#charlie hunnam fanfic

[author-morgan]

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[wardenparker]

Love Potion Number 9

Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.4k Warnings: Not too many! Alcohol, food mentions, some fakey suburban witchcraft stuff written by an actual pagan, probably incorrect descriptions of a town that actually exists. Making out and undressing. Mentions of protected sex. Summary: Halloween is a really big deal in your hometown, and this year your sister is in town to celebrate with you. But what you don't know is that she isn't the only old familiar face around. Your childhood crush Will Miller is back, too. Notes: Happy Spooktober everyone! We're starting off nice and fluffy this year, with a little love for the older Miller brother. We're starting the spice level out low 🧡

Red Feather Lakes might be a small community, but for the little corner of Colorado where you grew up, Halloween is a way of life. The annual kids parade on Elf Lane, and Main Street Trick or Treat are the highlight of the year, and the costume party at town hall is not to be missed.

This year is the hundredth anniversary of the big Halloween shindig and on the night before, which is making such a splash around town that people are coming in from all over to see what the town council has managed. Even your little sister is back in town, which is how the two of you ended up on the back porch of your parents’ house drinking margaritas and eating cold pizza way too late at night, catching up and reminiscing about Halloweens of years past.

“Don’t you remember that night that Ben Miller scared the ever-loving shit out of us?” She snorts, feeling tipsy and better than she has in a long time. This little trip was needed. Especially since she has some news that might change the dynamic of the next time you get together.

“Which time?” You raise an eyebrow at her and pour the last of the pitcher of margaritas evenly between your glasses. While most of your friends — and even your little sister who is your best friend — had grown up and left town, you had come back again a few years ago after a change of careers. Seeing her again at any time of year that isn’t the winter holidays is such a treat. “The time he jumped out at us in that King Kong mask up in Elf Lane? Or the time he tried to climb in the kitchen window dressed like Freddy Krueger and dad nearly clobbered him with a baseball bat?”

The Millers were your next door neighbors growing up, and you had spent a lot of time together since you and Will were in the same grade and your sister was the same grade as Benny. For a while when you were kids, the four of you were inseparable.

“That time that he snuck in and grabbed our ankles from under the bed.” She laughs, even though at the time it hadn’t been funny. She had cussed him out and Will had actually knocked him upside his dumbass head a few times after he had calmed the two of you down.

Snorting at the memory, you take a big sip from your crazy straw and laugh from somewhere deep in your belly that you swear you had forgotten. "You screamed so loud you woke up Mrs. Peterson two houses down. It was amazing, but I still wanted to kick Benny's ass."

“Will did.” She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her margarita. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. We were fucking kids. I think that’s the moment I lost my little crush on Benny.”

"When you realized he was never going to stop pranking you for shits and giggles?" Chaos has always been Benny Miller's energy. You will agree to that completely.

“Yeah.” She blows out a sigh and shrugs. “Worked out for the best, I guess. At least I don’t have to sleep with one eye open.”

"Maybe not the best..." You shoot your sister a smirk. "I heard from Janie Calitri that he's doing MMA fights now." Gossip is just about all there is to do in a town as small as yours, and that multiples exponentially when the gossip is about your small-town heroes. The Miller brothers are solidly near the top of that list. Everybody in town loves them and remembers them fondly. Even if Benny was a little shit.

“God.” She blows out a laugh that is half surprise but mostly resignation. “MMA? I guess that’s the next step after the army.”

"Seems like it." It isn't worth mentioning that you also heard in the same conversation that Will Miller is now a firefighter or personal trainer or maybe both. Janie hadn't been clear on the details except that she'd somehow seen a picture of him looking drool-worthy on Instagram shared by a gym. But Will Miller had always been drool worthy. Even when you were gangly, awkward teenagers.

“So, how are you liking living here?” She asks, taking another sip and glancing around the screened in porch and then back at you. “I know that wish I live closer - I do too, but please tell me you’ve been going out and dating?”

“Please tell me who I’m supposed to date in a town of less than five hundred people where we know everyone already and they all know us?” The best you can do is shake your head and take another long sip of your drink. “I don’t mind being back and I actually really like my job, but I basically hang out at home with the dog all day since I telecommute. Mom and Dad will probably never retire just because they hate being bored, And they go line dancing or to the movies or to the bowling alley all the time.” Snorting again, you shrug. “Our parents have a way more active social life than I do.”

“Come on, you used to have huuuuuuge crush on Will!” She yelps it out in disappointment. “You mean you didn’t jump him when he came home from the Army without that twat he was going to marry?”

There it is, you think with an internal sigh. The downside of having your little sister as your best friend is that she knows literally everything about your life — and the things she’s somehow missed she just barges into the middle of. “No, I didn’t. Though that girl was fucking awful.” She was some girl he’d met in a bar while he was in. Someone who just wanted to go around making sure everyone knew how important she was as an Army Wife, while not wanting to do a thing to help her serviceman partner. Will’s PTSD had been terrible back then and she had done less than nothing to help. The day he blacked out and almost attacked a man in the grocery store in town, it was you who talked him down and helped him out of the panic. Not her. She had gone back to the house and packed. “He’s moved again, anyway. He’s living with Benny in Florida.”

“What? No way.” She scrunches her nose and makes a face. “That sucks. You would have married him and had his babies in a New York minute if he would have looked at you.” She sighs softly. “Where in Florida?”

“Sarasota.” You answer far too quickly, and duck your head away and when she raises both eyebrows at you. “We…may follow each other on Instagram still. Not that we ever talk.”

“And how often do you stalk his page?” She demands, smirking slightly at the way you are avoiding eye contact.

“I see on my feed when he posts something new,” you defend, concentrating very hard on petting your parents’ dog at your feet. “I don’t go stalking him.”

“But I bet notifications are on.” She snorts and grins when you shove at her. Only tipping sideways slightly but manages not to spill her drink as she rights herself. “Yeah. You still drool over William Miller.”

“Childhood crushes die hard.” It’s a weak defense, and you would more accurately call him your first love, but she isn’t wrong. You definitely still drool over Will Miller.

“God, do you remember when we were going through that little goth phase and decided we were witches?” She cackles. “We should whip up that love potion we had a recipe – I mean spell for.”

“The foolproof one you got from some rando on MySpace?” It had sounded genius back in the day. Absolutely brilliant. To two preteens from a middle-of-nowhere mountain town, it had seemed perfect. “It was so useless, wasn’t it? With just cooking herbs and normal stuff in it?”

“Yes! But that’s not the point.” She sends you an exaggerated pout. “The point is to do something. Start working on your love life.”

The look you give her is incredulous at best. “By making…weird love spell tea to lure Will Miller back to Colorado and into my chronically single arms?”

“Absolutely!” She giggles like it’s the funniest phrasing she’s ever heard, but she wants to do it. “We should do something silly and fun. Doesn’t matter if it’s not going to work.” She grins. “We will just be summoning our Practical Magic sides again.”

Maybe it’s the margaritas. Maybe it’s that tomorrow is Halloween. Or maybe it’s just that you missed your sister. But whatever it is, you tilt your head to look at her and end up grinning. “If you tell me you wrote the love spell down somewhere I’m going to laugh my ass off.”

“Oh I made a Grimoire.” She tells you, looking both pleased with herself and a little embarrassed. “I was really into it!” She huffs when your eyes widen and she throws a napkin at you.

“You were, but do you think it’s still upstairs?” The idea, silly as it is, seems to itch something very intriguing in your tipsy mind.

“Let’s go see!” She drains the rest of her margarita and slaps the cup down. Now that you are not protesting the entire idea, she is ready to make this happen for you. “We will make Will Miller fall in love with you

******

"Come oooooon!" Benny is flopped on his back on the sofa in the apartment he shares with his brother, staring up at both the ceiling and at Will's incredulous face. "It's gonna be even better this year, and you pulled the short straw at work last year and couldn't come home with me for Christmas. Mom will flip her shit if you come home with me as a surprise. She'll be so excited dude."

“It’s Halloween.” Will snorts. “You’re just going to pass out or eat all the candy and scare the shit out of the kids.” He could go, but giving Benny a hard time right now is much more fun.

"Yes." Benny waves his hands, outstretched arms punctuating his point like a giant bird's wingspan. "Yes exactly. What else would I do on Halloween? It's going to be amazing." They grew up loving the holiday, loving their town's traditions, and always putting their full effort into costumes and parties. Halloween in Red Feather Lakes is really its own whole world. "Which is exactly why you should come home with me and enjoy yourself for once."

“I don’t find scaring the shit out of the neighbors to be a good time like you do.” He points at finger at his mischievous younger brother. “You climb under their beds this time and they’re liable to shoot your dumbass.”

Benny's face splits into a grin. "If that's what I gotta do to get your ass alone with her for any fucking reason, you bet your ass I'll do it." he promises, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Who?” Will demands, even though he knows exactly who Benny is talking about. The same girl he has casually been bringing up for the past six months every time he talks about home. You.

"The girl you were in-fucking-love with for every year of your life ending in teen." Benny deadpans, and moves to sit up from his place on the couch. "Don't you ever want to find out if it could actually happen?"

“Except for the fact that she was never interested in me.” Will reminds him, knowing that it is a moot point once Ben Miller has made up his mind about something.

"I still don't buy that." The younger Miller brother sits up fully and somehow manages to spring up from his seat without a massive rush of dizziness. Pure luck. "Dude, just come home with me for the weekend. Mom will flip her shit to see you and cook whatever you want. Isn't that worth the trip in and of itself?"

“I haven’t had her meatloaf in a long time.” He admits, knowing that he could use the break from work and bullshit. Frankie is busy with his girl and the babies and there isn’t a fight coming up for a few weeks. “But I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe I could just stay home. Have a break from you.” He teases.

"If you stay here, Pope is gonna drag your ass to some club to wingman for him." Benny points out, already smirking victoriously. "Mom's meatloaf or Pope's cocky ass bullshit? It's not a hard choice, bro."

Will rolls his eyes, aware that he’s not lying. Santiago has already been talking about some club where the drinks are hot and the women even hotter. It’s not really Will’s kind of thing. “You’re driving.” He snorts, giving in.

Cackling with glee, Benny loops his arm around his brother's neck and pulls him toward the back of the apartment. "I already bought your plane ticket, asshole. You were coming whether you liked it or not, now pack! We gotta be at the airport in three hours!"

“Shit.” Will hisses at the impulsiveness of his brother, but he grins. He will take the weekend to recharge and refocus. If he just happens to chat with you and see how you’ve been, that will just be a happy coincidence.

******

Though you aren't technically hungover, the headache that has lingered all morning isn't going away as you head into town with your sister. Breakfast was a trial for her queasy stomach but she seems to be in lighter spirits now, chattering away as you head together toward town hall. Apparently she had thought it would be a blast to sign you up as volunteers to help decorate the place for the big Halloween party tonight, even though you aren't quite sure why.

“We just need to get the last ingredient while we are in town and we will brew the tea before the party.” She chatters happily after tucking her phone into her pocket and linking her arm through yours.

“And what, pray tell, is the last ingredient?” It had taken over an hour of routing through her old room and closet to find the teenage grimoire aside by that tins you had been exhausted. So it was agreed upon that the witching hour would be three in the afternoon instead of three in the morning like the lame, adult witches you now are.

“Fresh thyme to chase away the bad vibes of previous relationships to usher in true love.” She hums, shooting you a grin. “And I want a special shout out at your wedding.”

"You can give a speech and take credit," you promise her, rolling your eyes only gently. She seems utterly convinced that this will work and what the hell – it's been a long time since you did something dumb with your kid sister just for fun.

“Oh I absolutely will.” She snickers, bumping her shoulder against yours playfully. “And you will absolutely be doing Will.”

“You can see the future now?” You tease as town comes into sight. She’s so determined that you have half a mind to ask if she’s been conspiring with Benny.

“No.” She rolls her eyes. “I wish. I would be hitting the lottery just often enough to not be suspicious.”

“We’d become aces in sports betting.” Much good may it do you. Having enough money to take care of yourself didn’t make your last relationship work.

“Yep. One hundred percent.” She snorts, knowing her team always loses. “Become ladies of leisure and live on that round the world cruise ship. Place our bets online and live off the proceeds.”

"That's the retirement plan." You tell her sagely, and the two of you end up in giggles as you park the car on Main Street, halfway between town hall and the general store. You'll need both before you head home again.

“Plus I figured we could get some of those Halloween sugar cookies.” She admits with a grin. “And a last minute bag of mini KitKats.”

"That's why you're my favorite sister." The grin you beam in her direction is bright, and because she's your only sister, you're both laughing when you climb out of the car.

“Might be because I’m your only sister.” She hums smugly. “So let’s go do this decorating so we can get our munches on.”

"We're getting popcorn, too," you bargain, matching the long strides of her legs as you hustle down the street together. "So when we dip out of the party early tonight we can turn on horror movies and make popcorn."

“Carmel popcorn?” She counters, waggling her brows.

"Okay we're getting two kinds of popcorn."

The laughter that follows the two of you lasts all the way into town hall where party decorating is well underway and several people are already walking around with pieces of their costumes on. Your parents are both already there, helping some members of the town's council to hang streamers and a group of kids from the local high school are making signs for their charity fundraiser. It's a homey, welcoming atmosphere and you breath in the scent of pumpkin spice potpourri when you come further into the big function room.

******

“Come on man.” Benny hustles Will through the baggage claim, neither one of them packing anything that needed to be checked, but you have to go through that area to get to the rental desk. “We need to get our car.”

The hour drive from the airport in Laramie, Wyoming doesn't bother them. Red Feather Lakes was always a beautiful place inside of beautiful mountains, and being able to surprise their mother would be worth it. Ever since their father died any chance they get to see her is doubly worthwhile. It was more the nuisance of paperwork that both Miller brothers disliked. They'd rather just step out of the airport and be at their childhood home again.

“You’re driving.” Will tosses Benny the keys and smirks when the younger man groans. “Fine.” He huffs, pouting slightly. He had obviously wanted to work on something for his scare plan tonight.

"Driver picks music." Benny declares, regardless of the fact that it goes completely against their usual bargain. If Will is going to make him drive, he's not going to listen to Queens of the Stone Age for the entire drive.

“Whatever man. Just don’t fucking put on Miley Cyrus.” Will opens the backseat door and tosses his bag in. “You call mom, make sure she is home?”

"I texted her to ask what time she was going into town to hand out candy to the trick or treaters at her shop. It's still early enough, she'll be home." The florist shop that Dana Miller had managed for their entire life was squarely in the middle of the town's before-dark trick or treating event where little kids could go storefront to storefront to get candy from business owners, and she had never missed a year with the kids. These days she would finish that up and then head over to town hall for the party right after.

“Okay.” Will nods as Benny hops behind the wheel and cranks the car up. “We drop our bags and see if mom has some candy for later?” He has a wicked sweet tooth, although he never admits it

"Yes, we'll see if she has your mini Snickers, you overgrown child," Benny teases as he peels out into the road.

“You know you eat about half of them.” Will huffs, always annoyed when he goes to get some of his favorite candy and the little shit has eaten all of them.

"She got my Reese's." The younger brother of the two brothers announces happily. "I'm all set. The kids may not get any candy, but we will."

“Of course she does.” There’s no spite in his tone even thought it’s always been obvious that Benny is the favorite. It’s only because he’s the baby of the family.

"Don't pout." Benny throws his brother a smirk. "I bet if you go next door you can get all the treats you want."

Will groans, but he doesn't say anything. Since he's agreed to come, his brother has just intensified the comments about you and it does him no good to try to argue against him. He will just keep on so he's trying to ignore it.

The drive is reasonably marked with snark and ribbing, and when Benny pulls the rental car up in front of their old house it feels a little bit like coming home from bootcamp. That was the last time they had really surprised their mother with an arrival. "C'mon." Benny shoves Will and climbs out of the SUV. "Quiet. Get your shit."

"Jesus.' Will rolls his eyes but silently creeps out of the vehicle. "I think mom will notice me at some point." He points out. "It's not like the time you tried to have Aaron Rodgers live with us without telling our parents."

"His parents' divorce was vicious, he needed someplace to go." Benny defends, though he does make Will shut up before he very carefully opens the door in his best effort to be silent. He even avoids the creaky fourth plank in the entryway floor that sounds like a cartoon coffin swinging open. But the dog spoils it almost immediately with barking his head off.

Will's shoulders shake in silent amusement as Benny makes more noise than the dog trying to shut him up. Only getting the barking to stop when Scruffy comes into view, sees it's his second and third favorite humans and immediately rushes over to beat his tail against the walls as he jumps up for love and kisses.

"You ruined it!" Benny is huffing at the Malinois, but he's still bent over giving him all the cuddles he could possibly want when their mother appears around the corner.

Dana Miller is wearing her Halloween apron with an episode of Supernatural playing on the kitchen television, flour in her hair and even on her cheek when she unceremoniously drops the towel from her hands at the sight of her boys. "Benjamin Miller is this why you wanted to know about my schedule for the day?" She crows, before hurrying forward to wrap both of her sons up in hugs. "Almost gave me and the dog a damn heart attack, come and hug your mother."

"Hey ma." Will smiles as he scoops her up, even though her own grip on him is bone crushing. She's not a frail woman, despite being petite. "Ben thought we should surprise you, so send him the medical bills."

"I will, don't you worry." She squeezes them both tight, one after the other, and doesn't mind the fact that she's a little teary eyed at the sight of them. "What's the occasion then, besides Halloween? Or are we just giving your old mother palpitations for fun these days?"

"You know Benny." Will snorts. "It's all fun and games for him." His tone sounds surly but now that he's here, he's happy Benny dragged him along. It's been too long since he's seen his mother. He needs to make more of an effort.

“It is.” She knows that. Her younger son’s whimsy is something she loves about him. “But it got you both home, so I’m very happy about it. How long are you staying?”

"Just the weekend." Will shrugs apologetically. "I have to be back at work Monday afternoon."

"How is the firehouse?" Dana ushers her boys toward the kitchen after they drop their bags at the foot of the stairs like they always did after school every day. Old habits die hard.

"It's.....fine." The truth is, he's not exactly happy there anymore. There's been a change of command and for some reason, he clashes with the new fire chief.

"Oh?" Their mother raises an eyebrow as she moves to the stove, immediately dishing up some of what she was cooking. It was going to last just her all weekend, but now that her boys are home it will be one lunch and that is perfectly fine. "What's caused the change of heart?"

"New chief." Will sighs. "He's a very 'my way or the highway' type."

"You never do well with that." The beef stew from the pot is ladled into bowls without hesitation or even consultation. The Miller boys are always hungry. "Benny honey, get the tray of rolls out of the oven," she instructs, setting the full bowls one by one on the kitchen counter. "Are you thinking of asking for a transfer?" She asks, bringing her attention back to her elder son.

"Problem is, there isn't anywhere to transfer to." He complains, having been really pissed about that when he had found out. "Not without a significant loss of pay or having to move to BFE Florida."

"BFE?" Their mother asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

"Military term." Benny supplies helpfully, shooting Will a grin. "Butt Fuck, Egypt. Means the middle of nowhere."

"Charming." Dana rolls her eyes at her sons. "Put those rolls on a plate, Ben. Will, there's sodas in the fridge if you want." She ushers both boys toward the table on the other end of the kitchen and puts the bowls on a tray. "So what will you do, Will? Have you decided? Or found your solution but pretended you haven't decided yet?"

"Honestly, I don't have a clue right now." He had stopped giving the talks at the different commands, finding it too difficult after losing Tom last year. "But I need to figure it out. He doesn't even respect my VA appointments."

"Maybe you'll find a little inspiration. A Halloween miracle?" She winks and laughs at her own little joke. "A little mountain air might help clear your head, at least."

He groans at her lame joke and shakes his head. "Sure, why not?" He snorts. "It's closer than a Christmas miracle."

"So you're coming to the party tonight, then." It isn't a question. She will be bringing her boys to the costume party since they're in town. "We'll have to get some costumes sorted out."

"We have them." Benny announces with a grin.

"You brought some?" She raises an eyebrow in interest as they start to eat.

Benny cuts his eyes over to Will, still ignoring him. "I brought some." He admits. "Planned it out for my helpless older brother."

******

"I love that we're grown ass women and still getting banished to the backyard to make potions on Dad's old camping stove." You snort, carrying the equipment out to the back porch where your sister is lining up all of her bottles of 'love potion' ingredients. "Feels very teenage of us. I love it."

"Mom said she didn't like the smell of the herbs." It was such a lie, but neither of you called her on it. It's more likely that she just didn't want to put up with your giggling and cackling as you 'brewed' the potion.

"She should just be glad that we didn't do this last night after an entire pitcher of margaritas." That would have been even more giggling and probably a disaster waiting to happen. "Alright, do we have a spell or something? What are we doing here?" Since moving past the silliness of it, you've come around to just embracing the absurdity of the idea. If like isn't about being ridiculous with your best friend, then what is it about?

“Well of course we have a spell.” She rolls her eyes and snorts like you are ridiculous for even thinking otherwise.

"Pull out that grimoire, baby sis." The table on the porch becomes your staging area and you set up the camping stove and pot then start to look through the bottles that your sister has brought out. "Fennel pollen? What the hell is fennel pollen?"

“Fennel, ground.” She snorts, pulling out a small container of the spice. “Substitutes are okay.”

"Why is there a piece of...is that from my prom dress?" A scrap of lace fabric is out with the bottles and you hold it up in confusion. "Are we like...burning things related to wedding dresses to summon a groom?" You ask, already bursting out laughing all over again.

“It’s a part of the spell!” She snorts, even as she starts laughing too. “It was the dance you and Will danced at, remember?”

“I remember.” How could you forget? Your whole friend group had opted not to have official prom dates but to all go together, and then everyone had paired off anyway. The memory of it — how Will had grumbled about why didn’t we all have dates, then? as the two of you sat at the table together, and how it took him half the night to dance at all — makes you smile softly.

“So this is the pinch of closeness the spell requires.” She tells you as she takes the bottle from you. “From the waist of the dress where Will held you close.”

“This is a really fucking specific spell,” you joke, actually feeling more warmth from the nostalgia than anything else. You had ended up having a wonderful prom with Will and that was the whole reason that your dress was still upstairs.

“It’s specialized to the couple so it’s more likely to work.” She points out practically. “Too bad I don’t have something of Will’s.”

“I mean…” Glancing next door, you shrug your shoulders and move to the end of the porch that bitts right up against the border of your properties. There’s no fence or gate or wall or anything, just two backyards running together. “Does something from his yard count?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and shoots you a grin. “It couldn’t hurt.”

"Let's go see!" Ready to just throw yourself all in when the memories of prom make you all warm and fuzzy with nostalgia, you hop down from your back porch and slip over to the Miller's yard. It takes all of three seconds to find something that Scruffy left outside. Helpfully, it's one of Will's old bandanas that the sleek Malinois sometimes wears with his collar, and you pick it up with an air of victory. "Scruffy's doing his part for the spell," you call out, and hustle back to the porch.

Laughing, your sister shakes her head but takes the bandana. “Ode de dog slobber.” She jokes, although the bandana looks clean.

“Alright.” Back up on the porch, you motion to your sister with a flourish. “Break out the grimoire and let’s do this,” you proclaim, running your hands together.

"That's the spirit!" She reaches out and slaps your butt playfully and then turns to pull an old notebook out of the bag she had brought down. It might not be the spookiest but it was what she had as a teenager.

One by one each ingredient goes into the pot. A pinch of this, a dash of that. Mostly kitchen herbs, or the contents of a broken up tea bags. The live flame from the camping stove is there to singe the scrap of your prom dress. Will's bandana goes into the brew like a Hail Mary from his days as quarterback of the high school football team. By the time everything is in and your sister has read the makeshift spell aloud from her notebook with flare, you're both cackling with glee and feeling like there may really be something magical about Halloween after all.

“I feel like we should be wearing all black and living in a very mysterious house.” Your sister admits with a grin as she gives the ‘tea’ a final stir and pinches in the thyme that you had to buy earlier. “Okay, we let this steep one minute and then you drink it while saying Will’s full name after every sip.”

"You didn't tell me I had to drink it!" It's so like her to leave that detail to the very end, and you scowl at her for a whole three seconds. "I would not have put the dog's bandana in there."

She cackles with a slightly evil grin on her face. “How did you think it would work?” She demands, pulling it off the heat to let it steep as she pulls out your favorite old teacup. It was one that you had found in the attic years ago and rescued from the trunk to become your teacup.

"I guess I didn't give it much thought," you admit with a huff. Because you never intended to go through with it, but the prospect of having fun with your sister had won out.

She snorts and shrugs. “Maybe we add a little honey for taste.”

"Maybe more than a little." But the suggestion brings you both to the edges of giggles again, and you shake your head as she goes inside to retrieve the honey bear from the cupboard.

There's an odd moment of warmth in the quiet that follows, and you pick up the photo of you and Will from that prom night, savoring the nostalgia that blankets you like a gentle hug.

If you had known you were being watched through the window by an unexpected audience, you're not sure you would even have cared. Sometimes good memories are worth a moment to honor them.

******

“We don’t have to be there right when the doors open.” Will rolls his eyes as Benny hurries him along. Because of the military he has always been early for everything, but he’d spent too much time today by the window and then looking through an old box in his closet to even think about getting ready until his younger brother had burst into his room.

"If we want a crack at the punchbowl before Deputy Warren starts nitpicking at anyone who drinks, yes we do need to be there when the doors open." Benny contends. Pointing to the bundle of clothes on Will's bed, he frowns animatedly. "Get dressed, dude."

“You are gonna have a bottle out in the truck anyway.” Will points out, but he still gets up and pulls his shirt off. “What the hell did you get me for a costume anyway?”

"They had a costume for that Sons of Anarchy character you like when I went to the Halloween store." Benny tells him. He's already in his cowboy outfit and twirls his hat around one hand. "I figured if I got you a Disney outfit you'd refuse to go, and that defeats the purpose of coming out here."

“You know better than to get me some stuffy Prince Charming costume.” He snorts. He’ll be happy with the Sons outfit and he can slick back his hair, “I’ll be ready in five.”

"Good." Benny whirls around and stuffs his hat on his head. "You're driving!" He hollers back as he strolls out of the room. "I wanna pregame!"

“Shit.” He shakes his head and blows out a sigh. He has a feeling tonight is going to be a long one.

"I heard that!" Benny calls back, already heading down the stairs. He's going to enjoy the hell out of this weekend and is going to push Will's buttons until he figures out what it takes for his brother to enjoy it, too.

True to his word, Will is downstairs four and a half minutes later. His hair slicked back with some ten-year-old gel he had found under the sink in the bathroom and a silver chain that he had forgotten he had around his neck. He doesn’t have but two rings on, but one of them is a skull ring.

"You boys go ahead and have fun." Their mother is bustling around the living room, tidying up from the board game they had been playing before. "I'm going to come a little later. I want to catch the neighborhood trick or treaters before I leave the house."

“Are you sure?” Will walks over to her and drops a kiss on her head.

"Absolutely." She nods, giving her older son a squeezing hug. "The Olsens down the street always do a family costume and their granddaughter is just two years old now. I don't want to miss that."

“Okay.” Will palms the keys and looks over at his brother. “Ready, jackass?”

"I've been ready." Even the cowboy boots he borrowed from Fish are ready, and Benny slides right out the front door with a mock square dancing move, calling back: "See ya at the party, Mom!" And climbing directly into the rental car.

“Kill me now.” Will sighs as he shakes his head, following him out the door and closing it behind him. There’s already kids running up and down the streets with bags in their hands. Soon ghosts and goblins will haunt the streets and the witching hours for youngsters will begin.

******

"Oh wow..." Your sister gasps sharply walking into the town's Halloween party and seeing how much decorating had been done after the two of you left. The finesse, it seemed, was everything. A band composed of several town council members, the middle school principal, and the town librarian has set up on one end of the room to play the night away. Tables of food and drink line the opposite wall for new arrivals to mingle and find their courage, and some couples are already out on the dance floor at the beginning of the party.

Having doubled down on the idea to dress as Barbie movie characters this year, your sister rolls in as Cowgirl Barbie in her bright pink jumpsuit complete with bell bottoms and the kerchief around her neck with a grin on her face. She's always effortless, your baby sister, and instead of being huffy when she spots someone else in the same costume as her, she just sprints off to make a new friend instead. It leaves you standing in your pink and white gingham dress as classic Barbie just a little awkwardly by the door.

“Come on.” As soon as he finds a spot to park, Benny is rushing Will out of the SUV and towards the door. Eager to start the night off, even though he had been drinking on the way.

The party is in full swing already but the punch bowl is full, which is all Benny cares about at the moment. He heads straight over to get a black plastic cup and scrawl his name on it with a metallic sharpie when he hears his name screeched at top volume. Old friends seem to pour out of the woodwork to say hi, and practically before Will even hits the doorframe, his little brother is surrounded by a mob of people.

Will is more the type to ease into a room. The military training and life had led him to scout out exits and breach points. He finds himself searching those out and spots a pink gingham dress in the process.

"Oh shit!" Your sister has spotted him first, as she's facing the rest of the room while you were pouring two cups of punch.

"What?" You barely look up, making very sure that you don't spill on your dress. "Did you spot more Barbies?"

“No.” She shakes her head and grins. “Will’s here!” She hisses and motions you away from the table. “Go give him a drink.”

"Will's here?" There is hardly enough time to react before she is spinning you around and nudging you toward the middle of the room like she's going to shove you clear across the expansive dancefloor and straight into his arms.

When you turn around, Will swallows. The dress looks incredible on you and you look shocked to see him. He shuffles slightly, rolling his shoulders back as for once wishes he had a cigarette even though he quit eight years ago.

"Hey." One single, stupid word comes out of your mouth when you get within an arm's reach of him, still clutching both cups and trying to pretend your heart isn't beating out of your chest.

“Hey.” He reaches out to take the cups from you and stupidly takes both like you weren’t wanting one for yourself. “You don’t look like the Barbie dolls I remember Benny pulling the heads off of.” He jokes, flashing you a quick grin. “I think they were all yours too.”

With your cheeks instantly on fire, you manage to smile and shrug like you aren't well aware that Benny had a penchant for doll destruction when you were all kids. "Barbie is a state of mind," you tell him with an air of someone giving sage advice.

“That’s true.” He chuckles, glad that you hadn’t taken offense to that comment. He had almost stuck his foot in his mouth. “Besides, you make a better Barbie.”

It actually draws a nervous little giggle out of you, and you have to clear your throat to keep from looking or sound like a besotted middle schooler when you are a grown-ass woman. "It's good to see you, Will."

“Good to see you too.” He nods, handing you back one of the cups. “Here, I’m an idiot.” He snorts. “Don’t know why I took both of them.”

"You were trying to be helpful," you predict, seeing the impulse as one of chivalry, even if it wasn't necessary. "I, um...I didn't know you'd be home this weekend. What's the occasion?" It's your turn to be a little bit of an idiot, considering you're both standing in the middle of a party.

“Benny dragged me home.” He rolls his eyes, even though he’s happy that he has. You’re here. “It’s been one thousand sixty five days since I’ve seen you.” He blurts out suddenly, having calculated it earlier.

The way that tugs at the corners of your mouth makes your lips twitch up in a smile and all of a sudden you can't look him in the eyes momentarily. "You counted?"

“Always count.” It’s a habit that hadn’t been that noticeable in high school to careless teenagers, but that trait had been exacerbated in the Army. “Pretty much everything.”

"I know." A lot of people didn't realize, but you noticed. You always noticed. "But I didn't know you counted that." It was a little less than three years ago when you saw him last. After everything had gone to hell with his now ex-fiancée and he had left Colorado to move out east with Benny. Without a doubt, he counted because of the heartbreak, not because of you.

He shrugs and takes a sip of the punch. “You really helped me screw my head back on straight.” He reminds you. “Should have called you more when we moved.” It’s a half assed apology and he knows it. “Sorry about that.”

"It's fine. Not like we promised it or anything." You hadn't. It really was okay that he hadn't called. Your crush isn't his responsibility, after all.

“No, but I should have.” He repeats. “How have you been? Mom said you moved home?”

"Yeah." It isn't anything to be ashamed of and you won't pretend it is, even if the plan was for the move to only be temporary. "I work remotely and there was nothing keeping me where I was, so I came back for a while. It gives me time to save and really think about where I want to go next." The smile you offer him is small but bright. "How's Florida?"

“Hot.” Will snorts. “Muggy.” He shrugs. “Ben’s happy there, and our friend Fish settled down there too, but I don’t know.” This restless feeling has been getting worse since Tom died. He has a lot of guilt being around Molly and the girls. Even they were planning on moving soon. Wanting to be closer to the colleges they were choosing.

"You're not happy there?" It extinguishes your smile almost instantly, worried that he's made a decision that has made him unhappy and knowing that you were one of the people who encouraged him to stay close to his brother in the first place. Benny is his best friend, after all.

“I think I want a change.” He admits out loud. “Nothing horrible, but just…restless, I guess. Fish and his wife had another baby. Makes number three and I haven’t been on a date in two years.”

Before you can stop yourself, you're huffing at the idea that he somehow would have any trouble finding women willing to date him. "I'm sure you can flip the switch on that any time you decide to," you assure him, immediately taking a sip of your punch so you don't stick your foot in your mouth.

He shrugs again. “Maybe. But I don’t want to have to explain all my issues.” He shoots you a grin. “And all my scars.”

"You're never going to let me off the hook for that, are you?" Like you're seventeen all over again, you could just stick your tongue out and tell him to deal with it. "I warned you to use a pot holder, William. The fact that you thought you could take the cupcake pan out of the oven without protection is not my fault."

He chuckles, always loving the way your nose scrunches when you look at him like that. It’s why he always teases you about the scar on his palm. It’s barely noticeable now and he has more prominent ones, but he likes to bring it up at least once every time he sees you. “You told me the oven was off.”

"Yeah, the oven being off doesn't mean the pan instantly stops being hot!" It's so ridiculous to get into every single time, but he does love to bring it up. It was mother's day and he had wanted to do something nice for his mom, but now it's the thing to tease each other about.

“How was I supposed to know that?” He demands, even as he starts to laugh. It’s stupid now, looking back on it, but it had been one of those brainless teenage moments. “You didn’t even kiss it to make it feel better.”

“I—I didn’t—” The insinuation makes you fluster, skin burning hot all over again. “You didn’t ask me to,” you justify. If he had asked, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

“I thought that was like, an automatic thing.” The way your lips pinch together is adorable and he sends you a smirk. “Kiss it to make it feel better.”

“I mean…” You’re going to burst into flames any second, you can tell. Just burn to ashes on the spot. “I mean I guess, but—” You sputter inelegantly. “Weren’t you dating Annie Neville when that happened?”

He would have dumped Annie in a heartbeat if you had given him any indication you wanted him. It might not be something that would have been right, but it was the gods honest truth. He takes another sip of his drink. “Broke up with her two days later.” He doesn’t admit that he had broken up with her because she thought it was weird he would do something for his mom on Mother’s Day, but that’s not the point.

“Right.” Nodding slightly, the warm allure of deeply alcoholic punch sounds like a great idea and you sip. “I remember now. She bitched and moaned about losing out on boyfriend bragging rights.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.” He cuts his eyes towards his brother. “And I grew up with that one.”

You follow his eyes and grin, seeing the gaggle of friends surrounding Benny. Including one hot pink Barbie jumpsuit. “Surprising no one, my sister has found your brother,” you hum in amusement. “I wonder what havoc they’ll wreak this time.”

“They might burn the town down.” He huffs. “Then Benny would expect me to put it out.”

“That’s right.” An innocent like sound escapes you. An assent. As though you didn’t order a copy of his fire department’s Hunky Heroes calendar last year under a different name just because his photo was your birthday month. “Firefighter. That seemed like it would be right up your alley.”

“Might be an ex-firefighter.” It’s always been easy to share with you. Which was why his ex’s comments about being closed off were so confusing to him. He shares. He just never shared much with her because she never seemed to give a shit.

“Really?” That surprises you, since giving back to his community has always been so important to Will. “You’re thinking of leaving?”

“Yeah.” He notices that you have finished your own punch, so he takes the cup from you and guides you back towards the bowl. “Just not sure where to go.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person to ask,” you admit, trying not to get all girlish and swoony at the gentle press of his hand on your back. “I just ran home to my parents when I felt lost.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” He insists, his fingers twitching against your back. “Home is where you feel safest. It’s normal to want that when you are hurt. Emotionally or physically.”

“But it’s not where I want to stay.” Somehow talking to Will has always been easy. Even when you were in that place where you clammed up around him sometimes because your teenage hormones went out of control, you comfort and safety of him was enough to bring you back down. As it turns out, that’s true no matter how long you’ve been apart. “So we’re sort of in the same weird place.”

“Where would you go?” Will asks, comforted by the fact that you seem to be in the same boat. He’s always presented himself as very in charge and forward thinking, so finding himself floundering without a real plan was new.

“I have no idea.” It’s not a thing that you’re comfortable admitting, but somehow knowing that Will is feeling the same is a comfort. He always seemed so steady. “I just know that I’m not in the place I thought I would be by this age and I’m restless.”

He chuckles and nods in agreement. “Benny keeps telling me that I’m ready for another duty station.” Being in the military required moving every three to four years.

“You’re not thinking about going back in, are you?” Between his chronic pain and his PTSD — both from military service — your expression turns to one of deep concern and worry at the idea.

“No.” He quickly shakes his head. “That ship has sailed.” Even if he could pass the fitness requirements, he’s too old to go back to being a Captain. His peers are all too far ahead. “Just feeling that need for a new adventure.”

“I fully understand that.” The itch is something you have always shared, back when you used to dream about leaving the mountains and seeing everything the world had to offer. Will had succeeded in that front. At least far more effectively than you ever had. “Maybe…” When he hands you a fresh cup of punch you pause and thank him. “Maybe our paths will cross again? Who knows.”

“You can work anywhere.” He reminds you with a grin. “You should pick a place and go.”

“I would.” You shrug half-heartedly. “But I never got the taste for traveling alone.”

“Where would you want to go?” He asks curiously, wondering where you would go, what you would want to see. If those dreams had changed since you were a child.

“The ocean? The forests? Desert or huge cities?” Feeling ridiculous, you laugh at yourself and just shrug. “There’s so much of the world out there and I’ve barely ever left home.”

“Tropics.” Will decides. “Salt and sand. Beautiful breezes and sun kissing your skin.” His idea might be influenced by his own location in Florida.

“Sounds perfect.” And if the idea of being there with him is in your head, you’ll swear it’s only because you’re talking to him about it right here and now. “But again…I hate being alone. So it’s sort of a moot point.”

“I don’t understand how you aren’t married.” That has mystified him for years. Always expecting to hear the news that you were engaged every time he called his mom. It had surprised him when he had ended up engaged and you still had not found a steady boyfriend, although you had both ended up in the same single status after a few years.

“I guess…the right guy just never came along.” You’d sooner die than admit that every guy you’ve ever been with has been accidentally compared to the man standing in front of you. “It happens.”

“Prince Charming?” He hates that he could never be that guy for anyone, but it wasn’t him.

“Prince Charming is overrated.” Sipping your punch, something about the whole thing just makes your heart clench and it feels like the world is taunting you even more than it was when you saw him walk in the door. “All I ever wanted was a partner I could be proud of. That seems to be too tall of an order.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Will admits softly. “I know plenty of men who would jump at the chance to be with someone who just wanted to have a loyal, loving partner.”

“I guess I just haven’t met the same guys as you.” It hurts your heart, clutches it and squeezes tight, that you never could bring yourself to admit that you liked him. Not out loud. Not to anyone but your sister. Wondering what could have been has poisoned your chances at finding someone else to the degree that you were doing a phony love spell ritual in your backyard less than three hours ago. He is literally everything you ever wanted and he’s standing right in front of you — but you can’t say the words. “Just like…” you swallow hard, shoving down the ache in your chest. “I know plenty of girls who just want someone honest and caring.”

“I’m honest.” At least he is in his personal life. Work is a different story, but he has regrets about that. “I care.” He shrugs, his leather wearing biker look making him look a little more dangerous than normal, but never as dangerous as he actually is. “Point me to the girl.” It’s an invitation, wanting to see what you would say.

“Will…” It feels like he’s just shoving the red hot poker of years’ worth of yearning deeper into your chest and you shake your head. “I’m just saying. It shouldn’t be so hard for you to find someone to make you happy. You’re a sweet guy and you always have been.”

He stares at you for a long moment, something curling in his chest, and he realizes that you will never admit it. “Had someone in mind when I asked.” He admits.

“Then you should probably talk to her about it, not me.” Ugly disappointment rises in your throat like bile and you shift in place uncomfortably. Of course he has someone in mind. He’s incredible and he deserves that happiness.

He decides to be a little more blunt than normal since you are obviously not getting the hint. “I am.” He tells you, lifting a brow at you in amusement.

"You—" No. No. You heard him wrong. You had to have heard him wrong. There is no way in the world There is no way because if that's true then how much time did you throw away by keeping your mouth shut? "No. That's—" Your head spins and you put down your cup, deciding that there is absolutely no need for alcohol when your head is spinning like this already. "What?"

“Circles and light and all that’s might.” Will murmurs, starting to grin. “Give me what I wish for tonight.”

"Oh....oh no..." The clench of panic that grabs hold of your chest when he starts reciting the damn 'spell' that your sister had written down in her notebook -- the ridiculous words you had been in giggle fits over in your backyard a couple of hours ago -- makes you take a step back from him as embarrassment settles into every bone in your body. "Did you--" Oh you're going to absolutely massacre your sister. "That's the most awful prank anybody could ever play on a person. Is my sister put you up to this I'm going to kill her."

“What?” Will frowns at you, confused as to why you look completely mortified. He had thought it was cute. “No.” He shakes his head. “Put me up to what?” He murmurs your name and steps closer to you. “She didn’t put me up to anything.”

"So it's...a coincidence?" You swallow hard, trying to wrap your head around absolutely any of this situation. "That my sister talked me into doing a stupid love spell on the same weekend you come home?" If you could curl up into a ball and hide forever, you would do it instantly. It still hasn't hit you that he's said out loud -- in a reasonably straightforward way -- that he's interested in you. "And that you heard me?"

“Benny insisted I come home this weekend.” Will defends, even though he had started to realize what the trick was this year and if it backfired on Ben - he was going to murder him. “I— I was in the backyard. I heard you and your sister giggling like when we were kids, so I pulled the board in the fence.” There’s a section of fence that you can remove a board easily and see into the other yard. He had never admitted it, but it was how he had often watched you while you were reading until he realized how creepy it was.

"What board in the fence?" There is a privacy fence that runs between your houses but for some reason it never really divided your yards, and you can't say that you ever thought about it very much before. Or now, clearly, since you're astonished to find out that it ever had a loose board.

“The one near the tree.” He licks his lips and has the decency to blush slightly. “It’s come loose since eight grade.”

The way your heels dig into the floor beneath you, it's like you're trying to dig a hole to the center of the earth to fall into feet first. "How...um...how much did you hear? Or see?"

“I just want to see you.” He admits, setting the cup down to shove in his pockets. “I heard the giggles and the ‘spell’. It was cute, reminding me of when you went through that phase in high school.”

"We...got drunk on margaritas last night and she managed to make it sound like a silly, harmless thing..." Mortified doesn't even begin to describe the way you're feeling. Your whole face is on fire with it. "I'm so embarrassed I could evaporate...I don't even know what else to say."

“It’s cute.” He insists, smiling softly at you as he shuffles closer. “I didn’t do some kind of love spell, but I was glad I heard yours.”

"You--?" Swallowing the lump of fear in your throat, you manage to not back up a step when Will comes closer. "You...were glad?"

“I am.” He agrees, his smile widening slightly as he reaches out and takes ahold of your waist and steps closer to you. “Because now I know that the crush I’ve had on you for most of my life hasn’t been moot.”

"You...what?" You gasp out, eyes shooting up to meet his when you finally realize what he's said.

“Guilty.” He hums, his smile managing to curve wider and he nods. “You’ve been that girl that I always wanted and never thought I could have.”

Something inside you swells, actually absorbing the words with the soft way he's looking at you. "All you ever had to do was say the word."

“You too.” He points out, lifting his brows in amusement. “Years ago.”

"Well how was I supposed to know?" You defend, finding that that feeling in your chest is bubbling and transforming into laughter and disbelief.

“You ask.” Will chuckles, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours. “You don’t rely on Love potion number nine.”

"You could have asked too." The warmth of him washes over you like the most gorgeous invitation in the world, taking your breath away and inviting you closer all at once.

“I guess I could have.” He admits. “Now I know.”

"So..." One of his hands is on your hip and he's bent down to keep your faces close, so all you have to do to hear each other is murmur. "What are we going to do with this new information?"

“I think we are going to have to leave this party.” He pretends to care about that, but there’s much more interesting things to do.

“Just like that?” Wherever he wants to go, whatever he wants to do, it doesn’t matter. Even the chance to be close to him in any way is worth it.

“You want to stay?” He asks seriously. If you want to stay, he will. Just for you.

“I…want to dance with you,” you admit, even though it feels silly. “Just once. After that we can go anywhere you want.”

“We can dance.” He agrees, chuckling slightly and nodding. “Let’s wait for the next song to start.” This one is a little more peppy than he would want for a dance.

“So Benny dragged you out here, huh?” He has his arm around your waist now and something in the back of your head tells you to just keep talking so you don’t start to worry it’s a dream. “Did he, um…did he…ya know…know?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” If he did, once things were official, he would probably crow and take all the credit for it. “Probably. I know he knew that I always had a thing for you.”

Sighing slightly, you shake off a laugh and bask again in the warmth of having him beside you. “I think our siblings may have meddled.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He rolls his eyes. “Can’t be mad at them, though.” He huffs. “Not when we would have been really bad about doing this ourselves.”

“Clearly.” You huff quietly. “We have been really bad about it.”

“Obviously.” Will snorts right as the song transitions into a slow song. “Ready to dance?”

“It feels like prom all over again.” When he holds his hand out to you, you settle your palm to his and try not to let out a shaky breath at how alarmingly right it feels.

“Do you know how badly I wanted to kiss you that night?” He asks as he guides you out to the floor and spins you around to fit into his arms like you’ve always belonged.

“How badly?” Giddy glee and joyful awe are starting to supplant the confusion and disbelief in your heart, and you melt into him when he takes your hand in his on the dance floor.

“Remember how you kept asking if your lipstick was messed up?” Will reminds you, the hormones and embarrassment of youth had seemed impossible to overcome, but now you are grown. If it doesn’t work out, hopefully you could remain friends, but he doesn’t foresee it being an issue. You know him inside and out. “I was trying to decide if you would slap me if I stole a kiss.”

“It…wouldn’t have been stealing.” Your cheeks burn all over again at the memory. At how pathetically transparent you had been — but apparently not transparent enough. “That was my very bad attempt at hinting that I wanted you to kiss me.”

“No, I got it.” He promises, his blue eyes flashing possessively. “But I’m man enough to admit I don’t want to kiss you with an audience.” He murmurs with a smirk. “Think we can wait that long?”

“It’s been like fifteen years,” you point out, smothering a laugh at how ridiculous that actually sounds out loud. And how badly you’ve wanted a moment just like this one for so much longer than that. “I think a few more minutes won’t kill us.”

“It might.” He teases. “You look even more beautiful than you did on prom night.”

“Are you…” A smirk broadens your smile exponentially. “Are you flirting with me, William Miller?”

“Flirted with you a lot over the years.” He snorts. “But yes I am.”

“I guess it’s just the first time I’ve noticed.” You laugh work. Self-consciously. “Or wasn’t convinced it was just wishful thinking.”

“So tell me the truth.” Will grins. “Did you really drink that concoction you and your sister brewed? It smelled worse than. Benny’s gym bag.”

“Of course I drank it.” One hand would clutch your plastic pearl necklace but you would have to stop holding his hand and that’s simply not going to happen tonight. Instead, you pout to pretend to be offended. “It’s called committing to the bit.”

“Dedication.” He laughs, shaking his head and pulling you closer. “Then I think you should be happy to know that it worked.”

“Oh yeah?” The grin on your face turns beaming all over again, but you can’t help teasing him. “That little love spell planted a whole lifetime of yearning in you?”

“Nah.” He admits that easier than he had expected. “Just made it easier to talk about all this.”

“It did.” As much as you hate to admit it, your younger siblings’ meddling may have paid off. And you are convinced they meddled together. “It did, and I’m not upset about that at all.”

“You shouldn’t be upset about anything, beautiful.” Will murmurs softly, rocking you to the beat and smiling into your eyes.

Shrugging slightly, you're actually able to sink into his gaze for the very first time and end up feeling that ache in your chest twist in an entirely new way. "I'm a little upset we wasted so much time," you admit. "But better late than never."

“Yes it is.” Will pulls you off the dance floor as the song ends and starts to head towards the doors.

If you could think about anything beside the feeling of his arm around you, you might have remembered to fire off a text to your sister that you are taking off from the party early. But then, if you could think about anything else you might have noticed your sister standing on the other side of the room with Benny, giggling like conspiratorial idiots.

But it doesn't matter at all. It doesn't matter, because when you and Will make it out into the chilly night air, his arm tightens around you and you slip yours around his waist. Twined together like you were always meant to be.

He had driven. So he has the keys to the SUV. Guiding you over to it, he frames your body between the door and himself, pressing closer.

Your pulse ticks up immediately, heart rate skyrocketing, but you don't hesitate. Not when the thing – the person – you've wanted since you were old enough to want anyone at all. You reach up, hands set on Will's shoulders, and use that leverage to pull yourself up just a tiny bit more. This time it's your nose that nudges against his, but you don't pull away.

“So pretty.” Will murmurs, leaning against you more, feeling your body against the length of his as he tilts his head and fuses his lips to yours. Years of wanting pouring into the kiss.

Your hold tightens on him, hands sliding around his neck and into his long hair as his own wrap around your waist to drag you flush against him. There is no hesitation for either of you, diving deep into the kiss and sharing a mutual, needy moan at the fast-beating desire in that first kiss. You've both kept it locked up for far too long to pretend anymore. Now that the flood gates are open it seems to be all or nothing.

For Will, sinking into your embrace feels like coming home. The instant acceptance and love that swells make him desperate for more as he starts to lick into your mouth deeper.

For the hungry way you start to devour each other, you may as well be the teenagers you were when this mutual infatuation first started. If anyone were out in the parking lot to witness it, you're sure you would have gotten cat called or interrupted with a loud clearing of someone's throat to be shooed away to a more private location. As it is? The relative privacy of the parking lot means that you forget yourself and are tugging on the strands of Will's hair as his hands start to map the curves and contours of your body.

Will groans into your mouth, his arms banded around you and holding you close before trailing over your dress. He’s not shy about touching you, cupping your ass and his hardening cock twitches against your stomach. The whimper that he pulls out of you is unapologetic, knees shaking even as you tug on his hair sharply to pull a groan out of him as well. This is much more than a kiss would have been fifteen years ago. Still just as needy, but deeper, more sure. Will knows what he is capable of.

It takes a long time before either of you are willing to part, and when that time comes you're panting desperately while you try to maintain any sort of composure. "I, um—" But your thought breaks off when you realize you just can't string more than two words together yet. All you can think is more.

He grins, feeling as disoriented as you look, but he's been trained to handle overwhelming situations. "We should leave." He murmurs before leaning in and stealing another kiss. "Before we get arrested for public indecency."

"At the risk of sounding very teenage." You can't help but giggle at that, feeling like you're bubbling over in every way. "My parents are home. So maybe your place?"

He chuckles and lifts a brow, considering all of his options. "We could do that. Or we could go get a hotel room."

"Beaver Meadows?" Raising your own eyebrow to meet his, you offer the first hotel you can think of. The resort ranch for mountain tourists is on the other side of town but it's better than driving an hour out to Fort Collins.

He tilts his head slightly, shrugging one shoulder. "That's up to you. Don't know how you feel about being in my old bedroom and possibly hearing Benny catcall outside the door." His younger, dumber brother absolutely would.

"I care less about Benny and more about having to look your mother in the eyes tomorrow morning," you admit, laughing at even the idea of it. "I don't think she needs to hear me riding you."

Will's eyes flutter slightly and he growls softly. "Hotel it is." He decides, nodding to himself. "Do you want to swing by the house and get something? Or we can both do the walk of shame tomorrow."

"Nuh-uh." You shake your head animatedly, reaching up to place a much softer kiss on his lips. "I'm not ashamed of you. I don't care how many people see us in the same clothes or figure out what it means."

He hums and his hand slides up your back as he steps back, pulling you with him to open the passenger door. "Then let's go."

"We do have to make one stop." When you climb into the SUV together, you buckle your seatbelt and sigh happily as his fingers tangle with yours. He raises his eyebrow again but you shrug. "Condoms. I haven't been on a date in years so I stopped worrying about birth control."

"Fuck." Will hisses under his breath, cock twitching at that new piece of information. He can't say that he's not disappointed to not be able to feel you bare, but your comfort is more important than his ideal night. "Condoms, roger."

"I know." You squeeze his hand, sharing the feeling that you would rather be as close as possible. "But I doubt we want to risk it without."

He huffs out a small laugh, tapping the steering wheel after the engine is brought to life and he puts it in drive. "Don't bet on it." He jokes.

Turning your head immediately, you stare at him for a second before letting out a shaky laugh. "Not the first time," you bargain, feeling warm and flush and...deeply giddy at the way things are unfolding around you.

He flashes you a grin, feeling just as light hearted. "Yes ma'am." He promises, squeezing your hand and then looking back at the road as he pulls out.

******

It's a quick drive, mostly because Red Feather Lakes is such a small town. There's a Halloween party going on at the resort that you and Will look like you're immensely prepared for, but you just check into the last available room and happily accept the pair of leys handed to you by the young desk agent.

Will might have paid for the room, but he lets you lead the way to the room. Wanting to watch your ass as you walk, and to allow you time to change your mind if you wanted. Just because you both have wanted to be with each other since you were teenagers doesn't necessarily mean you are ready to jump into bed with him and he would respect that.

"Here we go." The room at the end of the fourth-floor hallway clicks open with a tap of your keycard, and you nudge open the door to reveal the ranch-themed room waiting for you. The rug looks like cowhide and the bedhead has horns, but you're barely looking at it. Instead you turn around, much more inclined to take in the sight of Will Miller as you reach for his hand to drag him inside with you.

You are enthusiastic, making him chuckle as he closes the door behind him. “Nice room.” He hums, not looking around, but staring at you. “But this view is better.”

Completely addicted now that you’ve had a taste of him, you toss your purse onto the nearest table without a second thought and go straight into his arms. “I’m certain mine is even better.”

He doubts that, but the eagerness in your eyes makes him groan as he pulls you against him again. “You are so damn beautiful.”

“Please tell me you put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door?” Once you have him to yourself you’re not going to want to stop, so you’re damn well going to ask the question now.

He smirks and winks at you. “Of course I did.”

Your face splits into a grin. “You’re perfect.”

Will reaches up and caresses your cheek. “Shit.” His eyes widen. “We didn’t get the condoms.”

“Shit.” That grin slackens, and you realize along with a drop in your gut that you’d gotten so distracted by having Will’s hand inch up your thigh and under the skirt of your dress while he drove that you’d totally forgotten to stop.

“It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, cursing himself for being too distracted by you. “You stay here. Get comfortable.” He points at himself. “I will be back in five minutes.”

"Thank you." Safety means the world to both of you, and you're not about to turn what could possibly be the best night of your life into the reason he resents you five years down the line when it results in a little kid and a marriage he would have felt forced to commit to. No way. If you and Will are going to be together you're going to make that decision together, not because of an accident.

“Five minutes.” He promises before he is out the door. He will make it in three and a half flat, but he adds extra time as a precaution.

As soon as the door closes behind him, you look around the room in a more flustered state of nervous excitement than you've ever been in your entire life. It takes about thirty seconds before you can think coherently enough to pick up the hotel phone and order a room service tray to be sent up -- ordering food that can safely sit until you're hungry and a bottle of wine to share because it feels more romantic that way. After that, you grab your phone from your purse and finally send that text to your sister.

Sissy: Don't wait up for me tonight. I left the party early.

Incoming text: You left with Will!!! Omgggggg it worked! You owe me that speech at your weddddddding!

Sissy: You and Benny are still on my shitlist. But yes. I left with Will. Happy Halloween, kid.

Instead of waiting for a reply, you put your phone on silent and tuck it back in your purse, sitting down amongst the pillows on the bed just seconds before the door opens again.

He’s out of breath and probably looked like a fucking idiot, but he doesn’t care. He’s got an entire box of condoms and he’s back before the time frame. “Got ‘em.”

"Four minutes." You grin, pointing at the clock on the wall. "I was just about to get undressed for you to have a fun surprise when you got back, but you're too efficient."

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” Will throws the lock on the door and shoots you a dirty grin. “I like shows.”

"I did not think anyone was going to see what I have on under this dress," you warn him, but you shrug your shoulders and reach for the zipper of your costume. If he has a problem with the dumb saying on your little bootie shorts, you don't really care. They're cute and fun and that's what counts.

"I don't care what you have on under the dress." Will promises you. "It'll be on the floor soon enough." He strips off the biker vest and starts to kick off the boots he had worn with the outfit. They are his regular boots but they are laced up loose, so they slide off easily.

It's too unbelievable that you're actually undressing with Will with the purpose of climbing into bed together, that it almost seems like the tiny black booty short with the bright yellow Slippery When Wet logo on the ass that are revealed when your dress hits the floor, are simply there for comic relief. Like you need to break the tension of the situation and remember that you're just people.

You turn around to show him the lettering on your ass and he starts to chuckle. "Oh baby girl, I truly hope so." He pulls his shirt over his head, the last scar he collected on that botched job with the guys is healed, but it's still pink skinned so it looks alarming against the rest of his body. "I want to feel how wet you get."

"For you?" You grin, turning around to face him again. "It'll be record breaking, I promise." With just your bra and tiny shorts on, you start to climb onto the bed but pause when you catch sight of a new wound amongst all the well-healed scars. It doesn't matter what it is, or how he got it. You bend down, placing a soft kiss on the pink skin that stands out against his tan, and then settle your knees on either side of his hips. There are more clothes to shed, but the battle wounds that mark his skin are a stark reminder of how close you came to never having this moment together at all.

Will grabs your hands, holding them for a moment while he stares at you. The softness of your touch was soothing, and he lifts your hands to his lips. "You've always been there for me." He murmurs. "Now I want to see what we can be together."

"Truth is?" You squeeze his hands gently before letting go and letting your hands drop to his belt, toying with the buckle before he nods his consent and you start to work the strap loose. "I've always been yours. So whatever we're going to be? I'm all in."

"Me too." He can quickly agree with that. "I'll just – I should have asked you out when I came home from boot camp."

“It’s alright. We got here eventually.” His belt pulls loose from his jeans and you fuse your mouth to his, letting the kiss burn you and swallow you and take you wherever you’re going to go tonight. Room service will be left outside your door and you’ll refuel for round two when you’re ready.

Will touches you, mapping your body with his hands and memorizing every curve and dip with pleasure. Finally touching you like he has imagined over the years.

It’s far more certain than it would have been then. Wandering hands have purpose and searching kisses pressed against bared skin find their mark every time. Those damn condoms are probably the only thing that keep the first time from lasting more than five minutes — both of you are so touch starved that finally getting the touch you’ve been wanting feels exponentially more wonderful.

Will pants, collapsing against you before rolling onto his side and bringing you with him. One leg dragged over his hips to keep you close and your chest pressed against his as he catches his breath. “Fuck.” He chuckles, unable to stop touching you even though he’s exhausted from how overwhelming his orgasm was. “I think I died and this is heaven.”

“Noooo,” you giggle against his chest, damp with sweat, and leave a kiss over his heart. “If you died we can’t do that anymore and that can’t be the only time we do that.”

His eyes are closed and he smiles. "You mean we aren't both dead?" He jokes.

“No, babe.” You laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “You’re thinking of le petit morte.”

“Same thing right?” He grins, rubbing his hand up and down your slightly sweaty back. “We should have done this prom night.”

“Can you imagine?” The thought settles over you like a dreamy blanket. “We would have been inseparable.”

“We’d have four kids by now.” Will predicts. “I’d probably be a Major.”

“You think?” It sounds positively dreamy, you have to admit. Except for one detail. “I don’t think you would have stayed in. You’d have retired like you did anyway. But I like the sound of a big family.”

“Probably not.” He will disagree with you on that. “The stability for that many kids.” He points out. “I wouldn’t have chased contracts.”

“Well…” Knowing that he’s safer now and that he’s searching for a new adventure anyway, you offer him a smile. “Who knows what would have happened if we’d done this back then. But we get to decide what happens next.”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and pulls you closer. “We will have to talk about that.”

“Hold that thought.” Pressing another kiss to his skin, you crawl out from under his arm and wrap yourself up in a robe to slip out to the hall and grab the room service tray. You bring it back inside along with the bottle of wine and shoot him a grin. “I planned ahead,” you tell him, setting down the charcuterie tray on the room’s coffee table.

"You are perfect." Will groans, tucking his arm under his head and watching you with zero shame. He still can't believe you are here, even after taking off the condom to dispose of in the little trash can by the bed. "Are you hungry now, or do you want to wait?"

“Maybe we can eat and drink and talk?” It seems like a very civilized way to do it, even if you’re going to be doing some very uncivilized leering at the same time. Will looks even better with his clothes off than you ever dreamed.

"Bring it over here." He smirks as he pats the bed beside him. The bare spot noticeable now that you slipped out of it. "We can eat in bed just this one time, I think."

“Special permission for a special occasion.” You agree with a nod. The tray is beautifully set up but the cheese is set aside in a container on ice as you requested and the kitchen has sent up some chocolate dipped strawberries as well. “I guess they got our vibe when we checked in.” It wouldn’t have been too hard to do, of course, but it makes you smile as you slip back under the covers beside him.

"Wonder if they think it's an affair or elopement." Will takes the bottle from you, sitting up and quickly peeling off the foil to uncap the cork.

“Maybe.” The two wine glasses that came with everything are basic and a little on the small side, which is probably good for balancing everything in bed or on nightstands. “How very mysterious of us.”

"Very mysterious." Will agrees as he pours out the wine and sets the bottle onto the nightstand so it doesn't get knocked over. "I think their theories will only get more absurd the more noise we make." He teases, tapping his glass to yours.

“In that case I’ll be louder,” you tease, leaning over to steal a kiss before your first sip of wine.

He snorts and takes a sip of his wine. "I wonder if those shit heads set us up for this entire thing." He ponders. "The spell, being here and Benny reminding me that you had moved home. Knowing I would go into the backyard."

“Oh, I guarantee it.” Although you studiously avoid mentioning that your sister is already predicting a wedding. That is far too much pressure. “They’re going to gloat forever.”

"Jesus." He rolls his eyes and sighs. "Yeah they are. Unless we can get them together."

“Do we really want to do that, though?” It sounds amusing, but the logistics would be a nightmare. “They’d gloat and try to be cuter than us.”

"It would be mildly amusing." He chuckles. "But you're right. The headache wouldn't be worth it."

“But…” Glancing up at him, you take another sip of wine and reach for the tray to keep your hands busy. “We should probably talk. About…whatever this is.”

“We should.” Will agrees. His face pulls into something serious, wanting to take this conversation cautiously, not make demands or put too much pressure on you. “Do you want to go first?”

“I’m not sure I know where to start,” you admit, although it’s mostly out of fear that you’ll ask too much and scare him off.

“Do you see yourself staying here?” He asks. “Would you want me to move? Try long distance?”

“I never intended to stay here. It was supposed to be temporary and I’ve been here for years.” The offer to have him move is unexpected, but more than anything you know that the third alternative won’t be satisfying or comfortable for you. “I don’t think long distance would be ideal, but I know that moving in together right away is way too much to ask for.” The two of you slowly start to snack on your tray and you consider him beside you. So incredibly handsome, loyal, and always a pillar of strength. “But…if you wanted me to come out to Florida, I would.”

“Ben and I bought a house.” He explains. “It was cheaper than renting and it’s one that needed some work.” He shrugs slightly. “If you wanted to come to Florida, you have a place to stay until you decide if you could stand me long term or not.” He huffs out a laugh to keep it lighthearted.

“I’m not worried about that.” Slipping your free hand into his, you lace your fingers together and give it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. “It’s…sort of a relationship test drive. Dive into the deep end and see how we do. When we’re ready to say it’s working, I can officially make the move.” In your heart you know it will. It’s all you’ve wanted for so long that you’re willing to fight tooth and nail to have it. To have him.

“That would be good.” He agrees with you about being cautious, even though he believes it will work out. “Especially since you are mobile.”

“My office is wherever I am.” You nod and press a kiss to his hand before letting go again. “And where I want to be is with you.”

“So why don’t you come visit me this next week?” He offers. “You can see where we live. See if you like it.”

“I feel like I should pinch myself.” When you smile at him, it is bright and warm, tinged with disbelief. “Teenage me is getting everything she ever wanted.”

“That’s a good thing, baby.” He reminds you. “You should have everything you want.”

"So should you." As far as you're concerned? Having him completes that list of wants in a way you never expected. You had given up on the dream of Will Miller years ago, only to find your world turned upside down and the man of your teenage dreams in bed beside you.

“Right now, I can’t think of anything else I want than what I have right here.” He murmurs softly.

"Oh yeah?" You face splits into a grin all over again. "Well, I'm very glad we agree."

“So now that we have a plan, what else?” He picks up a cube of cheese and pops it into his mouth. “Do you want to go on birth control? Do you want to use condoms? Do you want to start working on kids?”

"Those are three very different options." The casual way he tosses out kids as an option makes your ears burn like they're on fire and your heart skip two beats. "Offering me space in your house and talking about kids while we eat snacks in bed after the first time we have sex?" You giggle softly, brimming with disbelief at how right it all feels. Still, you have to tease him. "Might as well whip out a ring or plan an elopement, Miller."

“Jewelry stores are closed.” Will hums and smirks at you as he takes off the skull ring he still has on his finger. “But this could work.”

That light, ribbing tone evaporates from your voice and your eyes widen, flicking between his face and the ring. "Are you...do you really mean it?" Instead of being high and laughing, your voice cracks in shock, but only because you've hit another level of shock and awe in what was already a perfect night.

He has only been partly joking, but the second your eyes go wide, he realizes that he’s serious. He’s known you all his life, he’s loved you for most of it. If Tom’s death taught him anything, it’s that he never knows when his ticket might be punched. Why shouldn’t he be serious? “We could get you a real ring later on.” He rationalizes. “But a skull ring is appropriate for Halloween.”

"How about this?" The way you just want to leap forward and say yes and dive in headfirst is the sex and the wine and the fantasies talking. Will deserves all of that, but also the measure of love that is support and care. He deserves someone who is going to take care of him. And if you're going to be that person, you want to do it right. "I'm going to wear this skull until we decide that we're ready for me to move to Florida once and for all. When that happens, we can go ring shopping and start talking about kids. How does that sound?" You really don't think it will take long. Not with the way tonight has gone. "If that's in two weeks or two months or two years, it doesn't matter. We decide together."

“That sounds perfect.” He flashes you a perfect set of white teeth with a gigantic smile. “Happy Halloween, baby.” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours, thinking that Benny’s Halloween prank might have actually been a good one this year.

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[steakpieisnice]

Headlines & Heartstrings - Chapter 1

It's here! Super excited to share this with you guys! Also there is no Ray in this chapter (sorry) but he's coming next chapter. Any and all feedback is appreciated, this is my first work so I need all the help I can get <3

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and men being generally a bit creepy

Eleanor was startled to hear a knock at the door at this hour. She was usually the only one in the office who stayed for overtime, let alone overtime that carried on for this long.

“Come in.” She called out, without looking up from her desk.

“Hey Nora.” a voice timidly said.

Eleanor froze in her seat at the voice. “Get out.” She said coldly, still not looking up from her work.

“I just need to talk to you-“

“I said. Get. Out.”

“Nora please.”

She finally looked up at him, acknowledging the man that stood in front of her.

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped.

“I just need to ask you a favour Eleanor.”

“You don’t get to ask for favours.” She stared at him icily.

“Please, it’s just one thing.” He was near begging now.

“Like I said, you don’t get to ask for favours.” She turned away from him, starting to pack up. It was getting late anyway.

“It’s not for me. It’s for Coach.” She paused at the mention of the name of the man who basically raised her.

She turned, regarding Ernie with disdain. “Then why isn’t he here? Why are you the one knocking on my door at,” she checked her watch, “near midnight? Why isn’t Coach the one asking for my help if he needs it? Because I know damn well he hasn’t sent you here, so why are you fucking here Ernie?”

“He wouldn’t ask for your help, he’s too proud. He wants to deal with this on his own, but he can’t and he needs your help. Its bad.”

She stood still for a moment, contemplating it. “What did you do?” She sighed.

“What?” Ernie looked confused. “How do you know I did something?”

“Because you’re stupid Ernie.” Ernie began to protest, but she continued anyway. “And Coach is not stupid. And if you’re coming here asking for my help that means it is really bad. So you’re going to take me to that 24 hour ice cream shop down the road, buy me a vanilla fudge sundae, and you’re going to explain what you did and how you think I can possibly help get you out of the mess you’ve made.” She said, picking up her bag from under her desk and putting her coat on.

“Yes boss.” Ernie muttered, before following her out of the door. He was going to have to do a lot of grovelling.

----------

“So you’re telling me you filmed yourself breaking into one of Micheal Pearsons farms, stealing thousands of pounds worth of bush and then posted it online for millions of people to see?” Eleanor stared at Ernie, dumbfounded. “Look, I knew you were stupid, but this is actually impressive.”

Ernie looked offended for a second, but then seemed to remember that this whole thing was actually his fault, so didn’t say anything.

“And Coach is taking the fall for you?”

Ernie nodded earnestly.

“God that man is too good for this world.” She muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She leaned forward, lacing her fingers together, staring at Ernie so intently he thought her eyes would burn holes through his head. “How can I help?” She smiled, never breaking eye contact.

“Erm,” Ernie stalled, looking away and scratching his head nervously. “I was hoping, erm, you would figure that out?” He asked cautiously.

Her smile dropped. “Ernie, are you kidding me? You showed up to my office, begged for my help and now I’m here you really want me to do the rest of the work on my own? You are unbelievable.”

“Erm… Sorry?”

“You owe me. Big time.” ----------

It didn’t take much time to find Phuc, the guy who gave the Toddlers the location of the farm. You’d think these criminal types would be better at hiding where they lived, but clearly not. Phuc lived in a grimy flat above a takeaway in a backstreet in the posh part of Croydon. She leaned against the wall of an alleyway in Phuc’s street, taking one final drag of her cigarette before readjusting her outfit, pulling her top down to reveal more cleavage. She tried not to let the disgust on her face show as yet another man leered at her. Ernie better be prepared to go to hell and back to pay her back for this.

Eleanor spotted Phuc coming down the road and took a deep breath in, retousling her hair.

“Hey Hun.” She leaned towards him as he neared her. “You look like you’ve had a long day, looks like you could do with relieving some tension.” Eleanor reached towards him, running one finger down his chest.

 “How much?” He asked her. She panicked. She wasn’t expecting him to ask her that now.

“Fifty.” She purred. Shit. That was too low. He’s never going to believe she’s real with prices like that.

His eyes widened in excitement. Nevermind.

“My apartment is just down the road, let’s take this there.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards his door.

She pulled him back into the alley, whispering into his ear, “What’s wrong with right here right now?”

He seemed to have no complaints with that proposal as he pushed her against the wall, beginning to kiss down her neck. She held his head in place allowing a plaid clad arm to reach around and cover his nose and mouth with a rag. He struggled against the hand, but Eleanor held him in place, until he eventually stopped struggling and slumped forwards onto her.

She pushed him away, his body hitting the ground in front of her to reveal Primetime stood with a rag in hand.

“That was a sight I never wish to see again.” He said, still looking at her disturbed.

“How do you think I feel?” She muttered, righting her clothing, and trying to make herself look generally more presentable. “Right boys, let’s get him tied up and in the van.”

The rest of the Toddlers emerged from out of the shadows, before binding his arms and wrists with duct tape and throwing him into the van.

---------

“Fuck me.” A thick Irish accent groaned. “Do I need to bring you back to the gym to teach you some fucking self-respect?” Coach regarded Eleanor in disdain as she walked through the doors to his gym.

“I have self-respect I’ll have you know!” Eleanor said indignantly.

“Sure looks like it.” Coach said, giving her an incredibly pointed look as she yanked her skirt down to try and cover more than it was.

She turned and walked towards the office, rolling her eyes at him.

“I saw that, 20 press ups.” Coach said.

She threw her head back in a groan as she dropped to the floor in press up position.

“And ten more for the attitude.” Coach smirked. Ernie started to snicker before a glare from Eleanor shut him up.

She began her press-ups counting them under her breath.

“..and that’s 30. Right can we go now?” Eleanor panted as she got up from the ground and dusted her hands off. “Christ, I’m so unfit.”

“Go where?” asked Coach.

“The Princess Victoria of course. We have some grovelling to do.”

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

Hope you enjoyed <3

[sunnysidekit]

All the Time in the World

Summary: It's half past eight on a Sunday morning, and you're not the only one awake.

Pairing: Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller x f!Reader (no y/n)

Warnings: Sexual content. Minors, please skip this one!

Word count: 1.4 k

A/N: So, this is a (sad) attempt of mine to write some filth. Might write a part two someday. Tell me what you think!

My masterlist

You’re not sure what woke you up this morning, but whatever it was happened at half past eight on a Sunday, so your glass wasn’t exactly very full at the moment. You stretched out an arm beside you only to notice that Benny had already gone to the gym. Maybe he’d closed the door a little louder than usual and that was wat had done it.

After some fruitless tossing and turning you finally gave up trying to fall asleep again. It simply wasn’t going to happen. You pushed away the warm, nice, comfortable covers and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. When you looked up, you saw your terrible bed head in Benny’s full-length mirror. Instantly, your half empty glass cracked.

You looked thoroughly fucked. As in, someone could have fucked you till your legs gave out and this would be what you would look like afterwards. Not Benny. While you two routinely slept in the same bed, he’d never even think of touching you. The two of you were friends, nothing more. So, you blamed the short night you’d had as you shuffled off to freshen up a bit in Benny’s bathroom.

It never occurred to you that Will could have been the cause of your early morning. And why would it? At the moment, you were a sleep drunk mess of a woman who would have killed Benny if it meant you’d get to sleep in a little longer. Yet your mind did flit to memories of last night as you stepped into the shower.

The first thing you saw when you closed your eyes was Will almost dropping the crate of beer he was carrying to the kitchen. You’d climbed over the back of the couch to wrap him up in a hug since you hadn’t seen him in a while. You distinctly remember pressing your face into his hoodie right between his shoulder blades, and feeling his muscles move while he set the crate down on the table. He smelt like he’d stepped right out of a bonfire – which was probably because he’d just come from some guy’s housewarming barbecue. Benny had told you that when you arrived.

You let the hot water cascade down your body and sighed. While you’d only ever thought of Benny as a friend or perhaps even a brother, Will was another thing entirely. That rumble in his chest you felt when he greeted you last night, along with the stout curve of his hips against yours made you weak in the knees, even if you didn’t like to admit it. Even now, as you stood in the shower, you felt your face flush with warmth from just thinking about that moment.

You shook your head and opened your eyes. No need to stay in never-never land. You turned the knob and toweled off in silence, thinking only of what to have for breakfast. Maybe you’d be able to find a wayward slice of bread you could toast between all of Benny’s protein shakes. He probably had some eggs you could scramble, as well. Did Will still like scrambled eggs on toast? If he hadn’t gone with Benny, and if he was also already awake, the two of you could, perhaps, have breakfast together.

You plucked a pair of sweats and a hoodie from Benny’s closet, put them on and finally checked your phone. As expected, Benny had already texted you multiple times to tell you about some new gym equipment. Your mother asked if you were going to be coming over anytime soon. One of your friends had tagged you in a picture of a Certified Good Boy. Then you opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway – and heard it.

It was soft, yet still very much recognizable as a moan. For some reason you looked back into Benny’s bedroom. Then, when you heard it again, your gaze wandered uncertainly to the front door. You were prepared to look anywhere but the obvious source of the sound, which you very cleverly figured out was none other than Will’s bedroom. Did he have someone over?

You turned on your heel and started towards the living room when you realized that no, he did not have someone over. The next grunt that reached your ears was accompanied by your name. Your eyes shot towards his bedroom door, which you now noticed was slightly ajar. And then you lost control of your own body.

Drawn in by the sounds of his pleasure, you stepped forward towards their origin. Within moments, your hand had pushed the door open a bit further, giving you a full, unobstructed view of Will’s naked form slouched comfortably on his bed. He had headphones on and his eyes were closed, his expression consumed by a lust so raw as you’d never seen before. Yes, there he lay, the man you’d secretly desired for so long, pumping his cock to the tune of your name.

You were so transfixed by the sight you didn’t even notice your phone slipping out of your hand. The dull thud it made as it hit the floor didn’t reach your ears – the only sounds you heard were the ones Will made, along with a shitload of blood rushing from your head to your nether regions – but it did disturb Will. He opened his eyes, his expression changing quickly into one of shock and embarrassment, and instantly covered himself up with his comforter. You said nothing. Did nothing, either. You just watched Will pull off his headphones while an angry red flush spread across his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry! That wasn’t – I never would have...“ The words spilled from his lips like a waterfall, but the rush you felt drowned it all out.

“You often think of me when you, eh, do that to yourself?”

Will shook his head violently and put up one hand up to reassure you. “No. It’s just – I had – last night you-”

“I do,” you blurted out. Will’s eyes shot up to yours for the second time this morning. His flush didn’t fade, but his expression softened a bit.

“You do,” he said quietly. It seemed as if he didn’t quite know what to think of that. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yes, Will, I do. All the damn time.”

Will stood up now, tucking the comforter around his hips. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slowly walked up to where you stood still as a statue in the doorway. You glanced down to the bulge that protruded from the comforter, then let your gaze rake slowly back to his face. Not for the first time you came to the conclusion that Will was very, very well built.

He stopped right in front of you, tentatively reached out and dragged a knuckle across your throat all the way to your chin. You let him guide you closer to him until your lips almost touched. His one hand came up to cup your cheek while his other found purchase near the small of your back, and without another word he pulled you flush against him and into an exhilarating kiss.

Pure bliss was the only way to describe it. You moaned when he swiped his tongue across your lips and gladly let him in. Will’s hands traveled to the hem of your hoodie and pulled it up, dragging himself away from you for a moment.

“Not going to fuck you in Benny’s clothes,” he said with a grin you eagerly returned. The hoodie found a new home in the hallway, already forgotten. Will’s hands roamed free over your torso, eventually finding and staying near your bare breasts. He chuckled and pulled away from the kiss again. “No bra? I’m such a lucky guy.”

“Not just you,” you said. Your hands had been sliding down his sides, your fingers now fiddling with his comforter. He made no attempt to stop you from throwing it to the side. As you palmed his cock you added, “What were you thinking of doing to me just then, I wonder?”

“Do you want me to tell you,” he said hoarsely, “or should I just show you?”

You gently kicked the door closed and turned the lock behind your back. “Show me, please.”

“Oh, you don’t need to beg for it.” A wicked grin spread across Will’s cheeks as he took you by the hands and pulled you towards the bed. “Going to take my sweet time with you, though.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Because it’s nine o’clock on a Sunday, and we have all the time in the world.”

[justreblogginfics]

There’s something about Will Miller and then domestic Will Miller that is just 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

A Nice Night In The Middle Of July - William Miller

Pairing: William Miller x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. First time I’m writing for Will so sorry if it’s a bit OOC, leave a comment and let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 3377

Summary: Having a barbecue with Will and the boys on a nice summer night. 

“This is why I can’t have nice things, you know.” You mumbled against Will’s shoulder, looking down at his hands as he struggled to fix the broken chain of your golden bracelet.  

Keep reading

[ofcourseiwillmydarling]

❗I accidentally deleted the draft where I answered to the ask so I'm reposting it like this. Anyway, TYSM anon ! Means a lot to me ! I always feel like what I'm writing makes absolute no sense LOL. I hope you enjoy! 🫡🩵

a/n: Tomorrow I go back to class but we're up to a slow start, so I'll try to post as much as I can during these months ! If you guys have any other requests - about any soa character (both male and female) - dont be shy to send them, I have so much fun doing these & I looove hearing your thoughts ! ♡

! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

TW: mean !Jax & rough sex.

"Aw fuck - darlin' - what'd he do?" Your eyes are puffy and red - lashes clumping together from your tears - lips swollen from biting them. Jax makes a soft mouth sound as he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone, rubbing slow, soft circles meant to soothe you.

"Clay," you sob. "He said I was jus' a cheap lay to you," your voice cracks and more tears fall across your pathetic, broken expression. "Jesus Christ," He hisses between clenched teeth. He's seething. "Where is he?"

You shake your head, digging your fingers into the lapels of his vest. "He left," you murmur. "Jus' leave it alone." The words hitched in your throat - blathering something incoherent.

"Baby," he urges. He can hear your heart beginning to thump - pounding too hard and too fast against your chest. "You're with me. You're okay." He rubs his cheek firmly against your own - skin sheathed in cool sweat - his nose probing your hairline.

It ends like it always does. He threads his fingers through your hair - tugging the strands gently - before he crashes his mouth against yours. "I love you."

**

He wraps his fingers around the bends of your knees - forcing them apart. He is hard between your legs; tip leaking and heavy as it presses against your belly. Fisting his cock, he sinks into you in one brutal stroke. He's meaner today. He had hurt you with his words, even when he'd slam the thick of him inside your cunt till you'd bruise, but it never mattered. You were too in love for it to ever matter. This was for him. Not you.

You don't know the specifics about his 'jobs' - he couldn't tell you - but you do know the state that he comes home in. You let him use you as he needs.

"Jackie," You mewl - brow wrinkling in discomfort - as you reach for him. You're full of him. You wonder if you could feel him if you placed your hand on your belly. You cradle the hinge of his jaw and you're blathering against the slope of his cheekbone. You hiccup and sniff - you couldn't help it - he's stretching you apart and it aches something fierce. "Quit whinin'." he bits out as he hits balls deep - cock hitting something deep and sensitive inside of you.

You meet each thrust - even though your cunt is raw - lifting your hips to take his cock again and again. "Don't stop - fuck - m'close." He rolls his hips into you - grinding his pelvic bone against against the peak of your sex - knocking a sharp cry from your kiss-swollen lips. Rough and sharp. It's aggressive and a little ugly - still, you kiss him like you're dying.

He tightens his grip on your waist as you writhe against his hold. He ducks his head - rubbing his cheek firmly against yours - as he presses deeper. He can feel you tighten up - muscles clamping down his length - and fucks you through it. "That's it," he exhales against your teeth - you feel his cock pulse inside you - hips stuttering against your own. "Fuck - I love you."

Still — he leaves. But oh - it feels just like love.

[dallianceangel]

I’m Not Proud Of It

Writing this has given me another idea for a fic 💗

🫦 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🫦

You slip out of the clubhouse wearing the same clothes you wore last night, grinning as your mind plays back the wild night you had with Chibs. As you head toward the exit, Jax catches you as he works on fixing a motorcycle in Teller-Morrow. His gaze follows you, and he grows suspicious as he notices Chibs licking his lips, a subtle sign of the recent encounter he had with his girlfriend’s daughter.

Jax lowers his voice. “You and her...?”

Chibs sighs, nodding his head. “Aye, but you know, I’m not proud of it.”

Jax chuckles, not believing a single word. “Yeah, right. I bet you felt proud last night.”

Chibs smiles, but it soon fades when his girlfriend’s face flashes in his mind and the guilt resurfaces. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Jax goes back to fixing what he is working on, but continues the conversation. “Was it just the once?”

Chibs’ silence gives Jax the answer he suspected, it’s happened more than once. “Fuck.”

Chibs sighs, the guilt eating away at him. A little while later, during lunchtime, your mom arrives outside Teller-Morrow, cheerful and unaware of the situation. She heads into the office and greets Chibs with a warm smile, holding a bag of delicious goodies.

“Hey, love,” she says, giving Chibs a kiss on the cheek. “I brought us some lunch.”

Chibs forces a smile. “Hey, doll. I’m so hungry.”

As she talks to Chibs over lunch, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Chibs discreetly checks it—it’s a text from you. He fights back a smile as he reads the message.

"Last night was hot. Round two later? 😏"

Chibs quickly types back, his heart racing: “You’re trouble, lass. We’ll need to be careful.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Weighted Blanket

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 860+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Chatting about what a great weighted blanket this man would make and so I dedicate this to @laurfilijames. This was not beta read.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Will Miller Masterlist

Today had been the day from hell. You knew it would be, especially since you’d been out for several days being sick. Morning meetings ran long, everyone scrambling to prepare to open, and then the patients? Don’t even get me started. 

When I finally get into my car at the end of the day, I turn on the ac and rest my head against the headrest taking several deep breaths, just listening to the vents pumping cool air into my hot car. I just have to make it home. A shower is waiting for me and Will should be home today.

Will. 

My amazing boyfriend of a year and a half. Will had to go away for work for a few days and was finally coming home. I know a few days isn’t that long but it killed him to leave me when I was sick. And to be honest, I hated not having him there, sick or not. 

His truck is in the parking lot when I pull in and I smile knowing he’s upstairs. I hurry to our apartment and push my key in the lock, quickly shedding my shoes and tossing my bag down on the little side table before heading towards the kitchen, where sounds and a delicious, heavenly smell were emanating from. I lean against the door frame, just taking in the sight of him. Will, standing at the stove with his back to me, casually making my favorite food, his hair still wet from a shower, navy blue shirt stretched thin over his broad back and thick arms, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He clicks off the burner and divvy’s the food onto 2 plates before turning, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was work?” When I don’t answer right away, he let’s out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

I nod, pushing off the door frame. “Nothing I didn’t anticipate. Still sucked though.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving. But first I need to shower. I feel so gross.”

Will sets the plates down and takes a few large steps towards me. He moves for a hug and damn do I want one, but I’m gross. People actually spit up on me today. So I sigh, stepping back and Will puts his hands up, freezing in place. 

“Must have been really bad.”

“You don’t even want to know.”

He winks and blows a kiss at me, turning back to finish up dinner. The shower was glorious, the hot water and bubbles relaxing me somewhat, and washing away all of the gross from my skin and hair. I don’t linger, my stomach grumbling as I pull on some pajamas and head straight for the kitchen table, where Will had just set down drinks for us. Before I sit, he pulls me to him, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hands cradling my face. 

“I missed you, sweetheart.”

“I really missed you too, Will.” He starts to deepen the kiss, but is interrupted by the loudest grumble yet from my traitor of a stomach. He laughs, placing a hand on my tummy. 

“Let’s get some food in you.”

—----

Dinner was delicious, as usual when Will cooks. It’s not just that he follows the recipe to a t, but he has his own personal flair to it. Will’s cooking can make any sour mood turn sweet. Or maybe that’s just me. 

After our bellies are full, we sit on the couch and I curl my body against his, feeling his large arm wrap around me, the warmth from him seeping into my bones. He kisses the top of my head and rests his own there, both of us content to just be with the other. But my day was hard and before long, I feel my eyelids drooping. Will must have noticed because I swear I blinked and somehow ended up in bed, Will pulling the blankets up around me before crawling in next to me. He tries to pull me to him, but it’s not what I need. He crooks his finger under my chin, lifting my head to look at him through sleepy eyes. 

“Do you need Will blanket?” I nod, my eyes barely open. 

Will helps me lay down on my back, making sure my pillow is adjusted before he drapes half his body over mine, linking one of his muscular legs with mine as he tucks himself over me. His arm drapes over my body, rubbing small circles into my opposite arm. I turn my head and realize my nose is in the perfect spot to nuzzle into his hair, so I do it, inhaling the scent of him. The weight of him on me settles my nerves, the last bit of overstimulation and wired emotions leeching from my body the longer I feel his breathing, his body pressing into mine. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

It’s so tender and loving, full of care and I think about how much I love this man as he gently lulls me to sleep.

In the morning, he has different plans for me and I’m so glad I got the rest I needed.

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

[wardenparker]

Guys I know I've said it before, but if I post some Crimson Peak fic this week will anybody actually read it? I've been working on a little scene-let at work between guests and I really like the tone of it. Plus, Alan McMichaels deserves a happy fucking ending after being the hero like that.

So...any takers for a little period flirting this week? Dance cards and gossip behind gloves and the like?

[charliehoennam]

feral love

a/n: @sizzlingcloudmentality had me in a chokehold with this idea.

prompt: Being all up in your face, pissed and horny, hands all over you? Not a single fuck given due to the fact that they are in a bar or something "look at your face while I fuck some sense into you." And he grips her neck from behind and makes her look into the mirror above the sink

pairing: will miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v, jealous will, mentions of breaking up (sorta)

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

It’s the first date you’ve been on since the rough break-up with Will. You had decided to take a break when the arguments started to become a constant in your daily life.

Technically, you didn’t even know it was a date. You thought you were just getting drinks with your friend. You hadn’t realized she had set you up on a blind date until you arrived at the bar and saw her boyfriend sitting at a table along with his friend.

You didn’t want to be rude, so you figured you’d stay and enjoy the drinks she had promised. Might as well now that you’re already here.

The friend isn’t too bad. Although you keep mistaking the name Louis for Luke, he’s rather cute and seems nice. He keeps asking you questions about your job, where you’re from, your hometown.

He’s trying to make enough small talk to get you comfortable, which you kindly appreciate.

Your answers are slightly short, but kind and enough to keep the small talk going, despite the fact that Louis keeps getting the sense that you don’t want to be there. He’s not wrong about that.

The bar is pretty packed with people excited to see a band play live as they ready their instruments. When the music starts, everyone instantly makes their way to crowd around the elevated stage.

Sitting by yourself at the table to wallow in your fourth – or is the fifth now? –  gin and tonic. Pushing the ice and slice of lime around with your straw, you scan the bar fidgeting uncomfortable in your seat.

Most of the guests are dancing and singing to the music, a few are scattered here and there sitting at the bar or tables to continue their talk. Some are hanging around the pool tables, taking turns. No one really catches your eyes – not that you were even looking for one who might – until your eyes land on a familiar face staring at you from the bar.

Your chest rises heavily but quickly as you stare at Will. His short blonde hair is slightly unkempt along with his beard. He’s wearing the black hoodie that used to swallow you when you’d put it on to get the take-out after a round of good fucking when he’d come home from deployment.

It still smells like your perfume which is why he hardly wears it now, but this night was an exception. He missed you and he wanted to feel like you were still somehow close.

When he saw you in the bar, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He had to go over to talk to you, but when he noticed you weren’t alone, the courage he had was shot to shit.

Will became quietly furious and told the guys that he was just gonna drink by the bar, that they should go ahead and shoot pool without him because he wanted to be alone.

They kept an eye on him from the distance while he kept his eye on you. With every smile and laugh Louis managed to pull out of you, Will took a shot of whisky along with his beer to keep him from flipping tables. He was ready to drag the man out of there by his collar.

But instead, he sat back and watched you. Watched how you played with your hair like you used to play with it around him, how you rubbed your lips together to even out your lipstick.

Louis’s glance at them didn’t go unnoticed by Will. He remembered how he used to watch your lips because he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

You can tell from the flaring nostrils that he is livid. It’s not out of fear; you know he would never do anything to hurt you.

You can’t stop feeling like a bug on a microscope, so you quickly avert your eyes and look at your drink. Taking a last long gulp of it, you push the glass aside and grab your purse.

You make for the bathroom seeking shelter from Will’s penetrating gaze, but before you can reach the door, you feel a hand grabbing your arm in the empty hallway that leads toward it.

“I just wanna talk.”

“It’s never just a talk between us, Will” you argue trying to avoid the large silhouette of him cast by the dim dive bar light.

“You’re out with someone else? You haven’t even moved your things out.”

“I’m not out with him. I came here with Natalie and she didn’t tell me we’d be meeting them.”

“Are you fucking him?”

You frown at how quick he is to dismiss your entire explanation. All he can think about is that?

“Are you serious? That’s what you wanna ask?”

“Are you fucking him or not?”

“Yes, I am. What’s it to you?”

Lying to Will is stupid. The man interrogates terrorists from for a living. He knows a lie – especially coming from you – when he hears one. But you just can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you are still madly in love with him and that it’s why you haven’t moved your things out of his place yet. Inside, you still hope to go back home to him.

He doesn’t reply to you because he knows you’re lying, but it doesn’t stop from getting angry at the thought of you with someone else. You, kissing and touching and fucking someone that’s not him. Their hands holding you and stroking your hair and other parts of your that are meant just for him. That someone else gets to see you come undone, with your hair a perfect mess and lips swollen from his kisses.

That is meant for him. And him only. He can’t understand why you haven’t come home yet, but he does understand why you haven’t come for your things. You can try to hide it as best as you can, but he can see right through your façade.

“You’re fucking him huh?”

His towering frame steps closer, intimidatingly cornering you against the wall. His hand doesn’t leave your arm. The stare he casts down at you has goosebumps travelling over your skin. Like a bunny caught in a trap, you know you’re done for.

“Does he fuck you Iike I do?” he questions nudging his nose at the hair on the crown of your head

“Even better” you snap, trying to resist the trance he holds you under.

He scoffs with a false smile.

“Let’s fucking see about that,” he snarls pulling you into the bathroom.

You frown at the way he shoves you inside, holding your arm where the indents of his fingers are still printed into your skin as you question what his problem is.

“My problem is you.”

Locking the bathroom door, he quickly closes the space between you. His lips crash hungrily against yours. His hand balls the hair on the back of your head, keeping you close and unable to pull away from him. Not that you would either way.

You’ve missed this, you’ve missed him. You’ve missed his kiss. You’ve missed his touch. You’ve missed everything about him.

The way your tongues dance with one another makes you forget why you had even left the house in the first place. As he pushes you back towards the sink, your hands reach for his thick neck to keep yourself from falling over with his eagerness.

Although the music echoes into the bathroom, all you can hear is the heavy breathing and desperate moans coming from the pair of you as eager hands grope clumsily at each other.

The drinks you had only add to the intoxication of his kiss, whisky lingering on his lips. The room spins around you as his mouth reaches that one spot on your neck that he knows drives you insane.

Your head lulls back in a daze and your eyes close to savor the touch of his hand under the top you have on. He groans massaging your flesh and works his way down to your ass, shoving itself past your jeans to push them down as the loose fabric slides down easily.

His large hands grope your cheeks spreading them with a slight burn that only soaks your pussy even more. Will watches his hands knead and massage your flesh the reflection of the mirror like you’re his favorite personal playdough, fingers invading under the fabric of your panties.

With his throbbing dick grinding against you, he closes his eyes and lets himself melt back into the kiss. Keeping a firm grip on your ass, he moves his other hand to your front to shove it down your panties.

You moan his name, pulling away from his kiss desperate for air when he circles around and over your hardened clit.

“Jesus Fuck, Will,” you gasp gripping at his hoodie with your nails. “Fuck, that feels s-so good. Right there…”

With his other hand balled into the back of your hair, he forces your mouth back onto his to continue his selfish prodding with his tongue.

“he touch you like this?” he breathes, mouth opening against your cheek.

“N-no,” you mumble into him.

He smirks watching your face pinch at the pleasure he wants to remind you only he can offer. Gathering the slick from your folds, he hisses at the dampness.

“He get you wet like this too huh? Ain’t even fucked you yet and you’re fucking drenched, baby.”

You shake your head as if he didn’t already know the answer. He just likes hearing that no one makes you feel as good as he can.

Drunk on his touch, the scent of him fills your lungs and goes straight to your head coursing through your veins like a drug. You palm the hard outline of his cock through his jeans and quickly work to unbutton them, high on him as his fingers push into your dripping entrance.

You quickly fumble your hand into his pants and briefs desperate to feel his hard dick. The touch of your hand on his cock shatters the hard front he tries to hold onto.

“Shit, baby,” he whimpers biting into your shoulder when your thumb swipes over his leaking tip.

His fingers cease their movement for a quick moment as you tug on his cock, driving him insane with every stroke. Addicted to you, he turns you around to face the mirror on the wall.

As he quickly pushes his pants and briefs down, you mimic him by quickly pushing your panties down your thighs and spread your legs, angling your hips and arching your ass out to welcome him.

His mouth hungrily latches onto your neck as his cock glides roughly against you drench folds, gathering your slick to mingle with his pre-cum. Licking a glob of his spit onto the fingers that were inside you, he savors the sweet familiar taste he’s longed for as he coats the saliva over the tip of his cock.

“Look at me.” His command has your eyes shooting up to obey, taking in the sight your stained lipstick. “Feel me.”

Staring at your reflection, he watches you to make sure your eyes never leave his as he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt.

“Take it. Take it like a good girl.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the slow delicious burn you feel as his cock slowly spears itself in between your clenching walls.

“You’re my girl,” he whispers wrapping a hand on your neck. The wetness of his spit and your pussy feels cold against your skin.

You nod in agreement gazing hopeless into his dark eyes.

“Say it” he orders bottoming out, balls deep in you.

“I-I’m your girl” you nod, eyes and hips pleading for movement at the fullness of his cock.

“Only my girl?” he questions shoving a hand down to again toy with your clit.

“Only your girl.”

He smiles and finally starts moving his hips, fucking you hard and slow.

“Show me your tits, baby girl.”

Without hesitation, your hands excitedly push your bra and tops up bunching them together over your chest. Will kisses the back of your head praising your obedience, whispering how much he loves you as his hips pick up the pace.

The ungodly sounds of your damp and hot cheeks clapping against his relentless hips fill the bathroom along with your panting. Growing closer and closer to your orgasm, you grip the edge of the countertop and bite down on your bottom lip, taking him raw and rough as best as you can, trying to last longer but the fingers rubbing your clit force your orgasm to come soon than you hoped.

“Look, baby” he orders with a hand under your jaw as he pounds into you, fingertips squeezing into your warm cheeks.

Your teary eyes struggle to fix clearly on the mirror but you obey regardless. You’ll always obey him; a slave to his love.

His hips stutter in their movements as he finally cums into you, filling your walls with warmth.

“Look at you. This is where you belong. With me.” He breathes against your ear.

“Where do you belong hm?” he asks slowly pushing his load deeper and deeper in you with gentle thrusts.

“W-with you.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles and places a tender kiss to your cheek. “Go say goodbye to your friends and tell ‘em you’re coming home.”

[mermaidxatxheart]

These Moments

I’m posting on mobile so if it’s a little weird looking, that’s why.

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Word count: 3752

Warnings: swearing, smut(Minors DNI), Charlie Hunnam being a menace. Fwb, unprotected p in v.

A/N: this is the first thing I’ve written and completed in… waaaaay too long. I hope you like it. Yeet.

Everyone is always going on and on about Benny Miller and what a fighter that kid is. But your gaze is firmly set on his big brother, Will. The guy who trains Benny, who gets into the ring and is just as capable. You can’t help but watch him across the gym from your position behind your desk, pressing your thighs together harder and harder with every passing moment.

It’s not as though you’ve never seen a man before, and you’re some blushing virgin school girl. You’ve had sex, and lots of it. And you know Will Miller can fuck. Why, just last week, he fucked your brains out on the floor of the ring after the gym closed. Then he walked you to your car like a gentleman.

It’s not that Will doesn’t care about you, or vise versa. But he has commitment issues from his time in the army, and you just can’t trust people. So how can you be in a relationship with someone if you can’t trust them?

Will catches your eye and a small grin tugs at his soft lips. Those lips have you sweating. Remembering the way those lips pull every sound imaginable from your sweat-slicked body; the way those lips find magical spots that make your toes curl.

Your face starts to heat at the memory and his grin widens as you flip him off and drop your gaze. Jerk.

The front door opens, stealing your attention as two regulars come in. One is tall and muscular, definitely imposing, but you know he’s just a big teddy bear who’s crazy about his wife. That’s Jim. The other is a prankster and he always manages to scare you around the gym. That’s Teddy.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Teddy says, setting his membership card on the counter. His open grin is infectious and you can’t help but smile back.

“Howdy.” You reply, scanning his card.

“It’s Friday.” He continues as you scan Jim’s card.

“All day long.” You reply sarcastically. Jim collects his card and with a wink, he heads for the locker room. Teddy doesn’t walk right off. He has been asking you out every Friday for the last six months. It doesn’t matter that you never say yes, or that you act completely uninterested-he asks without fail.

And, to be fair to him, he’s not rude or obnoxious about it. It feels more like a teasing inside joke now. He still respects your boundaries, and treats you like a lady.

“You busy tonight?” He asks, leaning over the counter to look at you closer.

“Probably not.” You reply dryly.

“Do you want to be?”

“Probably not.” You answer in the same tone. He tips his head back and laughs. “Teddy, aren’t you tired of flirting with me? It doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“Tired of flirting with such a beautiful woman?” He places a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Never.”

Your eyes inadvertently darts over his shoulder, landing squarely on Will, glaring at Teddy. “You’re such a hopeless flirt.” You shoo his hand away.

“Only for you, doll.” He grins. He backs away, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I’ll pick you up tonight.” He calls loud enough for the whole gym to hear

You roll your eyes, flipping him off. “You’re a filthy bastard.” You reply, leaning back in your chair. You’re not worried about Teddy, he’s harmless. He’s come to your defense on more than one occasion both inside and outside of the gym. His flirting is good natured, never pushy or demanding.

But with the way Will is glaring at him, one would think Teddy just kicked his dog or something. You could go out with Teddy-you and Will aren’t serious, you have no doubt that he’s seeing other women and that doesn’t bother you. He’s an amazing guy and he should find someone who makes him happy. You’re just aware that it’s not you. But, Jesus Christ, you’ll have some fun with him until then.

Will

Will, for the majority of his life, has been pretty even-keeled. Benny, his impulsive kid brother, has him saved as ‘Steady Eddie’ in his phone. That’s what his parents always called him and Benny, that little shit, is carrying on that tradition.

And aside from the few heated PTSD moments he’s not exactly proud of, he still keeps a cool head; he’s pretty logical and there isn’t a lot he can’t handle.

That being said, seeing that jackass with a god damn man-bun touch you? Seeing him tilt your chin up to meet his gaze the way Will has done so many times? It makes his blood boil. Hearing him say he’ll pick you up for a date? He might have punched his brother harder than he should have. It’s a good thing Benny has a hard fucking head.

But what’s really got him fucked? The way you drop your gaze to the desk, laughing. He didn’t even know you liked guys like that: man-bun pretty boys who work out for the aesthetic of it.

While he’s busy paying attention to you, Benny gets his revenge and punches Will back squarely on the jaw. It rocks him back against the ropes and he can’t even be pissed-it’s a good hit.

Determined to not lose focus again, he turns his back on you, planning on discussing this with you later. Do you want to stop sleeping together? Are you finally ready to find someone?

You’ve always been crystal clear about not wanting a partner. You claim you value your independence too much, but Will likes to think he knows you a little better than that. Someone hurt you. He doesn’t know who-your family and past is a complete mystery to him. And if you two are just fucking, Will supposes he doesn’t need to know more.

Benny finally calls it quits. Will has gotten out of the ring after the punch so he could comment and critique his younger brother. Ben is exhausted, he can tell that much just by looking at him. He should have called it earlier, but he was lost in his head.

“Go home, kid. Get some rest.” Will says, holding open the ropes for him to crawl out.

“Want me to give Teddy a solid thump on my way out for you?” Ben teases.

Will, caught off guard, can barely respond. “What are you talking about?”

“Him taking your girl out.”

Will squints at him. “Do you have a concussion? Do I need to drive you home?” Will reaches for his head, but Benny swats him away with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s not the point. I’m not blind, y’know. But fine. Hide things from me.” Benny heads for the locker room and WIll glances over at reception, halfway through the first step toward you. But you’re not there anymore, someone else is manning the desk. “She’s up in her office, you dingus.”

Will follows the gesture and sees the light on up there. Even better. He heads up there, hoping to at least catch you for a chat.

He pauses in the doorway, watching you read over something on your tablet. You’re entirely focused, a little pinch between your eyebrows that he loves has to smooth out occasionally. He must make a sound or maybe you can just feel him staring at you, because you look up.

***

You can feel the bluest pair of eyes on you, boring through your skull. Finally, unable to stand it, you look up from the article in front of you, entirely unsurprised to see Will taking up the whole doorway.

“Headed out for the day?” You ask, closing your tablet and setting it down.

“Benny is.” He says evenly, and you nod.

“He looks good. You’ll have him ready in no time.”

“Yup.” He agrees simply and you frown.

“That’s all I get? What’s with you? Normally, you’re happy to talk strategy until my ears fall off. And all I get today is ‘yup’?” You make a face.

He doesn’t answer, at least, not right away. He steps into your office, looking at all the pictures on the wall. There are a couple of you and him together, Benny’s fights, fooling around with your new camera after fooling around that one time. He’s seen them all a million times, so why is he studying them now.

Abruptly, he turns to you. “Are you bored of me?” He asks and you can’t smother the absurd chuckle that bubbles out of you. When he doesn’t laugh in return, you frown.

“Oh-you’re serious.” You realize. “Miller, what in the world makes you think I’m bored of you?” You ask with a huff.

“I dunno. I was standing right there and you were flirting with… what’s his name? Man-Bun.” He waves his hand.

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to comprehend. “You mean Teddy?” You ask.

“Sure.” He shrugs and you grin. Will isn’t the type of guy to wallow in self pity. But here he is, in your office, looking for all the world like a lost little bunny.

You push yourself to your feet, taking the two steps to be directly in front of him. “You jealous, Miller?” You grin wider.

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He snaps, but he won’t’ meet your eyes.

You place your whole hand dead center of his chest, your grin spreading so much your cheeks hurt. “Let me tell you about Man-Bun-Teddy.” You offer, guiding him backward to your couch slowly.

“Don’t really care.” He pretends. It’s cute.

“Every Friday, Teddy comes in here and asks me out.” You say, your voice soft, a whisper in the silence of your office. His knees buckle and then give out against the low edge of your couch.

The softest groan escapes him as he lands. “I don’t-“

“And every Friday, I tell him no.” You straddle his muscular thighs, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.

“And every Friday, he says ‘I’ll pick you up tonight.’” You lean in close, fingernails scraping at the nape of his neck. “I don’t fuck him.” You whisper. “Not the way I fuck you.” Your hand slips down between your bodies and into the band of his sweatpants. He’s got you all dizzy, light headed, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Never?” He manages to rasp out. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock. Christ, that beautiful cock.

“Never. He’s never tasted me,” you nip at his neck gently. “He’s never been inside me,” you continue, kissing down his neck. “He’s never felt me cumming around his cock,” you tease, gripping and stroking his shaft lazily; a soft little twist on the return, just the way he craves it. His lip catches between his teeth as you nip at his collarbone.

Your breath comes out as a desperate rush as you feel him stiffen in your hand. “Love the way you feel under me, Miller.” You moan quietly.

“Darlin’,” He groans, gripping your hips, trying to regain control of himself. But that isn’t what you want. You want him to lose some of that carefully constructed control. You want him to be a little rough and leave bruises on you in the shape of his fingerprints on your thighs. You crave the way he clings to you in these secret, stolen moments.

He twists his head, capturing your lips against his, cupping your face and kissing you harshly. His lips, his tongue, god, that fucking mouth making you weak. It steals the air from your lungs and you feel weightless and heavy all at the same time. He rasps out your name roughly against your lips before delving back into a frenzied kiss.

His hands pull at the hem of your shirt, tugging it off, the only second he’s willing to break away from your mouth. His fingers trace up your spine, sending goosebumps across your exposed, heated flesh. With experienced deft fingers, he unclasps your bra, breaking away to watch as he slides the straps down your bare shoulders. One shoulder at a time followed by soft kisses to your skin following the path.

His touches are different from his kisses today. Kissing him is frenzied and urgent, but his touches are slow, savoring. He’s enjoying watching the effect he’s having on you right now.

He removes your hand from his pants and you miss the feel of him, heavy and hard in your palm. Tossing your bra to the side, his fingers blaze trails down your arms to your wrists. His eyes are roaming over your skin, an appreciative smile on his handsome face.

He guides your hands up to the wall behind his head. “Hands on the wall, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, raspy; deeper than usual. “That’s a good girl. Keep them there for me.” He praises and you fucking melt. He guides your chest closer to his face and you arch your back, rolling your hips teasing yourself, but also desperate for any kind of friction on your cunt.

His tongue darts out to flick against your nipple, his big hands hot on your bare back. He wraps his lips around it, teasing it with the tip of his tongue as you continue to roll your hips but you’re not getting anything you need.

He slides a hand up into your hair, gripping the elastic holder and tugs on it, pulling it from your hair so your locks fall forward. You look down at him, his blue eyes twinkling as he bites down lightly on your nipple. Keeping eye contact, he bites a little harder, stopping only when you gasp, lips parting, and he soothes it with the flat of his tongue. He gathers your hair into one fist and pulls it back so you’re arched even more against his mouth. He slips two fingers around the crotch of your little shorts and panties, pulling it up through your folds and against your clit.

“Come on, darlin’. Use me to get yourself off.” He encourages, letting your nipple go for just a second to encourage you. He presses his thumb against where your clit will be and you start grinding your hips faster, chasing that perfect friction. His mouth returns to your nipple, sucking and nibbling it, adding to your mounting pleasure. You can’t see him, your head forced backward to stare at the ceiling as he torments your body.

“Come on, pretty girl. Show me how much you wanna cum. Show me how wet this pretty cunt can get.” He urges, pulling a little harder on your shorts. You whine, riding faster and faster, you’re so close, Christ, having him under you is so heady. He leaves hickies across your chest, teasing between your nipples, letting you grind yourself against his hand. He bites your nipple again, catching your clit just right and your body locks up, cumming, clenching around nothing, eyes squeezing shut as you ride out your release. Your hips slow and he lets go of your hair, sliding them back to your waist.

It isn’t until you look back down at him, panting slightly, that he speaks again. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises. You surge forward, kissing him eagerly, pulling at his shirt. He wraps his arms around you, leaning forward for you to pull it free of the couch. Peppering kisses along your skin until he can sit back and you pull it off completely.

His body is a work of art, muscles moving and sliding under tan skin. You shift backward, dragging your fingertips down his abs as you slide off his lap. You kneel between his thighs, pulling on his sweat pants until he relents and lifts his hips. You pull them down to reveal his throbbing, beautiful cock, hard and waiting for you to take it into your mouth.

Will’s beautiful blue eyes are blown wide, watching as you lift his cock, kissing the tip before stroking your tongue slowly along the underside and back up. He moans softly at your teasing. You wrap your lips around the head, sealing it inside and a quiet hiss escapes him and then you start to slide it deeper into your mouth, creating an impossible suction along the sensitive skin.

“Hands up here.” He instructs. “Want to be the one giving you pleasure today.” He orders, trapping your hands flat on his strong thighs. He watches as you bob your head deeper and deeper on his shaft. Your tongue dances along it, stroking and massaging as you suck his cock. Another moan escapes him and you double your efforts. His hips lift to meet you and you roll your hips, wishing you had something between your thighs to grind on.

“So good, darlin’. So good.” He bucks his hips up repeatedly and the quick succession makes you gag but you love it.

You pull off, drool stringing from your mouth to his beautiful, glistening cock. He tugs on your wrists, urging you to your feet.

“Need you wrapped around me.” He mumbles. You start to slide off your shorts but he shakes his head. “Leave them on. Like the way they look.” He adjusts his lap and helps you straddle him. He holds his cock up right and guides you down onto it.

God, the stretch. The burn. You crave it every time. The way he fills you to the brim. You tip your head back, swiveling your hips to sink lower. He utters a low curse, gripping your thighs as you work him inside you. You hold onto his shoulders as you start to lift yourself off him and then drop back down.

You moan deeply, needing more. You pick up the pace and before you can even think it, you’re riding him fast and deep. Each downstroke sees a roll of your hips, tugging on his cock, gripping him inside you.

“H-hands on the wall.” He instructs and you lean forward, bracing against the wall, and that changes the angle of him inside you. You’re close to seeing stars and you ride him faster and faster. “Christ.” He groans, lifting your hips when he feels you slowing down. He lifts you slightly and then fucks up into you faster than you could move. You whine and gasp, trying to keep your noises down because of the open gym below you. “J-just like that.” He moans, licking a stripe up between your breasts.

It pushes you over the edge and you drop down, muscles tensing as you cum hard. He supports your body, fucking you through it.

When you can move again, he lifts you off him. “Bend over your desk.” He orders and there’s something about his tone that makes your pussy drool. It’s authoritative, possessive.

On shaky legs, you walk over behind your desk and bend over it, gripping the edge and spreading your legs. He kneels behind you, burying his face in your cunt hungrily. Your clit is his main focus, sucking, licking, flicking, biting until you’re trembling and cumming on his face, clinging to your desk for support as he eats you to a wild orgasm.

“Bet Man-Bun never did that.” He mutters, standing back up and lining his cock up with your entrance.

“Who?” You mumble, breathing hard.

He grabs your hips as an anchor spot and thrusts deep. You cry out, clenching around him desperately. He starts a deep, harsh pace, fucking you harder and faster. His fingers dig into your hips as he palms your ass, his breathing just as ragged. “That’s it. Good girl. Let the whole fucking gym know I’m fucking this sweet cunt in your office.” He grunts, leaning down over you and pressing you into the surface off your desk. He’s impossibly deep inside you, driving you crazy as he rocks deeper and deeper. Each thrust sends his balls slapping against your clit as he steadily fucks you.

Tears slip out of your eyes as he makes you delirious with sheer pleasure. You can’t breathe, but if it means he stays just like this; on top of you, fucking you stupid, then you don’t need to breathe. He presses his mouth against your cheek, a hand around your throat, holding your back against his big broad chest. He’s whispering something, it takes you a long second to process it.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, you feel amazing. Make me wanna fuck you every time I see you. Gotta have my cock in this sweet cunt every day.” He slips a hand between your body and the desk, finding your clit and strumming it furiously under your shorts. Your legs give out as you cum again, squeezing his cock as you try and fail to support your body. It’s all being held up by the desk now.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock. Gonna make me fill you up today.” He growls and Jesus Christ, you cling to the desk, cumming again, legs shaking, crying all out now. “One more, be a good girl for me. One more and then I’ll be nice to you.” He pants. You whimper under him, only able to take what he’s giving you. He nudges your ankles further, strumming your clit as he fucks you into the desk. You reach back, clinging to his hand and he squeezes it tightly, thrusting completely inside you, cumming up against your tunnel’s end, fingering your clit to one final orgasm. He presses his lips to your temple as he rocks back inside once, twice, thrice, four more times as you start to come down, lying boneless on your desk. He stays there until he softens and slips out of you.

He takes a long second to compose himself, looking at you on your desk, unwilling to move even a little bit. He lifts you gently and carries you over to your couch.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Absolutely not.” You look over at him, naked in all his glory in the middle of your office.

“Wanna order Chinese?” He asks, settling himself between your thighs.

“Yeah. I’m starving.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He grins, ordering food first before lying himself between your thighs and tracing your clit with his nose.

“What are you doing?” You ask warily.

“Eating this pussy until our food gets here. And then probably again afterward.” He says, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “I haven’t made you cum nearly enough.”

Shit.

Part Two

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

[hes-the-muse]

Author's note: This is a reblog of my old fics to @hes-the-muse from when I didn't have my writing blogs figured out and when I first started writing. I might be reposting my own fics to @hes-the-muse from @thexhostess.

The Evening | PART 1

Synopsis:  Ray has never exerted this kind of influence over you before. He has been gentlemanly, restrained, respectful. You had watched Ray from a distance and wanted to get loser to him. When you were both introduced, he wasn’t one to sleep around and neither were you. You needed him to know you were serious about him, which meant playing it cool for some time. You’ve been having a great time with Raymond, but you were getting past the point of playing innocence personified.

Notes: Inspired by this iconic AW 2011 Louis Vuitton fashion show. Sexy concierges. Posh establishments. Questionable characters. 

The models are not meant to replace reader. These LV images are for the vibe.

RAYMOND SMITH X F READER

Rating : T (mention of sex)

Words: 397

Tags: @pomegranatearildreams (Tagging you for this as you have been waiting for the other Ray fic for a while. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged.)

Credits: GIF by uuuhshiny  Images via Vogue.com. Dividers by @firefly-graphics​ : X | X

You stroll into the office while Ray is at work, dressed and ready. Matching yourself to Ray’s palette of grey wool waistcoat and shirt, you were looking forward to the event you were attending together. 

Friend and acquaintance, the ‘Cockney Cleopatra’ had hyped you up for tonight and convinced you to go bold with your style. She, in her signature sky high ‘So Kate’ Louboutin’s and an LBD, while you went for sexy concierge. Glossy black cap with chin strap, oversized but tailored lapel jacket in grey wool hugging your waist but falling short over the top of your thighs. Arms covered and slithers of skin peeking, you added silky grey stockings with a glossy midnight black stiletto. Nothing else. The blazer wearing like a minidress made you feel cheeky as fuck and you didn’t care. It was meant to be a fun night to dress up and unwind, and at a closed invitation party, why not?

Cockney Cleopatra assured you that Ray would be inspired by your choices. She said she strengthens her marriage by always keeping Mickey on his toes. Always giving him something to strive for. A trophy wife, she keeps an eye on him by letting other men keep an eye on her, but never anything more. But trophies are awarded for many different talents, and she’s not a single trophy kind of gal. Dressing to impress is only part of her game. 

You don’t need to knock, your confident footsteps are enough to catch the ever perceptive Ray’s attention as he swiftly looks up to see you walk in in your full glory. He’s never seen you like this before. As he raises his chin, Ray’s eyes show a quiet bewilderment, just a glimpse to be subtly perceived. 

You’ve been seeing Ray for a bit of time, a few weeks  of dates, dinners out, evenings around Ray’s house but you’ve never stayed the night. He’s always taken you home or had a driver return you home safety. You and Ray have never had sex.

His eyes harden and chin lowers, intense eyes hold you in your place. As he’s looking down towards you and before Mickey can see you, his index finger shoots up to signify an unspoken ‘Wait’. He has you restrained with a stare and controls you with a single gesture. You look at him silently, and leave the room.

[illusivelle]

shake the frost / 2

pairing: william 'ironhead' miller x female reader rating: t (for now) length: 3,044 words content: established relationship with the triple frontier boys, cursing, bruises/cuts, tending to wounds (my jam) summary: you don't expect to find will waiting for you so late at night, and especially not for these reasons. a/n: just a sucker for one person taking care of another while they're hurt. really just feeding into my own agenda here. and also a sucker for some idiots who think their pining is unrequited. read part one link to ao3 here!

Next time.

Two words that had been ringing in Will’s ears, bouncing around his head. Words he’d been repeating to himself because he wasn’t sure you meant it, wasn’t sure what spurred it. Wasn’t sure why it awakened something in him that had been dormant for so long. Two words that felt like a promise of more – more time, more you.

It wasn’t as if it was something novel considering the way he’d looked at you, and caught you looking at him, too. All those fleeting glances you’d both share when he thought the other guys weren’t looking, tiny smiles and faint touches in passing. But this was something different, wasn’t it? A step in a direction he wasn’t certain either of you would make a move toward, or maybe he’d been overthinking the entire thing and it was just something polite you’d offered.

Either way, Will Miller couldn’t seem to get his mind off – nor wrap it around – the idea of ‘next time.’

If only said next time wasn’t under these circumstances, knocking on your front door in the state he was in, hoping that you were actually home. 

You’d just pulled into your parking spot, locking your car door three times as you walked up to your apartment. The silhouette that’s slumped over your door is enough to have all the hairs rising at the back of your neck, one hand digging into your purse to clutch for something you could potentially use as a weapon. Shit, if only you’d listened to Frankie all those years ago, you might’ve been better prepared for moments like this. The only thing you could feel as you rummage in your bag is the dull handle of a switchblade, the one thing you did accept from Frankie if only to appease him and make him feel better about your safety.

And now you were kicking yourself in the fucking ass for not listening.

Tentative steps bring you closer to your door, your fingers grasping the knife tightly as wary eyes assess every inch you can see. In the darkness, you can only make out the fact that the person is a) much, much larger than you and b) hunched over like they might be sleeping. At your door, though? It doesn’t tell you much, save for the fact that you had to be very fucking careful about what might happen next. One more step brings you only a few feet away but the rustling of your clothes is enough to have the other’s head snapping up, and you whip out the knife from where it’d been hiding. “You should–”

“It’s me.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even in your haziest dreams, you could pick out that deep timbre and husky rasp that belonged to the one man that had no business occupying so much of your thoughts, especially as of late. “Will?” His name is a hushed whisper as you toss the switchblade back into your bag and quickly close the distance between you two. You’re crouching down as he’s pushing himself up, clumsily meeting halfway, your hands rising to settle on his shoulders. Not that he needed you to steady him, but you needed something to steady yourself, the sight of Will Miller sitting at your door something you’d never in a million years think would happen. “What’re you– is everything okay?” Immediately, your thoughts fly to all sorts of scenarios, a wary and assessing gaze raking over him as your palms work in a similar fashion, running up and down his arms like you might find a broken bone or a gaping wound. 

It’s only when your eyes finally land on his face that you notice, in the small sliver of moonlight peeking through a break in the sky, how dark red has matted along his hairline and paired nicely with the cut slicing his brow. Icy blue eyes dance as they search yours and Will remains quiet while you continue your inspection, finding more surface wounds on his lip and jaw, one that clenches when you linger too long. “Come in,” are the only two words you can think to say, reaching past him to shove your key in and unlock your door.

Maybe it’s your imagination, or maybe there really is only just a few inches between you and Will, his heat seeping through your clothes and prickling your skin. You swear you can feel his ragged and warm breath fanning out across your nape, a subtle roll of your neck like that might alleviate some of the tension thickening in the air when you push open the door to let both of you in. “Thank you,” his hoarse voice cuts in before he immediately tacks on an apology, “I’m sorry. I can go if you–”

“No.” You interrupt him before he can spiral. “Stay.”

His reaction is physical. His shoulders sag like that one simple word washed away all of his worries, the divot between his brows smoothing as he takes one step further into your place and then another. You’ve already dropped your bags and shrugged off your sweater, shuffling to the bathroom to grab your first aid kit and wet a towel with warm water. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Calling out to him, half expecting Will to remain planted where he stood because if there’s one thing about the stoic blonde man standing in your home, he always knew boundaries.

But when you close the medicine cabinet and turn on a heel, you nearly smack into a solid wall of carved muscle, one palm flying up to meet his firm chest to keep yourself upright. “Oh– Will–” blurting out his name while colour steals across your cheeks, “um, you can just have a seat there, then.” He takes orders so well, almost as well as he gives them. The only reason you know what that might sound like is because you’ve heard him bark them out to his brother Benny, even to Frankie and Santi. There’s no way it was anywhere near how he sounded when he’s on the field and you’re not delusional enough to think so, but it’s always been enough to strike a match in your gut. To spark that flame that burned for William Miller.

That same fire is ignited the second you lock your gaze with his pool of blues, tipping your head to the side with a cocked brow. Imploring him with your expression alone, hoping that he’d take the bait or feel comfortable enough to say something – anything – as you slowly and gently bring the edge of the warm towel up to wipe away the dried blood on his temple. “Benny got into somethin’ stupid after his fight tonight,” Will grumbled, those bright arctic irides breaking away from yours for a beat, “they didn’t like how he mouthed off too much in the ring. I told him one day it’d come to bite him in the ass, but you know Benny.” He huffs out a breath, one that tickles the sliver of skin peeking from your shirt, a lick of your lips to hide the way you noticed and zeroed in on the sensation so quickly. 

“Mmhm. In one ear–” “Out the other,” he finishes with a dry chuckle. 

Will barely flinches as you start to clean out his wounds, pressing damp alcohol-soaked pads to open cuts. It’s a testament to all that he’s endured out in the field, things far worse than you can ever imagine. Things far worse than what you’ve seen with your own two eyes at the hospital. You remember Frankie talking about a gunshot wound on their last ‘mission’ that Will simply patched up with a few pads of gauze, and even remembering the way Frankie told the story has your brows pinching together with distaste. “Is it bad?” Will murmurs, bringing your eyes down to his again.

“No, it’s not bad.” Were you really that easy to read, or maybe this close Will can just see right through you? “Are you feeling okay? Need a painkiller or something?”

“Probably just some water but I can wait.”

A hint of a smile teases the edges of your lips, wanting to lighten the sullen mood that’s fallen between you two. “I’ll make it quick, then.”

And you do, as much as you could. All of the open wounds were small enough that Will didn’t need any stitches; a few slips of the skin glue enough to close them, followed by pressing the thin adhesive strip bandages on top to make sure everything held. You lean in close when you get to the cut along his cheek, not wanting to mess up something that could’ve otherwise turned into a scar. Not that you thought Will would mind or didn’t have plenty of those, but you’d always been cautious about the face for any of your patients and he was no different. So focused on your work, steady fingers brushing back the small bandage, you don’t notice just how close your mouths are until you start to speak, the bristles of his beard tickling the edges of your pout. “Good as new,” you chime and without thinking, continue to say, “handsome as ever.”

If the ground could open you up and swallow you whole, you’d thank all your lucky stars and maybe even become religious. Had you really just said that? Heart hammering a bruise behind your ribs, you dare to steal a glance at Will’s face, hoping and praying and wishing you’d find something akin to indifference written over it. An indicator that he didn’t hear what you just said or maybe that he’d spare you and ignore it. Instead, you find a slick shine on his lower lip, a flirt of his tongue before he pulls it in while those thick, blonde lashes bat against his cheek. It’s silent for a few seconds, the weight of your words hanging over you like a blanket, and as soon as you open your mouth to say something, Will’s hand finds a home on your hip.

“It’s okay.” His tone stuns you, softer than you’ve ever heard it, swallowing thickly as you give him a shallow nod. “I didn’t mean to come here so late. Thank you for helping me. I was going to drive myself to the emergency, but Benny thought it’d be better to come see you directly. He all but followed me to make sure I actually didn’t go anywhere else.” All the while his thumb starts an absent sweeping motion, snagging on the hem of your shirt and sending goosebumps spreading fast on your skin.

“I’m glad you did, Will. You’d have been sitting in the waiting room for hours, you know.” Your fingers trail down until they brush over his knuckles, the same ones still holding you steady. “A heads up would’ve been nice, though, I guess.”

You’re not sure where this drop of courage is coming from. Maybe it’s the fact that Will took the lead here, the fact that his palm seems to press in more firmly where it lay. But as you search his eyes for a response, you can see the very second the moment splits into two. The moment where reality rears its ugly head and presents the staggering truth: too much. This is too much, too soon. There’s a faint quiver to Will’s lower lip, a muscle feathering in his jaw, and a few blinks is all it takes for those arctic blues to gloss over with something colder. Something you’ve seen in his eyes before, usually at the start of the night when he’s still had all his guards up and the others were around keeping a watchful and protective stance around you. Or when you’d overhear him and the guys talking about their pasts, especially their old friend. Or even the times you listened to Will’s speeches, recounting the eventful situation he found himself in at the grocery store when he all but lost his grip and sense.

“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” His hands drop as low as his voice, the words leaking of shame.

You won’t pretend to ever know what happened between Will and his ex, or even Will on the last mission, but it doesn’t take a genius to recognize the wheels turning behind those wary eyes. His entire face twists like he’s trying to hide the visceral need to run, and the warning signs flood the forefront of your mind as Frankie’s booming voice echoes between your ears: it’s a bad idea, he’s not ready, he’ll hurt you, you’ll hurt each other.

“It’s okay, Will.” Barely above a whisper, you say the three words you hope will settle in his bones the same time you step back to put a small gap between your aching bodies. His aching undoubtedly from the fight he’d put up for Benny and yours for different reasons entirely, emphasized by the fact that every fibre of your being is reaching out to return to his orbit. 

His hands clasp together in front of him, another sharp breath slipping past those lips before he rises to his full height. It takes you too long to point out that his knuckles still have dried blood on them, but it’s clear he has no intent on staying any longer than necessary. Hiding the hurt from your face was easy enough but the way it stings the corner of your eyes is something that’s more challenging to tamp down. Twisting your body away from him and ducking your chin into your chest, you try to stride out of the bathroom, but his words have you faltering right at the threshold. “Do I owe you something for this?”

“What?” Brows bunching together into a frown, you peer at him over your shoulder. “No, Will. You don’t owe me anything.”

Is it relief you see as tension uncoils from his body? Like maybe the fact that he didn’t owe you anything meant he didn’t have to talk about this night, relive it, or see you again? Your mind is racing a mile a minute, your steps faster as you make it to your living room and leave him following behind. “Hey,” Will’s voice is strained and again, it has your resolve wavering, leaning against the back of the couch as you slowly turn to face him, “thank you. I’m not sure what else to say. I know seeing a man sitting at your door late at night probably wasn’t the most welcoming thing, and out of the blue, too. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You don’t mean to snap, the words falling out with a bite, but it’s too late to take them back. The only thing you can do is cast your eyes up at Will with a hint of regret flashing across your face. Because you did want him to stop saying sorry, to stop feeling bad for leaning on you when he needed help. Because you’re hit with the realization that refusing and turning him away at the door was never even an option. “It’s okay. Really, Will. I mean it. I’m happy to help you.” You admit softly, sucking in a breath to keep the momentum going, pivoting at the last second to turn the conversation into something less daunting as you murmur, “though I guess I thought the next time would’ve been under different circumstances.”

This seems to do the trick, lifting the veil of tension even for a brief moment, allowing you to catch a ghost of a smile when the lines on Will’s cheek deepen. “Mmhm, yeah. Would’ve been nicer if it were, I imagine.”

Fidgeting with your fingers yet unable to keep your attention away from him for too long, your eyes dance between your own hands and his. “Do you want me to take care of that, or…?” A little matted blood only needed a good wash, but you’d take the opportunity to tend to him if he allowed it.

Blue eyes dart down to meet where you’re looking, a quiet hum sounding in your apartment that feels like a ticking time bomb minutes before the inevitable crash. It comes far too quickly, and far too quietly, hitting you harder than you’re prepared for. “No, it’s okay. I should go.”

Whatever bubble you’d convinced yourself you were in pops, the moment once again splitting into pieces. This time, more than two, dropping around you helplessly and all you can do is agree with him as it slips like water between your fingers. “Okay.” After all, you'd have no right to ask him to stay. He’d already done that, and now Will’s decided it’s his time to leave. Palms slicking with sweat, you find yourself nervous. Find yourself wondering, not for the first time since you’ve known Will, why you were so nervous around him. It’s just Will, you remind yourself, something that’s becoming more of a mantra these days. “You drove here? You’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be alright.”

But would you be alright? It’s hard to tell because the longer Will lingers in front of you, the longer your mind strays. Is he second guessing himself? Is this all in your head? Is he going to shrug his jacket off and change his mind? Through the corner of your eye and in the dim light of your living room, you see the way his fingers twitch as it slowly rises. Inches before they can touch any part of you, it fades, your heart sinking into your stomach.

Only for it to crawl back up to lodge in your throat when the scent of Will threatens to overwhelm you as he steps in to press a kiss to the crown of your head, another muffled “next time, then,” before he’s skirting past you, opening your door, and leaving.

Leaving you with even more conflicted thoughts about Will Miller, ones that replay over and over again the entire night. Ones that blend into a flurry of emotions as you clean up and ready yourself for bed, ones that have you picking up your phone in the dark to type out a hurried text

'You should’ve stayed. Next time?'

[ofcourseiwillmydarling]

a/n: reposting bc it felt incomplete :P Also I do not understand if my blog has been restricted or something :( I have a couple of asks in my inbox but I cant access them for some reason & I dont know how to fix it 😢

! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

TW: ! brief mention of choking.

He pins you down, covering your body with his as he fucks you into the mattress. He noses at your cheek, his beard rasps across your cheek just as he surges forward, burying himself to the very bottom of you.

You've gone boneless. Your cheek scraping up the white cotton sheets as he rocks his hips in a lazy rhythm, barely easing out your sopping cunt before shoving forward again. He gets off it - overwhelming you until you cant think straight. "Too deep Jackie..! s'too much!" He's heavy. He drives further - and it would hurt if you weren't used to it - stretching your cunt obscenely. Your pussy is so desperately full it's overwhelming. Consuming.

He takes a pause to pull his weight off of you, wrapping an arm around your midriff to pull you into the air until your back is flush against his chest.

You can feel the scratch of the hair at his groin against the curve of your ass as he rolls his pelvis upwards, ass jamming back against his hips as he hits balls - deep. "That's my girl," he coos - rubbing his bearded jaw against the soft skin of your cheek. “Still with me?” He‘s arrogant. Condescending. He knows that he has you.

His palm circles your neck - he thrusts faster, snapping into you with the full brunt of his weight - constricting your air flow. Its risky. Dangerous. He could break you if he wanted to. Your eyes are glossy. You look drunk. Fucked out. “You cock - drunk or somethin’?” You have no words left - nothing else to give him but pathetic, needy whimpering. He enjoys every part of it. Every spear of his cock makes an indecent sound. Its filthy. Indecent. He's pushing you right to your limit. "C'mon," he croons. "Let go for me, darlin'."

[daisydamed]

Drink Up

a tiny Jax Teller imagine that I couldn't get out of my head.

(forgive the bad writing honestly idk what's happened to me)

word count - 625

---

She and Jax had sought each other out at the past few clubhouse parties. Music playing and smoke hanging in the air, one would spot the other and force their paths to cross; spending the remainder of the night exchanging stolen touches and lingering gazes over whatever drinks they held. This night was no different, with her eyes scanning quickly over the room of bodies, casually searching him out, even if she didn’t mean to. 

Several drinks in and she was caught in conversation with Juice, nodding along and laughing when she should, adding her own bits and pieces despite her thinly veiled distraction. He knew, of course. Saw how the pair looked at each other, stole each other away once they were reacquainted. His eyes had flickered behind her for only a second, not giving her the chance to turn and look before something cold was pressed briefly to the warm skin of her neck. She jerked away with a small yelp, wiping at the condensation left behind from the beer bottle. 

“Jackson Teller-” She whirled on him, hearing the chuckle from his lips before she’d barely registered the chill. 

He grinned, head cocked to meet her eyes. “Say my name like that again and I'll have to kick your ass.” He told her, a teasing lilt to his tone. She rolled her eyes, her voice dry.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll bear that in mind.” She replied easily, hands raised in almost mischievous surrender. Neither even noticed that Juice had vanished, slipping away into the crowd once he realised he’d lost her focus. 

“Now there’s your manners.” He quipped, stepping a little closer to let someone pass behind him. 

“I said a very nice thank you the other week.” She reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to bite back her smile. 

“I remember,” Jax thought back, recalling the ride home he’d given her the morning after the last gathering when she’d crashed on a couch instead of paying for a cab ride home. “Though I gotta admit I’m wanting to hear more nice words from you now.” 

“I guess you’ll have to earn them.” She shot back casually, watching as he finished off his beer, leaning away momentarily to place the empty bottle on the bar. He smirked at her words, shaking his head minutely. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” He asked, retaking his place with mere inches between them. The loud voices of the many bodies coupled with the music playing over the speaker made it difficult to hear. His excuse for their proximity. “And how would I go about doing that, exactly?” 

She gave a shrug, taking a sip of the drink in her hand. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

His eyes followed the motion, watching as the glass met her lips. He reached out as it lowered, taking it from her fingers deftly. “Take your time,” He told her, raising the glass to take a sip of his own. “We’ve got all night for you to decide.” 

“Thievery might not be the best way to start.” She mused, reaching for the glass. He twisted where he stood, holding it just out of reach, enjoyment in his eyes. 

The glass hung between his fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. “I never said I played fair.” He told her casually. She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting between the glass and his face. “You want it back?”

She held his gaze. “You can keep hold of it,” she told him. “But I’d like some.” 

“All you had to do was ask.” Jax replied, voice smooth. He stepped in, his hand coming to rest on her lower back, holding her steady. She lifted her chin, lips parting as he raised the glass and tilted it gently.