#but i hope you guys like sarah

[the-engdyssey]

Day 4 OC-centric

Title: In Misery

This is a fanfic I don’t really have time to write, but I thought it would be interesting to share the idea with everyone and see what they think! I've tried to add as much detail as I can for this, and I hope you enjoy it!

Gif credits:  Tangerine: @peachyspaceslvt Elizabeth Olsen: @may0osh and @elizabethlailolsenfan

Tag List: @bullettrainpromptweek @phantom-wolf

Prompt filled: Mainly OC centric prompt, pre-canon, and butterfly effect prompts. It’s also an opportunity to flesh out some headcanons about Tangerine that have developed because of the course of this story. 

Pairing: Tangerine x Sarah (Female OC)

Warnings: Major character death, canon typical violence (there's a scene with a stabbing) 

Note: I have included gifs for some visual reference/inspo. My “face claim” for Sarah is Elizabeth Olsen which might be an odd choice to some people. But for context: I didn’t know that Aaron Taylor Johnson  and Elizabeth Olsen had played siblings in a Marvel movie before. I first saw them and really enjoyed their acting together in the 2014 Godzilla movie where they play husband and wife. I thought they were really cute together, and I was disappointed that they didn’t get more screen time with each other. I like their chemistry together, and I hope they act together again sometime. So, when my brain thought of a fic where Tangerine has a girl he’s in love with, I thought of her character looking like Elizabeth Olsen. That said, here’s a bullet point run down of my Tangerine and Sarah fic! (Partly under a cut due to length not necessarily content.)

Sarah meets Tangerine purely by coincidence. She is not involved in the world of assassins or the criminal underworld whatsoever. In some regards, it’s almost as if she “cleans up their mess”. She’s a young doctor for the NHS, and she works in A&E (the emergency room). She often deals with trauma patients, but she encounters just about any kind of sickness or injury in the emergency room of a hospital. She has a few friends lovingly drag her out to a pub one night to let off some steam, because she constantly works, and they fear she never has much fun. She meets Tangerine in that pub, and perhaps she’s a little tipsy, and he’s very handsome. Tangerine on his part clocks onto Sarah instantly. He can’t help himself—she’s exactly the kind of girl he likes. She’s sweet, a little shy at his open flirting but incredibly receptive, the cocktails have her a bit tongue tied (but it's also her nerves at talking to him), but she’s well spoken and intelligent. She’s pretty and cute. He likes her smile, he likes her laugh, and he simply has to have her. Which is fine with Sarah, because he’s the kind of guy she dreams of but thinks she’ll never have because he’s too good looking. There’s instant sparks, instant chemistry, and they wind up sleeping together that first night. And it’s incredible for both of them. Tangerine is an attentive lover in her opinion. He checks before he does anything, but he knows how to navigate his way around a woman’s body. Sarah feels safe with him, which means a great deal to her because she's never slept with anyone she just met, she always waits. She feels confident and sexy with him, and it’s a reminder of how it’s supposed to feel to be with someone. But surprisingly for the both of them, there’s an innate intimacy to being together which neither of them was expecting. There’s a care and a passion for each other that catches them both off guard, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. Despite thinking it’s a bad idea, Sarah slips her card into Tangerine’s shirt pocket and says he can call her anytime before she heads home that night. She assumes he won’t. But he does the next day wanting to take her out on a real date. He promises that he'll be just fine with giving her a kiss goodbye if she wants to take things slower. He really likes Sarah, he wants her, and he’s all in. It doesn’t take long for him to make her feel the same. 

Personally I love the duality of Tangerine dating a doctor, someone who spends their life trying to ease the suffering of others or preserve life, when Tangerine is primed to do the exact opposite. He doesn’t mind hurting or killing other people, the only thing stopping him is an increased likelihood of getting caught. Sarah is an inherently good person who tries to navigate her life according to the edict of “do no harm”. Tangerine most certainly doesn’t. Sarah doesn’t know what Tangerine does for money as their romance blossoms, but her kindness and compassion is what draws Tangerine in further. She is everything he’s never had in his life; true romantic love, friendship, loyalty, compassion, care, tenderness, support. He’s not looking for a woman to take care of him, but part of her loving him is doing exactly that, while he takes care of her. (Being a doting and consistently caring boyfriend is part of his love language, but it’s also him knowingly struggling with his abandonment issues having grown up in the foster care system. He feels like he has to prove to his lovers why they shouldn’t leave him, prove himself worthy of them, but Sarah silently and patiently reassures him that she’s not going anywhere.)

Tangerine is honest with Sarah about a great many things, honest to the point that Lemon thinks he’s an absolute idiot. He tells Sarah his real first name which is Tom. (Yes, I imagine his name is actually Thomas, and everyone who actually knows his name calls him Tom for short. Because Aaron Taylor Johnson was in a movie called ‘Tom & Thomas’ when he was little and because Bullet Train likes to make references to actors' previous roles in other films, this is the hill I’m dying on. Especially because it makes his annoyance with Lemon’s Thomas the Tank Engine obsession all the more infuriating as adults, and because Sarah can harass him by calling him her ‘Tom Cat’, and it makes him cringe so bad his stomach hurts while she’s crying with laughter. To which he inevitably runs after her fully intent on tickling her until she can’t breathe as revenge.) He makes up a last name for him and Lemon to go by, but he also tells her his actual birth date, he tells her honest stories about when he was younger and the people who mattered to him in the past. He even opens up about some of his worst experiences in school and foster care. He tells her the truth of who he is as a person, something that no one really knows except Lemon. Everyone else who does has left him behind in one way or another. He does not tell her anything about his real work, he hides that incredibly well from her. But he actually feels like this girl could be in his life long term, something that he never thought would actually come about, and not lying to her feels important to him even if there are certain key details that he leaves out. 

If I could summarize this story in a single sentence it would be this: No matter how deeply and truly Tangerine loves Sarah, he is nothing but an absolute poison in her life. Because Sarah is inherently good, and Tangerine is someone who is morally gray at best. He is the very antithesis of what she is, what is important to her, despite the fact that he matters to her dearly. Despite cherishing and wanting to protect her gentle and kind nature in a world that easily makes people become jaded, he is an incredibly selfish and manipulative man. He wants Sarah in his life because he loves her. That's the simplest and honest truth. But he also explains to Lemon that having a doctor as a wife would come in handy for the both of them. No more shitty patch up jobs themselves, or hoping that established organizations will take pity on them and let them utilize their resources for a fee, they’d have a trained medical professional to help them out. (And I’m not entirely sure of the legalities of it in the UK, but sometimes spouses can’t testify against each other in court, and if that’s the case, that's an added bonus). So, Tangerine asks Sarah to marry him. Because he loves her, and if Lemon asks him about it, she’s useful. And Sarah, none the wiser and utterly adoring him, says yes. 

But a relationship with a man like Tangerine is not sustainable. The violence that he so desperately tries to keep under control around her exposes itself more and more over the course of their relationship. Getting in the face of someone here. Shoving someone or nearly getting into a fight there. It’s subtle at first, to the point where Sarah doesn’t question it. He's had a past where picking fights was a way of coping and oddly enough, protecting himself. He's always been protective of her as well, but it's become more intense. It’s something she notices, but she misses it for what it really is. She’s never had any reason to believe that Tangerine is a truly violent man. Until she finally sees it for herself one day. She sees the man she’s going to marry kill another (for a quick local contract). It’s not an accident, it’s not a mistake. It’s something bloody and brutal, something she was never supposed to see. Something that brings her whole world shattering down around her.

Tangerine knows that Sarah knows. He realizes too late that she saw what happened, and he rushes over to her flat to try and talk to her when he can't catch her on foot. He’s a tad arrogant enough to think that it’ll take some time and effort, but he should be able to soothe this one over. He thinks Sarah is probably shocked and scared, but he can calm her down, surely. Tangerine underestimates the effect this has on Sarah. He underestimates the Pandora’s Box seeing such an act of violence opens within her. She’s got a head start on Tangerine. She’s able to get to her flat and barricade the door before he gets there. She’s panicking and rightfully begins to question everything. As she begins to look through Tangerine’s belongings that he’s brought over to her flat (he's essentially been living with her for some time), she realizes just how deep the lies run. Fake passports and driver's licenses, numerous burner phones, foreign cash, dozens of weapons all hidden carefully in various pockets of his duffel bags in the bottom of the closet. All things lingering in her space, her life, right under her nose, and she never had a clue. She realizes the man she loves is an illusion. The man she loves is in fact a total stranger, someone violent, a killer, and seemingly a professional no less. Tangerine isn’t stupid enough to leave copies of the contracts or mission briefs around, but she doesn’t need them to understand how dangerous Tangerine is. He’s a murderer, and she’s a witness. So Sarah does the only thing she can think of: she runs. 

It is because Sarah still loves Tangerine, despite knowing that everything he’s ever told her or shown her could very well be a lie, that she runs and instead of contacting the police. She’s scared, but more than that her heart is broken. She doesn’t realize that what Tangerine always showed her was his real self, but the darker, more violent side of himself is his real self as well. While wrestling with the realization that the man she wanted to have a future and a family with wasn’t real, she also begins to question and berate herself. How could she be so stupid? How did she not have any inkling of what he was? What kind of woman loves a man like that? Is she not as bad as he is? He makes a wave of guilt wash over her for loving a man who causes the very harm to others she tries to fix in her profession. Her phone has been buzzing non-stop since Tangerine came back to the flat to find it empty and his things rifled through. Sarah is in a taxi on the way to the airport to catch the first flight out of the UK. She answers though she can’t even see the screen with the tears swimming in her eyes. She should yell at him, curse at him, do anything but already miss him terribly. She can’t. Before Tangerine can even say anything, she simply says, “I’ll never say anything to anybody. I still love you, Tom. I'll always still love you, but I can't stay. Take care of yourself.” She pulls the SIM card out of her phone and chucks it from the taxi cab. Her plan is to head back home, her actual home. Her dad is English, but he met Sarah’s mother and settled down with her in Canada. Sarah has dual citizenship, and the only thing she can think of or wants to do is go home in her time of greatest need. 

Sarah makes a prudent decision by running away from Tangerine, but the problem is she’s not good at running away. Why would she be? That’s not a skill set most people learn. And while Tangerine and Lemon are not as skilled or “professional” as they are by the time they step on that bullet train, they have no trouble figuring out how to track Sarah down. Between budding connections to other operatives with handlers or “independent contractors”, and the fact that Tangerine enabled things like ‘find my phone’ on Sarah’s electronics without her knowing, it doesn’t take long for them to find her. Lemon has had about enough of all of this. He’s met Sarah, he actually likes her very much, he appreciates that she listens to him talk about his interests, he's grateful that she loves his brother like she does, but according to him, “I’m the one thinking with my brain. Unlike you. I don’t know what you’re thinking with, mate, but it’s gonna get us both in trouble.” Tangerine either needs to win Sarah back or he needs to take care of her, because leaving a witness behind is bad for business. Tangerine understands the situation they’re in, but he also refuses the idea of doing anything to Sarah. He can frame it in the context of wanting to preserve her usefulness, but it’s because he loves her. It’s as simple as that. And Lemon isn't stupid, he knows that.

Sarah leaving causes Tangerine’s emotions to go all over the place. He’s stressed because of the implications to his and Lemon’s safety and freedom. He’s a little angry, but more than anything he's hurt that she left. She promised him she never would. And though logically he understands why, it still feels like a rejection of some sort. And he misses her. Her leaving reminds him of all the other times he's been left behind. That same feeling of being a scared little boy who will never see those he cares about again settles in his chest. He hates it, but it shows him how not having Sarah in his life just isn’t an option. It’s a rather warped and selfish way of loving her at this point. When he finds Sarah the first time, he doesn’t confront her right away. In fact, he spends a great deal of time simply observing her from afar as she tries to navigate a life without him. He sees her parents and wishes he could have met them and tried to impress them properly. He sees her settle into new work. He watches her interactions with those around her. He sees the smile on her lips doesn’t reach her eyes anymore, he feels sick that it’s his fault. He sees Sarah safe and helping people as her true calling encourages her to do, and for some time, he considers leaving her be. Trusting her word and letting her have a life without him. But then he sees that she’s still wearing the engagement ring he bought her (and he did buy it, it felt wrong to steal it, he has a sense of pride that he actually bought it in an honest transaction for her), and the choice is made for him. When she’s out, he sneaks into the flat she’s renting. And he sees that she still has room for him in her life. She’s wearing the ring he gave her. There’s space in the closet for his suits to hang up. The double sink in the bathroom has everything sequestered to one side. He can tell she's only sleeping on one side of the bed. He likes to hope she is waiting for him and will be glad to see him. 

She was, and she’s not. She’s been waiting with baited breath for Tangerine to come find her, terrified that he’ll kill her if he does. She hasn’t stayed with her parents because she doesn’t want them to get hurt. When he’s there in her flat when she comes home, she immediately tries to run, but Tangerine is faster and stronger than her. He overpowers her, but he doesn’t hurt her. He tells her to be quiet, but his voice is gentle and loving as always, his warmth is reassuring, the strength in his hands and arms is familiar and comforting. When she goes limp in his arms, crying and defeated, he thinks he might be able to finally reach her. She asks what he plans to do, and he says he wants to take her home. He wants things to be like they were. He loves her, he would never hurt her, and he’s never lied to her. But he continues to lie by omission, never really answering the questions she demands of him about what she saw, what he does, who he is. She asks him if he loves her, and he says yes. She asks why she should believe him, how can she possibly know he’s not lying. He kisses her because he doesn't have the words, and she knows. She knows deep down that maybe he does really love her, but that doesn’t change anything. But she lets him love her for that night. She makes love to him again and again, telling him that she’s missed him, she still loves him, that there’s no one else for her but him. She means every word she says, they're a declaration of love and a confession. But they're also a goodbye. When he wakes up in the morning, she’s not there. She’s not even in the same province anymore. Tangerine is simultaneously furious and amazed that she managed to slip away from him again. He steals something small from her apartment, a little trinket that reminds him of her, and heads out to find her again. 

Every time Sarah runs away, she gets a little better at it. A part of Tangerine is proud of her, but he’s also getting sick of this game. Especially when other men start showing their interest as soon as she's settled down somewhere. Sarah rebuffs them every time. She doesn't want anyone else, her heart still belongs to Tangerine. She also knows full well that if Tangerine caught her with another man, that other man won’t survive the interaction. And after her father has sent a private detective to look into this man he sees as harassing his daughter, Sarah realizes that she might not survive him either. She learns more about Tangerine than she ever wanted to. She knows about the murders he’s been suspected in, she’s seen his previous arrests, mug shots, learns about his dealings with the fringes of organized crime, and it's enough to knock the wind out of her. She knew it was bad, but she never dreamed it was this bad. The private detective, a retired cop, looks at Sarah and asks her, “Honey, how’s a girl like you gotten involved with a man like that?” She takes the silver chain holding her engagement ring off from around her neck and places it on the table. “I said I would marry him.” The private detective just sighs and closes his eyes despairingly, but he’s a decent man and wants to help. “That’s okay. We have places that can help. There are damn good women’s shelters around here, we can protect you—“ “I think you’d better go.” “I’m sorry?” Sarah just looks at him as she places the necklace around her neck once more, resigned to the fact that it’s too late for her. The only thing she can do is try to make sure no one else gets hurt. And this man being here is putting his own life in danger. He leaves very reluctantly, but he can’t force Sarah to do anything. And he promises that if he doesn’t hear from Sarah within a certain time frame, he'll give a letter to her parents telling them that she loves them. After that, she cuts off contact with everyone she cares about, and goes as off-grid as possible. She has to get serious about hiding and running now. 

Tangerine can still find her. He finds her a total of three times. She manages to slip away two. Each time he tells her that he loves her, he’ll never hurt her, he wants her back. Upon discovering that she knows everything, he assures her that he’s never truly lied about anything. But he’ll tell her everything from now on. He won’t keep anything from her if she wants to know, but he won’t say anything she doesn't want to hear. She knows everything now, she sees him in his entirety, will she please come home with him again. And Sarah does see the real him. She sees the man that utterly adores her, and the monster that makes her question her own morality. She’s never taken kindly to people accusing doctors of playing God, and she doesn’t think it right for him to play God with other people’s lives. She doesn’t like the pseudo moral righteousness of Tangerine more often than not killing those involved with organized crime, men who often sell, beat, rape, and murder women and children. He kills men who are scum, and thus his actions could be framed as some sort of service unto humanity. But she doesn’t enjoy the notion of justifying murder– for do those same men not have wives and children who will mourn their loss? It's not her right to place a value on another life or to end it, her calling is to ease the suffering of others. She still questions herself, berates herself for still loving him like she does though she's helpless to stop it. She’s still trying to fight the inevitable, but it’s a losing battle. The fear is waning every time he comes to her, the longing for him is ever growing, the relief at seeing him is near overwhelming. It’s getting harder to leave every time. So when he finds her at a train station that final time, both of them have reached the end of their rope. Tangerine catches up to her but keeps his distance lest he spook her. He's out of breath from running, his three piece suit a disaster in his rush to get there before she slips away once more. And he finally tells her, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for all of this! I never wanted this for you. Please, love, I want you with me… But I…I understand if that’s not what you want. I love you, but if you step onto that train, I promise you’ll never see me again.” He means it, and he’s willing to keep his word. For the first time, he is willing and able to love Sarah unselfishly, and in turn Sarah is finally willing to be selfish. “Do you still love me, Tom? Really love me. Not because you want me to keep quiet. You really did before, didn't you?” Tangerine can’t help but snap a bit because, “Of course I fucking do! I never stopped! Bloody hell, woman, why do you think I’m here chasing after you?! Why do you think I asked you to marry me?! Sarah, I love you!” She can’t help but smile even if the tears are running down her cheeks. Tangerine prepares himself for his heart to leave with her on that train, only for the girl he loves to run and jump into his arms. The cold air of the train speeding past washes over them as does the relief and elation of finally coming together. He kisses her slowly, adoringly, and asks again if she’ll be his wife. She says yes. He tells her to be a good girl and put her ring back on then. She laughs and waggles her ring finger in front of him, showing that she’d been wearing it the whole time. 

Sarah and Tangerine begin to settle back into their life together in London, though it takes time for Sarah to put the pieces of the life she left behind back together again. There was always open communication between them before, but this time it's easier with no secrets. Sarah can establish the boundary that if Tangerine is going to continue with his work, she'll never help him and Lemon with a job. She'll never be a part in harming someone else. But she will always patch them up when they come home, and he better not get himself killed or he'll have her to answer to. She's got a cute little stern frown on her face and her hands on her hips as she tells him this, and Tangerine just melts. He agrees, because he doesn't want Sarah involved in his world. She's too good for that. But taking care of others, especially those she loves? That's just who she is. Yet a man like Tangerine in Sarah's life is a poison, regardless of how much he tries to protect her. Lemon and Tangerine tend to not see the long term consequences of the various jobs they take. To them, each job is an isolated incident. They feel as outside contractors, they retain the right to bounce from contract to contract without any sort of comeuppance from the various crime syndicates they interact with. Things don't work that way. The Twins work in the fringes of organized crime, but mob bosses do not take kindly to losing their underlings at the behest of another mob. Tangerine and Lemon can take contracts from the Italian/Russian mobs and the Yakuza all they want, but they really are foolish to think there won't be consequences. Especially when they have people in their lives they care about. So when Tangerine and Lemon take a contract to get rid of some Russian mob members for other organized crime bosses, they set off a sequence of events that seals all their fates.

After Tangerine and Lemon kill a group of Russian mobsters in London, the mob’s first instinct is to kill them. Until the local Russian boss (naturally someone who falls under the umbrella of the White Death's control) realizes they're talking about The Twins. This guy likes The Twins, they've done good work for him in the past. It's a shame that they accepted a contract against the Russians. Instead of killing them and losing their future value completely, the boss decides to remind the Twins why loyalty to a good paycheck should never be broken. To not bite the hand that feeds them. The order is given to hurt the people close to them as a reminder to behave themselves. (Can't have Tangerine and Lemon badly beaten, then they'll be useless for any upcoming jobs.) After a couple of the Russian mobsters have been tailing the Twins for a while, the only person they see with them consistently is Sarah. And considering the one with the mustache is the one who seems to be in charge of accepting contracts and she's his girl, all the better. 

Sarah never saw it coming, and Tangerine wasn't there when it happened. Sarah has just finished her shift at the hospital and is just about to pop into one of the shops, before heading to where Tangerine and Lemon plan to pick her up. Sarah walks along a little side street, a short cut to the closest convenience store. A route she has traversed dozens of times without incident. A sudden large hand on her shoulder forces her to turn around, two hulking men with tattoos before her. Before she can pull away and run, before she can fight back, or yell for help, one of the Russians has a knife buried in her belly. The shock of the injury leaves her dazed at first before the knife is pulled out, warm blood following in its wake. She's stabbed again, the agonizing pain that suddenly hits her would make her scream. Instead, it steals her breath as does the force of the blade being driven into her. Five stabs in total, four in her abdomen and one in her chest. Sarah collapses after she staggers away a few steps. The other man roots through her purse taking her ID as she struggles to breathe, struggles to speak past the searing pain with every movement. Her scrubs are soaked in her own blood, and she focuses on not passing out. She hears the two men speak in Russian, doesn't know why her mind latches onto that detail. She tries to look at their faces, but it's a fog, and she knows it's because her blood pressure is dropping. She also knows the signs of various organs and blood vessels sustaining damage during a stabbing. She knows that her injuries aren't good. But she just has to wait for them to leave, wait until they assume she'll be dead soon, and then she can properly put pressure on the wound, call an ambulance, call Tangerine– her phone smacks onto the pavement before a heavy boot crashes down onto it. A heavily accented voice tells her, “Tell him he should have known better. Tell him to be on his best behavior. We know where you live.” Sarah nods weakly and finds herself alone. If not for her injuries, she'd question whether or not those men had even been there at all, or were they just phantoms from the shadows? She yells for help as best she can. She tries to get her phone to work to no avail. She tries to get up but realizes that sensation in the lower half of her body isn't as good as it should be. She can't rise to her feet, and she doesn't have the strength to drag herself along the pavement. Her breathing sounds suspiciously wet. The only warmth she can feel is her own blood. She puts pressure on the wounds with what little strength she can muster, forcing herself to stay awake. It's a losing battle. She's slowly dying. 

Despite Lemon’s rebukes of needing to trust Sarah more, that she's just running late, she hasn't run off again, Tangerine can feel something is wrong in his gut. As Lemon is chastising his brother, Tangerine pulls up the tracking app that he's once again put on Sarah's phone. The one she still doesn't know about. Lemon is about to tell Tangerine off further when the look on his face makes him pause. He glances at the phone. The little dot signifying Sarah's phone is stationary. Lemon assumes it's because she's in a shop, while Tangerine feels his heart drop into his stomach. She's stationary in an empty side street at night. Tangerine can't help himself from rushing out of the car to where Sarah is according to his phone. He keeps calling her, and she doesn't pick up. A visceral fear takes hold of him, worse than the turmoil he felt the mornings he would take up to discover Sarah had run away from him again. He gives up using the phone to call her and yells out for her instead. It's a flash of teal, the color of her scrubs, in his peripheral vision that allows him to find her in the dark and quiet of the side street. He's on his knees beside her in a second, and his heart is pouring out over the pavement along with her blood. He doesn't even recognize the tears in his eyes as he dials 999 and tenderly takes Sarah in his arms. He gently encourages her to wake up, holding her close to give her his warmth, her blood soaking into his clothes. She's pale and clammy, she's groggy and her eyes are a little unfocused, but she's alive. She's looking at him and saying his name, and therefore she's as beautiful as she's always been. His lips are all over her face and though Sarah can't return the affections, she's appreciative of the warmth. He asks Sarah to tell him what to do to help her while they wait for the ambulance. Instead, she tells him about the men who attacked her. All the fragmented details she vaguely recalls and the warning they had left her with. Sarah asks Tangerine to be careful, and the fact that the woman he loves is dying in his arms but her kind heart is more worried about his safety, breaks him. She's never seen him cry. Very few people have. But he holds her close and weeps in worry and regret, kisses her lips to cease the gentle reassurances falling from her lips. “It's supposed to be me telling you it's okay, not the other way around.” “Tom, tell me everything is going to be okay.” “Everything is going to be fine, love. You're going to be fine.” And he makes a silent promise that he'll kill them for this, but saying it out loud will make her worry. “Love you. Always have. You know that right? Love you so much Tommy.” “I know. I love you too. So much that I won't get mad at you calling me Tommy.” It makes her smile but barely. His voice is barely above a whisper as he continues, “I've never loved anyone like I love you. You're my dream girl, you know. I've…I've wished for you my entire life. Please don't leave me yet. Stay awake for me Sarah.” Her eyes fall closed, her breathing shallow. Lemon comes to his side as the sirens draw closer. Tangerine’s desperate pleas for Sarah to wake up go unanswered. 

Lemon has to help the EMTS to get Tangerine to let her go so they can get Sarah in the ambulance, and he drives them both to the hospital. He sits with Tangerine the entire time as they wait for updates of Sarah's condition, squeezing his brother's shoulder or neck in reassurance. Tangerine lets him do it more than once, a sign of how distraught Tangerine is. Lemon apologizes to the nurses at reception when Tangerine snaps at them if they refuse to give him any information for privacy reasons. Lemon helps ease the burden of the brief encounter with the police asking initial questions about the incident. But they won't know more until Sarah is out of surgery. Lemon urges Tangerine to clean himself up in the bathroom, because Sarah will hate to see him look like such a mess. Lemon is also right beside Tangerine as one of Sarah's closest friends at the hospital comes out to speak to them. The look on her face says everything before the words tumble from her lips. Lemon is there as his brother's heart shatters before his eyes. Sarah died during emergency surgery due to the severity of her injuries. Lemon takes hold of him as a grief so profound overtakes Tangerine that he nearly sinks to the ground. The last of Tangerine's strength is the only thing keeping a scream erupting from his throat and sobs wracking his frame. Tangerine never liked to cry, not even when they were kids. Lemon never had that problem, and he still doesn't. His eyes shine with tears for this brother and the girl who he looked forward to having as a sister in law. His friend. Lemon pulls Tangerine to a quiet place and says nothing as his brother falls apart. It's the first and last time Lemon has ever seen Tangerine mourn anyone in their lives like this. And he realizes with the greatest despair, that Sarah was the first and last woman that Tangerine had ever or would ever truly love. 

Tangerine is never the same after he loses Sarah. His hurt morphs into anger, a wrath against others that reaches new levels. Tangerine was not Sarah's husband legally. He was not her next of kin. He had no say in where she would be buried. He was certainly not welcome at her funeral. Regardless, he lingers in her Canadian home town to visit her grave, leaving flowers every time, often as he can before he leaves again. He and Lemon have another job coming up. Lemon thinks it's a bad idea. Tangerine has to work otherwise his grief will swallow him whole. It's wet work. And a part of him realizes that Sarah would be disappointed to know it's work that demands he takes the lives of others. But the ember of compassion Sarah fostered within him left along with her. The next job the Twins take is the Bolivia job. Tangerine accepted it because the group down there supposedly had connections with the Russians. The Bolivia job was an absolute blood bath due to his rage born from grief. A showcasing of his wrath. There was no compassion. No humanity. The rumors spread about The Twins begin to refer to them as “insane” and “psychopaths”. Tangerine likes that. The Bolivia job made him start to feel better, though it can never begin to fill the empty space inside his soul. The only regrets Tangerine has about the Bolivia job is how unprepared Lemon seemed to be for it. And that his newfound reputation as a psychopath was not given to him in time to save Sarah. He often thinks that if they all knew what he was really capable of, then maybe they would have thought differently about touching what was his. Maybe Sarah would still be alive. 

The butterfly effect of Sarah's death leads to Tangerine being how he is by the time he and Lemon step on the bullet train to Kyoto. His anger lingers. He snaps at Lemon much more than he used to, but Lemon doesn't really take it to heart. He knows when to push back and when not too. Tangerine’s fuse is a lot shorter than it used to be. He's polite for the most part, but cold with others. He's always attracted the attention of women, and even a few men, but his overall demeanor shows that he is completely unavailable. Tangerine can't even begin to think about being with someone else. But Lemon also knows that Tangerine's heart has not gone cold, it's broken. Where Lemon forgot the innocent civilian they caused the death of, Tangerine remembers. Mainly because he thinks of how upset Sarah would be over it. What little conscience he has left is the small piece of Sarah that lives on inside him. But at the same time, he can be derisive towards the pain of others. He's remarkably callous when talking about the fatal accident of the White Death's wife. Tangerine understands that pain, to him Sarah was his wife, but he doesn't feel sorry for the White Death. To Tangerine, he's part of the Russian mob, so there's a sense of vindication. A sense of ‘it sucks to lose her, doesn't it?’ But the irony is, Tangerine couldn't possibly know how full circle things have come. The Russians took Sarah away from him, he played a part in the chain of events that lead to the White Death's wife dying, and by stepping on that train, he's signed his own death warrant. Tangerine also holds no sympathy for the White Death not having left his compound because Tangerine has a thought process of ‘Well I got over it and got back to work. And you have kids. You've no excuse to hide yourself away.’ It's a thought process that holds the bitterness and anger of grief and a distinct lack of self awareness. Sarah's death is also why Tangerine frets over Lemon like he does. He wasn't there for Sarah. So when Tangerine finds Lemon knocked out in the silent car, he assumes the worst. It causes the seed of anxiety to bloom in his gut. By the time Tangerine gets kicked off the train and has to punch his way back in, his fear of it happening again has run away with him. He knows Lemon can take care of himself, but Lemon is the only person Tangerine has left. Tangerine's worst fears are realized when he finds Lemon in the bathroom. Lemon has been shot, and Tangerine wasn't there. He wasn't there again. He failed those he loves again. He's lost a loved one again. He's all alone. And something inside him snaps, the last link in the chain of events leading to the end of his life. 

Lemon has Tangerine cremated after his body is recovered from the crash site. He thinks about keeping the urn so he doesn't have to let his brother go. He thinks about spreading his ashes in numerous special places in England. They never talked about what to do if one of them died. Talking about it made it seem too real, but Lemon thinks that's silly now. He just wants to do what his brother would have liked, and the only thing he can think of is to let Tangerine finally be with Sarah. To let them both rest. Lemon goes to Canada, goes to Sarah's small town and sees it with different eyes than when he accompanied Tangerine with the intention of getting Sarah back. It feels like a lifetime ago. He almost breaks down at the realization that for Sarah and Tangerine it truly was a lifetime ago. He goes to the cemetery in the evening with a shovel, intent on burying the urn with Tangerine's ashes on Sarah's plot. An unmarked grave, but not alone. Lemon is interrupted by Sarah's mother. He hurriedly explains that he knew Sarah. That they were friends. Recites details about her that make her mother's face melt from confusion and horror to a bereaved smile as Lemon says a silly little phrase that Sarah used to say all the time. Someone else who really knew her daughter, bore witness to the wonderful person she was, gives her an odd comfort despite the bizarre circumstances. She nods at the urn, “Who's that?” “His name was Tom. He was in love with Sarah. He wanted to be her husband.” “Is he the Tom she was running from?” Lemon can't look at her as he nods and says, “Yes, Ma'am. But he loved her. He really really loved her, and he never hurt her. I promise you that.” “I know. I could tell by the way she talked about him. She was just as crazy about him. Even when she was scared of him, she adored him.” Lemon can't speak due to the tears, and Sarah's mom comes closer. “Were you going to leave him here with her?” He nods. “Yeah, but…I'm sorry, I'll go–” “Don't go,” she gently reaches out to touch Lemon's arm. Loss is a universal language, the companionship and understanding of another going through it a precious commodity. “I don't mind if you let him stay with her. I'd like that. I think they would have too.” Lemon is amazed at how kind she is, how giving and forgiving. But he realizes Sarah must have gotten it from somewhere. He can see Sarah in her mom, and as she helps Lemon dig a small hole to nestle Tangerine's urn into, he thinks about how he would have enjoyed getting to know her family. Would have loved the idea of him and Tangerine having a family with Sarah and her relatives. When they're done, and before he can awkwardly shuffle off, Sarah's mother asks if he'll come have dinner with her and her husband. A friend of Sarah's is always welcome in their home. Though she also asks that this be their secret for now, Sarah's father isn't ready to forgive Tangerine. And she also asks that Lemon keep the fact that Tangerine was his brother a secret for now once she finds out. Sarah's father isn't ready yet, but in time he will be. For now, it's important for those that loved them to be together. Because for Tangerine and Sarah to be remembered by the ones that love them is the surest reminder that they existed. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! I hope you liked it! I swear I do love Tangerine and I do love Sarah despite the ungodly levels of angst. They are together forever at the end, and Lemon and Sarah's family have each other from that point on. In the spirit of Bullet Train, something good always comes out of something bad. 

[velvetreds]

give me writing ideas for the weekend guys

or requests idgaf >///<

[911-on-abc]

Making up for all the tag games I missed Monday

(lmao)

Thank you to @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @jesuisici33 and @watchyourbuck for tagging me this past week!!! Here is a snippet of a flashback à la 'Eddie Begins' from the NFL Au. I hope u like it! <3 <3 <3

“Have you given any more thought to California?” she asks. “We could leave all this judgment.” Shannon grasps his hand, her eyes trying to connect with his own, pleadingly. “Just you, me, and Christopher. The ocean air.” And God, he wants to leave. He wants to get away from the cloying pressure of his parents and El Paso, but the last time he did that he got shot.  An uncomfortable itch, impossible to describe, crawls up his back. He wants her to stop talking, to stop touching him, for this conversation to end. Maybe then he can push all the feelings and emotions flooding his brain away and away and the scraping sensation at the back of his skull will recede.  “I just got home” is all he can get out. “Yeah.” The happiness and relief that he is back with her shows on her face, but he doesn’t feel the same. Shannon swallows and her face resets. “Home from a war zone. But being here?” She waves her hands around and gestures to where his parents are sitting with Christopher outside. “It’s not that different.” Doesn’t he know it. “It’s not good for Christopher.” His son’s name jolts him like a shock then smooths him down like a cooling balm. Christopher. Eddie could, would, spend the rest of his life fighting war after war for him, but his son shouldn’t have to live in one.  Eddie meets his wife’s eyes. “Okay.”

Not going to tag anyone to share their WIPs bc this isn't a real tag game BUT if you want me to tag you anytime I post a snippet pls let me know! :) no pressure to actually write anything lol

[hecksupremechips]

Don’t you just kinda wanna go insane thinking about how it took years for Shane Dawsons youtube career built on blackface and pedophilia and other “edgy jokes” to get “canceled” but then some hardly semi popular marginalized creator who makes all their money online makes a tweet that’s offensive if you dig deep enough and they get instantly shit on and deemed as irredeemably harmful and no amount of apologies will ever make up for the irreparable damage they have caused to marginalized communities everywhere? Is this really truly how you want to live life and support your community or are you just a dickwad who thinks anger automatically=activism?

[hepaidattention]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Outer Banks (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Kiara "Kie" Carrera/JJ Maybank, Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron & JJ Maybank (friends) SUMMARY:

JJ opened one eye at her and smirked, “Somethin’ botherin’ you this fine evening?”

“Oh, you know, just homeless, hungry, poor, no family, and John B and I got in a fight ‘cause he keeps acting so weird … other than that, everything’s just peachy.” Sarah looked at him, turning her head to see him looking at her with a sad expression. It was an expression she’d never only really seen on JJ once before, it was a face of recognition.

“Welcome to the club,” JJ pulled his hat down over his eyes as he said, “too broke to be Kook, and apparently now, too orphaned to be a Pogue.”

Or, Sarah doesn't go with Topper. Instead, she goes back to the chateau where she finds JJ waiting for John B to come home.

OR Sarah chose one small different path that changes the trajectory of every one of the Pogue's lives.

or... Sarah just really ships Kie and JJ and will be JJ's therapist if it means he stops being an idiot and tells her he loves her. Lots of jiara, lots of pogues being pogues.

CHAPTER SUMMARY:  

their journey comes to an end when the pogues find themselves together again, facing the impossible trip to el dorado as a family.

[mysticmoondancer]

Click on images to enlarge/for better viewing.

May I introduce you to the MBAV Kitties! Adorable little felines dressed as your favorite MBAV characters! 😸 I might do more of this with some of the other characters from MBAV, but for now here's the main 5. Which one would you adopt?! *giggles* 🤭😜

On a side note. I apologize for the way their clothing looks. I'm not very good at drawing clothing. Especially, on animals. Also, the outfits you see them wearing in this are the outfits you see the gang wear at the beginning of the "Three Cheers for Evil" episode. Also, Sarah-cat isn't dirty. She's supposed to be a tortoiseshell which I've never done as a color/pattern for a cat before. I might use it again on a different character but as a grey tortoiseshell instead of a black tortoiseshell, like Sarah.

[sharkneto]

the last post you reblogged about not being able to predict reader's reactions--how would you say shifting together has faired in terms of how you expected readers would react versus reality

My uncertainty with sharing Shifting Together was I did not know how they'd be received with how OC heavy it is. I was not expecting the Rob Love. Or Sarah love, but especially not the Rob love.

A thing that stopped me from sharing those fics for a long time was-- well, primarily that I needed to get orsumfenix's blessing to do so because they're very blatantly based on their fic. But after that was because they are OC heavy, especially JT. There's something much more vulnerable about sharing OCs rather than fic with just established characters. We already know we like the established characters - it's why we're reading fanfic in the first place, to get more of them and their dynamics and relationships. OC's throw homemade blorbos into the mix and they do have a bit of a stigma; an unfair one, I think, but a stigma nonetheless for being self-inserts and Mary Sues and generally disruptive to the characters and dynamics fic is being read for in the first place.

What I expected from readers was... a tolerance. An understanding of what I was doing with my OC's to use them as an outside POV for a specific lens with which to look at and explore our Hargreeves. I love outside POV for bringing attention to weird shit we've gotten used to, and then their step away from the Main Plot let us have a different angle on characters, what was happening, and the plot in general. I started with HIT specifically to minimize OC presence. We have our Hargreeves and we start in their (Allison's) POV, rather than diving straight in with Walters' POV, like JT does. I was hoping dipping readers toes into Rob and Sarah with HIT would get you guys to like them enough to be willing to read much more of them in JT to see what Number was doing the two and a half years prior to HIT.

What I didn't expect was the pretty immediate love and thirst for Rob and the warming to Sarah that happened in HIT. I will say - I get the Rob love. I adore Rob, he's my special little Just A Guy. And he really gets more of a chance to shine in HIT than Sarah does because of his relationship he develops with Five. JT is Sarah's show. So, in retrospect, I Get It. But it's also just Very Special that you guys embraced Rob and Sarah, and Number to a lesser extent, so much that there are people who want to write fic with them, who have drawn fanart of them, who think about them on their own. Those are my guys! I made them up! And yet! They're off existing in your guys' heads! Wild!

In general, I wasn't expecting Shifting Together to be as big as it feels like it is. I didn't expect there to be a community around it. Hoped, obviously, as I've spent over two years writing it all, but didn't expect it. It felt too a little too niche, being an AU fic of an AU fic, and, with JT, too... unstructured? with it being slice-of-life.

It was strategic that I shared HIT first and JT became a prequel rather than the first in the series as I had originally written it. It was strategic that I shared the first three chapters of HIT within a week. I was desperate to hook you guys. See? Allison and Luther are here! See? Five is here and he has a big fight! I'm teasing that we'll get Other Five later! Just begging and hoping you guys would tolerate my OCs enough to hang around and see this story I'd written and was very proud of.

Over a year later and almost finished with JT, I see now I didn't have to be that nervous and desperate about it.

Thanks for the love, everyone <3

[emawinslow]

so far behind that I’m going through some sort of middle school crush drama at age 19 in college. and I know there’s no such thing as being “behind” but I feel behind.

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[r4di0h3ad]

just practice

paring! bsf!jj x reader

in which! you have a date coming up and you still haven’t lost your virginity, so you go to your best friend in the hopes he will help you out and save you from embarrassment

warnings! smut. loss of virginity. oral sex (f. receiving) pnv sex. unprotected sex.

part 2

you find jj at the chateau, laying in a hammock on the porch with his shirt off and a joint between his fingers. you could smell the scent of weed before you even made it to the door and jj gave you a smile when he noticed you.

“hey, j.” you greeted, now standing in front of the bench. “you busy?”

“what’s it look like?” he took a long drag from the joint and exhaled. you couldn’t help but grin at his glazed over eyes and his genuine, high smile.

you glanced into the screen door, looking for john b, or anyone else, but couldn’t see well from the smoky haze.

“anyone home?”

he shakes his head no.

“kie and pope are working, think john b’s out with sarah.” he says. “why? you okay?” his eyes soften and you notice his look of concern.

“yeah,” you smile, “everything’s fine, just need to uh- talk to you.” you had no idea how you were gonna go through with this without making it incredibly awkward. you already felt sick to your stomach at the thought of him rejecting you and never seeing you the same way after this.

jj nods and stubs out his joint. he stands up and opens the screen door, motioning for you to enter first.

“after you.”

you smile and step inside, but you soon begin to feel ill at the fact that you were really going to ask him this. you wanted this to happen, but you were terribly nervous.

you lead him to his room and close the door behind you. he sits on the edge of the bed and you follow, sitting crisss cross, facing him.

“you sure everything’s fine?” he asks, obviously questioning the fact that you wanted to speak to him in his room, and that you were silent.

“i told you about that guy i’ve been talking to for a few weeks, yeah?” you start, not wanting to make eye contact with the boy.

“yeah.” he nods.

you try not to pick at the skin of your fingernails.

“okay, well, he asked me out.” you say. “the date’s tomorrow.”

he furrows his eyebrows in question, noticing that you sounded kind of disappointed about something that was supposed to be good.

“well that’s a good thing, right?” he scoffed. “i mean, i cant remember the last time you went on a date.”

“shut up.” you nudge him. “yeah, it’s a good thing… i like him- i think.”

“alright, well, that’s all you wanted to tell me?” he asks. “you don’t need dating advice right? because i can’t help you in that department.”

you fight a smile at his remark and shake your head no.

“okay, here’s the thing.” you sigh before you force out your next words, absolutely dreading his reaction. “i don’t know if he’ll wanna sleep with me eventually, and, well he’s kind of experienced with girls and all that, and i’m kind of…. not.” you cringe at your choice of words, already regretting coming to jj out of embarrassment. you glance at him momentarily and he seems to be studying you, waiting for you to keep talking. “what i mean is, like-“ you sighed. you knew you sounded like a complete idiot, but you didn’t want to back out now.

“you know i’m a virgin, right?” you didn’t even want to look at him after the words came out of your mouth.

he smiled a little.

“i, uh, i figured.” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly and cleared his throat.

“don’t be a dick.” you shove him once again and he chuckles, which allows you to lighten up just slightly. “i’m saying that i don’t know what i’m doing - y’know, with guys and all that. i don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.”

“so you want… sex advice? from me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows with suspicion.

you nervously bite the inside of your cheek and your face grows hot.

“well, i thought maybe a little more hands on.” you said before you could even stop yourself. you knew you had to just come out and say it or you would’ve backed out and nothing would ever come of this situation. you searched his face for a reaction.

he looked confused, but he didn’t seem whole heartedly against the idea. the silence between you both was becoming awkward and you felt the need to explain yourself, hopefully making the situation sound less like you were coming on to him and more like a friend just asking for help.

“i mean like, because you’re a guy and all, you would know what guys like best, i guess?” you said, as you watched him cross his arms over his chest and lean against the headboard of the bed. “and i was thinking about the fact that i’m going on a date for the first time since freshman year and now there’s a very high chance that i’ll sleep with him in the coming weeks, and it just- i don’t know, the idea of losing my virginity to someone i’ve known for a month didn’t really sound good to me.” you we’re rambling at this point to try and defend your case. “i would rather do it with someone i know, and trust.”

“you want me to take your virginity?” he asked, blatantly. “that’s what you came here for?”

you nod, probably chewing a hole into your cheek now.

“if it’s too weird for you, you don’t have to do it at all, it’s okay.” you said. “you were just the only person i felt like i could ask without it being awkward.”

“no, no,” his expression softens and he shakes his head, pulling his arms from his chest and taking his back off the headboard. “i’ll do it.”

“really?” your eyes light up because you expected this to go far south.

“yeah, no big deal.” he shrugs, even though in his head he knew it was a huge deal. he was going to be your first time and if he screwed it up, there was no telling what would happen between you two. “but, this won’t change anything between us right?” he asked. “like i just don’t want it to be awkward afterwards.”

“i swear.” you said, although you didn’t entirely know if that was the truth. “you’re just helping me out, right?”

“alright.” he responds. “you, uh, you wanna do this now or..?” he clears his throat again, visibly getting nervous, but your fears seemed to be disappearing now that you knew he wasn’t against the idea.

“the sooner, the better.” you said.

jj gets up from the bed and flips the lock on the door on the off chance someone were to come home.

“just a warning though,” you start, “i’ll definitely be really bad at this compared to the other girls you’ve been with.”

“that’s all right, you gotta learn somewhere.” he says, walking back to you and stopping right in front of where you were sitting on the bed. your heart started to race as the reality of what you were about to do started setting in. he sits down next to you and you could smell salt water and weed on his skin. “i’m gonna start with kissing you, is that okay?” you searches your face for confirmation and you nod, giving him the okay. “and you’ll tell me if i’m taking things too fast or if you wanna stop, right?”

you giggle a little at his attention to the matter.

“yes jj.”

you see a very slight smile appear on his lips before he slowly leaned in and connected them with yours. he tasted like weed but in the most perfect way as he skillfully moved his lips in sync with yours. his tongue softly swiped your bottom lip at the same time his hands found their way to the sides of your face and he held you there gently. you took him touching you as a sign to occupy your own hands with his body as you brought your hands around his back, feeling his bare skin.

his kisses started leading down your chin, and further down onto your neck where he connected his lips with your skin. you shivered at the new feeling of someone kissing your neck as he went lower still, reaching your collarbone. he pulled away and tugged at the him of your shirt, asking for more access to your body and he helped you out of the fabric.

“you doin okay?” he asks.

“totally fine.”

he connects his lips to your collar again as he carefully lays you down onto your back. he fights the urge not to leave any hickeys on you, knowing you had a date tomorrow.

you scoot your body up until you’re in the middle of the bed so that he can easily get on top of you. he continues kissing your body, getting lower and lower and with each passing second, you could feel yourself getting hotter and your arousal getting stronger. his mouth reached the waistband of your jean shorts and he looked up your for permission to take them off. you nodded and he unbuttoned them before sliding them down your legs and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

jj kissed the curve of your hipbone and you mindlessly rolled your core up towards his mouth, to which you could feel him smirk against your skin at your neediness.

“i’ll get there princess.” he said against the space under your bellybutton. you practically lost your breath at his words and your cheeks flushed out of embarrassment.

he continued kissing you even lower, placing his lips over clothed core and hooking a finger underneath the hem of your bikini bottoms.

“can i take these off?” he asked.

“please.” you nod, almost sounding too desperate.

he pulls your bottoms down your legs, leaving you exposed to him. the first time anyone had seen you like this, and you were thankful it was jj and not some random boy who didn’t know the first thing about you.

“you still alright?”

“jj,” you giggle. “i’ll tell you if somethings wrong, okay?”

“just being courteous.” he joked.

he brought his hand to your now bare core and used his thumb to swipe a line from your entrance up to your clit, making you whine from just one touch. he spreads your wetness around your clit, his pants growing tighter at the sight of your arousal. as he rubs painfully slow circles, he searches your face for signs of enjoyment, but your eyes were shut tight and your lips were parted, quiet whimpers leaving your mouth.

“just relax, okay?” he said, to which you nod eagerly. you were totally not relaxed at all. in fact you were amped on adrenaline from the way he kissed you.

and then before you could register what was happening, you felt something new touching you. you opened your eyes and looked down at jj’s face in between your thighs, seeing his tongue swirling over your clit. it felt better than any time you had ever touched yourself. his eyes met yours for a second and you wondered why you never asked him to do this any sooner even though you pictured him going down on you many times before

your hands found their way to his blonde locks, your fingers tangling into his hair as you threw your head back on the pillow.

“oh my god, jj” you moaned, to which he picked up the pace a little. he gripped your thighs firmly, holding them apart, occasionally rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs to relax you.

his lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked, making you jolt your hips up in pleasure at the new sensation. your legs were trembling under his grip and jj didn’t think he could get any harder, but he was, in fact, getting harder by the minute.

“jj,” you moaned his name, “please don’t stop!” you were pulling his hair tighter, trying not to be too loud in case anyone were to come home, but it was impossible to keep your mouth shut with the way he was eating your pussy. “feels so good” you cried.

your hips were rocking back and forth, rolling in the same rhythm as his tongue, practically riding his face. he knew you were close based on the fact that your moans were getting closer together and your legs were shaking harder. he suddenly switched the direction of his tongue, now going side to side and occasionally sucking on your clit, swallowing your juices.

your back was arched off the bed, your hands flying to the sheets for something to hold on to as your high approached in small waves. you moved one hand to cover your mouth, trying to stifle your moans, but jj immediately reached up to your arm and pulled it from your face, not stopping his movements.

“need to hear you cum” he said against your clit before harshly sucking on it.

“fuck” you moaned, his words alone almost leading you over the edge.

he snuck two fingers into your entrance and slowly moved them against the sweet spot inside you. the mixture of his mouth expertly lapping at your clit and his fingers pushing into you had you coming undone.

“fuck- don’t stop- please- don’t st-“ you couldn’t even get the last words out as you felt yourself completely lose control. you didn’t know how loud you were moaning because all of your senses had faltered as the tidal wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

he kept licking until you had fully ridden out your orgasm, and even then, he continued, his grip still tight on your legs as they trembled. you pushed his head away from the overstimulation and then lay limp, your chest rising and falling as you came down, your eyes still closed.

“need a second?” he asked, mockingly, his hands running up your torso and to your still covered breasts. he felt your nipples harden under your bikini top and he desperately wanted to get you out of it.

you wrap your arms around his back and pull him on top of you, connecting your lips with his again. he immediately kisses you back and reaches behind you to undo your top, which quickly comes off and jj’s eyes land on your breasts. he takes them both in his hands and leans over you to suck your nipple, making you shiver.

you occupy your own hands with his belt, fumbling with the clasp until it’s undone and pulling it through the loops.

he pulls himself away from your tits and starts undoing the zipper before his eyes meet yours.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks.

“i wouldn’t be fully naked in front of you right now if i wasn’t.” you joke.

he gets up from the bed to take his shorts off and look around the room, presumably for a condom.

“john b’s gotta have some around here, hold on.” he says, opening up the top drawer of the dresser and rummaging through the pairs of socks and underwear.

“you don’t have to, jay.” you say, but he doesn’t listen, still looking inside the dresser for any small, silver packages. “i’m on birth control.”

he turns around cocks his head at you.

“what?” you question. “makes my periods lighter.” you shrug.

“i’m still pulling out though.” he says before he walks back to the edge of the bed and slides his boxers off, revealing his achingly hard cock. you visibly got nervous at his length, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. jj notices the redness in your face and gets into the bed, pushing hair out of your face with his fingers. “i’ll stop if it’s too much, just tell me.” you nod, anxiously and he positions himself on top of you, stroking his cock a few times before you feel his tip at your entrance. his eyes meet yours for confirmation and you give him a nod.

his cock slowly pushes into you, not even an inch as he doesn’t want to hurt you. you shut your eyes hard, preparing for it to hurt, but you feel barely any pain. he kisses your neck and pushes himself in a little farther.

“this feel okay?” he asks against your skin.

“feels good, j.” your hands find their way to his back again.

once he bottoms out, you feel a slight pressure at your cervix before he slowly starts moving, giving you time to adjust to the feeling.

you hear jj moan in your ear from the painfully slow strokes he was taking, trying to keep himself from going too fast for you. his cock rubbed against your g-spot and you kiss the area in between his collar and neck.

“i’m okay jj.” you reassure him. “faster, please.”

he picks up the pace and continues kissing your neck. your nails dig into the skin of his back.

“you feel so good” he moans. “doin’ so good for me- fuck.” he didn’t even realize what he was saying, but you enjoyed the hell out of it. his praises added to the pleasure of him inside you.

he was going fast enough now that you could hear your skin hitting against each others as your hips connected. every thrust was stroking your sweet spot and you were pretty sure you were leaving scratches on his back, but jj felt too good to even notice.

he leaned back a little so that all his weight was on his knees and his back was straight as he grabbed one of your legs for support and used his other hand to rub your clit at the same time he was fucking you. the double stimulation illicited a loud moan from you that encouraged jj to keep going, almost nearing his end.

his thrusts were getting sloppier and his breathing was heavier but he wanted to make you finish before him. your chest heaved, feeling the new sensation of him filling you up at the same time as his fingers worked on your clit. the pressure was building up and you knew you were close. you suddenly pulled him against you so that your chests were pressed against each others.

“fuck- jj” you moaned. “m’so close.”

his heavy breathing sounded like heaven to you as he started to fuck you even harder, his cock sliding perfectly in and out of you.

“sweetheart” he moaned into your neck. “m’not gonna last much longer.”

almost immediately after he said those words, you felt the band in your stomach snap as you came around his cock, squeezing and pulling him deeper inside you. you cried out his name as he fucked you through your second orgasm.

“fuck, baby-“ he pulled out of you and stroked his cock that was slick with your wetness. you watched his face contort in pleasure, his eyes barely open and his lips parted, his eyebrows furrowed. his cum shot onto your stomach and tits.

he tried not to stare too long at the mess he made of you, realizing almost as soon as he finished that this was a one time thing he may never get you like this again.

he got out of the bed and grabbed a shirt of the floor, which he cleaned you up with and tossed it.

“you okay?” he asked again.

you rolled your eyes.

“how many times are you gonna ask that?” you scoffed. “i liked it, j. don’t know how my date’s gonna top that.” you joked.

then, jj remembered that this was all practice for you to go and have sex with another guy and he suddenly felt sick. he pulled his boxers back on and picked up your articles of clothing from the floor and tossed them to you.

the truth is, you didn’t even want to go on that date anymore. not after the way jj took care of you.

“hey, jj!” a voice, john b’s, ripped through the chateau and both of your eyes widened, looking at each other with panic. “you home?”

you swiftly put your bottoms and shorts back on in under 30 seconds and shrugged yourself into your flimsy shirt while jj was putting his belt back on. you quickly exited john b’s room before he could see where you both came from and you nervously greeted him in the living room to see that sarah and kie were home as well.

“heyy, jb.” jj said, awkwardly.

“what have you two been doing all day?” john b asks.

kiara walked over to the kitchen to grab a beer and when she turned around, she noticed the marks on jj’s back. she paused in her steps.

“jj, what’s with all the scratches on your ba-“ and then she realized. her face contorted in disgust. “ewwww, are you guys fucking serious?”

your face grows hot with embarrassment and you wanted to dig a whole to die in, but john b seems barely faced as he walked past you, saying something near you.

“at least you made that boy’s dreams come true.”



[sanarsi]

But daddy, I love him!

older boyfriend!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Your controversial old boyfriend is back from his deployment. Your father is against your relationship. Or Joel fucks you on his motorcycle. Warnings: +18, MDNI, angst, arguing, age gap (reader is 20, Joel is 40), ex-soldier!boyfriend!Joel, rough sex, unprotected PIV, pussy eating, dirty talk, dom!Joel, motorcycle sex, daddy kink, pet names (daddy, sir, baby girl, good girl), hair pulling, no-outbreak AU and no-Sarah Wordcount: 4,5k An: My boyfriend’s back, and he’s cooler than ever. This text inspired me to write this wonder. Hope you enjoyed bestiesss <3 Music I worked with: Lust For Life - Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd

Masterlist

One message made your heart fill with warmth and your lips formed the most sincere smile in months.

Joel: I'm back.

The same message also caused hell in your house.

Screams echoed throughout the house for almost an hour. Your throat and eyes hurt.

Another dose of hot tears ran down your cheeks as you tried to convince your father to let you meet with Joel.

With your controversial old boyfriend who you met right after your eighteenth birthday. And the whole world could be against your love but you didn't care. After all, it was with him that you experienced the most beautiful things in your life.

He was the one who treated you like his princess the moment your father stopped.

"I forbid you!" Another scream from your father echoed through the kitchen.

Your mother was sitting at the kitchen island drinking soothing herbs. She hadn't said a word for several minutes. Just stared blankly into space.

She wasn't defending you.

She was on her husband's side.

Not on her own daughter's.

"I'm not sixteen anymore so you can forbid me from doing something!"

"You're my daughter! I have the right to forbid you from making the biggest mistake of your life!"

And that's how this conversation looked from the moment it started. From the moment your father accidentally saw a message on your phone.

If it weren't for your inattention, you would be sitting in your room now, waiting for another message. Happy that you're about to see your beloved after a few months of separation. Without letting your parents know where you're going, who you're with, and when you're coming back.

"He's not a mistake!" you screamed, more tears streaming down your neck. Your preparation for the meeting went to hell. You looked like seven disasters. Mascara smudged under your eyes, irritated eyes, tears that had washed off your makeup.

Everything was wrong.

Father snorted dryly at your words, sending you an amused look. It hurt.

"Child, this man is using you. He's manipulating you because you're young and stupid," he growled in disgust.

You blinked a few times, not knowing if it was your heart that broke or the cup your mother had dropped. You stared at the man who raised you and was once the most important person in the world to you.

It was amazing how time can change everything.

"Is that what you think of me?" you asked, smiling sadly. "That I am stupid because I fell in love with someone who treats me like an equal? ​​Shows me respect and understanding?" you said, your voice breaking more and more.

"Oh, please," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Do you really believe that a guy my age can love you and not just want you in his bed?" There was simply hatred in his gaze. There was no compassion or understanding. In his eyes, you were a stupid and disobedient girl.

You snorted sadly, shrugging your shoulders.

"I don't know, you used to," you replied with venom.

The kitchen fell silent. Your mother was afraid to even look up at you. And your father seemed to be on the verge of madness. He was breathing heavily, looking at you with something dark in his eyes.

You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket and your heart immediately beat faster.

He had arrived.

"Get out of my sight," he growled, pointing his finger towards the stairs leading to your bedroom.

It was a pity that you didn't intend to go back there. Not after the hatred with which your own family treated you. If they could, they would have disowned you and everything you represented.

But looking at your parents, who were together out of habit and not love, you were glad that you were different than they wanted you to be. You weren't the one who was unhappy. You weren't the one who cheated on your partner at the first opportunity. You weren't the one who fell asleep after an argument about who was the worse person.

You loved and were loved.

"With pleasure," you said angrily and left the kitchen.

But instead of going to your room, you went to the hall to put on your shoes and take your backpack. It was amazing that you had packed everything you needed in it.

All your belongings.

"Where are you going?" he shouted, following you.

"I'm getting out of your sight. Just like you wanted," you said indifferently and with one movement you opened the door. You didn't pay attention to how hard the wooden board hit the wall when you went outside.

Your gaze immediately fell on the end of the sidewalk to the man sitting on the motorcycle.

Time stopped for a moment.

There was only him, smoking a cigarette in peace. A gentle wind blew his flannel shirt, jeans hugged his legs and gel held his slowly graying hair perfectly.

He looked even better than you remembered.

Broad shoulders and muscles tensed under the dark green material. The same wrinkle between his eyebrows and that tired look that immediately lit up at the sight of you.

Your father's screams didn't reach your ears.

There was only the strong beating of your heart and that smirk you missed. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched him throw the cigarette butt on the ground and reach behind him for helmet.

The helmet he bought specially for you.

"You're not going anywhere with that man," your father growled, tugging on your elbow to get your attention.

That was enough for the endless moment to end.

You looked at him over your shoulder with a hateful look and yanked your hand out of his grip.

"Try to stop me," you said defiantly.

Your father knew who Joel was. And he might have doubted your love, but he couldn't doubt that Joel was capable of protecting you.

That's why when you saw a spark of hesitation in his eyes, you immediately took the opportunity and ran towards the motorcycle.

"Get back here!" he shouted, running after you. Joel started the motorcycle as if on cue. You grabbed the helmet he held out to you and quickly sat down behind him. Your fingers trembled as you try to buckled it.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you."

You shivered when you heard the voice you missed so much. You looked up at Joel who was just sending a warning look to your father. The tension between them sent shivers down your spine.

"You're disgusting," he hissed.

Joel snorted under his breath and smiled widely. With superiority.

"Nah, your daughter thinks I'm pretty good," he teased. Your breathing quickened when you finally managed to get the clasp off and you hugged him tightly around the waist. "See ya," he winked, amused at the state he left your father in.

Anger seethed in him and if he could, he would have started to boil. But you couldn't see it anymore because Joel, with a roar of his motor, drove away from your house. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could barely catch your breath, let alone know what was going on around you. Your arms tightened around him as you pressed your cheek against his back.

Feeling him again after so many months was a completely different experience. It was better than getting high after rehab.

His scent was intoxicating. He smelled like a man you would trust with your life. His muscles felt like a place you never wanted to leave again.

He was like home.

"Hi, baby," he said tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You felt shivers when he started stroking your leg in that caring way. He laughed quietly feeling your body tremble.

Everything around you became quieter.

"I missed you."

"Yeah?" he asked teasingly.

"Mhm," you nodded hugging him tighter to which he tightened his hand on your thigh.

"I missed you too."

You smiled at his words which made warmth spread through you.

He missed you.

And suddenly everything in your head calmed down.

All unwanted thoughts and worries disappeared.

There was only the sound of the motorcycle, the wind whistling over your skin, his body against yours and the view of green fields.

You felt good again.

Safe.

"Do you have everything with you?" he asked, calmly leading the way. You nodded. "Just your backpack?"

"Yeah," you replied, swallowing hard. The change in tone didn't escape his notice. He removed his hand from your thigh and slowly ran it over your hand on his stomach.

"That's good. I have more room to maneuver with the gifts," he said with a smile, then took your hand and pulled it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on it. You shivered at the feeling of his lips and beard on your skin.

You didn't even realize how much you missed it. His words, as always, brought you comfort.

He always took care of you.

From the moment he decided to save you from the aggressive guy at the club. From the moment his worried eyes met your terrified gaze.

From the moment he offered to walk you home after that, you always felt safe with him.

It took so little to fall in love with him.

His gentle smile, warm gaze, and careful touch were enough.

"Want to show you somethin’, sweet girl."

Then there was only a loud growl, acceleration and a tighter grip on his body. The landscape slowly passed before your eyes as you drove fast through almost empty roads.

A feeling straight out of a movie.

That's how you felt all the time when he was around.

His gaze was always on you, making you hot and butterflies in your stomach. With him, you were the main character. Always. Even when you argued, all he wanted was for you to stop looking at him with pain in your eyes.

He treated you like his princess.

Only to treat you like a whore at night.

And he was the best at it.

Motor began to slow down so you lifted your cheek from his back to look around. You were on top of some mountain. The view of the forests and the city stretched in the distance. You had never been here before. You didn't even know this place existed even though you had lived here your whole life.

Joel stopped, turning off the engine and patted your thigh. You knew what to do so you deftly jumped off the seat.

There was silence all around, interrupted by the singing of birds. It was peaceful. Perfect.

You took off your helmet and hung it on the handlebars. A strong arm immediately wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer. You bumped into Joel's hard chest and gave him an innocent look that immediately made him start to harden in his jeans.

His gaze began to carefully examine every inch of your face, as if he was seeing you up close for the first time. But you hadn't changed even a little. The same shiny eyes, firm skin and delicious lips.

His fingers ran down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. A smirk bloomed on his lips as he felt you still react so intensely to his proximity.

You were so damn soft under his rough touch.

"Will you smile for me?" he asked, grabbing your chin. As if on cue, you couldn't help but smile. "That's my girl," he praised, returning your smile. "That's what I missed the most." His thumb slowly ran over your skin until it caught your lower lip. "And that," he added and without waiting, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes immediately, melting in his arms.

The longed-for and deep kiss he gave you, easily made your knees tremble. You slowly embraced his neck, pulling him even closer, thirsty for his closeness.

His attention.

His tenderness.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips into his when he tightened his hand on your hip. His touch was domineering and his lips dominant. His desire for you didn't decrease even a little, it actually increased.

You felt a slap on your butt and his fingers digging hard into your skin. You moaned, thirsty for more.

More of his hands on your body.

More kisses on your warm skin.

More of him.

“I missed those sweet sounds of yours,” he whispered against your lips as he slowly pulled away with a blissful smile. You caught your breath licking your swollen lips, and your eyes began to sparkle again as you looked at him.

Unlike you, he had changed.

He had more wrinkles around his eyes. His hair was starting to lose its shine and his beard was turning grey.

He was aging before your eyes.

“You were supposed to go to war, not to a beauty salon,” you said biting your lip to hide your growing smile.

He snorted, looking away for a moment in amusement. This sound was enough to make your stomach clench pleasantly. His smile was the most beautiful sight you could have after so many months of emptiness.

“Are you teasing your old man? Naughty,” he smacked his lips disapprovingly and squeezed your butt harder before he let go of you.

You took a step back, letting him get off the bike. He straightened with a soft groan as his spine cracked.

“I guess it’s been a while since anyone gave you a massage,” you said teasingly as he slowly walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Unfortunately, where I was, there weren’t any masseuses as pretty as you,” he teased, wrinkling his nose as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

A few soft kisses.

You giggled as he started kissing your cheek and neck, teasing you with his stubble.

“I have something for you,” he whispered, straightening up and reaching under the collar of his shirt.

A soft jingle caught your attention.

The sun reflected off the silver dog tag that hung between you.

“This was my last mission,” he announced, placing the necklace around your neck this time. “I’m yours now.”

Those words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You blinked a few times, looking at the dog tag. The embossed letters with his data gleamed in the sunlight like a promise. Such a little piece of metal that meant so much. So much to him and now, so much to you.

He belonged to you now.

Your heart almost fell out of your chest when he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him again.

“Now I can take care of you properly.”

The gentleness and certainty with which he said it made you dizzy. And suddenly all those months of waiting turned out to be worth every minute.

Just so he can come back to you, giving yourself on an open hand.

“Will you accept me?”

Willyouacceptmewillyouacceptmewillyouacceptme.

It's the same as 'will you marry me'.

You stared at him expectantly, slowly starting to lose your breath. Did he really- No, he can’t. Or can he?

Joel saw the confusion in your eyes. You were only twenty, you had barely started living an adult life, and he was offering you something that was an obligation until the very end.

And maybe he was old, he didn't have as much strength and will to live as he once did, but he wanted you.

He wanted to take care of you.

He wanted you to be able to rely on him in everything.

So that you wouldn't be afraid to ask him to buy an extra pack of jelly beans or to kill a man for you.

He wanted to help you get through life, protecting you from anything that could hurt you.

“Say yes, my love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek.

Your silence began to drag on. But you didn’t think about the answer. You tried to understand what happiness had just reached you.

“Say yes and I will never let you worry about anything again.”

He needed to hear your consent even though he saw the answer on your face. That's why he wasn't afraid to wait when you were silent for a long time.

He leaned down and gently brushed his nose against yours. His hot breath mixed with yours and even such a small thing made you shiver.

"Say yes and be mine," he whispered, tilting his head so he could run his lips over yours.

Gently like the beating of a butterfly's wings.

Your eyelids began to droop from the feeling of warmth he began to surround you with.

"Y-"

And that was enough for his hand to tangle in your hair, holding you tightly as he pressed his lips painfully against yours.

You moaned, wincing as your teeth clashed and his tongue immediately entered your mouth. Only now could you feel the desire from longing for you.

He kissed hard but slowly, passionately.

He kissed so that you felt a tingling between your thighs.

The tingling quickly turned to excitement as he pulled closer your hips until you could feel his hard cock. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently rubbed himself against you with a soft groan.

After that, everything happened quickly. You had no idea how you ended up on the seat of a motorcycle, without any shorts or panties, while making out with him. But you don’t mind. As long as his hands gripped your body like that, you didn't care about anything.

He growled softly, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter. His thumbs were close to your little slice of heaven, sensually massaging your skin.

And you might have been wet before, but now you were leaking onto the seat.

Joel didn't care that he made a mess. He didn't care about the teeth marks he left on your skin as he went lower and lower. He didn't care about how his cock painfully dug into his jeans, wanting to get out.

He cared about how hard your nipples were standing before he even ran his warm tongue over them.

The animalistic groan that escaped your throat made his balls ache.

"Fuck baby, I haven't even started with you yet and my cock is about to fall off," he mumbled without stopping sucking on your nipple.

Another wave of arousal hit your clit, allowing more juices to flow out of your hole and between your ass cheeks. His teeth began to tease your already oversensitive nipple, making you whimper.

"Joel, please."

He loved hearing your pleas. How beautifully his name sounded on your lips when you were possessed by pleasure. And Joel never refused you. So after a moment he was kneeling in front of you, gripping your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs even wider for him.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned at the sight of your cunt. Wet, leaking and throbbing, just for him. “Daddy’s home.”

And he dove in, collecting with his tongue everything that leaked out of your hole with gusto. You moaned loudly watching as he greeted your pussy. Groans of pleasure left his throat every time another dose of your arousal appeared on his tongue.

Like a thirsty man, he dove his tongue into you and your loud moans mingled into one. All your blood began to flow to that one small point, which after a moment was between his lips.

He sucked on your clit with a purr and allowed himself to give it a moment of attention. He made slow circles with his tongue and your legs began to tremble.

"I'm gonna come," you warned him, panting heavily. He glanced up at you, not taking his mouth off you, and you could have sworn that this view should be immortalized in a museum. You could watch for hours as he knelt thirsty in front of you to eat you.

The grimace of pleasure on your face only made his balls boil. He ran his tongue along the length of your slit and sucked on your clit again. You whimpered as you felt your orgasm approaching.

You didn't even have to try, because a wave of pleasure hit you a moment later when he bit down on your nerve nub. Fucking nirvana you could feel again after a few months of separation.

You shuddered, pushing your hips into him as he rode you through your orgasm for as long as he could.

And only when he cleaned everything that had flowed out of you, he let you breathe. He stood up with a quiet groan and immediately reached for his belt.

"My balls are about to fall off because of you, princess," he joked with a quiet snort. You breathed heavily as you watched him unzip his fly and reach under his underwear.

With a sigh of relief, he pulled out his painfully hard cock, which quivered at the contact with the outside world. You swallowed hard as you saw another drop of precum flowing from his head. He pumped it slowly a few times and approached you, positioning himself perfectly between your legs.

He held his cock firmly at the base and with a hiss of satisfaction he slammed it perfectly into your clit a few times. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

"Yeah, just like that."

He guided the tip down and ran it between your wet slit. His head was soft and warm so your body didn't resist as he slowly pushed a few inches into you. You began to breathe harder, watching as he slowly disappeared deeper and deeper into your pussy.

Joel moaned in satisfaction, feeling your hole accept him perfectly smoothly. As if she was just waiting for his cock to fill her up again.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already feeling full but you could see he had to go in a few more inches. You clenched on him in warning and he grabbed your hips tightly to hold you in place as he slowly pushed deeper into you.

“Good girls take everything their daddies give them,” he gasped, watching you helplessly look at the spot where you were connecting. “You’re a good girl, right?”

You squealed, pressing your lips together tightly and nodding your head eagerly. His cock made you not know if it was better to breathe or not. Joel smiled, pleased with your reaction and with one hard movement, he pushed himself all the way into you. You moaned like a wounded animal as your eyes rolled back and your head fell back.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned in pleasure, feeling your pussy clench around him in welcome.

And then it started.

His hips slowly pulled back only to thrust hard into you. Joel was never gentle with sex. And you never thought you'd like it. But you did.

His fingers dug hard into your flesh as his hips began to painfully slam against yours. You were barely able to stay in your seat. The loud moans had already scared away the birds and his growls had scared away all other animals. He was pounding his rock hard cock into you, causing more and more juices to spill from your hole.

The wet sound echoed around every time he thrust into you. And he didn't care that you couldn't catch your breath. He didn't care that you had nothing left to scream for. You just existed. Taking everything he gave you. Like a regular fuck doll.

"Fuckin’ take it," he growled.

You slowly started to choke but that only intensified the pleasure that accompanied his cock as he drove it into you all the way. He watched you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of bliss that he gave you. He loved seeing you like this.

His cock literally took your breath away.

But then his thumb appeared on your clit and you automatically gasped for air. You tensed up, moaning throatily until your knees trembled under him. Your pussy immediately became tighter, making his balls shiver.

His thumb made quick circles around your clit and you couldn't fight the feeling that appeared in your legs. You were helpless.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes," you started to repeat on the edge of your endurance. Your body was fighting the approaching orgasm, making the blood start to boil throughout your body.

His finger disappeared and in return, you felt his hand grab your hair tightly. You weren't even able to hiss in pain when he pulled you to him. You looked at animal instinct in his eyes, feeling how he intensified his thrusts.

"Father didn't want you?" he asked, panting heavily. You clenched your jaw tighter as he jerked you harder. A devilish smile appeared on his lips. "Don't worry, baby. Now I will take care of you."

"Yes," you hissed, fighting the feeling that was slowly overpowering you.

"Yes what?" he growled, tugging harder at your hair. He leaned down, running his tongue over your neck to finally plant a gentle kiss.

“Yes, sir,” you repeated. He smiled against your skin

“Good girl,” he praised you, pleased and bit into the spot right after your ear. And then you were gone.

You moaned like a real slut, coming on his cock. Your legs began to tremble as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.

A wave of orgasm flooded your body, cutting off your access to oxygen, and another wave, flooded his cock. Your juices began to drip down his balls as with a groan, he continued to suck on your skin, marking you.

Moans, sighs and squeals mixed into one as your pussy pulsed around him. And that brought him to the end. He bit painfully into your neck and holding you tightly, thrust into you several times. Hard and deep, filling you with all of his seed.

His throaty groan sent vibrations through your body as he finally stopped. You panted heavily, still pulsating until his cum started to flow out of you too.

"Fuck, I missed you," he groaned pulling away from you so he could look at your face. Tiredness mixed with bliss. But it was your sparkling eyes that said it all.

You smiled lazily as he rested his wet forehead against yours, allowing both of you to calm your racing hearts.

"I would possess you in every way possible and I would never get enough of that sweet pussy of yours."

You snorted helplessly at which a smile blossomed on his lips. And then he just kissed you. Tenderly and slowly. Finally able to enjoy your closeness

[almostempty]

Never made it as a wise man

(joel miller x f!reader)

Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 

However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 

You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 

Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre

ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 1.5 here

Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  

WC: 4.2k

You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 

Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 

At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 

That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 

The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 

You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 

Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 

Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 

You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 

You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 

After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 

You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 

The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 

You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 

The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 

The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 

You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 

You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 

Still, no Joel, however. 

You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 

As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   

The next moment is a blur. 

“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 

You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 

“What are you doing here?” he barks. 

Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 

He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 

“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 

“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 

“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 

But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 

Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 

He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 

Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 

You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 

“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 

“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 

This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 

You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.

He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken

For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 

“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 

You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 

“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 

Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 

His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 

“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 

“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 

“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 

He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 

They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 

He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 

Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 

Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 

The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 

You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 

Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 

He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 

He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.

“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 

“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 

You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 

“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 

His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 

He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 

A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 

“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 

“You need more?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 

“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 

But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.

“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.

“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 

Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 

“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 

“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 

“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 

When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 

Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 

The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 

You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 

Joel

Attachment 1 image

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Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh

[jaylalolz]

EX!reader x JEALOUS!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, Nicholas, still grappling with the lingering emotions from his recent breakup, reluctantly agrees to a night out with his friends at a club. As the music pulses and the crowd sways, he spots his ex, across the room with another man. Jealousy ignites in his chest.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyyy

A/N, hey angels! my inbox is now open, feel free to request or ask any questions. have fun reading, muah.

The club was packed. Music thumped through the walls, vibrating through Nicholas as he stepped inside. His friends were already there, waving him over to the bar with grins that were a little too enthusiastic.

"About time!" one of them shouted over the music, clapping him on the back.

Nicholas forced a smile and ordered a drink, hoping the alcohol would loosen him up. After a couple of rounds, he was starting to relax, though his mind kept drifting back to her. It was impossible not to. Everywhere he looked, couples were dancing, bodies pressed close together, and it reminded him of how it used to be with her.

He shook off the thoughts and turned toward the dance floor, determined to distract himself. But just as he did, his heart stopped.

There she was.

She stood near the center of the dance floor, her body swaying effortlessly to the beat. Her hair was down, catching the neon lights as she moved, her hips rolling with the rhythm in a way that had always mesmerized him. But this time, it wasn’t for him. She wasn’t dancing for him.

Before Nicholas could process the flood of emotions, a guy appeared behind her. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy smile that Nicholas immediately hated. He stepped in close, his hands hovering near her waist as they moved together, bodies aligning in sync. She didn’t pull away. She leaned into it, her smile bright, her body molding to the stranger’s as they danced.

Jealousy hit Nicholas like a wave, sharp and suffocating. His grip tightened on his drink, knuckles white as he watched the scene unfold. That should’ve been him. It used to be him. How could she be so comfortable with someone else? So quickly?

His chest burned, every rational thought drowning in the flood of possessiveness and anger. Before he could stop himself, he set his drink down and pushed through the crowd, eyes locked on her.

When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the guy, who looked at Nicholas with a mix of confusion and annoyance. She stumbled back, surprised, her eyes widening as she realized who it was.

"Nicholas?" she gasped, but he didn’t give her time to say anything else. The music blared around them, but all he could hear was the pounding in his chest, the rush of anger that had built up over weeks of silence.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "Why are you letting some random guy touch you like that?"

She pulls her arm back, her face hardening. "What are you talking about? Nicholas, you can’t just—"

"Yes, I can," he cut her off, his voice low, but the anger in it was clear. "Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Her eyes flashed with a mix of disbelief and anger. "We’re not together anymore, Nicholas. You don’t get to say that."

"I don’t care," he snapped, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I don’t care if we broke up. You don’t let someone else touch you like that. Not when it hasn’t even been a month."

She stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment. The guy behind her stepped forward, sensing the tension, but Sarah held up a hand, stopping him.

"You don’t get to decide who I dance with," she said, her voice steady now, even though Nicholas could see the hurt in her eyes. "We ended things, remember? You ended it, Nicholas."

Her words hit him like a slap. He did end it, but now, standing there, watching her with someone else, he couldn’t understand why he had. All he knew was the pain of seeing her move on, the jealousy twisting inside him like a knife.

"You don't understand," Nicholas said, his voice demanding slightly, but full of raw emotion. "You belong with me. No one else"

He crashed his lips against hers, the kiss instantly consuming. It wasn't soft or tentative-there was nothing gentle about it. His mouth moved against hers with fiery desperation, as though he'd been starving for this, for her, ever since they parted. And she matched his intensity, her lips parting to let him in, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer as if the contact wasn't close enough.

Their bodies collided, her chest pressing against his as the kiss deepened. Nicholas's hands roamed over her, sliding from her waist to her back, pulling her flush against him. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging gently as his mouth moved down her neck, tasting the heat of her skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

She let out a soft, breathless moan, her body arching into his touch, her hands gripping his shoulders as though she needed something to hold onto.

The sound only fueled him further. His mouth returned to hers, this time with a fierce, almost primal need. Their tongues danced together, the kiss growing hotter, deeper, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.

Nicholas felt like he was drowning in her, the taste of her, the feel of her. Every inch of his skin was on fire, his heartbeat racing as his hands traveled lower, gripping her hips, pressing her harder against him. The heat between them was undeniable, overwhelming, and neither of them seemed able to stop.

Her fingers slid through his hair, tugging him closer, her lips demanding more. She kissed him like she wanted to erase the time they'd spent apart, like she wanted to burn away every doubt, every regret. Her nails raked lightly down his neck, sending a shiver through him, igniting every nerve in his body.

Their kiss was wild, unrestrained, the kind that felt like it could burn the whole world down around them. And neither of them cared. Right then, in that moment, it was just them-wrapped up in each other, their bodies and minds consumed by the heat of their desire.

As Nicholas pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his breath ragged, he saw the same fire burning in her gaze. It was as if everything they'd tried to bury had resurfaced, and the pull between them was undeniable, irresistible.

“Go to the bathroom.” he says.

Her fingers loop his pants, tugging them down when they enter the bathroom. He helps her fold his dick out of his boxers by lifting his hips. He's painfully hard; it's was a sight to see. She realizes that it's been a while since she's gotten down on her knees in front of him.

She grabs his dick and strokes it. She dribbles spit down his tip, lubricating her moving hand as it glides along wonderfully. He struggles with the urge to speak; she hears it almost slip out of his mouth. She wraps her lips around his head and looks up into his, breaking him somewhat with a single swirl of her tongue.

"Just like that," he mutters. He hardly has time to register the sensation before his jaw drops.

She took him up with one hand and held him partly in her mouth. She doesn't want to push it because fixing her makeup afterwards will be difficult. Still, he'll cum if he touches the back of her throat, the way he's already going insane. "Jesus-" He moves his hips and clenches her hair, causing a sensation to run down her scalp.

Her left hand roams up his nude torso, feeling the heated skin covering his gravelly muscles as she bobs her head. He traps his hand over top so it stays there the instant her palm touches his chest. With a whine, he throws his head back as her lips slowly works on him.

"Baby-" He stifles. "I'll cum if you don't stop."

She pulls back to prevent him from finishing. He gazes down at her as though she were a creation of his fantasies. "That's for ending our relationship," she replies, disappearing from the bathroom.

[cavillscurls]

Goodnight Kiss

joel miller x f!reader

Joel’s a good dad. You try to remind him.

warnings/tags: MDNI. pre/no-outbreak!joel miller. babysitter!reader. joel is in his 30s but sarah is a toddler because i said so. reader is in her last year of college; do with that what you will. sickening fluff. some borderline impure thoughts. self-depreciation. praise/comfort. intimacy. single girl dad!joel. overworked man finds solace in a sweet girl. not beta'd & hardly proofread. wc: 1.5k

main masterlist

His keys jingle in the door lock an hour after your shift was intended to end.

You don’t mind. You’re used to this routine by now. He still has the courtesy to text you that he’ll be running late, and he always pays a little extra for the additional hours. You’re only here for the summer, and every penny helps grow the savings fund you’ve been eagerly building before entering the less-than-reliable job market next year.

There is also the matter of your employer himself, and knowing that there are far more deplorable summer jobs than babysitting his sweet daughter.

You’re certain of it, in fact. Because you’ve never known a man quite like Joel Miller.

He’s the most hardworking person you’ve ever met, not only providing for his daughter and himself, but his brother. You’ve only seen Tommy a handful of times, and despite his flaws, Joel remains hopeful that his intervention will prompt a turnaround.

He signs Sarah up for anything and everything she’s willing to try, and somehow, finds a way to get her there on time. He fixes the panels on his elderly neighbor's roof before they’ve even noticed one is loose. Sometimes, he’ll snatch your keys off the counter when he gets home at a reasonable time and tells you to stay put while he fills up your tank because gas ain’t an expense you needa worry about right now.

He’s overworked, underpaid, and still finds it in himself to be kind.

You tuck your bookmark into the pages sprawled out across your lap, rising from the couch to greet him. Sarah’s been in bed since seven, and while Joel has made it clear you’re welcome to the fridge or the TV, you always hesitate to overstep.

You grab your tote off the armrest, slinging it over your shoulder and sliding your book inside before pattering towards the front hallway.

“Hey,” you call softly. He’s toeing off his boots and tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. He gives you a tired, apologetic smile.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough from a long day's work. The low vibration sends goosebumps up your arms which you nonchalantly rub away, hoping he won’t notice.

Joel Miller is also impeccably handsome. Another fine quality you’re certain he fails to notice.

“M’so sorry. I know it’s not fair of me to keep doin’ this to ya. The plumbing guys are not cooperatin’, so I—”

“Joel, it’s fine.” You take another step toward him, the golden porch light illuminating his features through the front window. You tilt your head at him, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ve got nowhere else to be. And besides, I love Sarah. She's such a good kid.”

You watch the rigidity in his shoulders fall, if only a little. He’s looking you over as if he’s the child, and he’s just been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. He shakes his head, muttering something discouraging under his breath. You have the great urge to soothe him.

The feeling is not new nor unfamiliar, but you’re tentative with the actions it threatens to elicit. A million grey lines begging to be crossed.

“Was hopin’ to be back in time to tuck her in,” he sighs, placing a hand on his hip while the other rubs at the tension in his brow. “Been too long since I have.”

You can’t help but smile. Not at the berating of himself or his clear display of stress, but because it’s endearing how much he cares. How blatant his love for his daughter is, whether she’s in the room or not.

“Well, I made sure to give her an extra kiss goodnight to make up for it.”

When he looks at you again, it’s with that same sort of sad, guilt-ridden smile. His appreciation for you cannot make up for the condemnation of himself, and while this would not be the first time Joel Miller confided in you about his shortcomings, you can sense tonight weighs heavier than most.

“Just feel like m’not… doin’ enough, I dunno.” His shoulders rise and fall defeatedly, and he’s shaking his head as if to further scold himself. “Worried she’s gonna grow up to resent me or somethin.’”

That strikes a nerve. You suffocate the strap of your bag with your grip, an attempt to redirect some of the outrage that fills you.

How could he even think such a thing? You know Joel’s a smart man, he can’t possibly be so blind to the things other children lack from their parents—none of which he ever falters on.

Your brows knit low over your eyes, serious. “She will not resent you, Joel. She adores you.” You make a point of emphasis; you want him to hear you, loud and clear. Know that there are things you see from the outside that he doesn’t, that a four-year-old may be far more perceptive than he gives her credit for.

“She talks about you all day,” you continue, and that seems to get his attention. Your heart aches at the tired, hopeful look in his eyes. You wish you could alleviate some of the exhaustion. “Everything we do is can’t wait to show Papa this, or we gotta tell Papa that.”

He chuckles a little, likely somewhat due to your poor impression of the toddler's voice, but you still aren’t convinced your words have sunk in.

You do something a bit uncharacteristic, then. You reach out, take another step forward, and place an honest hand on his forearm. The muscle below your touch is firm and warm, but his eyes that follow the path of your fingers are wildly more intense.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him, voice dropping to a whisper. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

He blinks, and when he peers at you now, there’s a glint of something different. You’ve seen it before maybe a handful of times, but it’s always fleeting. A shared understanding that whatever it is, there’s never been any time to acknowledge it.

But this time, it lingers. It festers between your bodies that, only now, do you notice how close they have drifted in the already cramped entryway. Who shifted first, or when, matters very little with Joel’s eyes on you, gentle and focused. You see them flicker, once to your hand that still rests upon his skin, another to your eyes, and then your lips. There’s the sound of crickets in the night. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and dust. The sight of his face, all sharp edges and scattered freckles and a furrowed brow, but his eyes. In all the time you’ve know him, they’ve always remained kind.

Your breath catches in your throat when he finally leans in.

He doesn’t reach for you. Instead, he flushes his chest against yours and lets the weight of his lips drive the kiss. Your fingers dig into his forearm for purchase. You can’t say you’re caught off guard, though pleasantly surprised.

There’s an innocence to it, tender and sweet. He lingers for a few long beats, never pushing further than the plush of his lips delicately upon yours, and then releases.

You don’t open your eyes right away, selfishly idling in the newfound thrill a beat longer. You can still taste him—coffee, mint, something sweet. He remains close; you still feel the brush of his lips, the tip of his nose bumping yours, the fanning of his breath.

“M’sorry…” he starts to mutter, and you can tell he’s retracting. Your eyes fly open and your grip on him tightens.

“No, don’t be.”

You have difficulty finding any trace of guilt in his expression, a fact that turns your stomach. An anxious thrill, the precipice of something.

His tongue traces his bottom lip as if he’s trying to salvage another drop of you. A somewhat devious grin breaks out at the corners.

“Had to put it somewhere, I guess.”

You’re all soft chuckles and sheepish smiles after that, and you feel your cheeks heat up with an array of excitement and nervousness. It was one thing to endure Joel Miller and his charm without the prospect of more, but now?

You aren’t sure how you can possibly contain yourself.

A million questions rattle through your mind as you stare at one another, but you notice the time on the wall clock behind him. You’re no stranger to the bags under his eyes, the paleness on his cheeks after a long day, so you set your selfishness aside. After all, you’ll be back in this very spot in a handful of hours.

You swallow hard, slowly releasing his forearm, though your palm aches to remain.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He isn’t subtle about his hesitation. His eyes do an elongated once over of you before he shakes his head, and bites at his lower lip to prevent another laugh from escaping. You have half the mind to yank him back to you by the t-shirt, but digress when he steps around and opens the door for you.

You’re slow in your exit, doing a full one-eighty once your feet are planted on the porch to flash him one more dazzling smile.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You see the dimples cave in his cheek before he quietly closes the door.

“Night, darlin’.”

You can’t seem to fall asleep fast enough.

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[imaginaryf1shots]

Family at McLaren | Oscar Piastri

WC: 4.7K oops

Oscar Piastri x single mum!reader

Summery: Raising a son while working for McLaren F1 team was never easy but life wasn’t easy on you anyway.

Warning: Teen pregnancy, absent father, absent family

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

Life hasn't been the kindest to you, it seemed like you've been struggling for so long before things started to turn to the better. Getting pregnant young wasn't on the agenda, nor was your boyfriend breaking up with you and moving as far away form you as he could, and your parents cutting you off to 'save face' certainly wasn't planned. But in the end you have your son, all the doubts and thoughts about keeping him or giving him away were set in motion, there was no way you'll give him away, he's a part of you and he's yours. You worked hard, keeping your scholarship helped you through your university and then you also had work on the side to support yourself and your son. During university with the help of your life long friends you were able to get through it and your understanding professors were also a big help. All in all with a son under 5 years old you graduated university top of your class and many opportunities for you to work and choose from. So when you got the chance to work for Mclaren F1 team you took the chance without thinking about it.

Studying was one thing, but balancing work and personal life was hard, harder than you thought. But the McLaren team is like a family everyone's very understanding. McLaren continues to be your beacon of hope, a promise for a brighter future.

"Thank you so much for letting me bring him in." You thanked your manager, feeling grateful for her allowing you to bring Tom with you. The daycare was flooded due to some water leakage or a burst pipe of something like that, meaning until they get everything fixed you had no one to watch your son while you're working. So in a panic mode you called your manager and told her what happened, she was very understanding and agreed to let you bring him with you. You worked in an office and weren't with the mechanics so that made it easier for him to stay with you and not hinder your work.

"No worries, I understand how things get some times." She patted your back and smiled at Tom who was shyly hiding behind your leg, he was super shy. Your team knew you had a son and have all admired you for being a young single mother but so far ahead in your carrier already. But it wasn't something that you spread around so when you walked in and saw the looks on everyone's faces you knew that they were

shocked.

Tommy is a carbon copy of you, there's no doubt in anyone's mind when they first see him that he's yours.

"Oh my god, who is that cutie?" Asked one of the women on the media team, she crouched down in front of you to be eye level with Tommy, he held your hand and looked up at you, you gave him a smile and a nod of encouragement.

"Hello." He said and waved before he got shy and hid into your side, you and Sarah giggled, a couple other moved closer to the three of you to watch the interaction, it's not everyday that a child comes into the MTC.

"What's your name, little guy?" Sarah asked trying to prop him into talking and get him out of his Shyness

"I'm not little." He mumbled and peaked out at her, Sarah raised her arms in surrender.

"Sorry, what's your name big guy?"

"My name's Tom, but mummy calls me Tommy." Tom said and you giggled. A few of your colleague interacted with him on your way to your office. Once you were there you gave him a few of his toys to play with, including a toy car that he liked to act as if he raced with, especially since you started working for McLaren, and being surrounded by Formula 1 way more than before. As you settled in work, it was clear that Tom has created a buzz in the office.

It was later when Oscar strolled into the office. It wasn't weird for him to be there, since you're similar in age you had struck up a friendship, and he'd pop in every time he was in the factory, you'd always talk for a while but had no idea about Tom. So when he walked in and saw Tom surprise flickered on his face, it didn't take him long to put two and two together, especially with the murmurs of other people he passed since he arrived.

"Hey there." Oscar said a friendly grin spreading on his face as he squatted down beside Tom who was playing with his Toy car. "Are you a future driver?"

Tom looked up, his shyness having faded a bit since the morning.

"Maybe." He said with a giggle, holding up his toy car for Oscar to see, Oscar then glanced at you as you watched the scene unfold.

"He's got good taste." He ruffled Tom's hair and stood up. "Are you brining him to the track next?"

"Not if I can help it." You replied with a laugh, grateful for Oscar's easy going nature. "Too much people, too many ways to get lost."

"True." Oscar pulled the usual chair to sit next to you, his eyes not leaving Tom's. If Oscar held any respect for you before it just doubled. Oscar sat with you for a while before he had to go away.

By lunchtime Tommy was like a mini celebrity, there was even a few engineers that took turns showing him around. You were over the moon, just seeing him so happy and over his shyness. Lunch time is always hectic, and all it took a few seconds, you looked away from Tom for a few seconds and he was gone. You couldn't see him anywhere. Panic consumed you, and your heart pounded in your chest as

realization hit you, Tommy is lost. You turn around and head back to your office, maybe he went back there for one of his toys.

Dread washed over you when you didn't find him there, the MTC is a big building and he could be anywhere, you asked everyone you passed if they've seen him but no one has. You called his name, and a few others joined you in your search.

Where did he go? Was he hurt? Is he scared? Just the thought of him being alone in this big unfamiliar building scared you immensely. With each passing moment a sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelmed you.

As you ran around, calling for your son, your voice is tinged with desperation, you could feel the stared of your colleagues, their concerned expressions adding to your anxiety. And as they told you words of comfort it just fell onto deaf ears. You were lost in the whirlwind of your panic.

It seemed to you as if you've searched each corner, every hallway, your mind conjuring the worst scenarios. Each empty room you passed seemed to taunt you with its silence. The MTC always felt like it's a place filled with excitement and innovation, now just felt like it's a maze. You stopped by Sarah's disk, your breath coming in short and frantic gasps.

"Have you seen Tommy?" you ask her, your voice trembling.

"No." She shook her head, concern etched across her face. "But we'll find him, he can't have gone far."

Tears prickled your eyes as you continued your search, your voice growing hoarse from calling his name. your ran through corridors, peering into ever nook and cranny, your mind replaying the last moments you saw him, had he wandered into a restricted area? Was he frightened or hurt?

Just as the panic was threatening to consume you, you turned a corner and you saw a familiar figure approaching, relief and disbelief washed over you as you saw Oscar, with Tommy over his shoulders, a broad smile on his face.

”Looking for this big boy?” OScar asked, his eyes twinkling with a smile on his face.

A sob left you in relief, as you rushed over pulling Tommy into your arms.

”Oh my god!” You exclaimed, your voice trembling. “I was so worried.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around your neck, he sensed your distress. “I’m sorry mummy.”

Oscar smiled gently, patting Tommy’s head.

”I saw him wandering around, so I took him to check the simulator room.” He explained. “I think he’s got a knack for finding the coolest sports in the building.”

”Thank you Oscar.” You managed a shaky laugh, the tension slowly ebbing away. “I don’t know hat I would’ve done if-“

”It’s okay.” Oscar interrupted softly. “He’s safe now, let’s just keep a closer eye on him next time.”

You nodded, and as you hugged Tommy a tear left your eye, Oscar’s eyes just softened even more, he whipped it away and gave you a one armed hug with Tommy between the two of you.

“Oh Tommy, I was so scared.” You mumbled to your son after you pulled away from Oscar.

”I’m sorry mummy.” Tommy looked sad, he didn’t mean to scare you.

”It’s alright baby, just don't do it again, you have to always tell me where you are.” You tell him, and he nods, hugging you.

Oscar walks back with you, once you make it to your office, and you send a message to everyone that you found him, the rest of the day goes smoothly, everyone pays more attention to Tommy making sure that he’s alright and within eyesight.

This just renewed and cemented the love and care in the McLaren family.

From the moment OScar saw you at McLaren, he was captivated. You were different from everyone else he’s met, that is remotely close to his age, something he now concludes is because you’re a single mother, juggling a demanding job and raising a young son on your own.

Oscar admired your resilience, you run wavering commitment to both your work and Tommy. And despite the whirlwind that is Formula 1, he’s found his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you managed to keep everything together with such grace. He often wondered how hard it must’ve been for you, he heard that you’re mostly alone taking care of your son, he pained him to think that you went through so much hardships alone. Your friends were there for you, but they couldn’t have been there all the time.

Oscar also knew you had drawn clear boundaries between the two of you, he’s seen the way you focus on your work and Tom, always putting your son first. He respected that about you, even if it meant keeping his feelings in check. When you brought Tom to the MTC, Oscar knew why you had drawn these lines.

OScar saw the way Tom’s eyes light up when he saw the cars, and when he sat on the sim even if he was too short to do anything yet, his face was beaming with excitement. Oscar enjoyed the moments he spent with Tom, you had brought him with you for a week while the daycare was being fixed up.

Seeing the vulnerability in your eyes when Tom got lost, he saw the fear of a mother who lost her child, and he wanted to be there for you, to support you in any way he could.

And through the week Tommy was at MTC, Oscar had taken it upon himself to spend as much time with Tommy as he could, he’d take him to the simulator room, and show him the cars at the technology centre. He saw first hand how much you meant to your son.

Without even noticing Oscar’s feelings grew stronger with each passing day, but he knew he had to approach his feelings dreadfully. His biggest fear is making you uncomfortable in any way shape or form, or overstepping. So he just focused on building a bond with Tommy, knowing that his actions will speak louder than words. And he couldn’t help but hope that in time you might see hi as more than just a colleague or a young F1 driver. Oscar understand that you’ve been hurt before and that you’re protective of your heart and the heart of your son. But he’s known for being patient, willing to wait and prove himself, to show you that could be a part of your life and Tommy’s in a meaningful way.

One afternoon, as you were wrapping up a meeting, Oscar popped his head into your office.

”Hey, got a minute?” He asked with that familiar, easygoing smile.

“Sure, Oscar.” You looked up from your desk. “What’s up?”

”I was wondering if you and Tommy would like to come to the race this weekend?” Oscar stepped inside, his hands causally tucked into his pockets. “It’s in the country, and it’s a big one, I thought it might be fun for him to see it all in action.”

Your initial reaction was to say no. The thought of bringing Tommy to a race, with the noise, crowds and the chaos, it just seemed overwhelming. but the way Oscar looked at you with genuine enthusiasm and a touch of hope, made you hesitate.

“I don’t know, Oscar.” You said, your concern evident in your voice. “Races can be pretty hectic I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for Tommy/“

Oscar pulled his usual chair to sit next to you.

”I get that, but I’ll make sure you both have a great experience, I’ve arranged for some VIP passes, and you won’t be working, so you’ll have access to the paddock and private viewing area, it’ll be safe and Tommy will get to see the cars in action, I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I’m not sure-“

”If you feel at any point that it’s overwhelming;ming you can escape to my room and stay there until the end.” Your resolve was wavering as you thought about how excited Tommy will be.

”Well, okay, alright.” You agreed but your voice was still tinged with uncertainty.

“Great!” Oscar’s smile widened. “I’ll make sure everything is set up for you, trust me, you’re going to love it.”

The day of the race arrived, and you found yourself with Tommy at the circuit. your nerves are a mix of excitement and apprehension. The roar of the engines, the buzz of the crowd, it was a world you had seen inside at McLaren but never experienced firsthand like this. Tommy is practically bouncing with excitement, the pass around his neck is like a golden ticket.

You were only there for the race day, and when you met Oscar by the Mclaren motorhome there was still a couple of hours until the start of the race.

”Hey, future race car driver.” Oscar said ruffling Tom’s hair. “Ready to see some action?”

Tommy nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with wonder. “Yes! Can I sit in your car?”

”We’ll see what we can do.” Oscar laughed, a warm and infectious sound. “Come on, let’s get you both set up.”

Oscar led you through the motorhome, you greeted your colleagues that you worked with and smiled. Tom was holding Oscar’s hand as he showed him around. Your son was mesmerised.

”Can I see that one up close?” Tom pulled on Oscar’s sleeve to gain his attention. Oscar glanced at you for approval, and you nodded, smiling at Tom’s enthusiasm.

”Of course, let’s get you a closer look.” You stood at the back of the garage, as Oscar took Tom to his car. One of the media members asked if they could film Tom and you agreed, he was dressed in a mini McLaren kit that he got as a gift from one of your friends for his birthday.

Oscar pulls Tom up and puts him in the cockpit, Tommy giggled, his laughter gaining the attention of the mechanics. One got the wheel and gave it to Oscar to put it in place. Tommy instantly leaned forwards to be able to hold it, but he couldn’t see over the cockpit anyways. The wheel was too heavy for him to move, but he was having the time of his life. Oscar glanced at you and he couldn’t help but feel proud seeing how happy you looked.

It warmed your heart seeing how happy Tom looked, and seeing how Oscar is with him made you feel some type of way. Tommy looked up so much to Oscar, since he met him at the MTC Oscar has been his idol, he’s always asking for him, and video calls have began to be a thing now.

”Mummy, look at me!” Tommy called for you, you walked a little closer and smiled at your son.

”You look like a racer, baby.” You tell him and he grins. “Oscar better watch out.”

”Oh I will, who knows, maybe he’ll come for my seat.”

After Tom had his fun in the car you get to the hospitality on top of the McLaren garage, your seat has a view over the pit lane. One of your coworkers comes and keeps you company for a while before she has to rush back to work.

During a break in the action, Oscar joined you with a wide smile on his face. He saw the hat you now supported with his number on it, custody of someone from his team.

“Having fun?” He asked, leaning in close so you could hear him over the noise.

Tom nodded vigorously, turning to you with a beaming smile. “This is the best day ever mummy!”

You chuckle, your heart swelling with happiness at seeing Tommy so thrilled.

”Thank you, Oscar.” You said meeting his eyes. “This means a lot to him.”

”I’m glad you’re both here.” Oscar’s expression softened, his eyes holding warmth that made your heart flutter, he said softly.. “I’d love for you to come to more races, if you’re interested.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you and at Tommy, made you realise how much he genuinely cared. It wasn’t;t just about impressing you or having fun; it was about building a connection, creating moments that mattered.

”We’ll have to see about that.” You replied, a small smile on your lips. The idea of letting Oscar into your lives was still daunting, but seeing how happy he made Tom, how happy he made you feel, was starting to shift your perspective.

After the race, you were told that Oscar asked for you to wait for him. Since Tommy was crashing from the activities of the day, you went to Oscar’s drivers room, which he showed to you for an instant like this earlier in the day. Once you settled on the sofa/bed, Tommy was out in an instant. You were on your phone when Oscar came in, he was a little surprised but pleased to see you in his room.

He had showered and was dressed to go home, he leaned on the wall across from you, his eyes not leaving yours.

”Go on a date with me, just dinner, the two of us.” Oscar’s voice was low, but you heard him loud and clear. Your heart skipped a beat at his request.

”OScar, I really appreciate the offer, but my focus is Tom, I’m not sure dating is a good idea right now.” You replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Despite how Tom couldn’t stop talking about everything that happened today, relaying everything that happened in an enthusiastic way that only children could do it in. You found yourself smiling at his words, feeling a warmth you hadn’t expected. You can no longer ignore the impact Oscar is having on Tom. Their bond had grown stronger, and it was ever clear to everyone that Tom adored him, but it wasn’t just Tom. You couldn’t deny the way Oscar made you feel, the way he looked at you with genuine care and interest, the way he treated Tom with kindness and respect.

You had always been wary of letting someone into your life, afraid of the disruption it might cause for Tom and the vulnerability it required. But seeing Oscar with Tommy, witnessing his patience, his kindness, and the genuine joy he brought to your son, made you reconsider your stance.

You had spent so long building walls around your heart, protecting Tom and yourself from potential hurt. But those walls had also kept out the possibility of new happiness. And Oscar, with his easy smile and genuine care, was chipping away at those barriers in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I understand, really.” Oscar said after a pause of silence. “But I feel like we have something special, and I’d love to see where it could go, I care about you and Tom and I’m will to go at whatever pace you;re comfortable with.”

His words resonated with you, touching a part of you that longed for connection and support. You knew how important it was to be cautious, but you also couldn’t ignore the possibility of finding happiness with someone who genuinely cared for both you and Tom. And seeing Oscar right now he looked vulnerable and genuine.

You took a deep breath, your mind made up. "Okay, Oscar. Let’s give it a try, I’d like to go out with you," you said, your voice firm yet hopeful. "But I want to take things slow. I need to be sure it’s right for Tommy and me."

You could see the relief on his face, it made you smile. “Of course, we’ll take it as slow as you need, I’m just happy you’re giving us a chance.”

The night of your first date arrived, and you felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. You had chosen a cosy, intimate restaurant, nothing too flashy, just a place where you could talk and enjoy each other’s company. As you got ready, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation, wondering what the evening would lead to.

Oscar arrived right on time, looking effortlessly handsome and a bit nervous himself. He greeted you with a smile that melted away your apprehensions. "You look beautiful." He said softly, his eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

"Thank you." You replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look great too."

The dinner was perfect, filled with laughter, conversation, and a deepening connection. Oscar was everything you had hoped for, kind, attentive, and genuinely interested in you and your life. He listened to your stories, shared his own experiences, and made you feel seen and appreciated in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

By the end of the night, as he walked you to your door, you realised just how much you had enjoyed his company. It wasn’t just about having a romantic interest; it was about finding someone who respects your boundaries, who cares about your happiness, and who is willing to be a part of your and Tom’s life.

Before saying goodnight, Oscar took your hand gently, his eyes searching yours.

"I had a really great time tonight." he said, his voice sincere. "I hope we can do this again."

You smiled, a sense of contentment settling over you. "I did too, Oscar. I think I’d like that."

As you closed the door behind him, you felt a sense of hope and possibility bloom within you. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to imagine a future where you weren’t alone, where Tom had a positive male role model, and where you had someone to share the ups and downs of life with.

Months passed since you decided to give Oscar a chance and go on a date. Life began to change for the better, in unexpected ways. Oscar became a constant and important part in your and Tom’s world. He seamlessly integrated himself in your routines and lives. He showed up for dinners, outings, even a couple School events, and the quiet everyday moments that truly mattered. He wasn’t a visitor in your lives, he’s becoming a part of the family.

Oscar’s patience and kindness never wavered. He was there for Tom’s ups and downs, helping with homework, playing games, and simply being present. You saw the way Tom’s face lit up when Oscar was around, how he looked forward to their time together, and how he had started to look up to Oscar as a father figure. You were scared at the beginning that with the tantrums and fights you have every now and then with Tom, Oscar would bolt but he stood there and supported you with them.

One day, you found yourself at a part, watching Oscar and Tom play a game of football. Tom’s laughter filled the air and his joy infectious as he ran after the ball, his short legs moving with determination. Oscar let Tom score, cheering him on with genuine enthusiasm.

As you watched them together, a deep sense of contentment washed over you. It was in these simple moments that you realised how much your life had changed for the better. Oscar had not only brought joy to Tom’s life but had also reignited a spark of happiness and hope in your own heart, a hope that you thought you wouldn't have anymore.

Reflecting on your journey, you thought about the fear and apprehension you had felt when Oscar first showed interest in you. You had been so protective of Tom and cautious about letting someone new into your lives. But Oscar had proved himself time and again, showing you that it was possible to find love and support without compromising your responsibilities as a mother.

Oscar was different. He understood your fears and respected your boundaries. He was patient and gentle, gradually earning your trust and showing you that it was okay to open your heart again. He wasn’t just there for the good times; he was committed to being there through the challenges, too.

As Tom came running over, his face flushed with excitement, he jumped into your arms, babbling about the game. Oscar followed, a warm smile on his face.

“You have a future football star here.” He said, ruffling Tom’s hair affectionately.

You laughed, hugging Tom close.

”He’s got a great coach.” You replied, meeting Oscar’s eyes with gratitude.

Oscar’s gaze softened, and he reached out to take your hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’m just glad to be here.” He said quietly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

In that moment, you felt a surge of emotion, a realisation of how much Oscar had come to mean to you and Tom. He had become a constant presence, a source of support and love that you hadn’t dared to hope for. The walls you had built around your heart had crumbled, replaced by a newfound sense of security and happiness.

As you walked home together, Tom chattering excitedly between you, you knew that you had made the right decision. Oscar wasn’t just a boyfriend or a new figure in your life; he was a partner, a confidant, and a loving presence for Tom. He was the family you had hoped for but never thought you could have.

And from that day on, Oscar continued to be a steadfast presence in your life. He was there for the celebrations and the struggles, always with a smile and a helping hand. He became a father figure to Tom, guiding him with patience and love, and a partner to you, sharing in the joys and challenges of everyday life.

Looking back on the journey, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. You had opened your heart to love and, in doing so, found a partner who was committed to building a future with you and Tom. Oscar had not only filled a void in your life but had also enriched it in ways you had never imagined possible.

The second best decision you took, after deciding to keep Tom, is giving Oscar a chance.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[brielyasmin]

And suddenly, it's my favorite Acotar Appreciation Week of the year again!

I just wanted to paint a very soft and peaceful moment between Elain and Lucien as a couple ♡ Hope you guys like it as much as I do!

For #ElucienWeek2024 - Day I "Fated"

Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

find my art.