#doing something new is good for my brain. even if i spent the first hour or two shaking w nerves

[cutearose]

had my first ever volunteering experience today - attended the local repair cafe in the sewing section and did some mending!! I’m so exhausted but it was a nice time and I’d like to keep going back

[thirteenfrogs]

‘hot & heavy’ — leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x fem!reader

based on hot & heavy by lucy dacus !

italics are flashbacks

not proofread and idk if makes sense

so. many. words. (7.8k)

—

being back here makes me hot in the face

hot blood in my pulsing veins

england, you know, is home.

you associate that word with the country so often that it always surprises you that the dictionary definition of home isn't simply the polaroid of your house in milton keynes that you took when you were 8.

england is home even when you leave, and it's home when you come back after years away.

being back in england — specifically in milton keynes — makes your cheeks warm, and you're not sure whether it's the uncharacteristically hot sun or something deeper in the pit of your stomach that makes you all too aware of the hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weighing on my brain

hot and heavy in the basement of your parents' place

your memories of milton keynes are varied — some are from your childhood, where you spent hours wishing on dandelions, kicking a ball around the neighbouring streets, and chasing the ice-cream van with a 50p coin you found in the gutter in the hopes of a screwball or a mr. whippy.

some memories are from your teenage years, where the bus ride to school was more entertaining than any parties your friends dragged you to in short dresses and the promise of a kiss from the good looking lad in the year above, no matter how much you insisted that you would much rather go to the cinema with your mates (and sneakily hold hands with your best friend).

few memories are from your adult years, when you decided to travel to neighbouring cities and spent hours exploring the intricacies of museum architecture and flirting to get free drinks in the new pub that opened around the corner from your secondary school.

every memory, though, includes her.

leah williamson — your childhood best friend, teenage love, and the reason why being back home feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time.

you used to be so sweet

leah used to pick flowers.

it was something that, more often than not, ended with you both being chased down the street by an angry neighbour who had fists in the air yelling that they were already on the phone to your mums and you would both be in for it when you got home.

it was always worth it, though, when after running so fast for so long you swear your legs could fall off, leah presents you with a fistful of whatever flowers were growing in that particular garden with some blades of grass and the roots still attached to the muddy bouquet. there would always be a dandelion, too, and the blonde girl would insist you make a wish just so she could pester you for hours after about what you had wished for.

and even when your mum does inevitably tell you off after the streetlights had come on and signalled your time to retreat home, the crumpled flowers you hold tight in your grasp remind you that tomorrow you'll do it all again, and the collection of wilted flowers on your windowsill will surely grow once more.

when she sees you again for the first time in almost 5 years, leah refrains from breaking into the nearest garden to steal you a flower and instead settles for a quick hug that feels more like home than any house she's ever lived in.

now you're a firecracker on a crowded street

couldn't look away even if i wanted

it’s merely a coincidence, you tell yourself, that your trip back home coincides with leah’s 26th birthday.

she invites you to a small get-together she’s having in london, and you try not to think about all the birthday traditions that have been broken in the years apart from your ex-best-friend. gone are the sleepovers you held the night before, gone are the parties your families had in your back-gardens, and gone are the shared slices of your favourite cakes.

get-togethers in hidden bars in london are new to you, but they seem familiar to leah and those she considers most important to her.

meeting up with her teammates and friends is a bittersweet experience, and you try not to think about how the leah they’re celebrating is wildly different to the leah you’re celebrating.

you look at the blonde and see the girl you once considered your better half, your extra limb, and they simply see the woman she is today.

leah’s the same as she always was, you notice from your seat at the bar, as she attracts the attention from the entire room without even trying. she’s still the same leah that was a thousand times more popular than you, and she’s still the same leah that never seemed to notice the hold she had on others.

you watch the way her eyes light up when she’s had a drink, and it takes you back to bonfire night when you were 7. when leah first held a sparkler on your crowded street, and her immediate thought was to try and cast a spell on you, giggling like a madman when you throw yourself to the floor like you had been struck.

you think the sparkle in her eyes is still there, and you pretend not to notice the way it brightens when she catches sight of you watching her. you couldn’t look away even if you wanted, and it takes a tap to your shoulder to snap you out of your leah-induced haze.

“kei!” you throw your arms around the ginger in a warm hug, and she responds back eagerly.

“hi, y/n/n, it’s so good to see you again.” keira smiles, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“it’s been a while.” you agree, letting her take the seat next to you.

you find yourself sticking with keira and other familiar faces, such alex and georgia, for a lot of the night — getting tipsy as you reminisce on shared memories and anecdotes about a certain blonde who was drunkenly serenading the entire bar.

at one point, it’s just you and keira, both equally drunk as you laugh about that time leah fell off a swing and was convinced that a ghost had pushed her.

“she was mad — still is, i think.” keira grins, glancing over to leah as she dances around the room.

“it’s a wonder i survived so long.” you agree, a smile on your flushed cheeks.

“i always thought you were it for each other, you know.” keira muses quietly, glancing between you and leah across the room.

“me too.” you take a large gulp of whatever drink georgia had forced into your hand 5 minutes prior.

“i still do.” you glance up at her in confusion, but keira’s slightly slurred words continue, “i know i’m drunk, and i know you are too, but i really think you shouldn't give up on her. she never gave up on you, not really.” at your silence, keira backtracks slightly, wincing at her own drunken word-vomit. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have- i know you're happy in spain now, i didn't mean to bring up old-"

"i’m moving back to london soon.”

and with that, you make your way to the bar to order another drink, eyes drifting around the room and automatically landing on the woman of the hour, who takes that as her cue to stumble over for the first time that night.

“dandelion! i didn’t think you were coming!” she shouts over the song that you know was once her favourite, wrapping her arm over your shoulder and squeezing you close in a once-familiar embrace.

“neither did i.” you admit quietly, never one to be able to lie to her.

“i’m glad you did, now we can sing our song!”

“no karaoke-“

“yes karaoke!”

and like no time had passed at all since you were leah and y/n, the blonde leads you to the small stage with a firm hand.

“one song, and then i’m sitting back down.” you say firmly, and leah simply grins, pushing a piece of hair out of your face as gently as she can with her clumsy hands.

“that’s my shy girl.” she coos as she pinches your cheek teasingly, and you simply roll your eyes. "you never were one for the stage, were you, dandelion?"

try to walk away but i come back to the start

led me to the floor even though i'm not a dancer

the night before your year 11 prom was spent in leah's bed — which was practically yours too with how much time you spent there growing up — laying side by side and staring at the ceiling as if the answer to why your cheeks were so warm was written above the bed.

"what if someone asks me to dance?" it's the first question you ask that betrays how nervous you really are for the upcoming event, and leah scoffs in response.

"tell them to shove off because you've already got a dance partner." the answer is so leah that you have to take a moment to roll your eyes, and because she apparently has eyes on the side of her head, she kicks you for it.

"i don't suppose that dance partner is you, is it?" you tease lightly, bumping your shoulder with hers and watching expectantly for her rebuttal.

"who else would it be?" she turns to look at you, blue eyes searching your face for the answer she knows she'll never get.

because the answer is nobody. there's not a single other person on planet earth you would trust to dance with you, and since there aren't any martians visiting any time soon, you'll stick with leah.

and stick with leah you do.

you're attached to her side when your mums take as many pictures as their cameras can physically hold, leah's hand settled on your waist and your head leaned against her shoulder as you stand outside your house. you pretend the blush on your cheeks is from the never-ending compliments from your families and the warm sun, and not the way that your best friend squeezes your hip gently to remind you pay attention to the cameras and not her.

you remain within arm's length of leah the entire night except for the 2 minutes that she disappeared to fetch you a drink that she knew you would need in the warm room, and even then she had tried to take you with her.

your interlocked pinky fingers keep you close as you make your way around the room, mindlessly chatting to your classmates.

you didn’t go near the dance floor, though, no matter how often leah tried to drag to towards it. you had made your opinions on dancing very clear and leah swore if that she heard the words “i’d rather die” come out of your mouth again then she’d kill you herself.

instead, the pair of you mingle with all of your friends and poke fun at the teachers’ outfits as they supervise the room with eagle eyes, though the blonde never lets up in her begging for a dance.

“come on, dandelion, just dance with me? please?” the pout on leah’s face is one you’ve seen many times in your decade of friendship, and not once have you ever had the heart to deny it.

“lee,” you whine, feeling your resolve crumble further when she steps closer. “i’m not a dancer. i don’t dance.”

“i do! i’ll show you how to do it.” she looks down at you with her most pleading expression, “please?”

“i’ll look-“

“you won’t look stupid, and don’t even think about suggesting it again.” she squeezes your pinky gently with her own, and you know you’re gone. “if anyone says anything, i’ll kick ‘em right in the face with these stupid heels — and that’s a promise!” you bite your lip hesitantly with a smile and leah presses further, “come on, y/n/n, please? don’t make me beg in-front of everyone here.”

“…fine. one dance.”

“that’s all i need, my girl.”

with leah’s hand in your own, you don’t feel nearly as nervous as you would’ve normally, and she leads you to the floor where you spend the rest of the night.

you find that you don’t hate dancing so much when leah’s your partner.

ask me all the questions that your parents wouldn't answer

"did you know that olivia in your geography class has two mums?”

it’s a tuesday night and leah’s in your bed. you’re 15 and there’s not much to do on a school night other than talk about whatever comes to mind. leah’s the first, tonight, and you wonder if she’ll finally let slip the reason she’s been deep in thought all day.

“really? she’s never mentioned it before.” you shrug, unsure of where your best friend is going with the conversation. “i guess she wouldn’t have a reason to, would she?”

leah bites her lip, clearly deep in thought. you have half a mind to tell her not to think so hard or her head will hurt, but you refrain.

“hey, what’s up?” you poke her cheek gently, hoping to snap her out of whatever headspace she was in. “you a homophobe or something? because i’ll have you know my cousin’s gay and-“

“i’m not a homophobe, you dick!” leah shoves you with a huff, and you grin at your success. “i’m just curious!”

“bi-curious or just curious?” you tilt your head, knowing it would only annoy her further.

“dandelion, i’m getting annoyed here.” she warns, glaring at you as best as she can with her 16-year-old baby face. “i’m just-“ she sighs, flopping back down on your bed. “do you think it’s…okay?”

“for?” you ask, laying down beside her.

“for two girls to…y’know, have a baby? get married?”

“i don’t see why it wouldn’t be okay?”

“i don’t see why either, but…” leah glares up at the ceiling. “when you think of getting married, what do you think of?”

you blink at the slight change of subject, but conversations with your best friend often go from topic to topic, so you shrug and answer honestly.

“cake- ow, leah! don’t hit me!”

“be serious for once!”

“i’m trying!” you huff, rubbing your shoulder from where she had so kindly elbowed you. “okay, when i think of getting married i think…a white dress, and some nice flowers. i think about songs i’d like to have play too. and cake.”

“what about who you’re marrying?”

“i don’t know, i never think of that.” you shrug, wondering what leah was getting at.

“well isla in our form class is convinced she’s going to marry jack, and she says she imagines it all the time. do you?”

“do i imagine marrying jack? god, no.” you snort at the idea. “he picks his nose still, did you know that?”

“y/n! be serious!” leah groans.

“stop beating around the bush and ask me what you really want to ask, then!” you huff, kicking her shin.

there’s silence for a moment, and you risk a glance towards the blonde.

she’s already looking at you — blue eyes piercing yours. “…do you ever think of marrying a girl?”

you roll over to your side and look back at her, eyes roaming over her freckled face that seemed awfully troubled for a simple tuesday night.

you shrug, “i dreamt i married lucy liu once, but i think that was because i fell asleep watching charlie’s angels.”

“was it…did it feel weird?” she furrows her brows the way she always does, and you reach out and press your thumb between them to remind her to stop.

“no, it was nice until she went all bridezilla on my dad. i can’t remember why, though. think he said her dress was ugly or something.” you remove your hand from leah’s face, but it doesn’t go far because the blonde reaches up and intertwines your pinkies and lays your hands on the pillow between your faces.

“i’d go bridezilla on him too. just for fun, though.” leah nods thoughtfully.

“and that’s why i wouldn’t marry you.” you roll your eyes, squeezing her finger.

“no? not even if i proposed with a million dandelions?” she asks with a smug smile, and you grin as she finally seems to relax.

“hmm…if you did that and got me a pretty ring, i wouldn’t say no.” you nod.

“the haribo ones aren’t good enough for you anymore?” she smiles, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips.

“diamonds are a girl’s best friend, lee. you gotta know that if you’re ever gonna propose to someone.” you poke her nose gently with your spare hand, and she grabs it with a gentle squeeze.

“i’ll keep it in mind.”

how could i deny a diamond in the rough?

it was awfully cliché, and you're aware of that, but leah had insisted that it was a rite of passage to play dancing queen on your 17th birthday, and so you allow the blonde to twirl you to her heart's content as the lyrics blare through your house. she sings along as she always does, never one to shy away from showing her passion for music and love for singing.

your families are scattered around the house and the back garden — leah’s grandmother playing scrabble with your aunt at the kitchen table, jacob kicking a football outside with your cousins, and both your’s and leah’s mums gossiping over a glass of wine while your dads manned the barbecue on the deck. to anyone else, this wouldn’t be considered a very good 17th birthday celebration, but to you it was perfect.

your other friends don’t understand that this is how you’d rather spend your birthday over getting drunk in a field (though, you weren’t opposed to that every now and then), and so it’s only leah who you spend the evening with, singing, dancing, and drinking as much as your families allow.

when it’s time to blow out your candles, it’s leah who stands beside you with a soft smile as your families sing the song you hate so much. it’s leah who presses a kiss to your cheek and tells you to close your eyes and make wish.

‘i wish it could always be like this.’

you open your eyes as watch as the smoke rises to ceiling, blushing as everyone cheers and claps, and giggling when jacob begs for the cake to be cut already.

“what did you wish for?” leah asks quietly, eyes solely on you as you watch your dad carry the cake over to the counter.

“you’ve asked me that almost everyday since we were 6, lee.” you chuckle, leaning into the arm she has around your waist. “and i’ve never once told you.”

“i was hoping today would be different.” she pouts dramatically, “but, alas, my dandelion keeps her secrets.” the hand she places over her heart makes you roll your eyes fondly, and leah simply continues her theatrics for as long as she can before getting distracted with a slice of cake — typical.

you can’t help but feel like today is different, though. maybe it’s just because your head feels a little fuzzy from the beers your dad had allowed you to have, or maybe it’s because leah’s arm had been wrapped around your waist all day and you wonder how you’ll cope if she never does it again. either way, there’s something in the air that evening, and you feel it close in on you when leah shoves a piece of cake in your face, smearing icing across your cheeks with a laugh so loud, you wonder if you’ll go deaf.

you freeze in shock when it happens, and even though you can see everyone in the room cracking up, it’s leah’s laugh that captures your attention, and it’s her smile that you want to shove a piece of cake into.

so you do.

war is declared that night, and despite your mum’s protests about getting food everywhere, you and leah find yourselves in a cake fight that resembles the great snowball war of ‘05.

your cousins and jacob join in, like all children do, and you can hear your dad placing bets on who’ll be the first to tap out, but your attention is solely on your best friend and how stupidly beautiful she looks when she laughs. you don’t know anyone in the world who could pull off a cake-smeared face so well, but leah seems to do it in a way that has your heart beating faster with more than just adrenaline as you run around the kitchen with cake in your fists.

you know you’ll regret this all when you have to clean up later, and you know your hair will never forgive you for the amount of chocolate in it, but in those moments where cake is flying across the kitchen and out the back door, you know you’ll be okay.

eventually, your mum puts a stop to it all and orders your dad to hose you all off in the garden (something he takes sadistic pleasure in as you all scream and run away from the ice-cold water, leah even using your dog as a shield while you used her), and your aunt ends up taking your cousins home before they could catch a cold.

people start to leave slowly, giving you one last birthday wish and a kiss to the head, until finally it’s just you, leah, and your parents.

your mum sends you both upstairs with a reminder not to stay up too late gossiping like always, and you and leah simply share a look before running up the stairs and attempting to push one another down them.

after you take turns showering and changing into some pyjamas, you both settle on your bed with the lord of the rings trilogy lined up for the 4th time that month, just because it was leah’s favourite.

“that’s you.” you point to the screen where gollum currently is, like you always do, and leah smacks a pillow down on your face, like she always does. “that never gets old.” you grin.

“it never gets funny.” the blonde huffs, stealing popcorn out of your hand instead from the bowl like a civilised person. “one day that mouth of yours will get you in trouble, dandelion.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.” she nudges your shoulder with her own. “and i’ll have you know i look nothing like gollum; i’m far more beautiful.”

“that’s not a very nice thing to say about your twin, leah.” you shake your head disapprovingly, and leah scoffs.

“that’s it!” and before you can even begin to comprehend what’s happening, leah’s attacking you.

the pillow that was once behind her head is now in her hands as she swings it down on your face, and you barely have time to react before it comes down again. leah’s laugh is loud as you squeal, trying to escape her wrath to no avail.

“i surrender!” you finally shout after far too long, and leah grins triumphantly from her place above you.

your breathing is heavy, and your cheeks are warm, but leah’s eyes are comforting. they don’t hold your gaze like usual, and instead they glance down to your parted lips with an unrecognisable expression.

“you surrender?” she double checks, holding the pillow threateningly.

you nod, trying to catching your breath.

“and you won’t say anything else about my appearance?”

“my lips are sealed.” you nod, watching as leah drops the pillow

“i can’t think of anything clever to say about your mouth,” she says, brushing some of your hair out of your face gently, “i just…”

you hold your breath as leah leans in close, lips brushing against yours, tentatively, for the first time.

you think about the first time leah ever kissed you when you were 6. when you had just learned how to ride your bike and in your excitement to show your best friend, you stopped looking where you were going. you had hit the curb and flown over the handlebars and onto the pavement. it was leah who pulled you up to your feet, and it was her who pressed a magic kiss to your grazed palm to stop your tears.

you remember thinking it was best magic kiss you had ever gotten, because it worked in taking away like the pain like all magic kisses too.

now, though, you know it pales in comparison to this.

you don’t think anything could ever live up to feeling of leah’s soft lips on yours, and her gentle hold on your jaw. nothing will ever compare to the way she slowly pulls away, smiles at you, and then pulls you back in for another.

you led me in your world until you had enough

the day after your kiss with leah, you find that she’s nowhere to be found.

you don’t wake up to leah’s arms wrapped around you like you usually do after a sleepover, and a quick look around your house tells you that leah’s not downstairs critiquing your mum’s pancakes like usual either. your dog sits at the front door whining in the way he only does when he misses your best friend, and you wonder why leah left so early and where she could have possibly gone.

you find that as the day goes on, your worry for leah increases. she hasn't responded to — or even read — the numerous texts you've sent, and even jacob had simply shrugged his shoulders when you asked where she could be.

you're pretty much moments away from reporting her as missing when you hear her familiar laugh in the park near your house. you wonder if you've gone crazy enough to start hearing things, but once glance out your bedroom window confirms that leah is, in fact, at the park. she's kicking a ball around with some girls you recognise as her friends from football, and you wonder why she hasn't invited you like she normally does.

despite every cell and fibre in your body telling you to close your window and pretend you never saw her, you find yourself clipping the lead onto your dog's collar and walking him across the road like you had a reason to be there apart from confronting your stubborn best friend on why she had seemingly disappeared all day.

leah doesn’t notice you — if she does, she ignores you — as you approach, your dog tugging the lead with the insane strength that only appears whenever he sees leah.

“hey, y/n!” one of leah’s friends waves, and that’s when the blonde finally looks your way.

leah reluctantly kicks the ball away, sending her friends chasing after it, and turns to you with an air of coldness that you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“haven’t see you all day,” you remark casually, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes dismissively. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, fine.” leah shrugs, patting your dog’s head lightly as he happily licks her hand.

“oh.” you’re not really sure what to say after that. you watch her for a moment, taking notice of the way she avoids your gaze. “did you want to talk about-“

“look, i’m really sorry but my coach says i don’t need any distractions. can you leave me alone?”

with that, your best friend (?) walks away, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“coach says i don’t need distractions.”

you wonder if leah sees you as a distraction, or simply just the kiss. you hope it’s neither, but the way she seems to avoid you like the plague for weeks after your conversation tells you it’s probably both. she spends all her time with football, and even in school she seems to find a way to distance herself.

and so you see less of your best friend as her passion for football grows, and you feel selfish when you find yourself missing her.

you don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for her, but a part of you deep down knows that it’s because you don’t want her to be happy without you.

she is, though. and that hurts more than anything. leah seems perfectly fine to spend all her time with her football friends, and you find that your late night talks have been replaced with an occasional text asking about homework that never leads to anything more than a 1 minute conversation.

leah doesn’t call anymore, and so you don’t either. she doesn’t knock on your door and beg you to come out, so you take the long way around town to avoid her house.

you still attend her matches — because no matter how upset you are at her, she’s still your best friend and you’d always support her — but she doesn’t run to you at the end of the games anymore, instead she sticks close to her teammates and barely glances in your direction.

drifting away from leah is a slow process, and yet you feel completely blindsided because one minute she was your leah, and the next it felt like you barely knew her at all.

you knew that i wanted you to bend the rules

how did i believe i had a hold on you?

losing leah feels like losing a part of yourself, and you hate that it’s because, technically, you are.

you had always been leah and y/n.

when one of you wasn’t in school, teachers would ask the other where your other half was. when your mum made dinner every evening, there was always enough for another plate because she knew that your best friend would be there whether she was invited or not. when leah’s mum booked that family holiday to spain in 2008, there was an extra ticket with your name on it because she would never dream of separating leah from her y/n. you would never find one without the other, and that’s the way it always had been.

leah and y/n.

you don’t know how to just be y/n.

you find yourself looking to your side to tell her a funny thought that popped in your head, only to be met with nothing because leah’s not around anymore.

your parents don’t understand when you tell them you’ve simply grown apart, and neither do you, because ‘growing apart’ wasn’t in the cards for leah and y/n.

leah and y/n were supposed to stay together until the very end, even when the street lights turned off. leah and y/n were meant to stand by each other’s side, even when you were being lectured for stealing dandelions from mr. miller’s garden. leah and y/n were forever and always, like you had promised when you were 7.

but you’re not 7 anymore, and leah hadn’t given you a dandelion in so long, you wonder if you still know how to make a wish.

you were stupid to think you were ever important to leah. how did you believe you had a hold on her?

you were always stronger than people suspected

underestimated and overprotected

you knew that leah joining the senior squad for arsenal was inevitable — she was an amazing player with passion for the game and a love for arsenal that could rival even the biggest gooners.

it doesn’t surprise you at all to hear through the grapevine about leah’s permanent move to london, but you think that fate isn’t on your side when you find out she lives close to your new london flat that you share with your friends from university.

you’re just grateful that your busy school schedule and leah’s packed football life means no accidental meetings in the big city.

except it does. because of course it does.

you think maybe it's because your body had been accustomed to being near leah your entire life that it seeks her out even when you know it shouldn't. you think that must be why you always seem to bump into her no matter where you go.

it certainly doesn't help that you can't resist attending her matches too. call it routine, or simply call it love, but you don't think there's a single world where you wouldn't support the girl you once considered your best friend. watching leah play football had been a staple in your life for as long as you can remember, and there had been too much change in your life for you to ever consider giving this comfort up.

you pretend you don’t notice the way her eyes always seem to find your figure in the mostly-empty stands, and you always make sure to wear a jacket over your williamson jersey just so she doesn’t know that she’s the only reason you’re still there when everyone else goes home.

after a particularly good match, a few months into the season, leah finally picks up the courage to approach you. it had been months of longing stares from the pitch, showing off whenever she was near your section, and trying to catch your eye at the end of a match, and leah was now finally ready to speak to you.

properly. for the first time since she decided to be a coward almost a year ago and tell you you were a distraction instead of saying the truth.

the truth was that she loved you.

leah had loved you for as long as she could remember, and she was sure that she’d love you for the rest of her life.

the only thing to do now was ensure that you’d actually be in her life, so she could love you up close again.

it’s after a pretty intense match that leah finally had enough to confidence to approach you (after a few words of encouragement from alex, of course). you were sat in the stands, talking animatedly with another girl about the game.

leah swallows the brief feeling of jealousy, and walks towards your seat. you look up almost immediately, like you can sense her, and your expression doesn’t change. you pull your jacket tighter over your body, and leah catches sight of the red jersey beneath.

she hopes it’s her last name across your back.

“big fan?” leah nods towards your jersey as she leans over the barriers slightly, her voice surprisingly not giving away the nerves she was feeling at being face-to-face with you again after so long.

“oh, absolutely,” you agree, your voice dripping with the sarcasm that she knows too well, “i just love vicky losada.”

leah scoffs, “you’re wearing #6, really? let me see.” she gestures for you to take your jacket off, and you shake your head.

“6 my favourite number.” you shrug.

“14 is better.” she taps the #14 on her shorts pointedly.

“ever so humble, williamson.”

“you know me well, dandelion.” the nickname falls from her lips as easily as it used to, as if no time had passed at all since the last time she said it.

like you were still leah and y/n.

she seems to think so too, because leah grabs her own jersey and pulls it over her head. “here,” she says, holding it out to you, “it’s not a #6, but one day it will be. for you.”

you hesitantly take the warm jersey, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“wait, let me sign it.” leah grabs a sharpie that someone had left in the seat beside you and you hold the jersey out for her, trying to keep your eyes solely on her hands and not anywhere else. “there.”

“how much do you think this would go for on ebay?” you ask, folding the jersey and tucking it under your arm.

“not funny.” leah frowns, the familiar crease forming between her eyebrows. “you have to keep that.”

“we’ll see.” you grin, waving goodbye as you step back.

“see you next week.” leah waves, watching you go.

it’s only when you get home do you realise what she’s written on the jersey.

‘call me?’ with her phone number attached.

your roommate wonders what has you smiling so widely for the rest of the evening.

—

things with leah don't go back to how they were — you doubt they ever will — but the new normal, you find, isn't so bad either. it definitely helped that leah had offered a sincere apology for what she had said and how she had been acting with a collection of your favourite snacks, your favourite movie, and a dandelion she had insisted you use to make a wish about her embarassing herself at her next match — which she seemed to think she deserved for how she had treated you.

you don't bother telling her that when you close your eyes and blow on the flower, you only wish for the best for her, like you always have.

you want the best for leah, and a part of you deep down knows that you don’t fit into that idea anymore.

you cherish the time you spend with your once-best friend, and you let her cart you around london with her teammates for months before you break the news that you’re leaving for good.

when i went away it was the only option

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution

the job offer comes at the perfect time. if you didn’t know better, you’d probably say it was divine intervention or the years of dandelion wishes catching up to you and granting you this once and for all.

either way, you don’t dwell on what causes your boss to offer you a position in spain, you simply give a grateful smile and ask when you can start.

you try not to think about the fact that spain reminds you of leah — of that family holiday you were invited to back when you were 9. you try not to think of the hours you spent playing mermaids in the pool and getting sunburned while eating as much food as your little bodies could handle.

you think you’d be able to find a connection to leah no matter where in the world you are.

every time you walk past a group of children playing football, you’re taken back the hours of running around fields with your blonde best friend as she dribbled past you like you weren’t even there — and then letting you take the ball back moments later because she felt bad.

every time you go grocery shopping, your brain subconsciously reminds you which foods leah does and doesn’t like, as if she’ll be popping around for tea like you live on the same street again and not in a whole different country.

leah didn’t take that easily, either — the fact that you wouldn’t be within in walking distance of her anymore.

you remember the way her eyes shined with tears when you showed her your transfer email. you remember the way she begged you stay, insisting that the better pay and higher position wouldn’t matter if you moved in together. she promised she would take care of bills, and that all you’d have to do is stay.

she didn’t understand that it wasn’t like how it used to be.

leah wasn’t the sun. not anymore. your life had to revolve around something else now.

spain is quite sunny, anyway. you’re sure you’ll find something new.

the most that i could give to you was nothing at all

the best that i could offer was to miss your calls

you settle into your new home quickly, and when you ignore the constant ache in your chest, you find that spain makes you quite happy.

leah calls more than she did when you were in london, and you find yourself purposely ignoring them for the sake of letting her down easily. you lived in spain now, and leah lived in london. it just wouldn’t work.

you wish you were a big enough person to pick up the phone, but you knew that the second you hear her voice again, you’d be back to square one.

the most that you can give is nothing at all.

try to walk away but i come back to the start

and it happens over and over and over and over again

over and over and over and over again

i wish i was over it, over it, over it, over it

even in spain, you think of leah.

you always think of leah.

you watch her games whenever you can — both for england and for arsenal. you buy a williamson #6 jersey when she changes her number and you wear it proudly whenever you sit in front of the tv and watch her play the game you had become so accustomed to.

the signed jersey from all those years ago is the one you wear to sleep. leah’s message has long since faded, and it doesn’t smell like her anymore, but the comfort it brings is the same as it always was.

every birthday, you find yourself staring at the candles wondering what you should wish for. back when you had leah everything, you could always come up with something new to wish for. now, though, you don’t know. there’s only one thing you want, and you can’t have her it. when you close your eyes, the warmth of the candles in front of your face uncomfortably familiar, you only see images of leah. you see her smiling, laughing, and playing.

you wish for her happiness.

you’re not sure what that means for you.

a hidden gem, my own goldmine

you had the wide and wild eyes

leah isn’t just your favourite footballer anymore.

she’s an inspiration to thousands of people, one of the best in her field, and you know deep down that you’ve done the right thing by leaving.

she’s doing everything she ever wanted, what does it matter if she’s not doing it with you?

you’re sure she doesn’t miss you, anyway.

you pretend not to notice when leah views your instagram stories, and you act like it doesn’t make your ache to reach out to her.

but you can’t.

you were a secret to yourself

you couldn't keep from anyone else

now you're the biggest brightest flame

you are a fire that can’t be tamed

you're better than ever, but i knew you when

leah williamson, england captain. but you remember when she was simply leah, the girl with legs too long for her body and a smile too wide for someone in the middle getting told off for tracking mud into her mum's kitchen.

leah williamson, european champion. but you were there when she was just leah williamson, the teenager determined to prove herself and make her family proud.

you held her when she had a bad game, and you cheered on the sidelines when she played her first match as a gunner.

before she was anyone else, she was your best friend.

but...she had always been more than that, hadn't she?

she was always meant for more than you and your garden bouquets and your late night conversations.

she was always going to be more than that little street on milton keynes, and maybe you had always known that you were doomed for heartbreak.

leah williamson had never really been yours.

not even when you were 16, and she told you she liked you the way girls should like boys.

she wasn't yours when she tentatively pressed her lips against yours for the first time on your 17th birthday.

she wasn't even yours when she promised she was.

she had always been her own person, and you were simply the idiot on the sidelines with your arms open for whenever she felt like being someone else’s for a moment.

she had never been yours, but you had known since the day she first presented you with a stolen flower when you were 6 that you were hers.

leah wasn't yours, much like that dandelion wasn't really yours either. because she had ripped it from the ground outside mr. miller's house much like she had done to your heart when she told you that you were a distraction.

you’ve had a long time to get over leah, and an even longer time to find yourself outside of being her best friend. but either you simply don’t want to, or that birthday wish you made when you were turning 17 really did come true, because you find that leah’s the only person you want even after years apart. even after leah had broken your heart and failed to fix it, you still want her to hold you at the end of the night and tell you everything she thinks and feels, and you want nothing more than to listen to her voice and the steady beat of her heart and know that you’re home.

you think that maybe it’s not a bad thing to still want leah. maybe you can start over. you can be leah and y/n again.

it's bittersweet to see you again.

you spend most of your time home falling back into routine with leah, much like the one you had when you were 16.

and while the conversations no longer revolve around who of your classmates fancies who, or how badly you think you did on your recent exam, you feel the same warmth on your cheeks as you did when leah first held your hand so many years before.

your inside jokes still make you laugh harder than any comedy show you've been to, and leah's arm over your shoulder fits better than that tailored coat you got for your 21st birthday.

being back with leah feels right, and that terrifies you.

because it was wrong, wasn't it?

it was wrong to look at leah and see everything you could've had.

but when she catches your eye and glances down to your lips with pink cheeks, you think maybe you'll always be the girls in milton keynes, and maybe the flowers blooming the ground would belong to you once again.

the grin on her lips makes you hot in the face, hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weigh on your brain as she presses her lips against yours like they were coming home, and you register her slide something soft into your palm as she kisses you.

reluctantly, you pull away with bated breath and open your hand, peering down curiously at what you now hold.

a dandelion.

“make a wish, y/n.”

you glance up at leah — your leah.

“i don’t think i need to.”

—

[moody-alcoholic]

The soldier next door.

I have been struck by the block, so instead of working on my main project I wrote this instead... Fuck it I'm counting it as a freaky Friday even though its 3am on a Saturday.

Masterlist

Part 2

MDNI +18 content

Summary: John Price x reader, reader is female. 3.2k words.

CW: MDNI +18 content Language, alcohol, masturbation, PIV sex, fingering. Honestly this is just blind first draft dribbles so you have been warned.

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

It felt like it was the hottest day of the year when your fridge decided to stop working. You spent a good 10 minuets prying it out of it’s spot in the kitchen to see if the plug had somehow come loose. When you saw it was still plugged in you turned to the internet, looking up the model number trying to find the instruction manual. You looked for leaking, listened for tapping noises, tried it in a different plug, nothing.

You reluctantly looked online and called for a repair man. He said he would be at least an hour, you could work with that you would have to get new milk but that’s not the end of the world- Shit. The cake! You pulled the door open seeing the smooth cream frosting already starting to crack. No this was bad you wouldn’t have time to make a new one. You pull it out wracking your brain on what to do. Surly your neighbours could help? It was a long shot, it’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday, they’re probably all at work. You play with the idea in your head then decide to try. You need to save this cake. You walk into the hallway trying the door to your right first knocking and ringing the bell. Nothing.

You move to the opposite door doing the same. You wait for a few seconds about to give up and switch floor when the door opens. A man stands here for a second you freeze gawking at him surprised he was even in in the first place. John he had introduced himself to you when you first moved in a year ago, but he’s hardly ever around must work overseas or something. He’s here now though, and he looks way more handsome then you remember.

“Can I help you?” He says pulling you out of your head.

“My fridge, it’s stopped working. I have this cake it’s for my niece's birthday. Do you have room in your fridge to store it? An hour at least I have a repair man on the way.” You say. He pauses for a second then moves to the side.

“Sure, come in.” He says. You follow him through to his kitchen as he opens the fridge moving things around.

“Do you bake for a living?” He asks as he takes it out your hands.

“No it’s a hobby, mainly for family and friends that sort of thing.” You say watching him squeeze it in, next to the microwave meals and the beer. You try not to be nosey moving you eyes elsewhere.

“I didn’t think you would be in, I don’t see you around a lot.” You say as he stand back up closing the door. He’s well built, looks older then you suspect he actually is.

“I work abroad a lot.” He says. “What happened to your fridge anyway?”

“I don’t know it just stopped working.” You explain.

“Have you checked the fuse?” He asks. You look up at him confused shaking your head.

“Mind if I come take a look?” he asks.

“Yeah sure.” You say. He tells you he’ll be back in a second and you wait sheepishly looking round his flat. The place is bigger then yours but it looks like it’s hardly been lived in, guess if you work abroad a lot then you don’t really live in it much. There are a few pictures though, you want to move closer to look but you hear a door close, he walks towards you with a tool box and you head over to your place. He crouches down by the fridge plug and opens the box you stand behind him looking over his shoulder.

“What kind of work is it, like offshore mining?” You ask as he unscrews the plug. He chuckles.

“I’m military.” He says, he looks a bit old to be military, you think. It would be rude to ask his age, now you’re getting a better look at him he doesn't look that old, he could even be late 30’s especially with how fit he is.

“See,” he says taking something out the plug and turning to show you, you take it in your hand you’re not quite sure what it’s supposed to look like but it clearly looks burnt.

“Just a blown fuse, I’ll replace it.” He says his hand going back into the took kit.

“Thank you,” You say putting the thing on the side and picking up your phone. You felt embarrassed, you’d gone to all the fuss of calling a repair man only for your neighbour to fix the problem in less then a minute. You make the awkward call to cancel the repair man, when you come back in the kitchen he’s moving the fridge back in place, his arms stretched out pushing it like it’s nothing. You try not to stare as he turns back to look at you.

“Thank you really, what can I do to make it up to you?” You ask. He smiles going down to pick up his tool box.

“Don’t worry about it it’s just a fuse.” He says.

“Please let me make it up to you.” You say feeling silly about the whole thing, you should have thought about the fuse, you should have checked that first. He sighs walking to the door.

“Okay, I have a work event coming up make me a cake and we’re even.” He says.

“Yes I can do that no problem.” You nod enthusiastically. He smiles as he leaves your flat.

“Okay, it’s next Wednesday, is that enough time?” He asks.

“Yeah plenty of time.” You smile back at him.

“Great I’ll come pick it up Wednesday afternoon.” He nods, looking at you like he is waiting for something as you stand in the doorway.

“Yeah, the cake sorry.” You say suddenly remembering the reason for all this in the first place. You try to hide your blushing as go back in his flat to pick it up.

——————————

When Wednesday comes around you’re a bundle of nerves. John didn’t tell you anything about what kind of cake he wanted, and you had been too nervous to ask. So you deiced to bake a classic Victoria sponge with some homemade raspberry jam your mother had given you. You can’t go wrong with that it’s a classic! You think to yourself. What if he thinks it’s too basic? Maybe you should have done a chocolate cake or something, red velvet always impresses people. You try not to work yourself up about it as you sprinkle powdered sugar on the top, leaving it to cool on the side. Fifteen minutes later there is a knock at the door. You go to open it. John is dressed up in military formals, you’ve only ever seen people dressed up like him on TV for royal events or the remembrance parades. He looks amazing, there’s a buzz running through your body as you step aside to let him in.

“You look good.” You say walking to the kitchen and looking through the cupboard for your cake tin.

“Thank you,” he says moving over to look at the cake.

“It looks delicious,” he says.

“You don’t think it’s too boring? You’re dressed up so fancy.” You say as you gently put the cake in the tin.

“Victoria sponge is a classic everyone will love it.” He says as you turn to hand him the tin.

“Bring the tin back whenever.” You say as he heads for the door.

“I will.”

“Have fun at your event.” You say as he steps into the lift, he nods smiling at you.

You’re out on the balcony sipping a glass of wine when you hear the door to the next apartment opening. You look over pulling your eyes away from the social media binge you had been on. It’s John, you feel nerves come back, you look away trying to ignore him feeling like you’re invading his privacy. The sound of a lighter has you spinning your head back to see, he’s smoking a cigar. So that’s where that smell comes from, you thought it was the neighbours above you. He turns his head and spots you looking you quickly turn away looking back at your phone.

“Hey,” he calls.

“Hey,” you reply looking back at him. He’s being lit up from the light from inside his flat. His features look so defined, his arm muscles look bigger, his freshly groomed beard casts a shadow across his face making him look older. When he puffs on his cigar it lights up his face and his eyes feel like they’re burning into you. It awakens a feeling in you, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while, maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the yearning for human contact but right now you want to fuck your neighbour.

“They loved the cake by the way.” He says.

“Good, what did you think?” You ask.

“Lovely, I can bring the tin over if you want?” He says. Yes please bring the tin over and fuck me.

“It’s okay, bring it back whenever.” You reply. He nods.

“How was the event?” You ask.

“Boring, they always are.” You watch as he takes another puff of the cigar taping the ash on the floor.

“You’re up late.” He says.

“It’s not that late.” You say looking down at your phone. Shit. It was almost midnight, guess the social media rabbit hole had gone on for longer then then you thought.

“I guess I lost track of time.” You reply. You watch as he extinguishes the butt of the cigar on the wall.

“Don’t stay out too long it’s going to rain soon.” He says opening the door to head back in.

“Yeah I won’t.” You reply. He smiles looking back at you one last time then heads inside. You pick your phone back up not even paying attention to what you were looking at. You finish your wine too flustered to focus on anything and head inside. You take a long hot shower trying to wash away the thoughts coming into your mind, the thoughts of John, of riding him till he fills you up, his face between your legs as you cum on his mouth. It doesn’t work, if anything it’s made you more desperate. You dig through your drawers for your barely used pink vibrator eagerly jumping into bed. That night you fuck yourself, coming over and over until your fingers cramp, each time moaning his name. You were well and truly screwed.

——————————

The next day early afternoon there was a knock at the door. You were in a world of your own replying to some work e-mails. You get up to answer it and it’s John with the cake tin. You blush almost imminently thinking back to last night, his name leaving your mouth as you came on your fingers.

“I washed it for you I didn’t know if I should or not.” He says, you take it out his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You reply your mouth suddenly dry.

“You okay?” He asks. No.

“Yeah, it’s hot.” You say. He smiles, that tingle comes back between your legs.

“Yeah the weather is nice for once.” He says.

“If you need another cake, let me know, or I can do cupcakes too.” You say.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles.

“Tea?” You ask, the tingle being replaced with nerves, he looks down at his watch.

“Yeah, sure thank you.” He says you move aside to let him in and he makes his way over to the kitchen. You pass him checking the kettle and filling it up.

“How do you take it?” You ask.

“Milk and a little sugar.” He replies, you can feel his eyes on you as he stands behind you, the hairs sticking up on the back of your neck. You put the teabags in the cup as you hear him take another step towards you, he’s stood next to you his hand finds the small of your back.

“Need a hand?” he asks, his voice sounds lower all of a sudden deeper.

“I think I got it.” You say looking up at him his face centimetres away from yours. You look into his eyes, he has nice eyes, blue they look almost translucent in the light. His hand pulls you closer to him your body turning towards him.

“Every time I come home I get reminded how beautiful you are.” He says. For a second you think you’re imaging it, maybe you’re dreaming, did you hit your head this morning? You’re stood just looking at him your mouth hanging open as you stare up at him. He kisses you his tongue working it’s way into your mouth stroking yours. You press your face into him as his hands grip your waist. His beard is tickling your face but you don’t care, he’s gentle not what you were expecting, although you didn’t know what you were expecting.

You hear the kettle click and you’re about to break from the kiss but his hands slip under your armpits and he pulls you up to sit on the counter. You gasp as your lips leave his. You lean back your head hitting the cupboards as he pushes his hands up your top. You raise your arms and pull it over your head as his lips kiss your stomach. You reach back un-cliping your bra throwing it in the sink. He stops kissing your stomach his hands working their way up to your breasts. He cups them one in each hand giving them a squeeze.

“Perfect, everything about you is so bloody perfect.” He says before locking his lips round one of your nipples. You moan your hand gripping his hair as his tongue flicks your nipple. Your other hand moving to your free breast massaging it. John looks up at you his eyes glistening as he kisses you again.

“Want to move to the bedroom?” You ask him between breaths. He nods, you’re about to move your body to jump off the counter but he scoops his arms round your back pulling you onto him. You lock your legs round his waist, and your arms round his neck so you don’t fall and lead him to the bedroom. He puts you down on the bed taking his shirt off before laying next to you, he’s hairy, of course he is, well built too, defined muscles, you’re looking at him up and down your eyes moving back to his face. His hand traces your breasts down your stomach your waistband, he’s almost too gentle, his touch making you crave his hands all over you at once.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” He says going back to kiss you before you can reply. It’s a deep kiss, a needy kiss, sloppy and hot your tongues in each others mouths. He breaks away first looking down your body. You grab the waist of your shorts and underwear pulling them down, now you’re being needy, desperate for his touch. He smiles moving to help you pull them off and throw them on the floor. He stands up at the foot of your bed undoing his belt, you can tell by the bulge in his pants he’s already hard, you’re almost licking your lips in anticipation as he pulls them down standing back up and throwing them to the side. Christ he’s big, you try not to stare which only makes him chuckle and heat rushes to your cheeks. He bends down picking his jeans back up pulling a condom out the back pocket.

“You always walk about with a condom on you?” You ask.

“Only when you’re around.” He winks, you blush again smiling, you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. You spread your legs as he rolls the condom down his uncut length, you try to keep your mouth closed as he steps towards you. He bends over you his dogtags hit your chest, as he kisses you again your hand wraps round the back of his neck and you run your fingers up his hair. His free hand makes it’s way up your thigh till it reaches your cunt. His fingers part your folds, he’s gentle making sure to touch everything, explore each part of you feeling your reaction. When his fingers push into you, you break away from the kiss gasping. He chuckles his mouth moving to kiss your neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out. You’re so wet, feeling your self dripping all the way down to your ass. When he starts hitting your g-spot you moan, his mouth leaving your neck to watch you squirm.

He pulls his fingers out rubbing the juices round your swollen clit making you twitch. He hums and you look up at him smiling. He pulls you down the bed a bit lining himself up with your entrance. You feel him push inside you and you moan with him, he’s big, stretching you out, you let out a breath as you take him all the way. You prop yourself up on your elbows looking up at him as he slowly thrusts in and out of you like he’s trying to test your limit. His free hand makes it’s way to your stomach pressing you down as you arch your back, you fall back on the bed as his thumb starts rubbing your clit. The new sensation makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as he speeds up his rubbing matching his thrusts. You want to move your hands to your breasts but you feel too good just lying there and taking it, moaning his name telling him how good he feels, he replies with a chuckle increasing the pressure on your clit making your body squirm.

“Like that huh?” He says in a low commanding voice.

“Yes- please don’t stop.” You pant as you get closer to the edge. Your legs start shaking as his free hand grips your waist, almost pulling you down on him harder.

“John-” his name leaves your lips as you clench round him.

“Yeah, come for me baby.” His words are like music to your ears you’re not really even paying attention just hearing him grunt and moan as he presses inside you, telling you how good you’re taking him, you cum arching your back, calling his name. He cums too you can feel each pulse of his cock burred deep inside you as he slows down bending over you his dogtags falling back on your chest as he pants his hands gripping the bedding.

You look up at him his eyes closed mouth open, after a second he opens his eyes looking at you. You smile at him and he leans down kissing you, a long deep kiss with his gentle tongue. When he pulls away he stands up brushing his hand over your clit making you shudder. You feel a sudden emptiness in you belly as he flops onto the bed next to you. You reach over laying up against him your arm spread over his chest.

“Your cake was really amazing.” He says turning his head to meet your eyes. You nod.

“Better then sex?” You ask a cheeky smile on your face. He chuckles kissing your nose.

“No, not better then sex, but pretty bloody close.” You smile reaching over kissing him.

[eucalyptus-lvs]

Good Luck Charm - Carmen Berzatto x Reader

This is the first story I've posted, but I have other ideas if you guys want more. Writing has become a new outlet for me so I appreciate any constructive criticism or any thoughts you may have. Carmy is such a fun character to write for and my own personal brain rot atm. I hope to do more in the future. I also like to listen to music while I write and I feel like Again by Still Woozy goes well with this one.<3

TW: Idk honestly. Mentions of dead brothers, debt, and a heated makeout?

"You think if you scrub any harder you'll put a hole in the floor?" 

He stood quickly. Startled by your presence in the kitchen. "What are you still doing here? Thought you left like an hour ago." 

"Well, I was gonna, but then I feared if I left without you you'd still be here when I come in for my shift tomorrow.” You took a few small steps forward. As if you were worried you'd scare him off. There always seemed to be this air around you two. One that was hard to ignore in the times you had spent alone together. “Then I thought you could use some time to wind down before I attempt to push you out the door so I tried to see if I could make any progress on Mikey's paperwork." 

"Did you?" Tossing the rag into the container and moving his hands to his hips. 

"I think that would depend on your definition of progress"

"Yeah, well I haven't exactly been able to figure that shit out either." 

"We'll figure it out, Carm."

He sighed and looked around the kitchen. "I've just got a couple more-" 

"Nope." You take strides across the kitchen to get to him. "Those couple things will turn into another couple things until you've managed to work yourself into an early grave from exhaustion. I mean you're a head chef and you frequently forget to eat. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke." You laugh, trying to reach for the keys to the restaurant. Only for him to snatch them off the counter and out of arms reach. "Carmy-" 

"Nice try" He moved them out of reach again. 

"Will you just-" You attempt to reach for them again as he manages to move them further from you.

“Oooh, you were so close that time.” Leaning against the counter, he barks out a laugh. Probably a product of the years he had spent smoking. 

“Cut it out. C’mon.” You said shyly ducking your head a bit. 

“Sorry, just enjoyin’ this way too much.'' He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his growing grin. There was something about you that he found so comfortable. He wonders if that's the reason he finds himself being so bold in this moment. 

Leaning to the side, you prop yourself against the counter next to him. Settling in and resigning to the fact that he is not going to make getting him out the door easy for you. “You were one of those guys in high school, weren't you?” Narrowing your eyes a bit. 

“An’ what kinda guy would that be?” He challenged.

“Y'know- The guy. Mr. Fuckin’ Popular. Had the girls lining up for you. Always good for a laugh.” Your teasing tone let him know that you weren't all that upset at him poking fun at you. 

“Think the only laugh I'd be good for is if you knew how wrong you were.” 

“Bullshit.” You shot back, shaking your head. 

“No, really. I uh- pretty much stuck to myself. Just hung around Mikey and Richie. The family mostly. Was too fuckin’ awkward to make my own friends. Had this stutter too. Didn't really bother talkin’ to anyone if I didn't have to.” This time he ducked his head. Scratching the back of it like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Well, you don't seem to have a problem talking to me.” 

He shrugged. “It's different. Different time too.”

Your eyes met for a moment as you both took a pause. “I think we would have been good friends.” 

“Bullshit. You wouldn't have even noticed me.”

“I would have noticed you.” You affirmed with such conviction he almost believed it.

Looking at you now he imagines that if you had met then his life would look very different. He wouldn't have been a couple hundred grand in the hole with a sandwich shop he only had because his brother killed himself. You would have been there for all of it.

Chicago, Paris, Copenhagen, New York. Every destination and every major moment.

You would have been together. 

If he really indulges himself, he thinks maybe even with a kid on the way. Of all the what-ifs that came to mind, there was only one thing he knew for sure.

You were the real deal.

He allows himself to stay in this bubble with you and before he can think about any consequences he responds. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. Nodding your head as you both start to lean closer.

Timedly you take your time to meet in the middle. Each gives the other an opportunity to back out, but neither of you takes it. Once your lips touched it felt like a shock to his system. You'd usually been so soft, almost cautious in your dealings with him. 

But this was not that.

You pressed yourself against him. Kissing him fiercely and with so much need he was worried that if he tried to open his eyes it would have all been a dream. Another cruel joke his mind had played on him only to wake up alone. Reminding him of all the things he never felt he could have.

Your hands card up into his hair, tugging at the stands. He lets out a deep groan as he switches positions to place you between himself and the counter.

He realizes now how much of a habit it is for you to look out for him. While everyone took the first chance they got to go home, you stayed behind to make sure he would get rest. Then, you took that extra time to try and figure out the clusterfuck of paperwork sitting on his desk.

You show no signs of discomfort as his hands begin to trail your body. Pushing you further against the counter to get as close to you as physically possible. He almost thought he could feel your heart pounding as your chest pressed against his, but knew it was more likely that it was his own. So caught up in you that every detail of this moment felt fuzzy and distorted.

So caught up he didn't realize you started grinding against each other.

One hand cupped around the back of your neck to keep you in place. The other moved down to your ass to aid your movement as you hooked a leg over his hip. His chest burned and heaved. Breath heavy from being cut off from oxygen for so long, but not wanting to break the moment. He wanted to give you something to remember. Not screaming during lunch rush or getting into a fistfight with a guy in a fuckin’ carrot costume.

Something good.

There weren't many times in his life he felt particularly lucky, but when he moved his head down to mouth at your neck. He'd never felt so lucky in his life.

Your head tipped back, letting out a chocked sigh. Followed by the ‘uh, uh, uh’ perfectly timed with the movement of your hips against his growing length. Gripping a hand on the back of his shirt to keep him in place. He imagines that this is the closest he will get to redemption, to happiness, after having spent years in the hellscape that was the New York kitchen. 

When he tried to lift you on the counter the large metal mixing bowl sitting to the side of you came crashing to the ground. The loud reverberation causes you to break away from each other. Effectively bursting the blissfully passionate bubble. 

Your hand moved to your neck where his mouth had been. Almost certain there would be marks left behind to remind you of this moment for days to come. As you both tried to regulate your breathing Carmy couldn't help staring. Opening his mouth like he had something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite articulate what that thing was. You slide off the counter and attempt to straighten your clothes while keeping your eyes on the floor. You always had a hard time meeting his gaze when he looked at you like that. Like if he looked hard enough he might find something that wasn't there before. 

“It's probably a good thing we got interrupted. Things were getting kinda heated.” You forced a chuckle. 

Shit.

This was it.

You're about to tell him this was all a mistake. A heat of the moment thing that you got caught up in and you now regret. As quickly as he had you, he was gonna lose you. Another goddamn shoe was gonna drop. “No, y-yeah. I don’ want you to think-”

Your gaze returned to him. “I think if we took this any further we'd be violating about a dozen health codes after you were just on your hands and knees scrubbing the floor.”  

“I could get on my hands and knees again.” He let out, slightly dazed. Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. 

“Jesus- Carmy.” you laugh, not knowing how else to respond. Sliding your hands down your face as it heats up in a heavy blush. 

“I-I didn't mean it like that.” But now he’s definitely thinking it.

He also thinks, rather darkly, that he's never been happier not to have an HR department. 

Truthfully, he didn't know what he meant by the comment. He just knew he wanted you and you didn't seem opposed to the idea. You haven't run away yet and that alone is enough to quiet the spiral he normally defaults to in moments of uncertainty. He had doubted himself a lot in his life, but he was sure with the way you kissed him that you wanted him the way he wanted you. “We've had a long night. Walk ya’ home?” 

“Maybe you could come up? I know for a fact you haven't eaten. I may not be award-winning, but I'm sure I could manage something edible.” The smile on your face grows slightly at the prospect.

“Yeah, that's uh- that sounds good. Let's grab our stuff and we’ll head out.” Hand grazing your lower back as he moved to guide you to the lockers.

He wonders if, for the first time in a long time, his luck has turned around.

[kaeddehara]

DIRTY PICTURES AT WORK — NSFW

[ tighnari + cyno + al haitham ]

♱ warnings — cursing + mild nsfw + bondage

♱ notes — minus kaveh :(( ; lowkey rushed because school is kicking my ass right now

| TIGHNARI |

tighnari is almost even on his phone even after working hours. he doesn’t see a need for it but nevertheless still keeps it on him. sometimes he’ll receive messages or emails and chooses to ignore them when he doesn’t even know who they’re from yet. but there are occasions when he does have a break and he’ll look to see if anything is urgent or needs his attention. but when he sees messages from you or specifically pictures, he can’t help but wonder what that could mean. he hastily opens up your messages only a reveal a couple pictures of you on his bed only covered with some very thin fabric he could only assume was a new set of lingerie you’d gotten to wear.

“i know you don’t check your phone much at work so we can have an even better time when you get home <3”

he’s more than happy he’s alone not only so he wouldn’t get caught, but also to cover the obvious blush lining his face. his long, pointed ears are probably flushed at the point too. his eyes scan the images you sent again and he can’t ignore the way his cock is hardening at the sight of your pretty body. he made sure to send you a message quickly complimenting you, already so anxious for your response. he made sure to save those pictures to his phone so he could go get rid of the problem you gave him in the restroom. trying to hard to keep his embarrassing, pathetic sounds to himself while stroking his pretty cock to the sight of you. all the while, he’s mumbling to himself about how he’s gonna treat you when he gets home <3.

| CYNO |

cyno actually doesn’t even use his phone. he won’t look at it unless you or someone else tells him to. chances are, he can’t even work it that well because of how often he’s not on it. so you when decide to send him some pictures of your cute tits only being cupped by a thin piece of fabric with a sweet message about how you miss him, he has no idea about it until you mention it. you’re all excited when he gets home and ask cyno how his day was and all those little questions you always do. it’s only until you ask if he saw the pictures you sent earlier that he gets confused and shakes his head no. you huff in annoyance but the second he goes to check right in front of you, you can’t help but smile at the shock on his face. he scans those pictures and message so hard you’d think he brain had stopped working for a minute or something. it isn’t too long before he throws his phone to the side and pushed you down against the nearest piece of furniture to have his way with you. making sure to cup your pretty tits while humming apologies and also some questions about why you’d send him that during work unless you’re just asking for it.

“you can’t even wait till i’m home is that it? you want me to get hard at work just so i can punish you?”

and you want nothing more than to being just a smile in that moment with cyno pressing his lips right against yours to keep you from responding so he can have you right now and make up for what he missed.

| AL-HAITHAM |

al haitham is always pretty tedious about how he goes about most things. work or just mundane acts he always does with precision and focus. when he does have some downtime however, most of it is actually spent messaging you or responding to emails that he may have gotten while on the job. hes very good about keeping his business personal and too himself and that makes no difference when you send him certain messages. at first, al haitham doesn’t know how to react whatsoever. he’s practically in awe of the dirty messages you sent along with those pictures of you freshly out of the shower in whatever sort of sensual position you want him to see you in.

“keep working hard and you’ll have a reward when you get home <3”

he deeply exhaled and tried to cover the blushing mess that was his face. it wasn’t long before his break was soon over and he had to get back to work. all the while, his mind would not stop thinking and imagining all the things he would do to you when he got home. maybe some punishment was due just because you thought sending him pictures like that when you knew he was working. he decided to respond to your message as to not leave you hanging, waiting for his answer.

“you’d look better with some rope wrapped around those wrists and thighs”

he knew he sounded so serious but also considered how much you enjoyed his serious tone he’d use when he meant something.

“why not show me when you get home kay?”

he had to turn his phone over at all the perverted thoughts filling his mind every second. all because you wanted to send him those pictures in the middle of his working ours WHILE there were others around. you were in for such a harsh punishment when he got home.

[cyberghouleo]

bodyguard! simon riley x celebrity! reader

To the displeasure of everyone I know, I got cod brain rot.

Inspired by: Celebrity by Slayyyter

When your manager suggested you hire a new bodyguard after your old one quit, you were not expecting a masked man with an accent to walk through your doors. 

At first, he sees you as a spoiled brat. He’s not used to being a bodyguard for someone famous, he is used to being hired as a hitman in more dangerous situations. He only accepted this job as the pay was good and his last job was nearby, but now he feels as if he's being toted around like a puppy, trailing behind you as you go along your normal day to day life.

Everything was a culture shift to him, he wasn’t used to following his clients while they shop or getting asked if you should purchase something, to which he always responded with “if that’s what you like.” He’s not used to sitting at lunch at a nearby table as your friends drill you with questions about him, questions about the mask and why he looked so differently than your previous guards. He was used to being in stressful situations, spending hours researching his client's attacker while being on alert 24/7, now he was just following you around with no immediate threats happening to you. 

While you're doing interviews or getting your makeup done before a photoshoot, he is sitting across from you in a chair with his arms crossed. He keeps his balaclava on and hardly speaks unless someone tries to deny him access behind the scenes with you. He speaks before you can, “I’m ‘er guard.” he grunts out as he keeps walking past them, following behind you. 

Trying to get to know him felt like pulling teeth, he’s standoffish and when he does answer questions, it's always short answers, even refusing to tell you his real name after you asked. You knew almost nothing about him, but that all changed once you’re alerted that your P.O box is being sent threatening letters, claiming to have a hit out on you. Ghost instructs that you are both to not leave the house until he can gather enough info about your threatener, leaving the two of you alone for several weeks.

These weeks alone cause him to slowly start opening up to you as the two of you have nothing else to do or talk about. You learn about his past clients, how this is his first high status bodyguard job, and his time in the military. He tells you bits at a time, not willing to spill too much at one time, almost testing to see how you respond to each bit of new information you learn about him. During dinner one night, he randomly speaks up. “Simon.” 

“What?”

“My name. Simon.”

It only takes a few weeks for him to track and find the person sending you the threats, and he reassures you that everything will be fine now. He doesn’t show any proof, but you trust him enough to believe him. The weeks you spent together did lead to some tension between the two of you, you are able to see a human side of him that you weren’t expecting, and you could feel yourself getting intrigued by what else you could learn about him. You scolded yourself for thinking this way towards a bodyguard, someone trying to do his job, but you also couldn’t deny the way you were starting to feel when you caught glimpses of his arms flexing underneath the tight black shirts he wore often. 

He slowly starts warming up to you and seeing you in a different light once he spends a few months inside your house. You aren’t as bratty or snobby as he expected. He tries to brush away any lingering thoughts as you ask him to help you zip up your dress, noticing how small your shoulders look under his gaze. Or when you ask him to help you put on a necklace, comparing how small your hands are to his when you hand him the necklace. 

The tension finally breaks when you are in a dressing room alone, waiting around as the photographer goes over the photos one final time before you could leave. You can feel him eyeing you up and down while you aren’t paying attention, his eyes studying the dress you were getting paid to wear and the way it hugged you. One offhand comment from you leads to him lifting you up onto the vanity counter, his mask pulled above his nose as his mouth finds yours, soft moans escaping you. Your panties are pulled to the side as his tongue circles around your clit, one hand pressed against your mouth to quiet you, so the staff doesn’t hear you cumming against his tongue. 

When in large crowds, one of his hands is always pressed against the small of your back as he guides you through the masses, the feeling of his touch lingering on your back even after he pulls away. His other hand resting close to the concealed gun he keeps at his hip, staying alert as his eyes scan through the faces to assess any threats. Crowds will naturally part once they notice how big he is and the way he towers over most of the fans.

The paparazzi gets a photo of you two together, Simon holding a few shopping bags as he trails behind you. The photo is captioned as if he was your secret boyfriend and your fans go crazy, tweeting how cute the two of you are together and how mysterious he was.

“Look, everyone thinks we are dating.” You say as you shove your phone in his face. His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the photo, reading a comment on how good of a couple the two of you are. He only hums a response and rolls his eyes. He expects you to have a different reaction, shocked that you didn’t find it annoying but almost enduring. The idea of you being okay with the two of you being in a relationship and not just fuckbuddies ignites something deep in his stomach. 

You definitely talk him into taking a few photos of you for Instagram, instructing him on how to frame the photo as he stares blankly at the phone. When you post the photos, comments flood in asking if your mystery bodyguard was the one who took them. You often post stories with him lingering around in the background, only fueling the relationship speculation as fans talk about him living with you.

After the media starts to report more on the two of you, Ghost starts getting more offers from other celebrities to become their bodyguard. He gives them no second thought as he denies them. He will get approached with offers to pay him triple and he still waves them off, he plans on staying loyal as a bodyguard to you and you only, no matter how much they offer him.

Simon decides to make the two of you official by gifting you a necklace with his initial, something you wear and post about often, sending your fans into a bigger spiral. He finds the fans both amusing and slightly disturbing, showing how much love they have for you, yet you only get to call him yours. 

[adventuringblind]

Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

[twig-tea]

Why We Are Gives Me Anxiety

I have been fighting myself on this We Are post for weeks because I wanted to make sure I knew what I wanted to say and was able to say it. I feel the need to say off the top that I don’t begrudge anyone who enjoyed this show and I’m genuinely glad it brought comfort to people. The show in and of itself, as 16 hour-long episodes of fluff (shout-out to @stuffnonsenseandotherthings for using this word to pinpoint the genre for this show, because it’s perfect), is not offensive or bad or wrong or any judgmental or moralistic word. And it does some things well; the centrality of the friend group was a lovely aspect to this show, and the chemistry in the friendship group scenes was on point. All of the couples have good romantic chemistry as well, and the show is packed with butterflies-inducing moments. 

That being said, I did not enjoy watching this show. I watch television mostly for the story; This show felt more like watching 16 special episodes for a show I hadn’t seen (I think this can be attributed to the point made by @italianpersonwithashippersheart in her post here that the show assumes the audience comes to the show with a pre-existing buy-in to the ships). The lack of overarching narrative structure of We Are gave my brain nothing to hold onto and I spent so much of every episode futilely trying to figure out how scenes worked with what had come before, what the show was trying to say, what these characters were thinking–all of which I knew was the wrong way to be watching, but it’s the way my brain works, so I spent a lot of the show frustrated. In short, this show wasn’t for me. 

But that’s not why I feel the need to write about it. Shows are fully allowed to not be for me, I usually can differentiate between when a show is doing something I don’t like well, or when it’s failing at its own goals. And I don’t begrudge people with different taste getting catered to sometimes; my refrain is that most problems of representation are not solved by calling for less of something, and rather than wanting something not to be made, I’d rather champion for more and a greater variety of content. And lord knows there’s enough BL to go around these days (shouting out @respectthepetty’s post along these lines, which I loved) . But We Are still worries me, and I’ve been trying to find a way to articulate that my concerns are not actually about the show itself, in isolation, but rather about how it feels like part of a pattern. This is my best attempt at laying that out. It’s going to get a little ramble-y, so apologies in advance.

Shout-out to @bengiyo who first articulated this anxiety in his post from relatively early in the show’s run . Ben gets into some of where I’m coming from with concerns about what this show means for the genre in this post, which as he mentions we've chatted about in DMs. I’m really grateful to him for these conversations because in isolation, I worried that I was being alarmist. It was helpful to have confirmation that he was feeling the same way so that I could get out of my own head.  

Ben mentions in his post that New Siwaj has been in this business a long time, and I, like Ben, have jived with him for years because he manages to imbue queer angst into his shows in a way that resonates with me, even when he’s had missteps. I'm going to lay out some of the major highlights of his work for those who haven't followed New for years.

He was an editor on Love Sick, arguably the start of the Thai BL genre as we know it today, and a show full to the brim of queer angst. He directed Make It Right, one of my favourite Thai BL comedy series. This show was also an ensemble centered around a friendship group (though admittedly it didn’t balance the friendship and romance content as strongly as We Are), and it covers so many topics that felt refreshing at the time and still are rare (morning-after sex visits to the clinic because things went poorly, hooking up on the apps, sex acts beyond just penetration, suicidality, I could go on). He also was involved in the GMMTV Waterboyy series–this was his first work for GMMTV that I am aware of. That show had a lot of issues but did explore internalized homophobia and bullying.

He worked as a cinematographer on En of Love, which is again similar to We Are in that it has several couples connected by a friendship group (and is several novels in one series), but each couple was given its own miniseries instead of bundling them into one show. En of Love also still dealt with some serious queer angst, especially in the Love Mechanics story [Sidenote, Niink, the director for En of Love, stuck with New and moved on to work for Wabi Sabi].

At this point, New created his own company, Studio Wabi Sabi, which he's said in interviews was to gain more creative control over what he was working on. And his stories became arguably even more explicitly queer and inclusive of queer trauma. He screenwrote and produced Love By Chance (which folks may not remember or know, but that core story starts off with Pete being blackmailed for being gay until Ae convinces him to come out to his mother and shut down the leverage for blackmail, and a good chunk of Pete’s character arc is unlearning internalized homophobia and not seeing himself as ‘corrupting’ Ae) and then Until We Meet Again. The queer angst in UWMA probably doesn’t need my help spelling out, but just in case anyone doesn’t know the summary, this show was about a queer couple who committed suicide in the face of homophobia in the 1980s, and were reborn and given another chance to be together in present day. I did want to note that in both of these series (LBC and UWMA) the core romance itself has no major conflicts; both AePete and DeanPharm felt like they were intentionally side-stepping so many of the usual BL drama tropes of jealousy and misunderstandings through trust and communication. Dean and Pharm’s story took that even further by having so many of the usual drama pitfalls for a gay couple just not be a problem; their only drama comes from their past lives, in a beautiful exploration of the breaking of intergenerational trauma. So many external threats to their relationship ended up being non-starters, and this was my version of a comfort series for that reason. 

From there, New started working with GMMTV again, and directed My Gear and Your Gown. This series was, to my knowledge, the first GMMTV BL series to mention HIV and to show characters getting tested at the clinic, and while it wasn’t perfect representation (didn’t get into PrEP, treated HIV as a death sentence), it felt like an important milestone.

[I’m skipping the sequels and specials he did for series I already talked about, because they don’t feel that important to the story I’m telling here and this is already so long, but I wanted to acknowledge that I’m not covering everything in his oeuvre.]

He then directed 7 Project, which had some serious storylines dealing with bullying and struggling with life in the closet, out of Wabi Sabi, and then Star and Sky out of GMMTV. Star in My Mind included one of the main characters in a beard relationship for years, and some controversy over the adaptation choices to make Daonuea (Dunk’s character) less polite than in the books. There was drama around the pronouns and characterization in that show (both Daonuea and Khabkluen use guu/mueng in the series, but in the novel, Daonuea uses rao; he also curses in the series and novel fans complained that he was too ‘masculine’). I thought it was an interesting attempt at a departure from BL character tropes to try to make Daonuea more evenly matched with Khabkluen in terms of his gender presentation in the show. Sky in Your Heart also included some angst about whether people of a particular station could be gay. Both of these shows (SIMM and SIYH) were also very trope-y, but they had clear throughlines. 

My Only 12%, the next show New directed out of Wabi Sabi, contains one of my favourite moments in all of BL, in which Seeiw sees Love of Siam and cries because it makes him realize he’s gay. There’s this heartfelt moment where he asks his sister, if there’s nothing wrong with being gay, why doesn’t the film let the gay characters have a happy ending? Despite the weird PSA ending, this show remains one of my favourites.

This is an aside but I’ve long been fascinated about this moment in New’s history: he played himself in War of Y, as a director of BL who is sick of being forced to make BL shows full of fanservice; he treats the actors with disdain and cuts marketable high heat scenes from the show which makes everyone nervous for the show’s future. Later we see him and the actor characters on set for My Only 12%, much happier. I ask myself about this moment at least once a week: Did he write this self-insert? Did someone else write the character and he just played it, and the similarities to his style were (were not?) a coincidence? I hope someone knows and tells me one day,

From there, New functioned as an Executive Producer of Dear Doctor, I’m Coming for Soul [I think this was the first outsourced project by Wabi Sabi]. This series’ entire plot is a metaphor for living in the closet and waiting for the time when the main couple can be together fully without having to hide. 

He directed A Boss and a Babe for GMMTV (which had its problems for sure, but also had Cher as an out gay man at the workplace dealing with casual homophobia in a way that was extremely satisfying), and then Between Us, which is maybe the least queer feeling show Wabi Sabi produced on its own, but did go into the issues of dating and the closet while trying to become a star (if I’ve forgotten something from this show let me know, I only watched it the once). One of the things that was so strange about this show was it being a sequel to UWMA but not engaging with the same themes. The only mention of real world queerness I can remember was the acknowledgment that they can’t get married in Thailand and Dean and Pharm discussing again going abroad and getting married there. 

Absolute Zero was a complete mess of a show; New directed this one for Wabi Sabi, and it has some similarities to UWMA in the sense of there being an attempt at saving the gays from the bury your gays trope, this time via time loop rather than reincarnation, but it did not take the issues it raised seriously enough (including the age gap created between the two characters by virtue of time travel). 

And that leads us to We Are for GMMTV, which as Pluem (@happypotato48)  wrote in his excellent post about this, includes Toey using nu and other 'feminine' or 'youthful' sounding language, but also apparently dropped the main conflict of the novel between Phum and his father (because his father disapproved of Peem).

Why did I go through all of that? Because I wanted to lay out how I've watched New Siwaj’s career go from finding a way to tell incredibly poignant and healing queer narratives (by creating his own company, and fitting these moments into the GMMTV series he did work on) to stripping out queerness from the shows he’s creating in the last year or so.

And this is a pattern we’re seeing more widely at GMMTV in particular, but also in Thai QL more widely. This is something that was touched on but not really discussed in the most recent episode of The Conversation podcast (the 23.5 and only boo! episode here). In both 23.5 and Only Boo!, the show faked out a homophobic parent and then treated their kids like they were silly to assume the worst, and I hated that.

Both Ongsa and Kang had internalized homophobia in their respective series. Both were terrified of telling their mothers about their homosexual love interest. And in both cases, their mothers told them something along the lines of 'of course I will support you no matter what'. In Ongsa's case, even though she was outed by Sun without her consent, she's the one who ends up apologizing for her hesitancy and feeling foolish for her concern. In Kang's case, the show never challenges his mother's assertion that she'll always support him even though we know she hasn’t (she was the one who wanted to prevent him from studying art before his father died), and it’s the audience that was left feeling foolish for our concern. 

In the GMMTV round table for Pride Month, it was mentioned that the decision for Ongsa's mother to be accepting of her relationship with Sun was made in order to model good parental behaviour for the older generation in the audience. In the novel, Ongsa's mother presents a significant conflict, but this conflict was erased from the show. I don't know if the same decision was made in Only Boo! for the same reason or not, but either way, the show definitely signalled to Kang's mother having an issue with Kang's relationship with Moo, and then said "sike", which I did not enjoy. The Conversation panelists were correct in the conversation linked and transcribed above that this wasn't the most egregious misstep either show made, but it feels like a telling symptom of the larger overall narrative problems that New is also now succumbing to.

It seems as though telling stories stripped of queer conflict is being seen as progressive, and possibly also easier to sell, and this is where my anxiety lies around what this will mean for Thai QL content in future. 

For the record, I am all for creating queer content in which we envision a better world for ourselves. But when that is the goal, understanding where internalized homophobia comes from and thinking through how removing parental objection will affect the character and the story is vital to the story and characterization remaining coherent. Otherwise it just ends up feeling like the show is telling queer kids that they're paranoid, rather than rightly worried (like I wrote about in this thread on My Love Mix-Up Thailand, where the same decision was made again to fake out a homophobic subplot that was removed from the adaptation but was present in the source material).

These choices speak to adaptation choices with an eye for specific moments and story points, rather than to a narrative or character arc, which is where it feels like they fall into the wider pattern of what @bengiyo, @shortpplfedup and @ginnymoonbeam were describing in their discussion: shows caring more about hitting specific meme-able story points listed out on a whiteboard than about making cohesive sense or having something coherent to say. 

[So as not to leave it out: I don’t think there were concerns of homophobia in the Wandee Goodday novel (novel readers feel free to correct me if I’m wrong about this) but the show faked us out about homophobia concerns anyway, which again really bothered me during that watch and which adds to the pattern.] 

Now, of course, as I stated up at the top there is value in the creation of different kinds of media. These shows sell different fantasies than the ones I want to see, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have value.All of BL has some amount of fantasy that it’s buying into, that’s what comes with the territory of ‘fiction’. The BL bubble (in which homophobia doesn’t exist and all men are gay for each other) is a version that is at its most extreme; nothing bad ever happens that isn’t quickly resolved within an episode, so there is never narrative tension, and nobody really needs to be that concerned about how anything will go ever. I do not find these relaxing because I can’t buy into the fantasy they’re selling; for me, the lack of narrative tension is so unbelievable as to ruin my immersion. But I can see why that would be appealing for someone whose brain is not always on alert and running at 11/10! The problem I am anticipating is when the majority of content is made that way, and when it is done in a way that takes up all of the mainstream space. I think it’s notable that the only show that’s really felt not in the queer bubble from GMMTV in 2024 is Cooking Crush, which was done by a subsidiary team within GMMTV (and the same team went on to make Only Boo!). And this is why We Are caught my attention and made me nervous; When a director who is known for his representation of poignant queer angst makes an entire 16-hour series in which there are no significant conflicts at all and the only hint of homophobia is in Toey’s reference to being bullied prior to the timeframe of the series, I get worried about who is going to be making the queer angst shows in future!  

For the record, my personal preference for comfort shows are the shows that do not pretend the world is perfect, but do depict an idealized subset of that world→where there’s a group of people that support one another through the bullshit of others and the less than perfect world that surrounds them. Shows that teach us to be kind to one another, and ourselves. Shows that say the world is going to suck sometimes, but we can be good to one another, and not lose sight of who we are, and make space for others to be themselves. A few of my favourite Thai series that do this would be: 

Bad Buddy

Cooking Crush

City of Stars

Knock Knock Boys

Miracle of Teddy Bear

My Only 12%

Secret Crush on You

To Sir With Love

Until We Meet Again

(and of course these occur in non-Thai shows as well. A few examples of my favourites: What Did You Eat Yesterday, DNA Says Love You, Light on Me, Oppan, Marahuyo Project, TsukuTabe, Tadaima Okaeri, Koisenu Futari, Joshi-teki Seikatsu, Gameboys, Hehe and He, Twilight out of Focus, She Makes My Heart Flutter)

These are shows in which there are explicitly external judgments on the relationships in the show and/or the characters for things intrinsic to who they are, and the characters build a support structure in which folks are encouraged to be themselves within that ‘bubble’ (Bad Buddy walks a fine line because it’s within the BL bubble but the problems that the main couple face are so a direct allegory that everything feels familiar; this is also the case with Tadaima Okaeri, which is both omegaverse and one of the most beautifully kind shows of all time). 

So for now, I still have the other smaller Thai studios including Kongthup Productions (who made Knock Knock Boys; we’ll see whether their latest series Monster Next Door deals with any queer angst or not), idolFactory (just finished My Marvellous Dream is You, which had a ton of queer angst, and is currently doing The Loyal Pin, which I have hope for on this front), DeeHup (currently making I Saw You In My Dream, which I’m holding out hope for) and StarHunter Entertainment (who made City of Stars, but whose record is a little spotty on this front; Their latest, Sunset Vibes, has not done a great job of handling the theme of office relationships and blackmail so far, and feels very much in the bubble) to look forward to. 

But as you can see even just by virtue of the caveats I included above, it feels like this shift is happening in the smaller companies too (harder to see a real pattern with fewer data points, which is one of the reasons why I picked on GMMTV–in addition to it being the largest media conglomerate in Thailand and therefore able to take it). Maybe it’s nothing, maybe I’m just an anxious person. Or maybe I’m just wrong about what would be best for the genre and for queer people in Thailand as well as viewers all over the world. But I, for one, would find it a loss if Thai QL decides en masse to pivot away from queer angst, and right now it kind of feels like that’s what it’s doing. In this context, to reiterate my original point, the existence of We Are is not a problem, but is one in a set of exemplars that raised specific alarm bells due to the people involved and their history in QL and queer representation, its deviation from the source material, and the surrounding shows that seem to indicate a pattern rather than a one-off. 

[steventhusiast]

Steve's exhausted after a day at the museum with his daughter. She spent all day running away from him to get to the next exhibit, and he spent all day fondly chasing after her and wishing he'd brought the backpack leash with him. The ride back to Hawkins from the city is about an hour and a half, so he made sure to rush to get on the train first to secure them seats at a booth table. Sam having a place to put her toys down is very important for tantrum-avoiding reasons.

So sue him if he doesn't notice that there's a man sat opposite them when he finally gets to sink down into a seat on the train.

He's leaning down to find Sam's two action figures he let her bring with her, when he hears her start giggling next to him. When he sits back up, he's a little startled to see a man with long, wavy, pretty hair sat opposite them. He's making silly faces at Sam, a book held open in one hand as he puts all his energy into poking his tongue out at the 4-year-old.

In response Sam blows a raspberry at the man, and Steve holds back a laugh. God, the man is charming him without even talking to him. He's cute, and he's unafraid to be silly to make a kid smile?

"Alright, Samshine, I don't think this poor man wants your germs all over him. What do we say?" He prompts.

Sam looks chastised, and goes from giggling at the man to pouting at her dad.

"Sorry." She says to him, but Steve shakes his head gently and pointedly glances to the stranger, "Oh!" She gasps, "Sorry, Mr Stranger."

The stranger just chuckles and shakes his head.

"No worries at all, milady. But please call me Eddie, Mr Stranger is my father."

Steve was not expecting that reply at all, and he can't help but let out an audible laugh. Eddie's brand of charming is a little weird, but Steve likes it. Sam, on the other hand, is frowning at Eddie in confusion.

"Okay, you have to call me Sam though! Wait- Your last name is Stranger?"

She asks, and sounds so excited about the possibility that Steve ruffles her hair.

"Unfortunately not. I was just trying to make your poor dad laugh, he looks very tired. You had him running around all day?"

The question is all it takes for Sam to launch into a play-by-play of her entire day, and Steve feels like he should apologise for her behaviour, but Eddie genuinely looks like he's having a good time talking to her.

"I'm sorry if you were planning on reading, I think Sam's thinking you're her new best friend." Steve chuckles after a bit, partially because he also wants to talk to this pretty stranger and partially because he knows how overwhelming a 4-year-old talking at you can be, but Eddie just redirects his bright smile to Steve.

"No, no. This kid's a better storyteller than any author. But, if I'm gonna talk with her any longer I feel like I should know your name too?"

"Steve. Steve Harrington." Steve introduces, and smiles at the man, whose eyes go a little wider at his name.

"Holy shi-shrimp. Holy shrimp. Harrington?" Eddie squints at him for a few seconds, and then nods and leans back, "Wow, it really is you."

"Sorry, do I know you?" Steve feels a little awkward, mentally running through where he could know Eddie from. He supposes he looks a bit familiar, but not enough for him to comment on it.

"Daddy stop talking to Eddie he's s'posed to play superheroes with me!" Sam interrupts them, and shoves one of her action figures across the table toward Eddie.

"One second, Lady Sam. Your daddy went to high school with me and doesn't even remember! This is blasphemous!" Eddie says before Steve gets the chance to say anything, dramatically clutching at his chest like he's in pain as he goes.

At those words Steve pauses a little. High school?

It's his turn to squint at Eddie for a second, and he suddenly remembers the renowned drug dealer turned super senior. Eddie Something. Steve never really talked to him, mostly because he was repressing his queerness and Eddie was hot and open about his freak status and that scared him. He racks his brain for Eddie's last name. It begins with an M for sure. Munson!

Wait. Drug dealer. Talking to his kid. He better not be doing that anymore. He distantly wonders if there's any product in Eddie's backpack that sits on the seat beside him.

Eddie seems to know the moment Steve's connected the dots because Steve goes from squinting in confusion to squinting in suspicion.

"You don't even need to ask. No, I no longer..." Eddie pauses to look at Sam, "I no longer am an entrepreneur. Or- Well. I am, but I'm a tattoo artist."

"Okay. Good. And before you ask I'm no longer a..." He holds both hands over Sam's ears and only mouths the next part, "douchebag."

Eddie laughs and nods.

"I see that. Can't believe I didn't recognise you with the glasses." Eddie says.

"Daddy." Sam whines, and dramatically shakes her action figure, "I wanna play."

"Alright, alright. Sorry, Eddie, we'll have to catch up at the high school reunion." Steve jokes, and Eddie pulls a face.

"Ugh, as if I'm stepping foot in Hawkins High ever again. You'll have to give me your number if you wanna catch up." Eddie says with a wink.

Steve blushes and looks down, and Eddie's words seem to catch up to him. Steve distantly wonders what the hell Eddie’s doing going back to Hawkins. It doesn’t sound like he still lives there, and Steve hasn’t seen him around.

"Unless, of course, there is a Mrs Harrington. In which case, I am so sorry and will play superheroes with your kid the entire rest of this train ride." He rushes out, looking a little embarrassed.

Sam giggles at the words.

"Daddy's not married, silly!" She laughs a little more after that, finding everything hilarious, "Now can we play?"

Eddie lets out a relieved breath, and glances at Steve again with a little smile, before putting all his attention on Sam and picking up the action figure she wants him to play with.

"Of course, Lady Sam. Only if I get to be the villain."

Steve reaches into his pocket for the tiny notebook he keeps there, and scrawls out his number before he can think too much about it. Robin’s always telling him he needs to put himself out there more. And Eddie already knows about Sam, which is half the battle for Steve when it comes to dating. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that Eddie’s just as attractive and charismatic 8 years out of high school.

Sam only looks a little peeved when he interrupts the intense superhero-villain fight she's having with Eddie to slide his number across the table.

[augustinewrites]

@sunasbabie — for last year’s bday, christmas, and new years gift bcs ily or whatever 🙄

suna used to have a really nice denim jacket.

it was made of black denim, bought from some american brand that cost him way more than he’d care to admit. he loved that jacket— he’d worn it over t-shirts in the summer and thick hoodies in the winter. he’d been wearing it on the day of onigiri miya’s grand opening and the day he’d signed with ejp.

he’d also happened to be wearing it the night he met you.

he remembers seeing you the night of atsumu’s new year’s eve party. remembers thinking that your dress was highly impractical because it was sequined and backless but damn— you looked good.

and no matter what osamu thinks he remembers, it did not take him so long to talk to you because he was feeling shy. he was just giving the other guys at the party a chance, is all. he’s nice like that.

atsumu, the drunken idiot that he was, had ended up dragging everyone up onto the roof of his apartment for the countdown. and you, idiot that you were, started shivering 15 seconds into the count, suna watching as you’d rubbed your arms for warmth and and suddenly turned to face, as if you’d felt him watching.

with 30 seconds to midnight and a shove from osamu, he’s closing the distance between you both to say hi. you have his jacket draped over your shoulders by midnight. just because he’s nice like that, not because he’s silently marking his territory and telling potential suitors to fuck off.

he even lets you leave with it, but not before exchanging numbers so you can return it as soon as possible. which you do, showing up at his place the next afternoon, his jacket washed and folded neatly in your arms, offering to buy him lunch as a thanks.

you’re the one wearing it, four months later, when he asks you to be his girlfriend. because ‘it’s just so windy out, rin. you don’t want my dress flying up, right?’

on cooler days, he’s almost sure you forego your own jacket just so you can steal his, and he lets you. you wear it draped over your shoulders when you walk back to his place after a movie. you use it as a blanket during longer car rides. there’s this fatal bug in suna’s system, and it doesn’t let him tell you ‘no.’

you’re wearing it the day you move in. he wasn’t going to make you unpack all your clothes just to find a jacket to wear to lunch.

you’d spent three years stealing that jacket. the denim is soft and well-worn, with a tear or two in the hem, but you love it. and he loves that it still smells like your perfume on the odd day he gets to wear it himself.

maybe that’s why it hurt so much, watching you brush your fingers over it as you pack away your clothes. you’d left every every t-shirt of his you’d slept in, every hoodie you’d claimed, in what was now his closet again.

but for this, you hesitate. a dull ache throbs between his ribs as he watches you hug the fabric to your chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“just take it,” he’d told you quietly from the doorway. “i don’t want it anymore.”

suna used to have a really nice denim jacket.

_____

it’s almost six months later when you call him for the first time since the breakup.

suna has to do a double take when he sees your contact. mostly because three in the morning and no one should be awake at this hour, but also because he can’t believe it’s you.

his brain and his heart are at a crossroads. he shouldn’t answer. you probably hit the wrong contact. you have other friends in the city, surely you would call one of them if you needed something.

but there’s that flaw again, and suna hits accept.

“hello?”

“rin? rin! hi.”

he sits up in the darkness at the sound of your slurring. “are you drunk?”

“no,” you lie, even hiccuping a little. “i just…i really just wanted to tell you—”

you cut yourself short, sighing. “that you did really good during your game last week.”

he raises his brows slightly, chuckling. “you were watching?”

“no,” you say again, much too quickly. “i just…heard.”

“i know what you sound like when you’re lying,” he reminds you, sliding out of bed and pulling on a hoodie. “and i also know what you sound like when you’re drunk. stay where you are, i’m gonna pick you up.”

you send him your location right away, and he drives over. he calls you to let you know he’s there, because he’s sure you’re not gonna hear your text tone, and when you step out of the bar—

he sees that you’re wearing his jacket.

that damn black denim jacket, american label and all. it hangs off your shoulders loosely, and when suna gets out of the car, he grabs the collar, pulling you closer and pretending not to notice the way you inhale sharply. ignoring your wide-eyed stare as he adjusts the jacket, doing up the buttons because he knows you’re gonna complain about the night chill.

“c’mon,” he says, pulling open the passenger door. “get inside, dumbass.”

the cute pout that downturns your lips is just like suna remembers. he closes the door after you, rounding to the other side of the car.

“did you tell your friends you’re getting home safe?” he asks as he reaches across you to put on your belt. “how come none of them came to get you?”

“oh, uh, yeah i called them but they weren’t answering,” you tell him. “i’ll call them now, just in case.”

suna watches as you fumble with your phone, tapping back and forth through the phone app until he grabs it from your hands with a sigh. he has no idea which one of your friends you’d called, so he goes to your recents.

only to see that he’s the only one you’d called tonight.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU [7]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 2,800

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: this one is on the shorter side, but I didn't want to leave y'all with nothing (ironically I wrote this while on a plane to my conference/vacation). The Las Vegas trip will all be one large chapter (someone asked if I was gonna split that into parts, but I won't). Part 8 will just be viva las vegas the entire time, baby.]

07: BEING VULNERABLE SUCKS ASS

"i don't have an explanation as to how you pull me in, you just do. you've always had a gravity that i've never been able to overcome." -JmStorm

The cost of a mani-pedi never seemed worth it to you in the past. You saved your money for other more necessary things like bills and groceries. Sitting in the padded chair with your feet resting in the heated water of the foot bath, you realized how much you had been missing out on. 

“I can’t believe that bitch showed up where you work.” Nima scoffed. She sat in the chair beside you with her feet in her own bath. You had used Joel’s money to pay for her to get a mani-pedi as well and that made you happier than the treatment itself. Over the years, Nima would pay for meals and drinks and times the two of you went out and she always did it nonchalantly and in a way that never felt like charity. It felt good to be able to buy her something for once. “How did she even find you?”

You shrugged, “No idea. Sugar baby grapevine?”

“Bitches do be talking.” Nima hummed. You chuckled and leaned back in your seat. This spa offered mimosas and you held your empty flute. Nima picked up her phone to shoot off a message before turning to look at you. “So? Viva las Vegas, baby. You excited?”

“Yeah,” You nodded once then tilted your head with a slight wince, “Well, I mean, I’m kind of nervous too. This is my first time going away with him. He’s stuck with me for a full 72 hours.” Once you started talking you found all your bottled worries spilling out. “What if he thinks I’m annoying and gets tired of me? I’m too scared to ask him if we’re staying in the same room or a different room because I don’t know what I want the answer to be. If he says no then I’ll be disappointed and worry that he is getting sick of me, but if he says yes then I’ll panic⏤ Is he not the man I thought he was and he’s expecting something from me? Or what if it is innocent and he got me a second bed, but then he hears me snore and thinks it’s gross?” You paused to catch your breath and realized Nima was just blankly staring at you with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Nima shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked past you and raised a hand to catch the attention of an employee. “Hi! Yes, we need more alcohol please. As soon as possible.” You groaned and hung your head. Nima let out a low whistle. “Is that what your brain sounds like all the time? Jesus, babe.”

“I know I’m overthinking.” You admitted. A woman came by with a champagne bottle and you thanked her after she filled your glass⏤ turning down the juice she offered with it. You took a long sip. “I like him.” Nima’s eyes widened. “Yeah, yeah, you were right, okay? I… I like him. A lot.” A hand drifted up to hold the sunflower charm on your new necklace between your fingers. Tomorrow morning you’d be boarding a private jet with Joel and you’d be spending the weekend with a guy you were seriously crushing on. “I know it’s so stupid to start falling for a guy who is literally paying me to hang around him…”

Nima sighed, “Oh, babe.”

“This is the first time I’ve felt like this since… since Nathan.” You said. At the mention of you ex-boyfriend’s name, Nima’s eyebrows furrowed in pain. You didn’t often mention him, hardly said his name, and it was in part because just the thought of him hurt. Whether he meant to or not, Nathan made you feel like you had not been enough. Joel made you feel worthy. You hadn’t even realized that the hole Nathan left in your heart had been so deep until Joel began to fill it with care. “Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

Nima reached out and grasped your wrist. “No. You have to.”

“You told me liking him was a bad idea.”

“I know, but…” Nima shrugged. “You seem happier these days. Relaxed. I can’t tell you if this is going to end well or not, I have no idea, but… even if this is just some kind of emotional rebound, I think it’s good for you.” You gave her a small smile and Nima squeezed your wrist. “Nathan was a tool. You deserve to be happy. Even if happy comes in the form of a cowboy sugar daddy.”

You chuckled at her phrasing. Joel did make you happy. The negative, anxiety riddled part of your brain screamed that being a sugar baby was hardly the same thing as being loved. However, for the first time in your life you were choosing to ignore the logistics of the scenario and just focus on how you felt. 

“I keep telling myself to just be like you.” You admitted and Nima’s eyes widened. You chuckled and shrugged. “You’re never scared, Nima, and I feel… I feel like I’m always scared. You just explore love, guns a’blazing, and I wish⏤ I wish I could do that.”

Nima turned so fast in her seat that water sloshed out of the foot bath. She frowned, “Are you kidding me?? Of course, I’m scared! Loving someone, opening up yourself to be loved, is the scariest thing anyone could ever do.” Her lips pressed together and she reached out so both her hands held tight to yours. “So, don’t stress yourself out over it. How you feel is totally normal. Being vulnerable sucks ass.”

You shot her a firm smile as a few employees came over to discuss any specific nail styles you may want. Worrying about it too much would only ruin the trip. You had already come this far⏤ may as well keep jumping in head first.

It had been ages since you’ve flown, literal years, and never had it been in a private jet. Standing on the tarmac watching part of the flight crew roll your bags to be loaded, you just stared. Eventually, a large hand settled in the middle of your back. Joel saddled up beside you and he offered you a small smile.

“You gonna board or just stare at it all day, darlin?” He chuckled. He wore one of his suits, but he had already stripped of his coat. 

You nodded, “Yeah, sorry, I just can’t believe I’m about to board a private jet.” Without preamble or question, Joel’s hand slipped from your back to slide down your arm and tangle his fingers with yours. It was almost a habit now for Joel to take your hand. He led you toward the jet. “Do you always ride in style like this?”

“Not always.” Joel replied. “But I will say that ridin’ like this has spoiled me of public airlines.”

“No kidding.” You chuckled and Joel motioned for you to walk up the stairs to the jet’s door first. He followed only a step behind, hand not leaving yours. The inside of the jet was simple but luxurious. Couches rather than single seats and one side had a booth like table. “I can’t imagine going from this to Spirit airlines.”

Joel snorted behind you and stepped around you so he could lead you toward one of the couches. “If you think I’m ever gonna let you fly Spirit, sugar, you’re crazy.”

You sat down and your eyebrows lifted when Joel walked toward the back rather than sit beside you. He briefly disappeared from sight, it sounded like he was speaking to an attendant, and you took that time to gaze around the plush interior of the jet. This was your life for now. It felt like a dream.

Joel walked back and he had two champagne flutes. Your lips pulled up into a grin as he settled right beside you and offered you a flute. “For the pretty lady.”

“Why thank you.” You chuckled. The two of you lightly clinked your glasses together before sipping at it. Despite the jet having, ample space, Joel sat close enough to drape his arm over the back of the couch behind you. “How long is this flight?”

“A little over an hour or so.”

“Oh, that’s not bad.” You hummed. “Is anyone else flying with us?”

Joel shook his head. “Tess is gonna meet us there on day two, and Tommy never comes to the Vegas conference.”

“Why?” You asked then paused. “To both situations.”

Joel chuckled. “Day one is kind of pointless for us to be there. All the work and meetings my company is involved in starts day two.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Then how come we’re going for day one?”

Joel shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “I figured it’d be fun to sight see together? If you’re interested that is.” You always loved watching him grow slightly nervous when asking you something like that because the smile he shot you after you inevitably said yes was damn near radiant. You nodded in excitement and Joel’s eyes lit up in response. “Good, and as for Tommy,” Joel gave a little shrug, “He’s got a history of gettin' involved in shit he shouldn’t. He’s got his head straight on now, mostly, but it’s just safer if keeps away from the temptation altogether.”

The pilot poked his head in to let you both know he was ready and suggest you strap in. You glanced around to see if there was a place you could set your flute down but the closest table was on Joel’s side. He set his own flute down briefly and reached out. You thought he’d take the flute, but instead Joel reached down to click your seat belt around your waist. It was such a simple motion yet you felt a warmth fill your cheeks.

“Thanks.” You mumbled. The plane taxied out to the runway and you quietly sipped at your champagne. You felt a rumbling underfoot as the plane picked up speed and when it began to rise your stomach lurched. Startled, your hand shot out to steady yourself on the closest object which just so happened to be Joel’s thigh. 

Before you could even fully comprehend how awkward this could be, your hand squeezed as the plane continued to rise— your only focus on the sensation of taking off. As the plane leveled off, you were able to feel other aspects around you, such as how thick and firm Joel’s thigh felt under hand.

He cleared his throat and peeled your hand off his thigh. Embarrassment flooded your soul, but Joel kept your hand in his. He laced his fingers between yours, shifting closer so his thigh was pressed against yours, and lifted your hand to his lips to set a soft kiss at the back of your hand.

“Are you alright, sugar?” Joel asked with nothing but concern.

“Sorry.” You shook your head. “It’s been a while since…”

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve asked if you were a nervous flyer.”

“I didn’t think I was.” You chuckled and swallowed the lump in your throat as the plane hit a patch of turbulence and wavered. Joel continued to trace circles against the back of your hand with his thumb and you focused on that alone. Somehow, his presence alone was enough to soothe your frayed nerves. You leaned your head against his shoulder and Joel shifted so you’d be able to rest in a comfortable spot. You really did like this way too much. 

Joel hummed, “Lemme know if you feel sick. We got a first aid kit on here somewhere with some motion sickness patches, I think.”

“I’m okay.” You replied, loathing the idea of him getting up or anything right now, “Where are we staying in Vegas?”

“The Wynn.” 

“Is that where you usually stay?”

“No, actually.” Joel said. “I usually stay at Mandalay Bay, but I thought you’d like the Wynn better.”

You were glad you were resting your head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the absolute stupid smile that crossed your features. He had changed his usual routine and picked a hotel that specifically made him think of you⏤ one he thought you’d enjoy best. Maybe the bar was just on the floor from your last boyfriend, but it was no wonder you were falling for Joel Miller when he did such sweet, considerate things. 

“Why?” You asked.

“It’s real pretty. You’ll see.”

The two of you continued to chat idly and you listened to Joel tell stories about past conferences and the things he was looking forward to and wasn’t. Your stomach had mostly settled now that the plane was smoothly soaring at its cruising altitude. So, you figured now was as good a time as any to use the restroom. You excused yourself and cautiously walked to the lavatory. As you finished up and washed your hands, your eyes glanced up in the mirror at yourself. You may as well have been glowing. For the millionth time, you thanked your lucky stars that Joel had somehow found you.

At the thought, you paused. This entire time you wondered how Rosalind randomly found you at work, but what were the chances that Joel Miller would randomly walk into a failing bakery and see you behind the counter? You shut off the water, dried your hands, and walked back out. Joel was using the plane phone when he spotted you.

“Yeah, we’ll see you when you get here.” Joel stared at you as he spoke, his gaze soft. “Just call me if you need anythin’. Mhmm. Right. Bye, Tess.” He hung up and set the phone aside. “All good, sugar?”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Course.” Joel nodded and you settled back in your seat beside him. 

You didn’t lay your head on his shoulder and turned just enough so you could face him while the two of you spoke, “How did you find me?” Joel raised an eyebrow in confusion. “At the bakery. Were you just passing by and saw me through the window? Or were you coming in for baked goods randomly?”

Joel suddenly looked sheepish. He cleared his throat, “It’s… Alright, this might not sound too good or flatterin’ toward myself.” You furrowed your own brows in confusion this time. “That week I was at a work site a few blocks down from the bakery. I had stepped off site to take a call and… and I saw you.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn’t break his gaze. “I recognized you from the coffee shop, figured you were going to work, and I… I followed you.” Joel closed his eyes and shook his head at the admission. “Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest creep. I swear I didn’t mean to. It was like… I was movin’ before I even knew it. I nearly followed you right into the bakery, but I stopped and came to my senses.” He reopened his eyes and there was regret and shame in his brown eyes⏤ two emotions you didn’t like seeing there. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I know it was stupid and I tried to stay away, but I… I couldn’t get you out of my head. I broke down a few days later and came in. Told myself I was just gonna pay you back for the coffee and be done with it, but once I got to talkin’ to you…”

“It’s okay, Joel.” You said softly.

“No, it really isn’t.” He shook his head. There was a firmness in his words that echoed the shame he felt. “I should’ve told you much sooner than this and definitely not on a plane 40,000 feet in the air where you can’t even run from me.”

“I’m not gonna run.” You chuckled. Maybe you should be more concerned than you were, but Joel had been nothing but respectful the entire time you had known him. Besides, the only thing you could grasp from his words was the fact that it seemed Joel felt drawn to you the same way you felt toward him. It could just be naive optimism or a delusion, but you began to wonder if it were possible that Joel liked you as much as you liked him⏤ as more than just the sugar daddy and sugar baby ties between the two of you.

You turned in your seat to lay on his shoulder once more. Joel seemed mildly startled by the motion, but he was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders to hold you in place. You reached up to play with his hand. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Joel chuckled, “I’m never gonna lie to you, sugar.”

The pilot came over the intercom to announce he’d be starting the landing process soon and you wondered if Vegas was going to be the start of a new chapter of your relationship with Joel.

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @fairntonorth @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @rinnfey @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @camiali25 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @hellooseulgi @str84pedro

[previous][next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[dadvans]

Pls tell us more about pregnant Buck and baby daddy Tommy 🙏🏼

Oh, GLADLY. I spent my entire commute home thinking about this after I got this ask.

Okay, here’s everything you must know about Buckley-Kinard Baby Begins:

Buck is shitscared fucking terrified to tell Tommy when he finds out he’s pregnant, because while he knows that there are men out there who can get pregnant, Buck didn’t think or know he was one of those men. And they’ve been dating for six months, and at the four month mark they had their first ever fight, because Buck decided to say “I Love You” for the first time in the same conversation where he was asking Tommy if they could stop using condoms. They haven’t even talked about kids. Tommy, Buck reflects hysterically, is gonna think Buck is babytrapping him.

He lets himself into Tommy’s place after the doctor’s appointment. Tommy is in bed, napping off a shift, and he’s big and warm like the best desert rock that Buck’s lizard brain wants to curl up on. He crawls into bed with Tommy in a way that feels so final, because when Tommy wakes up for good and Buck lays out the news that there is a baby—and more importantly, that the second Buck found out that there was a baby he knew he wanted to keep it—he’s probably gonna ask Buck for his spare key back, block his number, and ready himself for eighteen years of child support payments.

Tommy shifts, mostly still asleep, eyes impossibly closed under the sun seeping between his bedroom window slats. He’s known Buck’s been feeling like shit the past few weeks, and would have offered to take Buck to his appointment if it weren’t for aforementioned shift. “Howwuz doctor’s?”

“Fine,” Buck says. “Tell you more when you get up.”

Which is Tommy’s cue to pass the fuck back out, which he does.

And Buck watches him sleep, and the most horrible part is that he has this fledgling hope that he’ll tell Tommy about the baby and Tommy won’t think he’s a crazy babytrapping monster and won’t kick him out and will say, you know what, yeah, let’s do this.

Buck knows what it’s like to be crushed and this hope is crushing him. He can’t fall asleep under its weight. Maybe another hour passes before Tommy wakes up, but it feels like a lifetime buried under this tiny hope.

So, he’s a fucking mess when Tommy does wake up, when Tommy says, “So, did they figure out what’s going on?” and all Buck can say is, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” He’s pregnant, he didn’t know, he didn’t think, he would’ve been smarter, he wouldn’t have asked, he’s so sorry, and he wants to have this kid, he doesn’t expect anything from Tommy, he’s sorry.

Miracle of miracles Tommy just holds him through it.

The thing is, Tommy knows he’s not a natural with kids like Buck is. It’s not that he particularly wants or doesn’t want them, but until recently he’d kind of resigned to it not being an option, never willing to tie himself to someone else like that when he was so deep in the closet, and now in his mid-forties with no real biological clock ticking it hasn't been a priority. No, he and Buck haven’t talked about kids, but he knows Buck doesn’t have a malicious or insidious bone in his body, and being with Buck has made him realize there’s this well of love inside him that goes far deeper than he’s ever known it to.

And maybe it won’t work out, Tommy is the first to admit. Maybe it is too soon for them to think this is something their relationship can survive so early in, but it’s not something he’s ready to say no to either. So maybe they carry the burden of hope together, for this life they’re making together, and they give it their best shot.

(The sex they have after this conversation is so off-the-wall bonkers crazy intense that if Buck weren’t already pregnant, well.)

Later, when Buck’s had time to process that Tommy’s not going to leave him over this, that they’re going to try and make this work, that Tommy wants to make this work as bad as he does, does Buck address the second problem that’s bothering him: Buck wants to keep working as long as he can. He can’t be side-lined again. He tells Tommy much more about the lawsuit than Tommy previously knew, the parts that Buck is embarrassed about still years later. How he can’t go back to that, or won’t, how even though they’ve finally ousted Gerrard and Bobby’s back at the helm of the 118, he’s afraid that Bobby won’t trust him and that no matter how much has changed, he’s still replaceable to the people he considers family (not healthy, Tommy doesn’t say, but he gets it).

So, Tommy’s like: let’s take a week. Let’s look into this. He’s known pregnant people in the field before, there are proper channels to consider and protections to be made before Buck has his second pregnancy-related breakdown. They support each other through the next step, and it feels auspicious and good for this whole thing working out.

Telling Bobby for real still doesn’t come as well as Buck would like it to. He babbles. He starts out by mentioning he’s done his research, and there are lawsuits (he’d like to avoid) and more recent case studies on all these accommodations that say barring complications he’d be suited to some duty through his second trimester, and—

“Wait, you’re pregnant?” Bobby asks.

Buck stammers out, “Uh yeah. It’s not—we didn’t know I was even a carrier, so it’s a surprise. That said, it’s still, you know, we know it’s early—it’s really, really early, but Tommy and I talked about it. And we want it, you know, even if he and I don’t work out at the end of the day. It’s not unwanted.”

(And there’s something to be said there about both Buck and Tommy, two men who grew up feeling unwanted suddenly bringing a new life into the world, and knowing above all else that no matter how things work out between them, they’re going to make this kid know how wanted it is.)

“Congratulations, Buck, that’s amazing,” Bobby says. Smiling in a way that Buck knows he means it, in a way that makes Buck think, is he proud of me? I think he’s proud of me. In a way that he knows that despite all his fears and their past history, Bobby trusts him on this one, will work with him, will provide the support he needs now that he knows how to ask for it.

Buck gets to go to Tommy's (home) after his shift, and when Tommy asks, Buck says, "Bobby's having me refitted for PPE in a few weeks, we're all good to go" (all three of us)

[whumblr]

Eat your words

Crossed out - Continued from ch.4 - Prologue

-

Lucas dragged himself up the metal stairs to his cell, both mentally and physically spent. Sure, he was used to making long days, long hours. But those hours were mostly spend stuck to a desk, morning to night in an ergonomic chair, with tasty takeout and a sense of accomplishment when he went home. Now he was stuck in hell, and deskwork was replaced with manual labour for ten straight hours that left his body stiff and sore even after the first day.

All he wanted to do was fall onto his cot and sleep until that goddamn buzzer announced the start of a new awful day.

But unfortunately, it seemed he couldn’t just yet. His stomach plummeted when he reached the top and saw Nero standing right outside his cell, waiting for him. If only he had a cellmate, he could fool himself for a few seconds that Nero wasn’t there for him…

He nearly halted right in his step, but the stubborn part of his brain made him carry on as if nothing was wrong and he kept walking, albeit a little tense. The anxiety in his brain at the same time replayed the scene from yesterday at his first breakfast, where he had taunted Nero about expecting compliance from him.

“Don’t go thinking you’ve won that battle now, son.” One of the other men at the table had muttered to him when Nero had simply walked off and Lucas remained scot-free. He hadn’t put much thought into that. But he was pretty sure the other half of that war was going to be fought out right here. Right now.

“Good evening, warden Mathison,” he tried, upholding some sense of politeness to outright avoid a drawing of weapons yet still refusing to call him ‘sir’.

Nero merely nodded in response. “Settling in alright, Varga?”

“You know what they say about the first day at a new job. It’s exhausting. So if you don’t mind…” Lucas pointed vaguely at his bed and took a step forward.

An arm shot out, hand slamming into the metal doorframe that rattled with the force, blocking the entrance.

“You haven’t made your bed,” Nero observed.

Lucas followed his gaze. The blanket was shoved to the side, all crumpled up. Ready to dive in only to have that flat mattress make the pain in his back even worse.

“I was a little preoccupied getting used to the new morning schedule.”

Nero smiled. His eyes snapped from the bed back to Lucas. “Do it now,” he said, and removed his arm.

“I’m literally turning in the second you walk awa—”

Nero didn’t even say anything, just stared him down and Lucas instantly fell silent.

He hesitated for a moment, but then stepped forward, through the small door, right past Nero. He expected… something. A shove in the back, blocking the exit and caging him in to this box of a room. But nothing happened and he safely reached the bed. He pulled the sheets taut and threw up the blanket, smoothing it out over the mattress. He didn’t think Nero would expect anything less than military precision, so he lifted the thin, plastic-y mattress and tucked the sheets and blanket neatly under. So he could rip it back off in a few minutes.

As he worked, he could feel Nero’s gaze lasering into his back. The man casually leant against the door opening, arms crossed.

“Consider this a warning,” he said. “I’ve sent people to solitary for less.”

Lucas bit back a ‘yeah, yeah’ and opted to continue working in silence, smoothing out all the wrinkles and placing his pillow neatly on top. He stood straight, next to the bed, eyes fierce on Nero’s as if daring him to find something to criticize. Nero tilted his head in an ‘acceptable’ and gestured up with his fingers, beckoning Lucas back out of the cell.

“These hours, after dinner,” he said, “you are free to spend however you want. Seeing as you don’t know the rules yet, not to mention there’s paperwork for you to go over, you’ll spend these hours in my office. Every day. After dinner.”

Lucas soured. “For how long?”

“Until you get it.”

“Get what?”

“The basic rules and basic manners expected of you here. Or until you sign. Up to you. I’ll expect you tomorrow at seven pm first.”

So much for his plans to just sleep early and escape reality every night. “Right,” Lucas merely said.

Wrong answer.

“Varga…” the man almost tutted, a fake disappointment in his tone and he stepped closer. “You’re a lawyer,” he continued like a patient teacher coaching a stubborn student. “I know this isn’t the first time you’ve heard or uttered the word ‘sir’. If it makes things easier, you can think of me as the judge. Your judge.”

“Is that what you fancy yourself to be here?”

“Here?” Nero laughed, inched closer standing directly in front of him and whispered: “Here, I am so much more.”

Before Lucas could even brace himself, a hand shot out and slammed into his throat. The enormous force threw him against the bars of the cell. His body crashing against the metal echoed through the room, the only thing even resembling a cry for help as all his air was cut off.

Some men on the other side of the room startled from the loud noise. They glanced over, but as soon as they saw what was going on, they quickly averted their eyes again, literally turning their back on Lucas. They continued their hushed conversation, ignoring him. Leaving him helpless and choking.

“What was it you said?” Nero spoke calmly, drawing closer. “Don’t hold your breath on it?”

The metal bars pressed against his back like they were trying to work right under his shoulder blades. Hands clawed up, trying to pull at the fingers digging tighter around his throat. Absolutely useless. Like trying to pry the bars of his cell apart. Lucas gurgled a sound of surrender, a sound that turned to a high-pitched yelp of surprise in his throat as his feet came off the ground.

Eyes widened, brain in full denial as Nero just fucking lifted him right off the floor with one hand. Slowly, sliding him up against the metal as if he weighed nothing, until they were at eye height.

There was no emotion in those grey eyes. No urgency. Just a silent expectation.

Whereas Lucas’ eyes contained every emotion he had. They all mingled into a wild panic. He couldn’t breathe. Could only struggle and flail against the vice grip around his throat, against the perplexity of this situation. He pulled at Nero’s arm, lightly kicked his feet but didn’t dare to but any weight behind it.

He tried to nod, shake his head, anything to show that, yeah! Okay! He got it!

And all of a sudden the bruising force on his throat released and he dropped back to the floor like a ragdoll.

He heaved in a breath, coughed it out again as too much air filled his lungs. He clutched a hand to his chest, forcing himself to calm down, forcing a measure of control back to his body. Trembling all over, he rolled to his knees trying not to double over.

“Have I made myself clear?” The cold voice above him broke through his daze.

Lucas panted hard, hand now cradling his bruised throat, the other on one of the bars as he tried to pull himself back up into a somewhat more dignified position than hunched over Nero’s boots. He fought the urge to wheeze out a ‘crystal’, but looked up and merely whispered, “Yes sir”.

Nero nodded and turned away from him. “Tomorrow. Seven pm.”

-

Continued here

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop

@andithewhumper @tippytappytyping @suspicious-whumping-egg

@cherrychupachup

[emssturniolo]

phone charger

pairing: christopher sturniolo x reader

summary: going to get your charger from chris's room escalated to a love confession

a/n: not me spending two hours on this

you and the triplets had become friends last year after meeting at a movie premiere. you were sat next to nick, who knew who you were, and immediately became best friend with him and madi, who was sitting next to him. the movie had taken a long time to start, and in that half an hour you got to know nick, madi, and nick's two triplet brothers, matt and chris. you had exchanged numbers at the end of the event and kept in touch, which eventually led to you five become extremely close friends. you weren't originally from la, but you spent quite some time there, and it quickly become more of a frequent habit to stay longer as you grew closer to your new friends and spent your time in la at their house, instead of staying at an airbnb. the five of you were inseparable, and as much as you loved the first few months of getting to know each other, you enjoyed their company much better now, a year later, that you knew all of them inside out. yet, though you loved all of them equally, there was something which drew you to chris from the very start

you hadn't taken notice of it that first day, but you eyes kept drifting behind nick and madi while you were talking to either of them to catch a quick glance at chris. the way he was so effortlessly angelic to you was baffling, and that feeling of wanting to get to know him never left you, even now that you were close friends. it took you a while to admit to yourself that you were in love with him, but once you did the attraction that drew you to him only became stronger. you couldn't explain it, really. it was just there. your body became dependant on the warm feeling he gave you, but you had no idea how to tell him that without freaking him out

right now, you were sitting on the couch of their living room in their house in LA on your laptop, while the boys were out filming a car video. you checked your phone for the time: it was around two in the morning. you realised your phone was about to die, so you got up to get your charger but you couldn't find it. remembering you had given it to chris earlier that day since he had left his in the car, you went to his room to get it. as soon as you entered his room you got a comforting feeling from the strong scent of his cologne. it was a quest to say the least, to find your charger in the mess of his room. while you were looking for it, you heard a sleepy ‘hey’ come from behind you. you jumped and turned around:

“shit chris, you scared me!” you said, heart still beating fast from the fright he gave you. he laughed tiredly, and walked to the bed to set his phone down. “came in here to grab my charger. how was filming?” you asked, noticing his tired demeanor. “good,” he replied “just super tired. didn't sleep much last night..” you furrowed your eyebrows, asking him another question, “how come?”. he sat on the bed and closed his eyes: “i don't know, i couldn't shut my brain off” you gave him a sad smile, internally wishing you could have been lying next to him to comfort him, little did you know you were the one keeping him up

see the thing was, you had accepted the things you felt for him, he however, did not know what to do with the things he felt for you. he was so down bad in love with you, and neither of you had ever experienced romantic feelings for anyone before, but he didn't know how to handle it. it killed him to think that there was a chance that he could lose you because he felt something he couldn't control. yet, it also killed him to think that if he didn't do anything about the way he felt, he could still lose you to someone else. so he was just left confused, because he was a little slower with realising that what he felt for you was more than just close-platonic-friendship-love

he patted the space next to him on the bed and you obliged, setting the charger you initially went in for down on his desk and crawling next to him on his bed. you wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your stomach. you melted to his touch, but thought nothing of it, since he always got very affectionate at night. your hands found their way to his hair automatically, like they were made with the intention to do so. you lightly scratched his scalp and he let out a content sigh. in that exact moment, you wished you could see the yourself and him from another person's perspective, and paint a picture of the two of you to hand up in the louvre, because to you, this was the most perfect piece of art. and it truly was, unbeknownst to the two of you: just two oblivious lovers molding together by the touch of one another

you were quickly brought out of your train of thought when chris lifted his head to look at you, his pupils so dilated they had almost fully swallowed the blue. he smiled softly and spoke in a fragile voice: “i love you” he said. his words shocked you to say the least, but you tried to keep calm. “i love you too” your voice was shaky, but you hoped he wouldn't notice

“i want to say something but i don't know if i should, don't want you to hate me”

“i won't can hate you, chris” you say, slightly giggling

“not even if i told you i couldn't sleep last night because of you, like in a good way?”

“what do you mean?” your cheeks started to tint pink

“you know what i mean, goof. don't make me say it”

“i might, but i'd like to heart you say it”

“stopppp” he dragged out, covering his face with one of his hands. the other still resting between his head and you stomach

“no, say it” you giggled as much as you could, since he was still lying on top of you

“i love you, you goof. i'm really tired right now but i just can't stand not being able to kiss you when i'm tired and sleep in your arms like this...”

“yeah?” you teased him a bit, the way he teases you whenever you're tired

“i want to be your boyfrienddd” he says, his lips melting into a smile

“you can be my boyfriend,” you said “but only if i can be your girlfriend”

“word” he said “now stop talking kid, i'm tired”

without a word, you shifted your bodies so you were both under the covers. your heads resting on his pillow, you gave him a small kiss on his lips (which were soft, and perfectly made to fit yours) and you spent the night there, your phone long forgotten to be charged, but you appreciated your phone for having the need to be charged, or else none of this would have happened

[seethesin]

shane relationship hcs??

pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader

tags/warnings: meet cutes, dating cliches, explicit sexual content near the end (18+, mdni)

a/n: i can't deny you anything involving shane, anon! 😇 this is not proofread, just a complete stream of consciousness. enjoy!

The two of you met while grocery shopping. You were shopping for the week while Shane stopped in to grab a case of Dos Equis and a few things to host the get together she and Jenny had planned

You swiped the bag of chips Shane was about to grab, knocking knuckles into each other

Shane's not one to get flustered or thrown off center, but she was not expecting to meet you in such a mundane place

The first thing your brain comprehends is just how good she looks in her ripped jeans and dress shirt

She manages to get a sentence out first, maintaining her signature coolness: "You know, I got some company expecting me to come back with those cheddar jalapeño chips"

You hum as if genuinely considering giving them up before smiling brightly and placing them in your cart

"You snooze, you lose!" you call over your shoulder, leaving Shane stunned behind you. You miss the tiny smile that tugs at her lips as she searches for another snack

While you're walking down the checkout, you notice Shane waiting in one of the lanes Immediately, you station yourself behind her and take a moment to build your confidence

"Hey," You grab her attention and Shane turns around, her green eyes practically gleaming once she realizes it's you again

"I'll trade you the chips for a date"

You don't miss the surprised quirk of her brows or the way her lips grow into a pleased grin at your exclamation

"Deal"

And so, one date turns into three which turns into so many you lose count

You learn quickly that Shane can be a gentlewoman. She's always holding doors open for you, offering you her arm when you walk together, and draping her leather jacket over you when you're cold

Each action only seems to impress you more and you refuse to admit it out loud, but you're smitten with her

As the two of you learn more about each other, you notice just how much Shane takes an interest in your passions

She can actively listen to you talk about something you love for hours: whether it has to do with your career, your education, or even that TV show you spent the weekend binging

If something makes you happy, you can guarantee that at some point, Shane has made a mental note of it so she can touch on it later on

The love languages Shane shows to you are physical touch and acts of service

Shane can't keep her hands to herself

She always finds a way to touch you: whether it be a chaste hand on your back, a protective arm around your waist, or her mischievous mouth on the nape of your neck

Your bodies fit one another like gloves. That fact does not go past either of you; it was as if you were made for each other

Meanwhile, Shane is the first person you go to when you want some sort of help

Being wanted does something to Shane and to be wanted by you? It makes her go absolutely crazy

She's not a fixer per se, but will always provide the assistance she feels she can for you

Need a ride? She's got you covered. Need some advice? She'll say her peace but will ask you to take it with a grain of salt. Need a hand? Oh, well she'll be happy to provide that in more ways than one

Also, do I even have to say it? As soon as you two officially enter a relationship, Shane is your personal hairdresser

You let her try just about any hairstyle on you that she can think of; the feeling of her fingers against your scalp is enough to make you melt on the spot

Whatever she chooses for you that day is always flattering and you can't get enough of yourself in the mirror

Shane will bend forward, grinning in satisfaction as she tidies up your new hairdo

"Look at my pretty girl," she'll rasp, pressing kisses to your temple as she watches you blush eagerly

By the way, the sex is to die for

Shane truly aims to please and is always so hyperfocus on your pleasure every single time the two of you get between the sheets

Whether she's fucking you with her hands, mouth, or strap, she adores being able to watch you throughout it

She loves to overstimulate you, seeing just how far she can push you until you can't take it anymore

Her favorite way to fuck you is with you in her lap, her fingers buried in your pussy while you face her. Your hands are gripped on her shoulders as you bob mindlessly

Your greedy cunt swallows her digits easily as you pant and keen.

Shane can't stop herself from teasing you: "Such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers, huh?"

You dissolve into a whimpering, whining mess, and once she curls her fingers inside you, you cum so suddenly you don't have time to process it

Her thumb is stroking your clit and another orgasm ripples through your body

Your shuddering on Shane's fingers and she leans in closer, trailing hot kisses down your throat

"How many more can you give me tonight?"

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 4: First Cookout

Sarah invites you to Joel's place to celebrate the last night she's in town. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. Because obviously smut. It's these two, they fuck. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“And this is going to be your desk,” you smiled, excited but keeping your voice down. Sarah made a quiet squeal back at you. “See, I can see you from my desk so you can make faces at me while I’m dealing with the boring accounts people. I’m manifesting it, I swear I am.” 

“I’m seriously about to make a fucking moodboard if it’ll help,” she sat on the desk, her legs dangling over the edge. “I miss Austin. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much but I really do. Seattle was way more fun when you were there, now all I do is try to convince myself that my job is totally worth the 500 days of rain we get every year.”

You laughed.

“Something tells me it’s not quite that many.” 

“Feels like that many,” she rolled her eyes. “Now please. I need BBQ.” 

You shook your head and laughed before heading to the elevators to go to lunch with your best friend. 

Joel had texted you a warning with his usual good morning text that day. 

“Good morning, Beautiful,” he wrote. “Really miss feeling you right before I fall asleep. Please tell me you’re not busy tomorrow night. Heads up, expect Sarah to drop in on you today. I have to be at a site for a few hours and she mentioned stopping by your office. She’ll probably invite you to the cookout we’re having tonight - up to you if you want to come.” 

You frowned when you read it. “Up to you if you want to come.” What the fuck did that mean? 

“Miss feeling you too,” you added a heart emoji. “Only plans I have for tomorrow night involve you ripping my clothes off.” 

You rapped your nails against your phone, waiting to see if he’d text back before you started getting ready for the day but he didn’t. You sighed. He probably had to be on site early and couldn’t use his phone. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, putting your face in your pillow and groaning. How were you supposed to navigate this? 

Did Joel want you to come but was trying to keep the pressure off? Did he not want you anywhere near him when Sarah was in town? 

Yes, he’d spent a fair bit of time fucking your brains out over the past few weeks but, in reality, he wasn’t anything to you. He was a guy you’d gone out with once, he wasn’t your boyfriend, he didn’t have to invite you over for anything let alone something that might make him feel uncomfortable because you were friends with his kid. Even though, to you, he felt like so much more than some guy you were fucking. So, so much more. 

And also your best friend’s dad. 

Because fate was a cruel, cruel thing. 

You checked your phone every few minutes as you got ready for work but the messages sat on delivered. You sighed and resisted the urge to text again and just kept checking your phone every few minutes in your office, too. 

“Wouldn’t argue with some help in the clothing removal department,” he wrote. “I’m going to want you naked fast. Requesting something with easy access so I can get inside you ASAP.” 

You smiled and shook your head a little. 

“Still warm enough for a sundress,” you sent a winky face emoji with that and briefly considered going to the bathroom to take a selfie that involved an unprofessional amount of cleavage. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sent back. “Pull me in a restroom wearing one of those and we’re not stopping at you humping my leg.” 

“Counting on it,” you wrote, smiling a little wider before deciding to just bite the bullet. “Did you want me to go tonight? If Sarah asks?” 

“What’s go you smiling so big?” 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you saw Sarah leaning against the doorframe to your office. 

“Good lord, girl, we gotta put a bell on you,” you smiled anyway, being sure to lock your phone before getting up to hug her. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dad had some client issue so I figure I’d come visit my bestie,” she gave you a squeeze before stepping back from you. “Plus I’m dying to see where I’m going to commute to every day once they finally let me come here.” 

Sarah picked the restaurant, a BBQ place that wasn’t far from your office and only offered wooden picnic tables sitting under a rusted metal awning for seating. 

“Oh this is going to be good shit,” you said, taking a deep breath, the smell of smoked meat heavy on the air. “I can tell.” 

“Knew you’d love this place,” she smiled. “Kind of surprised my dad hasn’t taken you here already, actually.” 

You froze for half a second before regaining your composure. 

“We’ve only gone out the one time since the first time we met up,” you shrugged. “Can’t exactly show me the entire city in that time.” 

The two of you got in line, the place starting to get crowded now that it was pushing noon. 

“I know,” she rolled her eyes. “I just really thought you guys would hit it off I guess.” 

Well you’d definitely done that. 

“Does it really bother you that I’m not hitting the town with your dad more?” You asked, teasing. 

“Kind of, actually,” she laughed. “You know those stupid TV episodes they do where the cast of one show goes on another show?” 

“The crossover ones?” You frowned.” 

“Right,” she nodded. The line moved and the two of you stepped forward. “This was like… my real life crossover episode and it just kinda flopped. Like my two favorite characters finally were in the same place and just didn’t have the chemistry for good TV.” 

Yeah, chemistry? Not your issue with Joel. 

“I’ll be sure to lodge your complaint with the writers,” you said dryly. “Tell them to get their shit together.” 

You talked Sarah into ordering the meats you didn’t so you could try at least a bite of everything and you were almost uncomfortably full when you dropped your final wet napkin on the butcher paper covered tray in front of you. 

“Oh, hey, meant to ask you before,” she said, polishing off her Dr. Pepper. “Did you have any plans tonight? My dad caved and is grilling out. My Uncle Tommy is coming over, his wife Maria, a few neighbors who have known me since I was in diapers and who can tell you every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done…” 

“I don’t think they can tell me about the time you got drunk at karaoke night and tried to take the mic from that guy who was making an ass of himself,” you smirked. 

Sarah groaned, throwing her head back and laughing.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that!”

You laughed, too, and took a second to check your phone to see if Joel had gotten back to you. 

He had. 

“Love for you to come,” he wrote. “Just going to be hell keeping my hands to myself all night. But would rather do that than not see you.” 

You smiled a little and put your phone down. 

“Yeah, I’ll come,” you said. “Just tell me what I can bring.” 

You were almost giddy by the time you got home. It’s not like you’d seen Joel every day since you’d met him but the option always felt like it was there. You’d only texted a bit since the phone sex Sunday and it felt like it had been eons since you’d gotten to touch him. You wondered if it would be weird if you gave him a hug when Sarah was there. You could get away with a hug, right? 

You pulled out a few outfit options, trying to find something that would make Joel want to check you out but not look like you were trying to get him to check you out. You pulled the shirts out and hung them on your floor length mirror so they were next to each other when you got an idea. 

You stripped out of your work clothes and changed into your favorite matching bra and panty set, standing in front of the mirror with the shirts still hanging on it, arranging yourself so you could see your body between the clothes. You took a picture. 

“Which shirt for tonight?” You typed, sending the picture to Joel. 

He responded while you were jumping into your jeans, the denim tight on your thighs and hips. 

“You’re cruel, you know that right?” He wrote. “I vote green. Feel like you’ll cause less trouble in the green.” 

The green was a little tamer, you supposed. The v-neck wasn’t quite as low, the eyelet lace softer and almost girlish. You smiled a little. 

“You’re right,” you wrote back. “Black it is.” 

Black was a wrap top, with a deeper v-neck, something that would highlight your curves even more. And give Joel easy access.

“You’re a menace,” he texted. 

“I know :)” 

You got dressed and stopped by HEB on your way over, picking up a dozen bottles of Shiner. You’d had to consciously toe the line of trying without trying too hard and you stomach was in knots as you walked up to his front door. What if your hair or your makeup or your shoes or the tightness of your jeans screamed “I’m fucking the man who lives in this house”? 

But you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell anyway. It didn’t take long for it Sarah to rip it open with a squeal, pulling you inside. 

“I’m so glad you came!” She said, jumping a little as she pulled away from you. “This is going to be so much fun, I promise. See, we’re going to do shit like this all the time when I move down here. We gotta manifest it, girl, I’m telling you. It’s even more fun when it’s summer and people want to swim because getting drunk in a pool that’s not open to every other idiot in your apartment complex is seriously the best pass time.” 

“I can only imagine,” you smiled. “And, I brought beer!” 

You held up the six packs just as Joel went rushing past, on his way to the kitchen. But he doubled back and stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked you up and down from over Sarah’s shoulder. You smirked just a little and he shook his head slightly, smiling. 

“Good to see you,” he said, stepping around Sarah for a somewhat awkward hug. He lowered his voice, his lips next to your ear, speaking so softly you could barely hear him. “Menace.” 

He stepped back and you smiled wider. 

“Good to see you, too.” 

Joel took the beers from your hands and his eyes lingered a little too long on your chest - not that you were arguing. 

“Come on,” Sarah slipped her hand into yours. “I want you to meet everybody!” 

She tugged you along behind her to the backyard, you giving Joel an apologetic smirk over your shoulder, people standing in little clusters around the pool. You spotted Joel’s brother immediately, the resemblance hard to miss. He was standing next to a beautiful woman with braids half way down her back, his arm around her waist. You smiled a little. You remembered dropping Sarah off at the airport when she flew down the year before for her uncle’s wedding. 

“Have fun!” You said, putting her duffle bag on her shoulder as your car sat with the emergency flashers on in the loading zone. 

“Yeah, this is going to be a disaster,” she said. “There’s no way they’re making it down the aisle. I haven’t met Maria but it’s Tommy. He’s jumped from woman to woman since before I was born, the day he settles down is the day hell freezes over.” 

When you picked her up again three days later, she had a different story. 

“So did they actually get hitched?” You asked as she flopped heavily into the passenger seat. 

“Holy shit, they did. She is the only woman on the planet who could actually get him to settle down,” she said. “And by some miracle, she wanted to. No accounting for taste with some people…” 

You laughed and headed to your favorite bar to hear all about it. You hadn’t really expected to ever really meet him except maybe in passing at Sarah’s wedding one day. Now you were meeting him in your - boyfriend’s? Fuck buddy’s? Who knows what’s? - backyard. 

“Tommy, Maria!” Sarah called as the two of you worked your way around the pool. “Got someone for you to meet, she’s new in town and in desperate need of social contacts.” 

She made the introductions and Tommy laughed when he heard your name. 

“The infamous best friend,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “She as bad an influence on you as she was on me?” 

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes. 

“She talked me into grand larceny once,” Tommy said, pointing accusingly at Sarah with the beer bottle in his hand. 

“Did she now?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Oh yes,” he nodded, smiling cheekily. “She was seven and Joel said she couldn’t have all her Halloween candy on Halloween…” 

“A crime, really,” she smiled, grabbing Tommy’s beer and taking a drink before giving it back. 

“And she was so cute, these big eyes and her little princess costume and her hair going in about a million different directions…” 

“Yeah, Dad hadn’t figured out how to handle that yet,” she laughed a little. 

“I caved,” Tommy said. “I put up a valiant fight…” 

“You said yes immediately!” Sarah scoffed. “I barely even had to pout…” 

“She was a monster,” Tommy cut her off. “I was at her mercy, I swear!” 

“And then what happened?” Joel asked, joining your little circle with two beers in hand. He wordlessly pressed one into your palm. You smiled a little at him and he brushed his hand down your spine on his way to putting it in his back pocket. “C’mon, you two partners in crime, finish that story. What happened?” 

“Nothing that bad,” Tommy waved him off. 

“Yeah, it was fine,” Sarah said. “No lasting damage…” 

“For you two maybe,” Joel laughed. “I was the one who was up until 3 in the morning washing all her bedding and scrubbin’ the wall of her room because she projectile vomited three pounds of candy like she was starring in the damn Exorcist.” 

You laughed as Sarah and Tommy both tried to downplay it and Maria just lovingly patted her husband’s shoulder, rolling her eyes. While everyone was distracted, you snuck a look at Joel. Just a second to actually look at his face as he laughed and smiled with his family. It was a little unfair, how good looking he was. Somehow both rugged and soft, handsome and beautiful and you had to resist the urge to reach up and twist your fingers in his slightly unruly curls. You looked back at Sarah before anyone said anything and took a sip of beer. 

Sarah got sidetracked talking with Tommy and you took advantage of it, leaning in to whisper in Joel’s ear. 

“You’re really hot,” you said quietly. “Also, I got you a present, it’s in my purse.” 

“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows, a devious look on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Not that exciting,” you said. 

“What are you two conspiring about?” Maria asked and you almost flinched as Tommy and Sarah turned their attention to you. 

“Just how to get this one to stop meddlin’,” Joel said smoothly, nodding to his daughter. 

“I do not meddle,” she replied. “I just nudge people in the right direction. Because I’m smarter than them.” 

You got along well with Joel’s brother and sister-in-law. Tommy seemed more like a big brother to Sarah than an uncle, which made sense when they talked about her childhood years. Tommy was six years younger than Joel, just 16 when Sarah came into the world. So while he adored his niece, he wasn’t exactly mature enough to be a parent-like figure. It sounded like he’d helped his brother out a lot but had been more of a friend to Sarah than anything else. 

You liked watching her and Joel with their friends and family, the easy familiarity of it all, the comfort of having history with people. It was something that was missing from your life. 

Sure, you liked your life. You liked it quite a bit, actually. You had a job you enjoyed that paid you good money, you’d lived in some interesting places - Seattle, three years in New York City, an internship in Chicago, even Washington D.C. for a bit - and you could do just about whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. That was the beauty of not having anything to tie you down. The cost just meant not having roots and, sometimes, that hurt. 

Joel disappeared inside at one point and, after taking quick stock of the backyard to make sure no one else was inside with him, you followed. You slipped into the entry and grabbed your purse, pulling out the bag of Fire Sour Patch Kids you’d seen in the candy aisle on your way to grab beer when you stopped at the store earlier that day. 

Joel was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for burger toppings and you climbed on the counter next to the cutting board. He looked up at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his smile while he shook his head. 

“Meant what I said about you bein’ a menace,” he said, his eyes on the knife. “You’re torture. Beautiful torture but torture.” 

“We aim to please,” you smiled, holding out the candy. He frowned for a second, drying his hands on his jeans, before he laughed and took the bag. “Warned you it wasn’t exciting…” 

“This is great, Beautiful,” he leaned in and kissed you lightly, like it was an automatic thing, as though you did this in his kitchen all the time. “Been wantin’ to try these and then I never buy the damn things….” 

“I’ll help you eat them if they suck,” you smiled. “And you can help me eat them if they don’t.” 

He smiled again and moved in front of you, nudging your legs apart so he was standing between your thighs  and he leaned in and kissed you - really kissed you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, his hands sliding up your legs to your waist as he tugged you closer. You draped your arms over his shoulders and pressed yourself against him and savored his touch. Fuck, you’d missed this. It had only been a few days but it felt like an eternity of him being out of reach and it was almost reassuring to feel the way his hands fit against your body even after some time apart. 

“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he was breathless when he pulled away from you, his hands still on your body. “Just couldn’t wear the green, could ya?” 

“And miss out on this?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair. “Never.” 

Sarah sat between the two of you at dinner, the best spot for you and Joel to be in when you thought about it. Next to you was too much temptation, you’d end up touching each other and then not be able to help yourselves and that was bad. 

Across wasn’t great, either, as you’d discovered at dinner the other night. If you could just check each other out the whole night, that wasn’t the safe way to go. Not to mention the opportunities for playing footsie under the table. 

No no, you needed a better way to keep your hands to yourselves and Sarah was a great barrier for that - both literally and metaphorically - and you managed to get through the meal without any big slip ups. Something you were pretty damn proud of, if you did say so yourself. 

You excused yourself to the bathroom as things were in that easy after dinner conversation stage of the evening, everyone pleasantly full and a little drunk, Sarah laughing with a neighbor from down the street whose name you’d forgotten. But when you opened the bathroom door to head back outside, Joel was there, pushing you back into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Joel!” You hissed, his hands on your waist. 

“You really can’t expect me to wait when you show up lookin’ this damn good,” he growled, boosting you up so you were perched on the edge of the sink. “Everyone’s too busy to even notice we’re gone…” 

His mouth found your neck and your chest as he untied your top, his tongue and teeth ranging over your skin and you couldn’t help but moan at his attention, your body already feeling warm and wanting. Joel stepped back from you a he fully opened your shirt, revealing your body to him as though it were some wondrous thing, moaning as he did. 

“Fuck Beautiful,” his hands trailed up your exposed skin to cup your breasts through your bra. “Ain’t fair how one person can look this damn good…” 

“Had to pull you away from the grill somehow,” you smiled, tugging him back against you and kissing him. He kissed you back, getting more and more desperate as he did. He pulled your breasts free of their cups so he could suck at them and hold them in his large hands, moaning into you. Your hands ran down his body to find his cock hard in his jeans, feeling him through the fabric, desperately wishing you could just rip all his clothes off and get him inside you. 

“Think you can come from just your clit?” He asked, breathless, as he licked and sucked your neck. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Think you can come from just my hand?” 

“It’d take less than that,” he panted as he opened your jeans and slid his hand inside as best he could, his finger finding your clit quickly. He ghosted over it with his finger, making you squirm and moan. “Fuck, Beautiful, you close already?” 

“Maybe,” you panted as he pressed a little harder against the sensitive nub. You reached down to pull out his cock to start jerking him off but he caught your hand. You whined a little. 

“Not yet,” he kissed back up to your mouth, holding his lips a fraction of an inch away from yours. “Lemme take care of you…” 

He kissed you then, his tongue slipping into you as his finger pressed into your clit. You groaned and rocked your hips on him and you felt him smile against your lips. He started rubbing you in slow, aching circles, adding a little pressure every time around, matching his kiss to the pace of his fingers. You moaned desperately against him and he picked up his pace, working you over until you were gasping into his mouth while you came from his fingers. 

“Fuck,” you panted as Joel slipped his hand from your pants. “How are you so goddamn good at that?” 

“You’re so pretty when you come it’s easy to remember what does it,” he replied, stepping back from you. You slid off the sink but, instead of fixing your bra and closing your shirt, you dropped to your knees and started unzipping his fly. “Baby…” 

“I can be quick,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you freed his cock. You never really got used to hot big he was - thick, heavy, long. But you’d be fine choking on him if it meant making him come. 

You started by licking his head and he let out a shuddering little moan and you smiled a little, lapping at the dripping pre-come at his slit like he was your favorite flavor of ice cream. Which, he kind of was. Heady and masculine and Joel, knowing that he was dripping because of you made you want him even more. 

Instead of taking the more gradual route, you took him into your mouth and throat all at once, having to swallow around the head of him as he pushed past your gag reflex. His hand flew to your head, fingers twisting in your hair and sinking into the thin layer of flesh over your skull. 

“Oh fuck,” he panted. “Oh my fucking god…..” 

You sucked him and moaned, the vibration of your vocal chords working the tip of him as it was lodged in your throat. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of him before you started pulling back, his grip on your head relaxing just enough to let you do it. You worked is cock up and down, sucking and licking and taking him into your mouth until you started to cough. He panted and moaned as you worked him until, eventually, he was clinging to the sink to stay upright. 

“Fuck, please Baby, I need to come,” he groaned. You smiled as much as you could when your mouth was full of his thick cock. “Lemme… can I…” 

You looked up at him, eyes wide, as you slid down him so he was buried in your mouth to the root and you hummed your approval. His hands immediately flew to your head and he started fucking into your mouth. You took it, swallowing past your gag reflex with each deep stroke. He didn’t last long, just a few pumps, before he was spilling into you, moaning quietly as he did. You swallowed it all, his cock so deep in your throat you could barely even taste him as he pumped his come into you. 

“Fuck,” he all but collapsed against the sink and you carefully slid his cock from your mouth and got up, wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist. You adjusted your bra and tied your shirt again. 

“Worth it?” You teased. 

“Jesus Christ woman,” he groaned. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

You smiled and kissed his cheek before you went to leave the bathroom but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back against him to kiss you deep and long. You tried to hide your surprise. Other guys you’d been with weren’t huge on kissing you after you went down on them. Joel didn’t seem to mind. But then, Joel just wasn’t like other men. You smiled as you pulled back from him and he laughed a little. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“We made a mess of your makeup,” he jerked his head toward the mirror, tucking his cock back in his pants as you checked your reflection. Your lipstick had smeared and you laughed a little, too. 

“Good thing I have more in my bag,” you said, grabbing a sheet of toilet paper and cleaning up what you could. “See you back out there?” 

“Once I remember how to walk again,” he teased. 

It was sheer luck that Maria came in to use the bathroom as you adjusted your lipstick in the entryway mirror and not a few minutes earlier and you popped a breath mint so you could think about something besides the fact that the last thing in your mouth had been Joel’s cock when you talked with Sarah. 

You left only about an hour later, giving Sarah a long hug as she walked you to your car. 

“I’ll be back again soon for Thanksgiving,” she smiled, squeezing you tight. “Just manifest with me!” 

“I’m manifesting so hard I might break something,” you smiled back, trying to ignore the knot of guilt in your stomach about hiding something so big from her. 

“And seriously,” she said, stepping back from you. “If you need a friend before I get down here…” 

“Call the whole Miller clan,” you smiled. “I got it.” 

“Good,” she said. “We’ll just make a Miller out of you yet.” 

You tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat at the thought of that. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Joel came straight to your place after dropping Sarah off at the airport the next night. You answered the door in a sundress - as promised - expecting to go to dinner. 

Which, in hindsight, was foolish. 

“Fuck,” you said, looking Joel up and down. He had flowers. He was in a plain, dark t-shirt that was tight around his biceps, his jeans hanging just right on his hips. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Just get in here and let me fuck you,” you said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into your apartment. 

The flowers were quickly abandoned on the breakfast bar in your kitchen as you kissed him, tugging his shirt off and casting it aside before you dragged him to the bedroom. 

“We gotta eat at some point tonight, Baby,” he said between kisses as you shoved him down on the bed. 

“That’s fine,” you panted, stepping out of your panties and casting them aside. “We can do this twice.” 

“Fuck, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, lifting his hips so he could slide his pants down a little and sitting so his back was against your headboard. He started working his cock, already hard in the palm of his hand. You straddled him, the skirt of your dress hiding your dripping pussy and his leaking cock from view. He kept one hand on his cock but the other went to your hips as you lowered yourself toward him until your pussy brushed his thick head. “Oh shit, fuck Beautiful, I need… Fuck, need inside you, I need to be inside you…” 

“I know,” you breathed before sinking onto his cock with a shaking moan. His other hand flew to your waist, too, pulling you down on him so his whole length was sheathed within you. You panted for breath as your body adjusted to the intrusion. “I need you, too.” 

“Fuck,” his head fell back against the headboard. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good every time, s’like I belong in this pussy, like your pussy was made to take this cock.” 

“Made to ride this cock,” you moaned, starting to rise and fall over him with a satisfied groan. Joel somehow hit all the right angles inside you, the thickness of his shaft stretching you deliciously, his head finding the sensitive place deep inside you and pressing against it, making your pussy start to tighten around him. 

“Oh shit,” his grip on you got firmer, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of you. “Want you to come on this cock, Beautiful. Want you to use me to get yourself off, fuck, Baby, make yourself come on my cock…” 

You buried your face in his neck and breathed in his deep, clean, masculine scent and started riding him harder, adjusting your hips so your clit was leaving an obscene, messy streak of your slick up and down his bare stomach. You licked and sucked at his neck as you rode him, fucking down on him hard and fast and grinding your clit against him. As your body tightened, you sat up straighter, pressing your forehead to his own so you could see his face, the liquid heat in you centering around where he was inside you until you came with a desperate moan around him. 

“There we go,” he almost sounded like he was in pain he was so desperate. “Fuck, you come so fuckin’ pretty Baby, so goddamn pretty. Feel so good, coming on my cock, better than anything else, fuck Beautiful, I can’t…” 

Joel took control of your hips then, pumping you up and down his shaft and you tried to help as best you could as you rode out your orgasm. His hips fucked up into you hard and fast until he was emptying himself into you, moaning as he did. 

You collapsed on top of him, panting for breath and he went from holding your hips to wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to him. You stayed like that for a few minutes, your breaths synchronizing as you both came back down from our highs. 

“So,” you said, breathing not quite back to normal yet. “Dinner?” 

He laughed. 

“Dinner.” 

When you fell asleep in Joel’s arms that night, all naked and entwined with him, you were starting to think that you could get used to this. That you wanted to do this all the time, every day. Do all of life’s stupid little things with him, go grocery shopping with him and pay the water bill with him and deal with traffic jams with him. 

You just weren’t sure how to talk about that yet. 

But that was OK. You were getting there, you could tell. 

When Joel kissed you goodbye in the morning, he brushed your hair back from your forehead so he could kiss you there too. 

“Leaving already?” You mumbled. 

“‘Fraid so,” he said softly. “Need to get an early start at the job site. Can I see you tonight?” 

You just hummed in response. He frowned. 

“That’s a yes, I hope,” he said. You nodded and you opened your eyes just enough to see him smile broadly. “I’ll text you. Have a good day, Baby.” 

“You too,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

When you got up an hour later, there was a sticky note on your coffee maker, telling you to check your fridge. Inside was an iced latte from the coffee shop down the street and you smiled so big it was hard to do your makeup as you got ready to go. 

You were still on cloud nine when you were getting ready to take a client to lunch that afternoon, doing a last check of your makeup when you got a call from the reception desk downstairs. 

“Someone’s here for you,” the receptionist sounded skeptical. “I’m not letting him back without you.” 

“No problem,” you laughed. “We’re going off site for lunch, tell him I’ll be down in a minute.” 

You went to the lobby, looking for someone who at least vaguely resembled the headshot from your client’s website when you did a double take. 

The man sitting on the couch in reception smiled when he saw you and your heart sank into your stomach as he headed for you. 

“Hey Angel,” he smiled. 

You couldn’t smile back. 

“Shit.”  

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