surrounds him. There's nothing about you that's changed. You're still so sensitive to his touch, responsive to his lips, tongue, and now fingers pressed deep inside, finding the spot that makes you scream while his lips purse around your throbbing clit.

He doesn't stop after you come. He feasts on you over and over again, making up for lost time, pleading for your forgiveness this way, literally on his knees until you scream his name, convulsing around his fingers, your honey collecting on his large digits. Only when you feel completely boneless does he remove them gently, licking up your syrupy taste.

Joel picks you up, your dress falling back in to place as he carries you bridal style up to his room.

All roads have led back to him. No matter where you went, no matter who you chose, Joel was always going to be there at the end of the path, your guiding light, even when you thought you hated him and when you thought he would never choose you again.

Even now, his body over yours, he's the missing piece of the puzzle. He teases you with his cock until you beg him to just put it in, to make you whole again. The glorious slide of his flesh into yours causes you both to gasp and your bodies still for a moment, taking in the significance of this act which you've done so many times before.

He's older now, but his vigor is not gone. He fucks you gently at first, then with impatience, as if he's afraid you'll dissolve like a dream in daylight. You'd know the feel of his cock among any other, the smooth outline and the ridges, the way he's molded his perfect shape into you, marked you years ago when you were a virgin, as if leaving his initials inside you. Mine.

You've never had a man to match him, never had someone so in sync with your body. He knows all your buttons, every dip and valley that his hand caresses. He's mapped out your skin like a cartographer, claiming the land in his own name.

You come almost too quickly the first time, before he flips you on top of him, gripping your hips as you ride him. "Love you," you moan as you come close to the edge again, heart and soul flying ahead of you into the bliss you've only really known with him.

Beneath you Joel's eyes go wide when you come, his hips lifting up into you, warmth spilling into your core.

"Babygirl," he whispers, a choked grunt as he turns pale, his skin clammy and sweaty when he loses consciousness.

As soon as Sarah and Ellie arrive at the hospital you hug them, overcome with worry for Joel's medical emergency.

"How is he?" Sarah asks, still in her wedding dress. Even in the emergency waiting room she's generating a lot of interested looks her way.

"They just took him in a few minutes ago," you tell her, secretly glad she wasn't there to see her dad in such shape. "I think it was a heart attack.."

"Oh my god," she puts her hand over her mouth and sits on the nearest chair, Ellie right next to her, comforting her.

"The party's winding down at the bar," Ellie explains. "Only a few people know-- Theo, Tommy, Maria.."

"We didn't want to worry anyone else," Sarah adds.

You look at her, heart aching. This is supposed to be her special day.. and if something happens to Joel--

Don't think like that.

The three of you sit down, drinking stale coffee from the machine down the hall. Soon Tommy joins you, Theo staying at the house to keep an eye on Finn.

The worst thoughts poke through your brain, teasing you and taunting you. But at last the doctor comes out, a guy even younger than yourself, green scrubs and white coat.

He talks with the family, letting them know the diagnosis. "It was a silent myocardial infarction, basically a mild heart attack," he explains it. "He's going to be fine and he's resting right now."

"A heart attack?" Tommy and Sarah exclaim together.

"At his age it's not uncommon.. he's fifty-six years old," the doctor checks the chart. "Now, we have him on some aspirin and beta-blockers. Tests show he doesn't have enough blockage to necessitate surgery, but he'll need blood pressure medication and to keep a healthier lifestyle."

"Can we see him?" you ask.

"Yes, two at a time, preferably. We want to keep him calm while we're monitoring him." He checks the chart again and looks at you. "You brought him in, correct, ma'am?"

"Yes.. why?"

"What was Mr. Miller doing before he exhibited symptoms of his coronary event?"

"Um.. what?" you pretend not to understand.

"What was he doing before he had his heart attack?"

"Mild heart attack," Tommy emphasizes.

"Well.." you race to think of what to tell him.

"I take it you were celebrating a wedding," the doctor says, seeing Sarah in her dress and the rest of you in tuxes and gowns and whispers a 'Congratulations' to her.

"Yes. Well, we danced.." you answer, and the doctor keeps his eyes on you as if he knows you're lying.

You go up to him, giving a subtle whisper. "We were.. intimate--"

"Sexual relations," he nods, writing it on the chart. "It's important for us to know what was a causing factor in his event. Now, two at a time can visit him."

Tommy and Sarah go first. He gives you a sly wink. "Y'all were fuckin'!" he teases, passing by. Sarah gives you an excited smile, to which you just purse your lips.

It's quiet but for the bag of Lays Ellie has opened, eating the chips slowly. "So you and Joel?"

You nod.

"But not just tonight.. a long time ago, right?"

There's an odd sensation in your stomach, as if the unspoken truth is fluttering around inside, beating its wings as it tries to find a way out. "I guess there's a lot I need to tell you. But only when you're ready."

Ellie seems to steel herself for whatever conversation is on the way, nodding at last, crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the bin. "Ready."

Seeing Joel in the hospital bed is a sobering visual. Years ago your age gap represented something illicit, scandalous. Now you're reminded that no matter what road you and he take from here, you will most likely outlive Joel Miller.

He's awake when you and Ellie go in. It's obvious he doesn't like being here, but in his current state is not fit to complain.

"Hey," you say softly, going to his side. "How are you feeling?" You caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

Joel's eyes close at your delicate touch, and when he opens them there's a warmth in them that can't be denied. "I've been better, babygirl," he says. "But I'm damn glad you're here."

He glances at Ellie, seated in a chair on his other side. "And how about you, kiddo? You okay?"

"Am I okay?" she says incredulously. "Dude, I'm not the one in a hospital bed." But her face clearly shows relief that Joel's all right. You also see her brain working over everything you've told her (well, the gist of it.. there are some things she doesn't need to know).

"I was so worried," you tell him, your voice soft and warm, all your feelings coming to the forefront. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

Tears appear in Joel's eyes, which he brushes away impatiently. "You ain't losin' me yet, baby. Not for a long time, not if you don't want to."

"Joel.." you whisper. "Do you really want to do this? After everything that's happened.. all the hurt we put each other through.. all the secrets.." you cast a glance at Ellie, who looks more reserved than you've ever seen her before. Sensing this is a moment you want to share alone, she gives a fleeting smile before she leaves, giving Joel a playful mock hit on his shoulder. Still smiling, Joel pats the space beside him in the bed and you snuggle in with him, his body warm.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Joel asks softly, eyes imploring you. "You're mine and I'm yours. That's how this thing of ours operates: you belong to me and I belong to you. Despite everything that's happened in the last twenty years, that's been the one constant." His hands grips yours, thumb running over your knuckles. "I don't care if I've got thirty years or thirty days left of my life. I wanna spend the rest of it with you, babygirl."

You search his eyes, seeing nothing there but the truth, laid bare and ready for you to either accept or deny.

He continues, "I don't wanna keep failin' you. I'm too much in love to let you go again." Then he gently lifts your chin, making sure you meet his eyes. "But only if you want me back."

Some would say you're on a precipice in the choice you're about to make, but it's not that difficult to choose. It's simply the separate paths you're on, converging at last. for good.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," you whisper. It's not a fancy declaration of truth, a bit surprising coming from an English teacher, but it's the only thing Joel needs to hear before he pulls you close for another kiss.

Joel's released on Christmas Eve, and the two of you don't waste any time.

You and Joel are married in a small, intimate ceremony in the spacious living room of his home. Ellie, Sarah, Theo, Finn, Tommy, Maria, Sofia, Ruby, and even Bill and Frank are in attendance, watching as a judge from town and friend of the Millers officiates.

Joel promises you a nicer wedding when the frost thaws, anywhere you want in the world. You tell him you can't imagine a more perfect place to marry the most perfect man for you.

Your first wedding went by in a blur, but this time around you engrave it upon your heart, make note of every little skip of your heart when you and Joel hold hands, his delicate touch as he places a gorgeous sapphire ring on your hand, the sweetness of his lips when you share your first kiss as husband and wife.

After Christmas, Sarah and Theo leave for their honeymoon to Maui, and with the weather more agreeable the guests take leave too. Tommy sees to it that you and Joel have your house all to yourselves for your own honeymoon.

You insist on taking it easy with Joel, but he tells you he'd rather die while inside you, his name pouring from your lips the last thing he ever hears. He seems to get a second wind with you, making use of every possible flat surface in the house. You feel better about such activity when he takes his medication, promising to take it faithfully so long as you follow it with a kiss.

One morning after a particularly strenuous night, while drinking coffee in the kitchen and discussing your plans, Ellie returns, calling out to you before she enters.

"You're not doing anything gross in there, are you?"

"No," Joel laughs.

"Yes we are, we're working on making a sibling for you," you smirk over your coffee, glancing at Joel and giving a little shake of your head when his eyes go wide.

"Gross," she mutters, walking in. "Joel, Tommy says everyone's meeting at the Tipsy Bison for lunch later. But he couldn't get through to you on the phone." She makes a playful, pointed look, eyeing the two of you.

She's lukewarm to the idea of calling Joel 'Dad', and there's going to be some legal hoops to go through regarding Justin and his parental claim. But it all seems so small in comparison to the problems that plagued you before. You can get through anything because now you have each other.

You and Joel get ready as Ellie goes back to Tommy's, enjoying spending her time with Finn and getting ready to leave with them instead.

Unable to keep your hands off each other, it takes you twice as long to get dressed, hands going into each other's back pockets, lips finding each other's throats.

There's all the time in the world for it now.

Driving up to the Tipsy Bison, Joel turns on the radio. "Cherry, Cherry" starts to play, and you sing along with Neil Diamond, catching your husband's eye as he smiles and sings along too. The road before you is smooth, mountains standing guard in the distance, staying the same grand height no matter how far along you drive. Joel's hand finds yours, presses a kiss to it before entwining your fingers.

"Babe?"

"Yes, Mrs. Miller?"

You smile. "Let's not go right away. Let's drive around a little, play this song again, just soak in this moment."

"Of course, babygirl. I don't want to share you with the others just yet anyway."

Neil continues on the radio: No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to Girl, we do whatever we want to Ah, I love the way that you do me Cherry, babe, you really get to me

It's come full circle, and it only took two decades to complete. You and Joel in his truck, your song playing, the sun shining through the hazy clouds. You could close your eyes and it'd be 2003 again.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

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[hazelsmirrorball]

Rockstar Girlfriend III. | Hazel Callahan 

Rockstar! Hazel Callahan x Popstar! Reader Summary: Hazel Callahan and Y/n L/n have to be in a pr relationship, but both of them can stand each other but recently things are starting to look up.  Warnings: Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Fluff, slight loser! Hazel. Not proof read. Sorry for any mistake, English isn't my main language. a/n: I should be doing an essay for class here we are. Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for all the love. There could possibly be another part.  ps. the song is "Lavender Haze" by Taylor Swift

part one. part two. part four. part five.

“Surreal, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say. No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me”

The two lines stared back at her as she anxiously tapped her pen against the couch hoping that some words would magically show up. She was desperate, very desperate. The deadline was near and she had made zero to no progress only having the first two lines of the song. She needed to finish the last song on the album, her manager had emphasized how important this album was for their career as a band. They needed to hop on the wave of success “dating” Hazel Callahan brought. 

She hated it, the only reason people were actually listening to her band wasn’t because they were talented but because she was attached to Hazel’s name. Not only did Hazel have several awards, a reputation of a god and a talented band but now Y/n’s band success was thanks to her.  She wanted to prove to the people that she was as talented as Hazel Callahan and her band. That’s why she offered herself to write that song on the album and that’s how she found herself at one am in the morning in the recording studio attempting to get out of the writer's block she had been stuck in for days. 

“No deal, the 1950’s shit they want for me. I just..” Y/n hummed the melody as taped the pen on the cushion attempting to get a beat. She was determined to get this song out. She needed to prove to her manager, to herself, to her band and to Hazel that she was talented.  “For fucks sake” Y/n muttered out as she took a sip of energy drink crumbling the paper up and throwing it in a pile of paper on the floor. She threw her head back on the couch stretching her legs under the coffee table. She closed her eyes, controlling her breath. Someone had cleared their throat from the other side of the room startling her. Y/n had lifted her head staring at the person in front of her. 

Hazel Callahan stood before Y/n, the only thing separating them was the table in the middle of the studio. Hazel’s body was adorned in a familiar sweater which instantly caused Y/n to smile at her.  Hazel held onto her guitar case while her tote bag rested on her shoulder. She sent a warm smile towards Y/n’s way, not her usual smirk, which actually scared her. For Y/n, this felt like she was crossing unknown territory. Why was Hazel at the studio late at night? It didn’t make any sense. 

“Hey, I hope I’m not bothering your creative process. I just.. You know. I was here in the morning and left by lunch. Didn’t see you move from your spot so I thought you might be hungry.  I brought some food so we could eat.  I always get good inspiration with a full stomach so I decided to bring your usual, I think… I’ve seen you order it a bunch of times before so I really hope it’s your usual and that I didn’t get it wrong” Hazel rambled quickly, taking out a brown bag from her tote bag and placing it on top of the table in front of them. She slowly rested her guitar case against the leather couch and quickly sat in front of the table also taking out her food out of her tote bag. 

“You know. It’s kind of scary that you’re being this nice to me.” Y/n said softly as she  inspected the bag slowly, surprised that Hazel had gotten her usual order perfectly.  Hazel took a bite of the fries shrugging her off. 

“I know it’s hard to believe but I am a nice person, Y/n. I just like messing with you, you make this cute little face when you're angry” She replied, taking a bite of her burger as Y/n followed her actions. Y/n could feel her face flushing at Hazel’s compliment. Her voice saying her name sounded like a melody she couldn’t get out of her head. What was happening?

“Thank You, Hazel. I really appreciate you bringing the food and everything but I need to finish this song. Management wants it for tomo.. Well actually today and I’m not even halfway done. ” Y/n said, placing her food down and reaching to grab her pen. As she grabbed it Hazel rested her hands on top of hers. Y/n looked up, locking eyes with Hazel as she felt herself loose the grip on the pen. Hazel cleared her throat, tapping her hand awkwardly, moving it away quickly. She looked to the side awkwardly, not wanting to face Y/n. 

“You are stressed and it’s pretty clear that you need a break. So forget about the song and talk to me. I know you’ll get the inspiration soon enough, Y/n. You are a talented girl.” Hazel said, rubbing the back of her neck turning to look at her quickly. 

“You, Hazel Callan, an award winning rock star, think I’m talented?” Y/n gasped dramatically placing a hand towards her chest in a joking manner not believing Hazel’s words. Hazel rolled her eyes, continuing eating her food. 

“I actually believe you guys are underrated. I consider myself a very big B/n fan. Your last album and quite honestly I believe it deserved several awards. More people need to hear you guys. I know that if they take the time they’ll see how talented you are and you’ll be on top of the world”  Hazel responded, scrunching up the wrapper and throwing it inside the paper bag. 

“I didn’t know you were such a fan. Would’ve sent you a signed sweater instead of the one you have.” Y/n said while continuing to eat her food. Hazel’s smiled started to form slowly while looking down at her Y/n’s merch. 

“I had to fight someone for this sweater, Ln. Now you should understand how big of a fan I am. So if you give me a signed one, I’ll love you forever” She said jokingly while leaning towards the pile of papers picking one up reading Y/n’s messy writing on a scrunched up piece.  

“Please don’t laugh at it. I tried my best.” Y/n muttered while placing her head on the table hiding her face from Hazel. 

“No, Y/n. You’re off to a good start. Let me help you out. Maybe we can come up with something together. You wrote here, I feel the blank, creeping up on me, what did you really want to write? Come on don’t be shy” She asked, while her eyes reread the lyrics. Her hand reached towards her guitar case, took her acoustic guitar out and placed it on her lap. As she strummed the guitar tuning it, Y/n felt herself smile. She wanted to write a love song and as much as she wanted to push Hazel away, the only thing she could think about was Hazel and her lavender sweater. 

“Lavender Haze” She muttered softly onto the table. Hazel straightens up trying to see her facial expressions. Y/n slowly raised her face up looking at Hazel.  

“Speak up, pretty girl,” Hazel said, sending her way an encouraging smile. Y/n felt herself blushed, feeling completely flustered by Hazel’s actions. 

“Lavender Haze. I feel a Lavender Haze creeping up on me. ” Y/n replied confidently, while  she watched Hazel nodded writing down on the paper. 

“Well, Y/n. Let’s make Lavender haze a real hit, baby” Hazel replied, passing her the pen with a confident smile. That’s how two girls that supposedly hated each other wrote a song at midnight about the Lavender Haze. 

...

Thank You so much for reading.

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