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pucksandpower · 10 months ago

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That’s That Me, Espresso

Charles Leclerc x barista!Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen seem determined to fight over the heart of their favorite barista … but soon they learn that sharing can be much more fulfilling

Warnings: 18+ content

You tie the green apron around your waist, smoothing out the wrinkles as you get ready for another day behind the counter. Working as a barista in the paddock club is not where you imagined you’d end up, but it pays the bills. And there are some nice perks — like getting to see the drivers up close when they come in for their daily coffee fix.

Two drivers in particular have caught your attention recently: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.

They started coming in separately a few weeks ago, always ordering the same drink — a latte with an extra shot of espresso for Charles and black coffee for Max. At first it was just polite small talk as you made their drinks, but gradually you’ve gotten to know them both a bit better.

Charles is charming, with an easy smile and a quick wit. He asks you about your day and remembers little details you’ve told him before. Max is more reserved, but has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh. You find yourself looking forward to their visits, wondering when you’ll see them next.

It’s another race weekend and the paddock club is buzzing with activity. You’re kept busy with a steady stream of drinks orders. A loud group of sponsors clusters around your counter, loudly debating team strategies. You handle their complicated orders, foaming milk and steaming pitchers like a pro.

As you hand off the last drink, you look up and see Charles walking in. He locks eyes with you and grins.

“Busy today, I see,” he says, sidling up to the counter.

“The usual?” You ask with a smile. Charles nods.

You turn to make his latte, hyperaware of his gaze following you. The espresso machine hisses as you pull his shots. You take your time with the milk, adjusting the froth just so.

“Here you go,” you say, placing the latte in front of him with a flourish. Your fingers brush as he takes it from you. Was that accidental or on purpose? His eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Looks perfect. You always make it just how I like it.” Charles takes a long sip, foam coating his upper lip. He swipes it away with his thumb. “Delicious. I don’t know how I’d get through race day without this.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment. Before you can respond, Max walks up to the counter, focused on his phone. He glances up, does a slight double take at seeing Charles already there, then looks back at you.

“Morning,” he says briskly. “The usual, please.”

You nod and turn to make Max’s black coffee. As the coffee drips into the paper cup, you feel the awkward tension behind you. Charles and Max eye each other warily, a silent stand-off you don’t understand. You glance between them nervously as you hand Max his coffee.

“There you go. Enjoy!” Your voice comes out too bright and cheery.

Max takes the coffee without looking away from Charles. “Thanks,” he mutters. They keep staring at each other for a beat too long before Charles clears his throat.

“Well, I should get going. See you around,” he says lightly, with a meaningful look at you.

You nod, perplexed. As soon as Charles is out the door, Max seems to relax.

“So how’s your morning been so far?” He asks, taking a sip of coffee.

You make polite small talk, but your mind keeps going back to the weird tension between him and Charles. What was all that about?

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of foamed milk and espresso. Before you know it, it’s nearly closing time. You’re wiping down the counters when you hear footsteps approach. You look up to see both Charles and Max walking toward you, stopping short when they notice each other.

“You again?” Max frowns at Charles. “Does Ferrari not have their own coffee?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Charles shoots back. He turns to you with an easy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The usual, please?”

You nod uncertainly and set to work making their drinks on autopilot, feeling the heavy weight of them watching your every move. The silence hangs heavy in the air. You can feel the animosity rolling off them in waves.

You finish the drinks and set them on the counter. “Here you go.”

Neither makes a move to take their coffee. The tension coils tighter. You glance between them nervously.

Finally Max turns to Charles. “Why do you keep coming here for coffee? Don’t tell me it’s for the scintillating conversation.”

Charles bristles. “Why do you care where I get my coffee? Unless ...” His eyes narrow. “Are you trying to keep me away from something? Or should I say, someone?”

You freeze. Are they talking about you?

Max scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to get my daily coffee in peace.”

“Oh really? You seem to be going out of your way when you could easily get coffee from Red Bull hospitality. Admit it, there’s another reason you keep coming here.�� Charles crosses his arms.

“I could say the same about you! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you flirting with her every time you’re in here.”

You nearly drop the rag in your hand. Heat floods your cheeks. They are talking about you.

Charles laughs sharply. “Look who’s talking! The man who makes eyes at her whenever you think I’m not looking.”

“Makes eyes-” Max sputters. “You’re delusional.”

“No, you’re just blind. Anyone can see she likes me better.”

“As if! She obviously prefers me over some pretty boy.”

They’re nearly nose to nose now, fists clenched at their sides. You stand frozen behind the counter, heart hammering in your chest. This can’t be happening.

“Why don’t we let her decide then?” Charles turns to you. “What do you say? Want to settle this once and for all?”

Max whips his head toward you eagerly. You open your mouth but no words come out.

Charles barrels on. “You don’t have to say it out loud. I already know the answer.” He winks at you.

Max makes a disgusted noise. “Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of himself.”

“Better than being full of overhyped energy drinks and bad decisions like you!” Charles shoves Max’s shoulder.

A flicker of rage passes over Max’s face. He shoves back, hard. “Watch yourself, Leclerc.”

Charles stumbles into the counter, jostling your arm. You cry out as the steaming pitcher of milk spills down the front of your apron. Pain scalds your skin. You inhale sharply as the hot milk soaks through your shirt.

Charles grabs a damp dish towel and presses it to your arm. “Let me see.”

You lift the cloth with a wince. An angry red welt is already rising along your forearm.

“That looks bad,” Charles murmurs. “You should get it treated properly.”

Max edges closer, brows drawn together. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry-”

“She needs medical attention,” Charles interrupts. He takes your elbow gingerly. “Come on, I’ll take you to the medical center.”

Max puts a hand on your other arm. “No, I’ll take her. This is my fault.”

Charles tugs you toward him. “Back off, Verstappen. I’ve got this.”

You stumble between them as they play tug-of-war with your arms.

“Stop it!” You cry, wrenching away. They freeze. “You can both take me or I’ll go myself. But I am not a rope in a game of Red Bull versus Ferrari.”

Charles and Max have the decency to look ashamed.

“Of course, sorry,” Charles says quickly. “We’ll take you together.”

Max nods, biting his lip. You follow them from the paddock club to the medical center, cradling your arm. Mercifully they stay silent, the fight drained from them for now.

The medic clucks over your injury, applying a cooling gel and clean bandages. You sag in relief as the medicine soothes the burning. Charles and Max hover anxiously until the medic shoos them away.

“All done,” she announces. “Keep it clean and covered. Should heal in a few days.”

“Thank you.” You slide off the exam table, flexing your freshly wrapped arm.

Charles jumps up immediately. “How’s it feeling now?”

“Much better, thanks.” You offer him a small smile.

Max steps forward. “I’m really sorry about this. Let me make it up to you — can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Charles makes a strangled noise. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?” He turns to you, expression earnest. “Please, allow me to take you to dinner instead. It’s the least I can do after you got hurt.”

You stare between them incredulously. Are they serious?

“Um, I don’t think-”

“Come on, what do you say?” Max presses. “Dinner, just the two of us.”

Charles crosses his arms. “Don’t listen to him. Let me take you out.”

“You already ruined her day,” Max snaps. “I’m not letting you mess up her evening too.”

Charles bristles. “If anyone ruined it, you did by shoving me into her!”

“I wouldn’t have shoved you if you weren’t being an annoying prick.”

“Obstinate show off!”

“Insecure brat!”

“Enough!” You yell. They fall silent. “This is absurd. You’re both acting like children.”

Charles scuffs his shoe. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Max nods, properly chastised. “Me too. That was stupid.”

You take a deep breath. “If you really want to make it up to me, we’ll do this: you can both take me to dinner. Together. To apologize. Take it or leave it.”

They share an uneasy look but don’t argue. You nod firmly.

“Good. I’ll be outside the paddock club after the race. Come get me then.” You fix them with a stern gaze. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. No fighting, no bickering. Got it?”

“Got it,” they mumble.

“See you tonight then.” With as much dignity as you can muster, you turn and sweep out of the medical center. You feel their eyes following you as the doors swing shut.

Your breath leaves in a whoosh when you’re alone again. What did you just get yourself into? A tense conciliatory dinner with two drivers who happen to hate each other? This night can only end in disaster.

But a small part of you tingles with excitement at the thought of having their undivided attention, if only for an evening. You push the feeling away. Don’t be foolish. This is just about apologizing for the coffee incident. Nothing more.

***

After the race, you freshen up and change into a flowy summer dress. As you apply a final coat of lipstick, nerves flutter in your stomach. This dinner will either go surprisingly well or be a total disaster.

With Charles and Max, it’s anyone’s guess.

Your pulse picks up when you exit the paddock club to see Charles and Max waiting, wearing nice button downs and trading murderous looks.

But as soon as they notice you, their faces morph into charming smiles. Charles steps forward first, eyes bright.

“You look beautiful,” he says, kissing your cheek in greeting. The press of his lips sends a thrill through you despite yourself.

Max moves closer, expression soft. “That dress is perfect on you.”

You thank them, trying not to blush. Max gestures to the row of sleek sports cars. “Shall we?”

Charles frowns. “She should ride with me, I asked her to dinner first.”

Max scoffs. “Only because you swooped in when you saw I was going to.”

“As if! I was being a gentleman, unlike you.”

They descend into bickering while you stand there awkwardly. Finally you interject.

“Or here’s a thought — how about we take an Uber together?”

Charles and Max stop arguing, properly chastised. “Of course, good idea,” Charles says smoothly.

You all pile into the back of the Uber, you wedged between them. Their thighs press against yours, muscular and distracting. Get it together, you scold yourself. This is just an apology dinner.

At the restaurant, Max holds your chair out while Charles arranges your napkin on your lap. Their efforts to dote on you would be sweet if they weren’t also trying to outdo each other. You settle in for an interesting night.

A waiter appears to take your order. Charles recommends the osso buco. Max argues the sea bass is better. You go for the risotto to avoid playing favorites.

When the food arrives, Charles insists on serving you first. “Try this, the sauce is exquisite,” he purrs, holding a forkful to your lips.

You let him feed you, hyperaware of Max watching hawkishly. “Delicious, thank you.”

Not to be outdone, Max spears a bite of his fish. “Here, you have to taste this.” He brings the fork to your mouth. You oblige, cheeks burning.

This continues through the whole meal. Charles and Max take turns hand feeding you, vying for your attention. Under different circumstances it would feel romantic, but their competitive edge ruins the mood.

Still, you have to admit the food is incredible. Charles was right about the osso buco. When your risotto is gone, he happily shares his plate. Max pushes his closer too, until you’re stuffed on bites of their entrees.

For dessert they order chocolate soufflé to share. Two forks battle for the privilege of feeding you. You finally snatch the dish between you, laughing.

“I think I can manage on my own now, thanks.”

Charles sits back with a rueful smile. “Sorry, got a bit carried away there.”

“We just want you to enjoy the food,” Max adds a touch sheepishly.

You take a bite and sigh blissfully. “Mission accomplished, trust me.”

Despite their antics, you’re surprised to realize you’re having a nice time. When Charles and Max aren’t competing over you, they’re charming dinner companions, trading funny racing stories and debating controversial penalties. You find yourself relaxing, giggling often at their witty banter.

Over digestifs, the mood shifts. The low lighting makes Charles’ gaze smolder. Max’s hand brushes your knee under the table. You shift, heart rate kicking up.

The bill comes and Charles snags it before Max can react. “Please, allow me.”

You start to protest but Max speaks up. “I guess I’ll get the next one then.”

The implication makes your pulse flutter. Next one?

Outside the restaurant, Charles offers his arm. “Let’s go somewhere more private to continue the evening.” His eyes glitter with promise.

You hesitate, feeling suddenly shy. Max steps closer.

“Don’t listen to him, he just wants you alone. Come out with me instead and I’ll show you a good time.”

He waggles his eyebrows. You blush fiercely as their suggestive stares make you squirm.

Charles drops your arm, scowling. “Back off, Verstappen. She’s coming with me.”

“She can make her own choices,” Max retorts. “But she’d clearly have more fun with me.”

Their flirting turns sour as they descend into bickering again. You clench your fists, frustration bubbling over.

“Enough!” You burst out. “I’m done being fought over like a trophy.”

Charles and Max stop arguing, looking properly scolded. You take a deep breath.

“My hotel is just around the corner. You’re both welcome to join me for a nightcap. But you need to stop this childish fighting or you can go back to your own rooms.”

They share an uneasy glance, then nod. “You’re right, sorry about that,” Charles says. “Lead the way.”

Max just gestures for you to walk ahead. You turn towards your hotel, nerves and anticipation swirling. A nightcap is harmless, you tell yourself. You’re just putting your foot down about their behavior.

At the hotel bar, you order a round of drinks and claim a small corner booth. Charles and Max slide in on either side of you. Their thighs press against yours under the tiny table.

You take a fortifying sip of your cocktail. “Okay look, tonight has been … fun, surprisingly. But the constant competing over me has to stop.”

You level them with your most serious gaze. They have the grace to look embarrassed.

“You’re right, that wasn’t fair to you,” Charles says earnestly. “I got carried away trying to, I don’t know, impress you, I guess. I’ll be more respectful from now on.”

Max clears his throat. “Yeah, me too. Didn’t mean to make you feel like a prize. I just ...” He ducks his head. “Really wanted you to like me.”

Your breath catches at the endearing admission. You place a hand over Max’s where it rests on his thigh. “I do like you. Both of you. When you’re not acting like idiots.”

Charles covers your other hand, expression softening. “I like you too. So much.”

Warmth spreads through you at their words. For a moment, you all just smile at each other, the atmosphere shifting into something … intimate.

The air suddenly feels charged with possibility. You wet your lips nervously. Two sets of eyes track the movement.

Charles moves his thumb in a slow sweep over the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies. “I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he murmurs. “If that’s okay.”

Your heartbeat stutters. You glance at Max. His eyes are dark, lips parted. Waiting for your answer.

You close the distance to Charles in response, pressing your mouth to his. He makes a soft sound and cups your jaw, kissing you back eagerly. His lips are soft and seeking.

When you part for air, Max clears his throat. “I believe you said no more competing tonight. So it’s my turn now.”

Before you can react, he captures your lips in a searing kiss. He kisses differently than Charles, more urgently, with the promise of heat. You grasp his shoulders to stay grounded.

You break away gasping. The three of you stare at each other, wide eyed and flushed.

Charles recovers first. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” His expression leaves no doubt as to his meaning.

A spike of want goes through you. But uncertainty flickers too. Are you really ready for … all that? With both of them?

Sensing your hesitation, Max squeezes your hand. “Or we could just keep talking, if you’d prefer?” His tone is serious despite the desire in his eyes. “No pressure, okay?”

Charles nods, looking equally willing to follow your lead. You smile, grateful for their patience. As tempting as it is to fall into bed together, that feels rushed.

“Why don’t we have one more drink upstairs and see where things go?” You suggest.

“I’d love that,” Charles says.

Max signals the waiter for your tab. “Your room or one of ours?”

You laugh at his eagerness. “Mine. I have the key.”

***

In the elevator up to your hotel room, the air feels charged with possibility. Charles pins you to the wall, nuzzling your neck in a way that makes you shiver. Max crowds behind you, hands spanning your waist. You feel surrounded, but also safe between them.

At your door, Charles steals one more heated kiss before you unlock it. His eyes are dark with want when he pulls back. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

Max’s breath tickles your ear. “My turn now.” His low voice sends desire swirling through you.

You lead them inside, nerves and excitement making you giddy. Max pulls you into his arms immediately, kissing you deeply. Charles comes up behind you, trailing kisses down your neck in tandem with Max’s exploring tongue. You clutch their shirts, anchored between them.

When you part for air, Charles suggests opening a bottle of wine from the minibar. You nod, needing to steady your spinning head.

While Charles uncorks a bottle of red, Max comes up behind you, nuzzling your hair. “That dress looks amazing on you, but I bet it would look even better on the floor,” he murmurs suggestively.

You blush even as arousal stirs. But Charles interrupts before you can respond.

“Don’t be crude, Max,” he chides, handing you a glass of wine. His fingers linger on yours. “She deserves to be treated with respect.”

Max rolls his eyes. “I was complimenting her, not being crude.”

“It came off as objectifying. I know how to properly appreciate a woman.” Charles strokes your arm lightly, eyes smoldering.

Here we go again, you think. But Max just laughs.

“Oh it’s on now, Leclerc. We’ll see who can make her feel more … appreciated.” He waggles his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your wine. “Um, I’m not sure this competition is necessary-”

“Shh, just relax, mon amour. Let us take care of you.” Charles silences you with a deep kiss, stealing your breath.

Max comes up behind you, trailing hot kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands find your waist, pulling you back against him.

You’re surrounded by them, enveloped in wandering hands and seeking mouths. It’s overwhelming but intoxicating. You let yourself get lost in the sensations.

Charles lavishes attention on your neck, hitting sensitive spots that make you shiver. When he finds one that makes you moan, Max focuses on the same area until your knees go weak.

They maneuver you to the bed, shedding jackets and shoes along the way. Charles presses you back into the pillows, kissing you deeply as his fingers trail up your leg, rucking your dress higher.

Max pushes himself between your parted thighs, kissing along your inner leg. You grasp their hair, anchoring yourself.

“You’re both trying to kill me, I swear,” you gasp out.

Charles smiles against your neck. “On the contrary, we’re trying to make you feel as alive as possible.”

As if to prove it, Max hitches one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses along your inner thigh, making you squirm.

“Tell me what you want, cherié. I’m yours tonight,” Charles breathes in your ear.

You drag him down for a messy kiss. He groans as you press up into him.

Max works his way higher until his breath ghosts over your core. Your whole body tightens in anticipation.

“Can I taste you?” His voice is rough with need. “I want to make you feel so good, lekker ding.”

You nod frantically and he hooks his fingers under your underwear, sliding them off. The first touch of his tongue makes you cry out.

Charles swallows the sound, kissing you deeply. “That’s it, let go. We’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by sensations, you can only clutch their hair and let yourself be carried away on waves of pleasure.

You lose track of time, of everything beyond their mouths and hands worshipping every inch of you. When Max finally has you teetering on the edge, he pulls back right before you tip over.

“Not yet. I want you to come with me inside you.”

The primal promise sends a bolt of need through you. Charles props himself up, pupils blown wide. “God, that’s hot.” His erection presses insistently against your hip. “But condoms first. I’ll grab some.”

While he digs through his wallet, Max strips you both bare. You run appreciative hands over his chiseled physique, anticipating having him inside you. But uncertainty flickers too.

“Have you … done this before?” You ask hesitantly. “With another guy, I mean?”

Max stills. “I haven’t. Have you?” At your head shake, he relaxes. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Reassured, you pull him down for a messy kiss. Charles rejoins you on the bed, rolling a condom onto Max.

“All set.” He kisses you lingeringly. “If you want to stop at any point, just say the word.”

You smile at his caretaking. “I’ll be vocal if I need you to stop or slow down, don’t worry.”

Max lines himself up at your entrance, holding your gaze. “You ready?”

At your eager nod, he pushes inside you in one long stroke. You arch up with a cry at the delicious stretch of him filling you so perfectly.

Charles lavishes kisses over your face and neck murmuring praise. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. You look incredible like this, taking him so beautifully.”

Max builds a steady rhythm, fucking into you almost leisurely, stoking the fire higher. “You feel incredible, so hot and tight around me.” He hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Charles sheds his own clothes and rolls on a condom, eyes fixed on where you’re joined. “You two are so fucking gorgeous together. Makes me want a turn.”

“Yes, please,” you gasp out. You need them both tonight.

Max slows to shallow pumps, letting Charles take his place between your legs. He pushes in slowly and your body opens for him, welcoming the new stretch.

Charles curses breathlessly at your tight heat engulfing him. “You’re unbelievable. I could stay buried in you forever.”

He sets a steady pace while Max kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. Having them both lavish you with such dedicated attention pushes you close to the edge again.

“Want to come with you around me,” Charles pants out. “Can I make you come, ma belle?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close-” you cry out as he reaches between you to stroke your clit.

The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp cry. Your inner walls pulse around Charles, pulling him over with you.

You cling to each other, breathing hard as you come down. Charles presses soft kisses over your face while Max smoothes back your hair.

“You’re incredible. How was that?” Charles asks gently once he catches his breath.

You huff out a giddy laugh. “Absolutely amazing.” You cup his cheek. “Both of you.”

Max smiles and kisses you sweetly. “I’m not done with you yet tonight.”

Anticipation sparks through you again. “Oh really?”

He licks his lips. “I want another taste of dessert.”

Charles nips your ear playfully. “And I want a round two with you. We’re just getting started.”

The promise in their heated looks makes your spent body begin to reawaken. You stretch like a cat between them.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?”

They pounce on you eagerly, hands and mouths roaming your sensitised skin. You surrender to their passionate attentions, mind blissfully blank of everything but pleasure.

Later, they lay you between them, bodies spent and entwined. Sleep tugs at the edges of your sated mind.

Charles nuzzles your shoulder. “Rest now, mon ange. You were perfect.”

Max pulls the blankets over you and presses a kiss to your hair. “We’re right here with you.”

Wrapped securely in their arms, you let yourself drift off, a contented smile on your face. Tonight was exactly what you needed — no more fighting or competing, just pure connection.

As you fall asleep cocooned between your two gorgeous drivers, you can’t imagine a more satisfying way to end the craziest day of your life.

***

The morning after the blissful night with Charles and Max, you wake up alone in tangled sheets. For a moment you wonder if it was just a dream. Then you spot a note on the bedside table.

Had early commitments but can’t stop thinking about you. See you at the paddock club soon - C & M

You grin and fall back against the pillows. Last night definitely happened. And based on that note, they’re already eager for a repeat. Happiness bubbles up in you.

Over the next few days, you text constantly with Charles and Max. They check on how you’re feeling (sore but satiated) and send increasingly flirty selfies that make you blush. The texts grow more suggestive as the next race weekend nears.

Can’t wait to get my hands on you again. I’ll sneak you off somewhere the minute I see you

I call dibs on stealing her away this time! We have some unfinished business

You smile at your phone, butterflies taking flight. You have a feeling this race weekend will be anything but routine.

Friday morning you show up early to prep the paddock club cafe. As the bustle of the weekend ramps up outside, your pulse quickens wondering if you’ll see Charles or Max first.

A gaggle of mechanics come in, followed by Fred Vasseur and Toto Wolff bickering over coffees. No sign of your drivers yet.

Finally Charles saunters in, sweaty from practice and still in his red race suit. His face lights up when he sees you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans across the counter for a swift, burning kiss. “I missed you.”

You blush fiercely as hoots and whistles sound from the patrons. Charles just winks.

“The usual?” You ask, ducking to hide your glowing cheeks.

“Please. I need my favorite barista’s coffee to get through the day.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you work, warm and admiring. It makes your skin tingle.

As Charles collects his coffee, he murmurs low in your ear, “Dinner tonight? I want you all to myself.”

His steely gaze leaves no doubt as to his intentions. You shiver and nod eagerly.

“Here?”

“I was thinking your hotel bed again ...” His fingers graze your wrist suggestively.

Your breath catches. Before you can respond, Max strides up to the counter.

“Morning.” He gives Charles an unreadable look then smiles at you. “I’ll take my usual.”

He watches you work with a little smile playing about his lips, occasionally trading glances with Charles. They seem … chummy, almost conspiratorial.

You hand Max his coffee, brow arched. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something with you two?”

Max grins. “Let’s just say Charles and I … bonded recently over a mutual interest.” His meaningful look makes your cheeks flame.

“Oh really now?” You ask coyly.

“Really.” Charles slings an arm around Max’s shoulders. “We’ve discovered some shared enthusiasms lately.”

They smirk at each other and you have to fan yourself. If this new camaraderie is the result of your tryst, you heartily approve.

Over the rest of Friday you spot Charles and Max hanging out often, laughing together. The other drivers eye them curiously but they just share secret smiles.

In the media pen after practice, a reporter asks about their burgeoning bromance.

“I guess you could say we recently discovered some common ground that brought us closer,” Charles says vaguely.

Beside him, Max shrugs. “Let’s just say our relationship has … matured lately.”

They grin at the innuendo. You nearly spit out your drink watching the live feed, their slyness making you squirm. So much for discretion.

As promised, Charles takes you to dinner that night. In the car, he pulls you across the console for a heated kiss.

“Thought about doing this all day,” he growls against your lips.

At your hotel, clothes are hastily shed as you fall into bed together. Charles takes you apart ruthlessly, until you’re trembling and spent beneath him.

After, he gathers you close, nuzzling your hair. “I don’t know what hold you have over me, but I can’t get enough.”

You smile and kiss him lazily. “Right back at you. I could get used to this.”

Charles’ eyes darken. “Speaking of, Max was suggesting we all get together again before the race ...”

Tomorrow night is wide open in your schedule.

***

The next day buzzes by until Charles and Max finish their media duties. They saunter into the paddock club wearing matching smirks.

“Time for that break you promised us,” Max says, crowding you against the counter.

Charles nips your ear. “We’ll make it worth your while.” His hot promise makes you instantly pliant.

They lead you outside hand in hand, sneaking glances around until you reach the Ferrari motorhome. Inside Charles’ driver’s room, he pins you to the leather couch, kissing you ravenously.

Clothes melt away between heated kisses and grasping hands. Soon you’re naked on the couch, framed by Charles and Max’s toned bodies.

Charles trails kisses down between your breasts, laving his tongue over a nipple until you arch up with a cry.

“Sensitive here I see,” he murmurs smugly before redirecting his attention. You grasp his messy waves, overwhelmed.

Max slides a hand up your inner thigh, eyes blazing when he discovers you bare. “So wet already. I think she likes us teasing her, Charles.”

A thick finger slides through your folds and you gasp out his name. Chuckling darkly, Max repeats the motion until you’re rocking your hips desperately.

“Please … need you ...” you whimper.

He smirks. “How can I deny such a sweet request?”

Charles sits back to enjoy the show as Max lines up at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, groaning as your body opens to welcome his thick length. You clutch his shoulders, overwhelmed.

“Fuck, feel so perfect around me,” he grits out through clenched teeth, seated fully inside you. “You good?”

You nod frantically. No matter how many times you come together, that first blissful stretch when he fills you never gets old.

Charles strokes himself lazily, eyes fixed on where you’re joined. “God, that’s hot to watch. Starting to think we should share you more often if this is what I get to see.”

Max builds a relentless rhythm, spurred on by Charles’ avid stare. You grasp the leather couch, crying out with every deep stroke nudging that sweet spot inside.

“Look at those pretty tits bounce while you fuck her,” Charles rasps out. “You close, ma belle? I want to watch you come undone around him.”

That heated plea sends you over, clenching on Max’s length as pleasure crashes over you. He fucks you through it before chasing his own high.

“Want to feel you come in me,” you gasp out.

Groaning your name, Max pulls you tight and shudders his release inside you. He collapses forward, breathing ragged.

“Holy fuck that was intense,” he mutters, kissing you sloppily. You cling together, spent and grinning.

Until Charles clears his throat loudly. “Looked like fun but I believe you promised to share, Max.”

Unfurling from you, Max laughs. “All yours, mate. But only after I get one more taste.”

To your delight, he seals his lips over your swollen clit without warning, sucking firmly. The stimulation on your over-sensitized nerves straddles the line between pleasure and pain until you’re thrashing and begging.

Finally Max releases you with one last lick and a wolfish grin. “Had to have another hit of that sweetness.”

You can only whimper as Charles immediately replaces him between your legs. He kisses up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, eyes blazing.

“Please tell me you have another round in you, cherié. Because watching that made me very eager to play.”

As he pushes inside you in one long stroke, you clutch his back deliriously. Charles wastes no time building a ruthless rhythm, spurred on by watching you fall apart with Max. His thick length drags along your sensitive inner walls, wringing gasps and cries from you with every snap of his hips.

“That’s it, sing for me,” he grits out, angling to nudge against that sweet spot inside you. “Want the whole paddock to hear how good I can make you feel.”

You grasp his biceps, feeling his muscles flex powerfully with each pounding stroke. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room.

Charles snakes a hand between you, finding your throbbing clit and stroking in time with his deep thrusts. The sensations make you see stars, still so sensitive from Max’s attentions.

“Oh god, right there,” you sob, teetering dangerously on the edge again. “Gonna come ...”

“Look at me,” Charles commands sharply. You drag your eyes open to meet his burning gaze. “Come for me now.”

On cue your body seizes up, inner walls clamping down hard as a shockwave of pleasure crashes through you. You cry out Charles’ name hoarsely, barely hearing his own bitten off groan as he follows you over the edge.

Collapsing forward, Charles peppers your face with tender kisses as you cling together, panting through the aftershocks.

“Magnificent as always, mon amour,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck.

You comb lazy fingers through his hair, body coursing with endorphins. “Mmm. Pretty sure you two are going to kill me with great sex at this point, but I can’t bring myself to complain.”

Max’s laughter warms your skin as he slides up behind you. He trails a hand down your side, eyes glinting. “Oh we’re nowhere close to done with you yet ...”

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no-144444 · 3 months ago

Text

the trouble with racing- o.piastri

summary: a the first race of the season, oscar figures something out that could change his life forever.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

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You had always loved going to races, especially to see Oscar win. Home races were a big deal, and against your better judgement, you allowed Max to drag you along. You hadn’t seen him in years, not since he left F2 and left you behind. No text, no calls, just a note saying he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn’t love you anymore. Max was your brother in law, he’d married your sister years ago, and you two had bonded over your shared love of racing, but he’d never understood why you wouldn’t go to a GP. He also didn’t get why you wouldn’t let your daughter anywhere near the sport, when she already loved it so much, but to each their own.

“Come on P,” you smiled, holding her hand and pulling her away from the gates of the paddock. All you had to do was get through the weekend. Just babysit Poppy and take care of Mia, and you’d be fine, right?

“Can we visit uncle Lando?” she asked and you grimaced.

“We’ll see, first we should put all our stuff in Redbull, yeah?” you smiled at her and she nodded, running on to catch up with Max as he walked through the paddock. Your sister, busy pregnant with her second child, had decided to stay home and not fly, thereby giving Max a reason to beg you to help him out and take care of P. You had reluctantly agreed, and that’s how you ended up in the McLaren Motorhome, chatting to Lando. You’d met him a few times before, just in passing with Max, or at P’s birthday parties. He was sweet.

“And how’s my favourite girl doing?” he asked, taking Mia out of your arms.

You chuckled, watching the exchange.

“Hi,” her meek little voice made Lando smile and laugh.

“Hi Mia,” he waved. “Do you want to have a look at my car?

She nodded.

“Do you want to sit in my car?”

She nodded vigorously.

“You don’t have to-” you started but he cut you off.

“It’s fine, mechanics are done with it anyways. Onward we go!” he giggled, and you followed behind the two with P beside you.

“I want to talk to Oscar!” P smiled.

“He’s in the garage, you can go say hi,” Lando informed her and she ran ahead, straight for the garage.

You felt your anxiety spike. He wouldn’t say anything, surely? He had nothing to say when he left. He should have nothing to say now.

Lando and Mia got on like two peas in a pod, and you took all the photos while he talked to her about the different parts of the steering wheel and how it all worked.

“Y/n?” Nicole’s voice brought you out of your bubble, and you felt yourself stiffen. “Is that you?”

You turned around to see her shocked face, Hattie, Eddie, Mae, and Tim all standing behind her, the same surprised look.

“Hi,” you smiled awkwardly. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good,” Nicole nodded, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were here. “H-How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you nodded.

“W-What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Max Verstappen is my brother in law,” you explained. “He needed help with P-”

Just then, Poppy came bounding in, Oscar hot on her tail and wrapped her arms around your midriff. “Auntie Y/n, am I allowed to root for two teams?”

You smiled down at her, playing with her hair as she leant against you. “Of course, once one of them is Max.”

She looked at you, unamused. “Of course it is silly!”

You chuckled.

“Mom!” Mia giggled. “Look, I’m a racer!”

You turned back to Lando and Mia and saw her with her hands on the steering wheel, Lando dying of laughter as he took photos. You chuckled. “Well done baby.”

You turned back to see a horrified look on Oscar’s face, and the rest of his family looking at you surprised. “Well, it was nice to see you, but I’d better get back to Redbull,” you smiled before turning back to Lando. “Thank you Lan, she loves this stuff.”

He nodded, taking her out of the car and handing her to you. “See you later,” he called as you three left.

Fuck.

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The Piastri’s were stunned into a sort of shocked silence. Nicole was looking at her son, a million thoughts running through her head.

“Lando,” Oscar spoke up. “Who’s kid is that?”

“Mia?” he asked, his face hardened. “Y/n’s.”

“How old is she?” Nicole rushed out. “Is Y/n married? Does Mia have a dad-?”

“Mia’s four,” he answered, calm and calculated. “Y/n’s been single since she found out, and Mia does have a dad; Oscar.”

And Oscar’s world crumbled. He thought he was doing the best thing for you, getting you out of his insane life before it all got too crazy for you. He thought he was fixing things by leaving you behind. But all this time, he could’ve been a dad. He could’ve been there for you, while you were pregnant, while you were exhausted with a newborn, while you were alone. There hadn’t been a day that had gone by where he didn’t think about you, and wished you were still there with him, but it was his choice, and he made it. He started at the floor, trying to process it all. That kid was half him, half you. Mia. That was the name you’d both decided on if you ever got pregnant and it was a girl. You still had him in mind when you were naming her.

“Oscar,” Lando’s voice was low. “Y/n has spend four fucking years without you, because that’s what you wanted. You wanted her to leave, so she left. She’s happy, after being very unhappy for a really long time. Do not fuck this up for her. Yes, you have a right to your child, but just think about the fact that she’s been doing fine without you for four years.”

“I-I… Can I talk to her?” he asked no one in particular. “I never knew.”

“You blocked her on everything, how was she supposed to tell you?” Lando scolded.

“Quali starts in 15 minutes,” Nicole interjected. “I’ll go speak to her.”

“No,” Oscar sighed. “I’ll talk to her after. Let me sort this out, alright?”

She nodded.

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Pole position didn’t taste as good as he wanted it to, especially when it also meant he had about 2 extra hours of interviews. He just wanted to see you. He just wanted to talk to you. He wanted to see Mia.

He rushed to the RedBull garage, searching high and low for you until he ran into Max.

“Hey mate,” Max smiled. “Alright?”

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, frantic.

“My sister in law?” he questioned and Oscar nodded. “She went back to the hotel.”

“Which hotel?”

“I’ll drive with you, come on,” Max offered and Oscar took it. “Why do you need her?”

“I just… we have to talk about some things,” Oscar explained as they sat in the back of a car, driving towards the hotel. “We went to school together.”

“No way!” Max chuckled, not getting the fact that Oscar was seriously stressed and nervous. “That’s so fun, she dated a guy called Oscar for like five years and they met in high school,” Max’s head suddenly swivelled to meet Oscar’s eyes. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Oscar lied. “No, we were just friends.”

“Good, whoever that Oscar is, is the one that left her high and dry when she got pregnant,” he scoffed. “Dickhead.”

That didn’t exactly help the pit of guilt in Oscar’s stomach, but he nodded along anyway.

The rest of the car journey was easy, both of them just chatting about the race tomorrow. When they got to the hotel, Max told him your room number, and Oscar was shooting off towards it. He stood in the elevator, it was a surreal feeling to find out that you had a kid, and he was also about to see the love of his life for the second time in four years.

He knocked on the door, and herald giggles from Mia, and his heart swelled. You opened the door a crack and smiled in his general direction, but then you realised it was him, grabbed a keycard and came out, closing the door behind you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted. “I never knew-”

“I know and I’m sorry- I didn’t want to just… spring it on you like this but I knew you’d have to find out eventually- only Lando knows you’re her dad, and I wanted to tell you, I-I just… It never felt like the right time-”

“I’m her dad?” he questioned, his eyes filling with tears. You nodded, crossing your arms. “All this time and I could've been a dad?”

“I wanted to tell you, I swear, I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to baby trap you or anything, so I let it be and I just got more and more anxious about it, so I just stopped coming to GPs. I know this is a lot and I’m sorry-” you felt yourself tearing up. You knew Oscar wanted to be dad more than anything at all, but you were terrified. He’d broken up with you using a note.

He wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’re apologising. I’m the asshole. I should’ve been here, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t. I love you-”

“Osc-”

“No, I do. I only broke up with you because Zak told me ‘no distractions or realtionships’ and even then I couldn’t break up with you in person, I had to do it with a fucking note. I’ve loved you since we met in school, and I’m sorry that I let you go through this alone. If you’ll let me, I want to be in her life, and maybe yours too.”

Your features eased gently, but he knew what it meant. He knew you like the back of his hand, still. “I’m not sure about my life, but you do have a daughter who definitely would love a dad like you.”

“An F1 driver?” he questioned.

“No,” you chuckled. “A good person, come on,” you ushered him in, revealing Mia on the bed in her pyjamas, freshly bathed as she read a book. “Mia,” you spoke gently. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet-”

“Oscar Piastri!” she cheered. “Pole position!”

He chuckled and looked at you quizzically, as you smiled.

“She got the racing bug from you,” you smiled at her, your voice low so she couldn’t hear. He beamed with pride.

“Is she into karting?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Only three days a week,” you sighed. “She loves it, as much as you did.”

He nodded. “Hi Mia, what book have you got there?”

“The ABC’s of racing,” she explained.

“Do you mind if I read it to you tonight instead of your mom?” he offered and she nodded, beaming with excitement.

He looked at you with a hopeful smile and you nodded, giving him the go-ahead. As you watched him sit beside her in bed, reading to her until she fell asleep against him, as much as your heart was full, you couldn’t escape that unmistakable dread that bubbled in your stomach. Oscar could leave again, you'd just be heartbroken. You had to be smart about this, not let him near you, just let him be a dad to Mia.

You could do that, right?

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harryspet · 11 months ago

Note

Fic or Drabble whichever you wanna do.

Dark bsf Rafe taking advantage of vulnerable pregnant reader. Maybe her parents kicked her out? Or her baby daddy left her. Or whatever u see fit.

(Sorry if that sucks I just love ur work sm 🩷)

homestead | r. cameron [p.1]

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.6k

In which you reach rock bottom after JJ gets arrested and your first love returns to save the day.

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A boy.

You looked down at your eighteen-week ultrasound picture and smiled weekly. You and JJ were having a baby boy, and you’d found out completely by yourself. Pope had offered a million times to attend one of your appointments, practically begging a few times because he didn’t want you to go alone. You always rejected him, as the idea of going with someone else never felt right.

The Heyward’s had already done so much for you by letting you live in their spare bedroom for, basically, your entire pregnancy. No matter how much Pope tried to tell you that they didn’t mind at all, you saw in their eyes that the last person they wanted their son to be friends with was JJ Maybank’s baby mama. You promised them you’d be able to save enough money to get your own place by the end of your pregnancy.

So far, your day job at a retail clothing store and the late shift you worked as a waitress at The Wreck made you enough to keep you afloat. Pregnancy check-ups and ultrasounds were an expense you weren’t initially expecting and you hated that you were contemplating skipping the next few visits to save money. Besides that, appointments meant you couldn’t work and you needed all the hours you could get.

The picture reminded you of how much hard work was left, but the feelings were bittersweet. You were so excited to meet your little boy, no matter how small he was at the moment. If JJ’s case would move a little bit faster through the system, he could be there for the big day too. Everyone in Kildare was biased against him, knowing his father too well, and you knew the system would be biased against him as well.

You were grateful for Pope and for knowing someone else loved JJ as much as you did. JJ wasn’t hard to love, but he was a complicated person, and your relationship seemed to bring out the darkest parts of him. Pope saw his dark side, but …he wasn’t there the night he got arrested.

You didn’t know someone could yell so loud or be so angry. The two of you were living with his Dad, and the first few months were relatively peaceful, mostly because Luke would usually go out at night, get wasted, and crash on some other part of the island. You and JJ usually played house, taking turns making dinner for each other and sleeping together side by side.

A week before you realized you were pregnant, Luke came around asking JJ for money that JJ “owed” him, and of course, JJ refused him. You knew he’d been saving for months to take you off the island for your birthday, and he wasn’t giving that up. The fight escalated, with both sides verbally tearing each other down. As soon as Luke mentioned JJ’s mother, there was no stopping JJ.

The fight had already moved from the bedroom to the kitchen to the porch, and then the men wrestled in the yard. JJ would’ve killed Luke if the police hadn’t come. When he got taken away in cuffs, he was a bloody, swollen mess that you didn’t even recognize.

It became even messier when Luke decided to press charges against his own son even though they’d both been arrested. You then decided that Luke Maybank was heartless and wouldn’t ever see what you saw in his son.

It was the weekend, your one day off, and you’d chosen to spend most of it walking to the nearby department store after your trip to the clinic. The Heyward’s wanted to spend the day out on the water but rides on the boat were starting to make you extremely sick. Besides that, you hated fishing and It was one of the hotter days of summer but you’d chosen a lightweight t-shirt dress. Well, dresses were starting to be the only thing that you fit correctly with your growing stomach.

You tucked the picture you were holding into your purse as you made your way inside. For the past month, you’d been working up the courage to go down the baby aisles. Yet another thing that felt completely wrong doing without JJ. Cara had also offered to help buy you things but you told her every time that you were waiting until you were closer to your due date. You’d hold off from nesting until you were sure that JJ wasn’t getting out.

Slowly, you looked over every item. Cribs, diapers, breast pumps, baby formula, bottle warmers, and bibs. It was all so overwhelming and you knew getting everything would be expensive but the price tag didn’t quite register to you until now. You had no idea how you were going to pay rent one day and afford all of the things your baby needed.

You picked up the cutest crib mobile decorated with rocket ships, stars, and planets, and your heart skipped when you realized it was over a hundred dollars. You’d have to work an entire shift to earn that.

“Y/N?”

You turned towards the deep voice and the mobile tumbled from your hands, “Shit,” You cursed as you went down with it, hoping you hadn’t broken it because you couldn’t afford to buy it. Rafe Cameron pushed his cart to the side and hurried to help you, “I got it,” You said quickly as you turned away, handing it back on its display.

Then you really looked at him. The boy you’d been so obsessed with in highschool was not a boy. His light brown hair was longer than you remembered but was tamed by a baseball cap. His white t-shirt and jeans didn’t match the version of him you had in your head, but, honestly, he looked better than you remembered.

He smiled, rubbing the stubble on his face, as he seemed to take you in. If Rafe looked ten times better, you probably looked ten times worse than you used to. You felt huge although people just started taking note of your bump a couple weeks ago and your hair was messily gathered away from your face. Your dress was not name brand, in fact, you remembered buying it from the exact store you were standing in and you wore boots that used to belong to JJ now that your feet were starting to swell.

“Hey,” He said.

You breathed out, “Hi.”

“Congratulations,” Rafe glanced at your belly and you wanted to crawl inside your own skin, “I guess?”

“Thanks,” You nodded, “It’s . . . complicated.”

The sad part about being pregnant, unmarried, with your child’s father sitting in jail was that people had no idea what to say to you.

“How are you?” He asked after you went silent.

“I’m good,” You forced a smile, “How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve ran into you,” His smirk was the exact same as you remembered, “You shopping for the little one?”

“Browsing,” You said, “Didn’t quite realize how expensive all this stuff is.”

You looked at him for understanding before you remembered you were talking to – Kildare’s richest bad boy, “You still keep all your little friends around?”

“Yeah, we’re all a bit spread out now, though. I’m staying with the Heyward’s right now.”

You weren’t quite sure why you were exposing your life to him, but part of you wanted him to know that you were fine, that you had made the right decision choosing JJ over him, and that you were still figuring out life, but you’d be happy.

“Oh, so it’s Pope’s baby?” The smug look on his face made you realize he was teasing you.

“You know exactly whose baby it is, Rafe,” You shot back, your eyes rolling back.

You turned to walk away but he grabbed you by your arm, “Y/N, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’m sorry, Honey.”

You quickly pulled your arm away from him, folding your arms in front of your chest. You looked over his cart, seeing it was filled with miscellaneous things, but the only thing you could recognize was a massive back of dog food, “You got a dog?”

“A few,” he said, placing his hands in his back pockets, “I use ‘em for animal herding. Wrangler, Sadie, and a few puppies.”

“Animal herding?”

“Yeah, I got this place on the mainland. I just came through to see Wheezie. I promised she could have one of the puppies before I sold the others.”

“You got a place on the mainland?” Your eyebrows raised, and you tried to keep your mouth from gaping, “Puppies?”

He nodded, laughing lightly, “Had to get my shit together after I got out of rehab and living with my Dad and Rose, it was just never good for me. Still working for him, but I’m just better on my own, you know?”

“I didn’t know you went to rehab,” You said quietly, still trying to process the information he was relaying.

“A few times to be honest but I’ve been clean for a year,” He admitted while looking a bit closer at you, “Is there anything you need right now? I can help.”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that,” You shook your head quickly, “I’m fine.”

“You never like to accept help, do you?”

“I don’t need anything right now,” You assured him.

“Hmm,” Rafe huffed, “Can I at least give you a ride, Y/N?”

“How do you know I don’t have one?”

He gave you a knowing look that made you want to punch him. He was new and improved Rafe, but he was still an asshole, “Well, I also came to look for a new living room rug, and I could use a woman’s perspective. Help me, and I’ll give you a ride back to the Heyward’s.”

“Whatever,” You shrugged before you began walking, “Fine.”

In his eyes, you could tell he thought he’d won.

This was so wrong. So, so wrong. JJ would kill you. JJ would kill him. This wasn’t high school anymore, and you weren’t the insecure girl vying for the rich bad boy’s attention. Besides that, you’d always been an option for Rafe. JJ always chose you despite where you came from; now you might have a real chance of having a family.

You blamed the way your body heated up when he spoke your name on your racing hormones and on the fact that you’d been separated from JJ for months.

Rafe said he only came to main island to visit Wheezie, but as the weeks passed, you realized he’d found a new reason to visit. At least two times a week, he came in to the Wreck to order food and talk to you. Not only that, he practically texted you daily checking in on you.

“Why the sudden change?” You asked him one night when closing time was closely approaching and you’d served all your tables, “I mean, I know you hated JJ but I didn’t think it would get in the way of, you know, us.”

“It’s my biggest regret after getting to know you again,” He admitted and the look in his eyes made your heart sink, “But I didn’t really know what I was doing when I was younger. I was so stupid, all I cared about was getting my Dad’s approval and I spiraled when that inevitably didn’t happen.”

He had a way of making you question all of your own decisions.

“Ward definitely wouldn’t approve of me now.”

“I told you I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Or what the entirety of Figure 8 will think?”

“Not at all,” He said.

“I care what my friends think.”

“You’re different than them now,” Rafe reached across the table to grab ahold of your hand as his blue eyes stared deeply into your eyes, “You have a great responsibility on your shoulders now. You have to do what’s best for you and the baby. That’s it, fuck what they think.”

“They do want the best for me,” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“They want JJ for you. And he’s sitting in jail right now.”

You pulled your hand away, looking out the onto the dock and dark water.

“You don’t even know how you should be treated,” Rafe said mostly to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means–” He stopped himself, but his skin was flushed with red and you sensed he was calming himself down, “I just think you deserve better.”

“And you’re going to walk into my life after all these years and save me? I can do this by myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Rafe leaned in, “JJ’s going to get out but things aren’t going to get better.”

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s true, he’s a fuckup. He won’t get a good job and there’s a good chance he’ll go right back,” That tipped you over the edge and your chair scraped loudy on the ground as you stood up, ‘“I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry. I can drive you home.”

“Pope is coming to get me.”

You didn’t spare him a second look as you walked to the back of the kitchen. Until now, he’d refrained from putting all the weight of his judgement on you but you knew all a long he thought you were making a mistake. He’d been through a lot but he’d never struggled like you and JJ had. At the end of the day, he’d always had Ward’s money to fall back on.

He just hated JJ and he was doing his best to get in between the two of you.

Two weeks later, you were standing outside the Kildare County Jail, not because you were visiting JJ but because he was being released. Luke dropped the charges against him, and they released lower offenders due to overcrowding. You watched a few reunifications and waited on a cold bench in the lobby; blue hydrangeas in a small bouquet sat neatly in your lap. Your dress was also blue and printed with daisies. He had no idea the two of you were having a boy, and it was your sweet idea of telling him.

You’d blocked Rafe’s number just that morning after ignoring his messages and calls. He was wrong. Even if he was calling to tell you that, you didn’t want to hear it. They never specified how long it would take to process him but you started to doze off after waiting for two hours. An officer in beige uniform tapped your shoulder lightly to wake you.

You were still hopeful and you expected to see JJ right behind him, “Hello, ma’am. Unfortunately JJ Maybank cannot be released today.”

“What?” Your eyes widened, “Uhm, why?”

“I was informed that additional charges have been filed against him.”

“What do you mean additional charges?” You asked, concern raising in your tone, “Who can I talk to?”

You when through every channel of communication possible, searching for answers. They couldn’t possibly expect you to leave like nothing happened. You found out from another officer, after heavy begging, that they filed another battery charge against him involving another inmate. Somehow, in the two days that he knew he was getting out he managed to catch another charge.

“Could I at least visit him?” You’d asked and they told you he was in a segregated unit now and not allowed visits.

You felt your heart physically break. When it fully started to sink in, you left to get fresh air. You walked for a long while until you started to panic. You sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and through teary eyes you tried to search for Pope’s number. What would you do now? Go back to the Heywards and continue to accept their charity? You were kidding yourself thinking you could do this alone.

It felt like a rejection. You’d never had a real family. JJ knew that and yet he’d left you all alone again.

You let your phone fall to the side, deciding you wanted to be miserable by yourself and you didn’t want to burden his family any longer. You threw the flowers into the street before your head fell in your hands and you finally let yourself cry for the first time since JJ had gone away.

The bouquet you’d carefully put together lay discarded in the street and you had no care about the mud that was probably staining your dress now. Just as your chest started to tighten unbearably, you heard the low rumble of car engine and a shadow seemed to drape itself over you. You heard someone calling you, telling you to breathe, but your body wouldn’t obey the instructions.

Your baby needs you to take a breath, you told yourself but the thought of your baby only made your guilt worsen, “I’ve got you,” You heard that familiar voice say. Being in his arms was far from familiar but your body didnt protest when it felt itself lifted in the air and placed on soft leather.

The next time you looked up, you felt the car moving, and you saw the sun setting through the window. You felt a hand on your thigh rubbing soothing circles but you felt more paralyze than anything, “Try to take deep breaths,” You heard him say but your body wasn’t yours to control, “Everything’s gonna be okay now. I’m going to take care of the two of you.”

You were not in the squeaky twin bed at the Heyward’s house when your eyes peeled open the next morning and you realized that quickly. You saw wooden beams overhead and walls painted a soft cream color. You turned your head to see sunlight coming through lace-curtained windows. As fast as you could move with the extra weight, you pushed the comforter off of you and moved over to the window. It offered a view of rolling fields and distant trees, the greenery stretching as far as your eyes could see.

Looking back around the room, you saw a sturdy, antique bed with wooden nightstands on either side. A handmade quilt with vibrant patches of red and blue sat on top of the bed. Plush pillows piled at the head of the bed. On top of one nightstand was a well-worn book and a framed photo of younger Rafe with a blonde woman beside him.

On the other nightstand was a vase of freshly picked wildflowers. You remembered your blue hydrangeas, and yesterday’s events came flooding back to you, “Fuck,” You cursed, and your eyes found the bedroom door. Before thinking about walking towards the door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the large mirror, sitting on top of a wooden dresser. You were dressed in a white silk pajama top and bottoms, a tiny sliver of your belly poked out the bottom of the shirt, but otherwise, they fit you perfectly. All you could do was curse, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You moved quickly towards the door, but it opened before you grabbed the handle. You covered your mouth as a shriek left your lips.

Despite your startled appearance, Rafe appeared calm. His hair looked like it had just woken him up, and he wore a simple T-shirt and gym shorts. He closed the door behind him, acting as another barrier to your escape, “What the fuck, Rafe?”

He shushed you, “You need to stay calm,” He warned you, “There’s no point in getting riled up.”

“I was having a panic attack and . . . and you–”

“You needed to get away,” He raised his hands as if to show he wouldn’t cause you harm, “I took you home with me.”

“You took me home with you?” You spoke back to him, “I have a home. Why didn’t you take me back to the Heyward’s?”

“That’s not your home, Honey, and you know that.”

You shook your head, “You don’t get to decide that. Where’s my phone?”

“It’s wherever you left it,” Rafe shrugged, “You know, when you were having a panic attack on the side of the road. Alone and pregnant with absolutely no one looking out for you. Imagine if it wasn’t me who found you.”

Rafe looked annoyed like it was you who was crazy in this scenario. You tried to ignore the thought of him undressing you and putting you in these new clothes. The idea of that became harder as you watched his eyes trail from your feet, higher and higher, “Jesus Christ, you don’t even know how precious you are,” He came closer until you were stumbling back onto the bed, “I want you to stay here with me.”

“And if I don’t want the same?” You looked up at him.

“I’ll let you think it over. Give it some time,” He nodded to himself, “Are you hungry?”

You didn’t answer, only stared back, “I’ll make you something. I’ll be right back.”

He turned on his heel, and as you realized what he was doing, you hurried after him. He closed the door, and as you furiously turned the knob, you realized he’d locked it, “Rafe!” You screamed as you pounded on the door, “Rafe, please don’t do this!”

You felt your tough exterior melt away. This was serious. He was completely serious about keeping you here.

You rushed over to the windows next, throwing open the curtains, and found that they didn’t budge even as you pushed at them. You kept yourself from another panic attack, knowing that Pope would be looking for you right now. You never told him about Rafe … you were so concerned about him judging you that you next rold him. But if someone found your phone, they would know … but you had no idea what really happened to it.

As you started to pace, you suddenly felt a fluttering sensation. You stopped as you felt a tiny kick inside of you, an unmistakable movement that echoed throughout your whole body. Gently, you caressed your stomach. “I hear you,” you said through heavy breaths as your eyes moved around the room. It’s okay. I’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #black!reader #obx fic #jj maybank #pope heyward

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papurgaatika · 1 year ago

Text

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything.

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car.

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.”

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.”

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words.

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly.

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel.

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you.

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face.

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms.

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy,

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house.

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway.

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes.

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father.

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that.

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?”

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass.

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face.

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home.

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard.

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed.

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties.

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute.

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me”

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes, “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again.

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties.

“but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway.

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight.

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again.

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?”

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit.

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want.

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face.

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry”

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis.

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much.

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words.

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes.

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair.

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying.

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips.

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #papaya writes <3

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stellar-haikyuu · 28 days ago

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guardian angel ☆ sawamura daichi x reader

synopsis: you think the new security guard at your apartment is good at his job—maybe a little too good. his protectiveness soon extends beyond the lobby, slipping into your daily life. details: fluff | strangers to lovers | ~970 words | gn! reader | timeskip! daichi | this is inspired by my dormitory security guard (she's so sweet i love her <3)

Your daily work routine was starting to suck the energy out of you—nobody wants to deal with nosy coworkers and an overly passionate boss. As much as you tried to enjoy the small things each day, you were tired of trying and reaching. You wanted something to look forward to.

Unexpectedly, you get your wish; you meet Sawamura Daichi, your apartment building’s new security guard.

At 7 AM, you’re surprised by the new face in the lobby as you note your time-out in the security logbook. His bright smile, deep voice, and broad features immediately catch your attention—a stark contrast to the other personnel you’ve met in all your years staying at this building.

You find yourself wanting to stay longer and chat with him, but alas, you have a schedule to catch up to. However, it means that you walk to work with a grin on your face, without a dreadful thought crossing your mind.

And soon enough, even your officemates notice the spring in your step. They always ask you who’s got you in an extra good mood. With every passing day, you find it harder to come up with a lame excuse.

Your motivation doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Your superiors think you’ve finally gotten out of your funk, but truthfully? You just try to avoid overtime so you can get home as soon as possible...to see a certain someone, of course.

You often catch Sawamura-san when he’s about to end his shift at 6 PM. He initiates small talk with you as you fill out the logbook to time-in, and you write even slower on purpose each time.

Hell, at some point, you give up the act. You stand there in front of the main desk as you talk, not caring if the other staff and residents stare at you as they pass by. It doesn’t matter, because it means you return to your room each day with butterflies in your stomach.

Both of you are so used to this routine that when you get sick for a few days, it’s immediately obvious that something is wrong.

A fever, cough, and colds get you out of nowhere, knocking you out for about three days now. Luckily, you’ve had some medicine to spare—you’re not one to get sick that easily.

However, you groan as you realize you may need to buy more at the pharmacy across the street. Not to mention, your food stock is starting to run out; you were supposed to do your grocery run this weekend.

Just as you’re trying to gather your strength, someone knocks at your door. You jump in surprise, as no one ever really comes to visit.

You open the door to see Sawamura-san, who has just gotten off his shift. When he asks if you’re okay, you almost tear up at the concern in his voice. You only realize how tense he was after he visibly relaxes and sighs in relief after you tell him nothing bad has happened.

He immediately asks what he can do for you, and while you try to refuse at first, his insistence eventually wins. He runs to the convenience store and pharmacy without question, making sure to list down every single thing you need.

Sawamura-san is a godsend, you think, when he returns in half an hour with the plastic bags. He even offers to make you dinner, as well as something you can reheat for breakfast and lunch the next day.

And that’s when you tell him to call you by your first name—no formalities and honorifics. In return, he tells you to call him Daichi.

Your heart flutters for the rest of the day, and you think that maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to make a move.

In the following weeks, you give him your affection. You always buy an extra snack at the vending machine for him. You create a playlist of songs that he can listen to. Eventually, you invite him to eat dinner together after his shift ends on Friday.

He playfully asks if it’s a date, but when you say yes, you see a new side of Daichi—a flustered mess. He literally forgets to reply for a moment before agreeing. Cute.

Gradually, you both seek each other’s company outside of work. Sometimes, when he’s too exhausted to go home, you let him crash on your couch. You make meals together and tell each other stories about your lives at the dining table.

It’s only a matter of time before Daichi confesses that he really, really likes you. And for the first time since he was a kid, he gets a goodnight kiss—from you.

Things fall into place naturally after that. But a few months later, Daichi is swapped to the night shift for a change. He’s content knowing that you’re safe in your room while he’s on duty, but he’s a little bummed about not being able to stay with you at night.

So, on his first day, you go down to the apartment lobby to keep him company. Sometimes, you bring him dinner and snacks, choosing to share your meals with him.

On nights you have trouble falling asleep, he has you on video call, rambling about his day until he finally hears you snoring. You rest easy, knowing that Daichi is watching over you.

It's no surprise that he takes great delight in knowing that his contact name on your phone is “guardian angel.”

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1d1195 · 7 days ago

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Normal People - Extra I

Read Normal People here | ~2.8k words

From me: from a lovely anon's request. **Reminder: I really didn't like this story by the end of writing it, so please don't be too harsh; it's a little all over the place as always💕

Warnings: mostly fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst

Summary: Harry is finally older and wiser. But wisdom comes with hindsight. And with hindsight comes with the knowledge that he is really missing her.

Harry wondered if she thought about him the way he thought about her. She was never too far from his mind. He wouldn’t say he was obsessed, not really. It was more like that space between a dream and reality. She was just there right at the edge of his subconscious always lingering. He liked it. It was a warm feeling to have her at the edge of his thoughts. Like a hand holding his at all the time. It was comforting.

They didn’t work out. Not in a bad way. Their relationship ran its course, and they were meant to be there for each other in university and then drift. But now Harry was almost thirty. Time seemed to be speeding up and slowing down at the same time. He felt like he was missing something but just like her phantom hand, he couldn’t quite place it.

Harry liked himself a lot more. She made him feel like a much better person than the one he was in school and all those horrible “friends” he surrounded himself with. He had a cute little niece thanks to Gemma and his mum was likely his best friend. He had a good job and was well-liked and respected there. Overall, he was just happy.

But sometimes he missed her presence more than he realized. He had a couple other girlfriends after her but when time sped up (usually when he saw the little girl that looked like his sister growing as he was actively watching her) he thought he was missing something more.

Or someone.

He was sitting in his office mixing pieces of music together and finishing songs that someone recorded last week. His skill was top notch, and he supposed he would always thank her for reminding him he should pursue what he loved, whether she heard his thanks or not. The melody and harmony of this particular song fit so well together that it didn’t even need lyrics, Harry was emotional just hearing it.

How sad he would have been if he wasn’t a part of this process. If he didn’t get to hear beautiful sounds every day and get to be the person that helped make good music great.

Some days were long though, and the music didn’t always sound right. Sometimes Harry had to sit with the keyboard in front of him and play note by note until he found the perfect fit. It was worth it in the end. However, it made for those longer days when he needed more caffeine. He would slink out of the building whether it was warm or cold and head to the coffee shop closest to him.

The long days were the only time at present in which he was sadder than any other normal day. It wasn’t like before; but it was when he felt like he was missing something. Like he had walked into a room and forgotten what he needed from it. It happened sometimes when he hadn’t seen his niece, and he just knew she was growing, and he was missing it. Or his mum was aging, and he wasn’t around her enough. Wasn’t soaking in enough of her wisdom.

That he wasn’t in love anymore and he hadn’t been since university.

He pulled the collar of his coat around his neck a little tighter and turned his face away from the blustering wind as it chilled his body. The walk was short enough and the chill actually felt good. Like a shock and reset to get the juices flowing again to get him out of his little rut. A little caffeine and he would be as good as new.

He had no plans for the coming weekend; Gemma was visiting her in-laws and his mum had plans with friends. He was going to be a bit lonely. Maybe he would read a book or watch a movie. He really needed to call Niall and catch up too.

There were about four people ahead of him in the coffee line. Texting Niall was a good use of his time and maybe he would have an idea for the song he was working on.

“Harry?”

Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. His subconscious was joking with him.

His heart skipped a beat and then sped to about a thousand beats per minute. He nearly dropped his phone in his sweaty grip. He turned to the sound of her voice, and she was smiling at him. She looked beautiful as always. That wasn’t any question he would ever have. She looked the same as the last time he saw her—when university ended and so did they. Her eyes held the same warmness as he remembered and so did her smile. It was like he was being hugged, and she hadn’t even said anything more to him than his own name. It had nothing on the phantom feeling of her presence in his mind. This was infinitely better.

“Kitten,” he mumbled dumbly. Her grin brightened.

“How are you?” she asked and reached out giving his arm a squeeze. He was going to forget all about her lingering presence now that he had the pleasure of feeling her in the flesh again. “It’s good to see you.”

“S’nice t’see you too. M’good, how are you?”

“Really good,” she nodded. “I just moved to this town actually, my job promoted me to a new office so...here I am.”

“Oh, that’s great. Congratulations,” was he smiling too much? It felt like he was smiling too much. How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to remain normal in this moment?

His heart was beating too fast. His mind felt like it had turned to mush. She was so beautiful and so lovely. Harry was completely tongue-tied. What was he supposed to say to her? He missed her for so long. Whether their relationship ran its course or not, he knew he wanted her back in his life.

“How about you?” She asked.

God bless her for doing all the heavy lifting in the conversation. Harry was going to end up drooling all over the coffee shop floor because he couldn’t get his mind to work. “Uh, yeah. I work in town too. A music label. I do a lot of the editing and mixing stuff,” he wasn’t even sure if that was what he was actually doing anymore. Nothing in his mind was working at full capacity. It was just thinking of the pretty girl he loved for so long and how lovely she was even after he was a disaster. Harry was a mess.

She grinned. “That’s amazing, I love that for you,” she said cheerily. “How’s your mom and Gemma?”

“Lovely, Gemma had a baby,” he quickly held his phone out and showed her his background of the sweet baby he adored so much. That was something he could focus on. His little niece was his favorite part of his life at present.

Well, until she said his name a moment ago.

She gasped softly. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Tell her I’m so happy for her, that’s amazing. Congratulations Uncle Harry,” she rubbed his arm again. “I’m happy for you too.”

He swallowed, feeling his face warm with her praise. He didn’t deserve it. She was too kind and too good. “You look...happy,” he murmured.

She smiled. “I am. Really happy. You look great, Harry. Handsome as ever,” she winked and stepped out of line tugging him along with her. “Do you still have my number?” She asked.

Harry thought he had swallowed a bug and he nearly choked. “Uh... yeah,” he would never delete it so it was still listed in his contacts somewhere, he had to take the hearts off her name but it was still there.

“Call me sometime,” she squeezed his hand. “I’d like to catch up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if you’re... you’re sure?” He asked.

She nodded, smiling so beautifully, and so brightly it was stunning. She was stunning. “I like that we’re kind of tied together, Harry. After all these years... You’re still one of my favorite people.”

Harry felt nauseous in the best way, and he wondered what on earth he did to deserve someone as beautiful as she was. As forgiving and kind.

Simply put, as perfect as she was.

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. It felt almost wrong to be this happy. Especially after everything. But it was so easy. Better. Everything was so much better. Harry loved her loudly and quietly. He said things like “I have t’check with m’girlfriend—no I don’t need her permission, but s’polite,” and his friends all smirked at him glad he found someone that he adored so much. At work they noticed a shift in him too. He was open, happy, bubbly. He was more productive and prouder of his work.

She was the best influence on him.

After a few short months of reconnecting, Niall helped them move into a small little house that needed a good amount of work. They were covered in paint and wood shavings on weekends. Her face was often concentrated on her phone as she watched endless videos to repair their little paradise together.

She was so good with his niece. Gemma said it was like she was meant to be her aunt. She rarely frowned. Only sad movies and books could make her sad these days. She marched herself back into Harry’s life unapologetically and Harry couldn’t thank her enough.

“You are the best thing t’ever happen t’me, kitten,” he pressed a line of kisses along the length of her neck. He did it in public when they waited for a table at their favorite restaurant. He had no qualms of kissing and touching her in public. “M’not sure who decided we should be together, but m’forever indebted.”

She merely laughed. “I always thought we were kind of meant to be together,” she shrugged. “Even when I was sad,” she explained. “You were always a bright spot in my life.”

Harry felt like shit knowing he, in all the shittiest parts of his life, was the bright spot in hers. When he was having a bad day and thought nothing was going right, he thought she deserved so much more. He had no issue telling her so. Groveling and wishing she would make him feel a fraction as bad as he had made her feel.

But she couldn’t. Because she was always too sweet. She turned from her spot in front of the kitchen sink, pulling him toward her with soapy hands and Harry looked at her with an ache in his chest. She was so cute, so pretty, so lovely.

He just wasn’t. Not on bad days. On the days when he felt worthless and shitty that she was worth everything good he didn’t feel good at all.

“We were kids. I’ve had a lot of time and therapy to work through that stuff Harry. You should too, you don’t need to feel bad anymore. Look how happy we are,” she reminded him with a kiss to his lips. “You make me feel special and loved every minute,” she promised him, and she looked so at ease. As if she had forgotten all the bad. Maybe she had. She was good like that, better than him of course. Harry wasn’t sure he could let it go. How could she continually forgive how shitty he was to her? His shirt was getting damp from her hands and they both ignored it. She gestured out the window soap bubbles fluttering about them. The blinds shaking softly in the breeze coming from the spring air. There were birds chirping, squirrels hopping across the yard, and the sun making the flowers bloom in their garden.

“Life doesn’t bloom like that when there’s no love,” she said knowingly.

Harry took a deep breath, buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. She was the best. The most perfect thing in his life and he would spend forever groveling if it allowed him to keep her just like that.

“M’fiancée’s going t’love that,” he said to the woman behind the jewelry.

Her faith and confidence in Harry were something to be admired. It made him feel so much better. Or maybe it was the therapy sessions that she encouraged him to partake in. They were finally helping him come to realize that what he did was shitty, but she forgave him over and over. And the person Harry was now, wassomeone very different from back then. Harry had to forgive himself too.

“Is it a special occasion?” The woman asked as she packaged the earrings up for Harry.

“Just Thursday,” he smiled sweetly with a shrug.

The woman looked giggly. “Wow,” she murmured to herself. “What a lucky lady.”

“S’the other way around,” he assured her as he handed his card over the counter to her. “Deserves nothing but the best,” he explained signing the receipt and gave a wave. “See y’next month,” he winked.

Niall was sitting with her on the patio while they drank lemonade, or maybe it was spiked lemonade, but he handed her the little gift bag all the same. “Buying her affection?” Niall asked.

He shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe.”

“He already had it,” she giggled and rolled her eyes at him. “Stop buying me stuff,” she pouted.

Harry headed back to the house to get the food she had laid out on the counter for dinner. Harry would be grilling something for the three of them while she did sides or something. He ignored her request because he would never stop buying stuff for her. She deserved every love language and Harry would give her each one.

“M’wife loves the flowers from here. She’s making a garden in our backyard. We want a spot t’have picnics with the baby,” he explained. He was creating a gardening basket. A homage to her mum and a way to bring her closer to the grandchild she would never meet.

“When’s she due?”

“Next month,” he smiled proudly.

“Boy or girl?”

“Not sure, we’re trying t’keep it a surprise.”

“That’s lovely.”

Harry paid for the items and in the parking lot he put all the items into a basket. She would be irritated that he bought more things for her but he couldn’t help it. She was so lovely and deserved the best.

He found her out in their backyard, lying on the ground, her tummy round, a hand on top of it. The skirt of her dress fluttering, by her shins. She was staring up at the sky watching the clouds talking quietly to the little one inside her.

“Hi kitten,” he grinned setting the basket on the ground behind her. “What was y’plan here? Did y’get stuck?”

She smiled and turned to look at him. She shook her head. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I figured you’d be home soon to rescue me.”

He gently coaxed her to sitting and placed himself behind her, her back pressed to his chest. Carefully he lifted her lower stomach ever so gently. “Oh fuck,” she whimpered.

“Shh, kitten,” he chuckled. “Not in front of our little one.”

“She’s heard worse.”

“She?”

“I wanted a lot of chocolate today.”

“I see,” he chuckled. Yesterday she used “he” because she had the intense craving for pizza and beer (and when only one of those cravings could be satisfied, she frowned at her stomach and told him he was sucking all her beauty away—which was false. But it made Harry love her more).

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Me or the baby?”

“I was talking to you, but I love this one too,” she rubbed her stomach. “Did you buy me more stuff?” She asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Harry,” she sighed.

“M’obsessed with you,” he peppered kisses into her neck and smiled against her skin. “M’not sorry ‘bout it.”

She shook her head but there was a smile as she turned her head toward his chest. “What did you get me?”

“Nothing important. Let’s jus’ sit here a minute,” he turned her a bit more so he could see her pretty face, her eyes covered by sunglasses. He kissed her deeply.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Harry Styles,” she mumbled.

The little one made her quite turned on these days. Which was unlike anything Harry could explain (not that he wanted to—it was special and only for them). “Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles.” She giggled and cupped his face kissing him again and again and again. “You can have whatever y’want of me,” he reminded her. They were just in love after all that time, two regular people who found each other again despite everything and loved more than they ever thought.

And if they continued to kiss inappropriately in the privacy of their own backyard then no one would be the wiser.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

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@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

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@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @spinninc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121 @inharryshelter @fandomxo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #normal people

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punkshort · 9 months ago

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Roommates | 10. just us two

Pairing: (ex)pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel settle into your new lives together.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol and food consumption, massive quantities of fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex (reader is on BC), oral sex (f!receiving), spanking, pussy pronouns, multiple orgasms, some sex tape action 👀

WC: 7.1K

A/N: Okay, we've reached the end of the road for these two! I can't believe I'm wrapping up another fic, jfc. Thank you so much for sticking around and expressing so much love and excitement for this story. It means so much to me that I'm able to share this part of myself with people who are just as happy as me about these characters. This chapter wasn't really necessary, most loose ends are already tied up but they deserved to be happy, so this entire chapter is just love and fluff and smut. Shout out to @txtattoostark for listening to me yap and for the watermelon moonshine inspo. Enjoy, and thanks again ❤️

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

Joel smiled to himself as he watched you in the kitchen with his mom from his spot in the living room. The old radio next to the sink, dusty and missing two buttons, was softly playing jazz music while you both worked on dinner. It wasn't the trailer park he grew up in. The small ranch house his mother bought with the life insurance money she received after his father passed away wasn't too bad. He begged her for years to let him give her some money, to buy her a place closer to town, to pay for new appliances at the very least, but she always refused. Instead, he found himself visiting her whenever he had a few days off so he could fix the sink or the washer or cut the grass.

He didn't mind. It was a good excuse to come visit. He enjoyed catching up and spending time with her.

But now, with you? Watching the way you seamlessly moved around the kitchen, laughing with his mom and stirring things in pots while swaying your hips in those tight denim shorts... yeah, this was different. This was much better.

"Hey, brother," Tommy said from behind, startling him out of his rosy daydream. Joel stood with a smile to engulf Tommy in a hug once he kicked off his shoes.

"You look tan," he remarked, then reached for Maria and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"New Orleans was sunny," Tommy said, holding some bottle of clear alcohol in his hand. "Brought back some moonshine. Watermelon. Mama's favorite."

"Oh, Tommy! Maria! You're back!" their mother cried from the kitchen before wiping her hands on a towel and hurrying over to the front door, her worn out blue slippers catching on the rug as she walked. "How was your honeymoon?" she asked after she squeezed them both within an inch of their lives.

"Amazing," Maria said happily. "We had such a great time. Have you ever been?"

Mrs. Miller shook her head. "Maybe James will take me one day."

"Is he here?" Tommy asked, handing his mother the liquor.

"No, he's visiting his daughter out of town this weekend. Come on, I have some snacks out."

The four of them entered the kitchen and you swiveled around with a big smile. Setting down the wooden spoon you were holding, you threw your arms around Maria's neck, then Tommy's.

"How was it?" you asked them, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

You and Maria fell into an animated conversation about some haunted ghost tour when Tommy cleared his throat and propped his hands on his hips.

The pair of you stopped talking to look at him questioningly, then realization dawned on you. You smirked and shook your head before digging into your back pocket to pull out a folded bill and slapped it into his palm.

"You were right, Tommy."

He laughed and tucked the money into his shirt pocket.

"Thought you mighta forgot."

Joel frowned and looked between the two of you curiously, but Maria seemed to know exactly what was going on because she was already chuckling to herself.

You glanced over at Joel, who was eating a cracker with cheese, and your expression softened. "Best hundred bucks I ever lost."

"The hell you givin' him a hundred bucks for?" Joel asked incredulously, but you just slipped your arms around his waist and rested your chin against his chest with a smile.

"I lost a bet," you told him.

He practically melted into a puddle under your touch. He couldn't get enough. After a year of denying yourselves or sneaking around, it felt so good to be open. He refused to ever take it for granted, so he tilted your face up and pressed a tender kiss against your lips. He felt your mouth twitch into a smile when Tommy groaned in fake disgust.

"Thought we were the newlyweds here."

You broke the kiss to shoot him a look over your shoulder.

"Try and keep up."

Joel tossed his head back and laughed, then released his hold on you so you could return to the stove. Maria washed her hands and picked up a knife to chop vegetables and Tommy reached for the bottle of moonshine their mother left on the counter.

"Let's crack into this," he said, and Joel nodded. He weaved through the kitchen to open up the cupboard where the glasses were kept, grabbing five tumblers. You were swaying again with the music and you gently knocked into him with your hips, just enough to tease him, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Watch yourself, baby," he warned with a wink before placing the glasses down next to Tommy so he could pour.

Joel couldn't remember a time he had seen his mother look so happy. The five of them sat around her dining room table, a table made for four but you all squeezed in, knees knocking together underneath, arms brushing against one another, and it felt perfect.

He leaned back in his chair after finishing his food, one arm draped along the back of your chair, his other hand loosely holding his glass of moonshine and he smiled. He tried to pay attention to Maria and his brother tell stories about their honeymoon, but he had a hard time looking away from you. Eventually, he stopped trying. His gaze slid down your face, admiring your smile and the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

He was so fucking lucky.

Tearing his eyes away to bring his glass to his lips, he caught his mother watching him across the table with a knowing smile. She winked at him before giving Tommy her attention once again and Joel felt his face warm.

Once dinner was over, he and Tommy stood to clear everyone's plates. A habit that was formed early on in their lives. Whoever didn't cook had to clean up.

After the dishes were done and the leftovers were packed away, the two brothers refilled their glasses and wandered out to the back porch where their mother, you and Maria had ended up.

Maria and Mrs. Miller were strolling around the yard, their mother pointing out plants and flowers and telling Maria some long winded story about each. The deer hate this one. Cindy up the street cut a chunk of this out of her garden for me, can you believe how big it is now? I got this from Home Depot on clearance half dead, look how good it's doing.

"Better go save her," Tommy murmured before jogging down the steps. Joel plopped himself next to you on the porch with a sigh and clinked your glasses together.

"Lucky you already got the flower tour earlier," he told you.

You bit your lip and chuckled. "She really loves her garden."

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting and you could hear the crickets coming to life all around you. Birds swooped anxiously overhead, rushing back to their nests for the night. A cool breeze floated through the air, rustling your hair and making you shiver.

"C'mere," he murmured, patting his thigh. You smirked and shook your head but put your glass down and stood to perch on his leg, wrapping your arms around his neck lovingly and giving him a chaste kiss.

He hummed in approval and licked his lips. "Taste good."

"Like watermelon?" you asked, fingers twisting around the long strands of hair on the back of his head.

He nodded. "And you."

You kissed him once again, lingering a bit longer that time so you could fully appreciate the softness of his lips between yours and breathing in deep the scent of soap still stuck to his skin.

Then voices began to grow louder behind you, indicating your alone time was coming to an end.

Tommy stumbled on the stairs leading up the porch and you turned around on Joel's lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you right where you were, before teasing his brother.

"Better take it easy. You been out for two weeks at work, you ain't callin' in tomorrow 'cause you're hungover."

Tommy rolled his eyes and took your abandoned chair.

"Yes, boss."

"How are things at the bar, Joel?" his mother asked, sitting down with a sigh. "I'm so glad you found some work I can actually tell my girlfriends about without lying."

You stifled a giggle and glanced at Maria, who was also trying to hold back her laughter.

"Good, Mama," Joel said, ignoring her other comment. His chin came to rest over your shoulder as he spoke. "The remodel is done. Opened up the room so there's a place to dance. Easier for customers to move around. Everyone's been real excited to see the changes. Been busy."

"He's been working so hard, too," you added, twisting to your side so your fingers could lovingly rake through the hair on the back of his neck. "Some days I don't even see him."

Mrs. Miller gave you a sympathetic look but you could tell she was proud of her oldest son for venturing outside his comfort zone and applying himself.

"So you're all moved in, I take it?" Maria asked, and you nodded.

"Didn't really have much. Most of my things were still packed from when I moved out."

"She's been sprucin' up the place, too. You oughta see it," Joel said fondly. "Got pretty lookin' art on the walls, fluffy pillows and blankets for the couch. Actually got some food in the damn fridge, too."

Tommy laughed heartily. "That mean you'll stop swipin' fries and shit from the kitchen?"

"Hey, I'm payin' for those fries. I'll take 'em if I want 'em," he said with a scowl, then looked up at you, his eyes softening. "But it's nice to have dinner waitin' for me at home," he added, bringing a smile to your face.

"You were always terrible at cooking," you teased, tugging on his earlobe playfully between your fingers.

The night dragged on, the stars lit up the quiet night sky and Mrs. Miller eventually began to yawn, indicating it was time to head home.

Home.

It felt so right to think of it that way. It was where you belonged. But you knew it wasn't simply the house. You could have been living in a shack and you would still be just as happy because it was with him.

Joel gripped your thigh while he drove his truck with one hand on the steering wheel. The windows were down, the wind whipped at your face, tangling your hair when you turned your head to gaze over at him.

"See anythin' you like?" he teased when he spotted you admiring him from the corner of his eye.

You giggled and felt his fingers squeeze your bare leg.

"You know what I want?"

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards and his eyes darkened with excitement. "What's that, sweetheart?"

You seductively ran your palm up his arm, sighing at the way his muscles twitched under your fingertips.

"I would really, really love... a vegetable garden."

You laughed at the way his face fell in mock disappointment.

"I'll build you a vegetable garden," he finally said as he turned onto your street.

"Really?" you asked with a huge smile. He nodded and shot you a wink.

"'Course. Whatever you want, baby."

Joel stayed true to his word. About a week later you woke up on Saturday morning to the distant sound of a hammer beating a piece of wood in the backyard. Stretching a lazy arm out to your side, you pouted when you found Joel was missing.

Then the pieces slowly clicked together.

It was a rare weekend off for him. You had been talking about it for the past few days. He was looking forward to Tommy returning to work so he wouldn't be so short staffed and he could relax with you for two whole days. You didn't come up with any plans except laying in bed, ordering takeout and watching movies, content to just spend time together. But Joel sweetly surprised you by waking up early, something he absolutely detested, so he could build you the vegetable garden you asked for.

You lightly padded down the steps still clad in your tank top and shorts to grab a mug from the cupboard. The coffee pot sizzled with heat when you plucked it from the burner, half the liquid already gone. Once you fixed it the way you liked, you walked out onto the back deck and leaned over the railing, your mug cupped in both hands, to fully appreciate the sight before you.

Joel had his back to you as he crouched over a simple rectangular wooden frame on the ground. You could see the sweat collecting on the back of his neck and it made your mouth water. As your eyes traveled lower, you noticed the dark patches in his shirt forming at his collar and between his shoulder blades, making your thighs clench together while he worked, completely oblivious to you watching him, listening to him grunt and sigh when he lifted a new piece of wood.

You swallowed thickly before taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes never leaving his form while he stood to stretch his back. He lifted his hat from his head and wiped his brow with the back of his forearm and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip. Something was so fucking hot about him getting all sweaty and worked up, but on that particular day? When he was making you something, sacrificing his rare down time just for you? It lit a fire inside you that couldn't be tamed.

Before he noticed, you scooted back inside to fill up a glass of ice water. With your hand hovering over the door handle, you got an idea that sent a jolt of arousal right through you. Without giving yourself a chance to overthink it, you pulled down your shorts and underwear, kicking your panties off to land on the couch, and shimmied your shorts back on.

Your pulse was fucking racing with excitement when you stepped outside once again, but this time you made sure to make a little noise so Joel would hear you. When the door clicked shut, he turned around and grinned before setting down his tools and stepping into the shade.

"Thank you, darlin'," he murmured when you handed him the water.

"You're welcome," you replied, your hands clasping behind your back as you practically vibrated in place with nervous energy. His eyes flicked down your body curiously right when he was finishing up his drink.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, sensing something was off while he set the glass down on the deck.

"Mhmm," you said, a nervous grin spreading across your face. "Missed you, though."

He chuckled and wiped some sweat away from his face with the bottom of his shirt. Your mouth went dry and your eyes instantly locked onto his tanned stomach and the dark smattering of curls that led below his waistband. The sleep shorts you were wearing were thin. If they were a lighter color, you could probably see right through them if you really looked. As it turned out, they were also terrible at absorbing moisture because they were sticking uncomfortably to your inner thighs while you waited for him to notice.

"Huh?" you said when you realized he was speaking.

He shook his head and dropped his shirt back down. "I said, I'm makin' you the damn garden you wanted."

You inched forward and took his hand in yours. "Well, do you think it can wait? Because I need to show you something inside that needs your help."

Somehow, he was still not picking up what you were implying.

"Baby, I'm on a roll. I just need another hour, maybe two-"

You tugged the hand you were holding between your legs and his eyes widened when he felt the wetness waiting for him there.

"Sorry. Got tired of being subtle," you told him with a playful smirk. He whipped his head around, checking to see if any of the neighbors were out tending to their lawns or enjoying their morning coffee on their patios while his fingers hooked around the soaked material.

You saw in his face the exact moment he realized you were bare underneath your shorts. It was like his brain was buffering, desperately trying to calculate how long he allowed you to stand there practically begging to be fucked while he rambled on about a goddamn garden. The surprise in his features slowly faded into the hazy, lust filled gaze you were so familiar with, and you smiled triumphantly.

"Get your ass inside right fuckin' now before I do somethin' that'll get us both thrown in jail," he growled, something primal shifting in his face while his body flooded with arousal, his need for you dripping heavier in his veins with each steady beat of his heart.

You squeaked and covered your ass when he swat at you from behind, then you hurried past him, back into the house.

Looking back on it, to think you would have made it upstairs to your bedroom was comical. His hands grabbed your hips halfway up the carpeted steps, pulling you down as you laughed giddily and pretended to try to fight off his attack, clawing fruitlessly at the stairs while he smiled into your lower back where his mouth was alternating kisses and bites across your skin.

"You wanted attention, you got it," he mumbled before yanking your shorts down and sinking his teeth into the flesh of your ass. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to make you yelp in surprise and leave a few linear indents in your skin.

Joel usually took his time with you. He preferred it that way. He liked to watch your face as he tormented you between your legs. He liked to see what new sounds he could pull from your throat when he changed an angle.

But not that day.

No, that day he yanked your shorts all the way off, tossing them over his shoulder and down the steps before grabbing your hips with his hands, all rough and sweaty from working outside.

You braced yourself for the inevitable stretch, the welcome yet slightly painful intrusion that you yearned for, but what happened next shocked you.

Your eyes widened and you gasped when you felt his mouth descend on your pussy from behind, his tongue immediately setting an intense pace, which was a change from the way he usually ate you. But speed and passion weren't the only variation. He never, ever went down on you from behind before.

"I- J-Joel, what are... oh," you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he lapped eagerly at your core. Instinctively, you spread your hips and sunk down further onto his mouth. Your cheek was rubbing harshly against the carpet and your lips were parted, allowing a small trail of drool to trickle down your chin. If you had any awareness left, you might have cared, but the pleasure he was building between your legs left your brain completely numb.

"Oh, fuck yes, Joel - keep going, just like that," you groaned, reaching behind you blindly to grab a fistful of his hair. "Fuck you and that fucking mouth," you gasped when his tongue flatted against your clit. He chuckled against your core but didn't stop. His hand slid up the back of your thigh and gave your cheek a firm jiggle before smacking his palm down across your ass. You jolted forward, your forehead bumping up against the next step, and cried out for more so he did it again, but on the other side.

"You like that?" he panted, pulling away from you for just a moment to catch his breath. You arched your back, giving him a generous view of the mess he left between your legs and he was afraid for the first time ever that he might come completely untouched. He inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw your cunt pulse, calling to him like a goddamn siren at sea. "Fuck, so beautiful," he growled before closing his eyes and picking up right where he left off.

His thumbs spread your lips so his tongue could tease your entrance, scooping up your arousal and rutting his hips against the stairs, eating you like he was about to go off to war.

"I'm... oh, shit, Joel!" you exclaimed, pulling at his hair roughly so he wouldn't dare try to stop when you were so close to your climax. And he could sense it. He was good at that. He knew what you needed sometimes before you even knew. So once again, he brought his palm down sharply across your ass, a little harder that time but not too much. Just enough to leave a few seconds of sting, electrifying your nerve endings and pulling you over the edge.

Two tears rolled down your cheeks when you came. The little bit of pain from his hand and the carpet digging into your cheek and knees mixed with your pleasure in such a way that it left you breathless.

Finally, once he felt your legs begin to tremble and whimpers fell from your lips, he pulled away with a deep gasp. His eyes were pinned to the way your pussy looked; all drenched with a combination of his spit and your release, and he cursed under his breath.

"She looks so fuckin' good, baby, wish you could see what I see," he murmured, mesmerized as he continued to stare without any shame. You hardly had any of your senses. Your breath was ragged and your throat was dry but still, you tilted your chin and whispered, "show me."

A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes lit up.

"Yeah? You'd let me take a picture of this pretty pussy?" he asked, but he was already digging in his back pocket for his phone. You nodded, eyes still closed.

When both his hands left your waist, you arched your back a bit more and spread your legs, presenting yourself to him. You heard a deep groan rumble from his chest and he whispered, "fuckin' natural, baby," before you heard the shutter on his phone. One, two, three times at least you heard the familiar little click, click, then he leaned over your slumped body and slid his phone in front of your face.

"See? Look at you. Look at what I get to see," he murmured into your ear. Your eyes opened and widened as you stared at your wrecked pussy on the screen.

"Oh, wow," you breathed, not expecting at all to find it sexy, but you did. You fucking did. "Look at what you did to me," you said, craning your neck over your shoulder. His eyes flickered with heat and his mouth crashed down onto yours.

"Just wait til I split you open on my cock," he said, his voice rumbling against your back. "Have you all stuffed full with my cum. Now that's a pretty sight."

You groaned and shakily pushed yourself up.

"I'm begging you, please, Joel... do not fuck me on these stairs. My knees are killing me."

He laughed and helped you stand, legs wobbling just a little.

"Nah. I got an idea and we can't do it here."

You laid underneath the covers in bed, your lower half still bare and your tank top still on while you nervously chewed on your lower lip, watching Joel at the foot of the bed tinker with a camcorder he had buried somewhere in his closet that he swore up and down he never used with anyone else.

Never wanted to before, he had said when you eyed it suspiciously after he explained he swiped it from a set when it was used as a prop in one of his films years ago.

"Battery's dead but I'll just leave it plugged in," he said, then he flipped out the little screen tucked into the side of the device and swiveled it around so it was facing out. He set it on his end table and adjusted it until he was satisfied with the angle, then looked over his shoulder with a grin.

"You sure?" he clarified again. Your eyes flickered from him to the camera, then back again.

"Yeah," you squeaked, your voice very clearly betraying you. His gaze softened and he leaned across the bed to press a chaste kiss against your forehead.

"We don't gotta do this," he assured you. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"No," you replied, shaking your head. "I want to, I'm just nervous."

He scoffed and readjusted himself so he was lying next to you, blocking the idle camera.

"Nothin' to be nervous 'bout. It's just for me 'n you," he murmured before cupping your face and pressing his lips tenderly against yours. When his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, you sighed and looped your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace and deepening the kiss. His hand slid down from your cheek to squeeze your breast, groaning a little when he pinched your nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

His lips dragged down to your jaw, his teeth grazing your throat until he found a spot he liked and latched on while pushing the sheets from your body. The anticipation bubbled up while his hand continued to travel lower, your legs instinctively falling open for him. You finally relaxed when he successfully distracted you with his fingers through your folds and gasped as he slid two inside you with ease.

"Oh, yeah, you're ready for me," he moaned into your neck, his erection bordering on painful. He exhaled shakily when one of your hands wrapped around his length and began to gently stroke him, your palm so soft and warm that he almost forgot about the camera.

"C'mon, baby, sit up f'me," he said, pulling his hand from between your legs and leaning back so he could kick his jeans off. You scrambled to sit, your breaths coming in shallow pants as you watched him tug his shirt over his head. When he reached for the hem of your tank top, he paused and turned to tap the record button on the camcorder. Instantly, your limbs went rigid and your hands fell to your lap, covering yourself, but when he turned back to you he pinched your chin in his fingers, pulling your nervous gaze from the camera lens.

"Eyes on me," he told you, his voice low and deep, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and raised your arms so he could peel off your tank top. He tossed it onto the floor and sat back on his heels to admire the way your tits sat exposed to him, his eyes darkening when your nipples hardened with arousal. He lunged forward and took one in his mouth, his hot, wet tongue lavishing your pebbled skin before switching to the other one. You tipped your head back and moaned, mouth open as you stared up blankly at the ceiling, your fingers rising to get tangled in his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, planting little kisses all over your chest and circling his arms around your ribs, tugging you closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trembling when his cock pressed between your bodies, his erection sliding through your wet heat and suddenly you couldn't breathe.

"I-I need you," you whimpered, weakly lifting your hips into his lap.

"I know, baby, I know," he hummed. One hand dropped to cup your ass so he could reposition his legs underneath you, then flexed his hips so the tip of his cock lined up with your opening. "Want me to fuck you just like this? Sittin' in my lap?"

You nodded, your eyelids heavy with desire as you tightened your grip around his neck. The second he pressed into you, you gasped. He watched with adoration as your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, breathing deep and slow as you relaxed and slowly took him.

"Joel," you whispered, jaw slack. "Joel, I love you."

He moaned and pulled your hips flush with his, forcing you to take the last few inches all at once. "I love you, too, baby. Christ, you're incredible. Fuckin' look at you."

Look at you. His words made you remember the camera. Your eyes flickered over to the little rectangular screen, the outline of your bodies perfectly centered, and you swallowed tightly.

"Pretend like it's the mirror," he whispered in your ear as he began to gently rock in and out, "just like the mirror at the hotel, okay?"

You nodded and sighed, your shoulders loosening and your muscles relaxing as you began to roll your hips in rhythm with his. He tightened his grip around your middle, his body engulfing you in warmth. You rested your head on his shoulder as he continued to fuck you nice and slow, stretching you out around him, reaching depths that had you reeling.

This was it. There was nothing else outside those four walls. You had everything you ever wanted right there. The way he kissed you, touched you, made love to you always left you feeling so safe. Deep down, you always knew he was the missing piece in your life, the mysterious thing you kept searching for in others and were always left disappointed. Because nobody else ever loved you and cared for you the way he did.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you told him, your tongue dragging up his neck, collecting the dried sweat with a moan. You began to bounce in his lap a little faster and he immediately matched your pace with thrusts of his own.

"I'm the one who's lucky," he said through clenched teeth. He exhaled heavily through his nose and tucked his chin to his chest so he could watch himself disappear inside your cunt. "So soft. Softest pussy. So fuckin' warm and wet, you feel so good. Goddamnit, every fuckin' time..."

You smiled to yourself as you listened to him ramble. "Maybe we're both lucky."

He chuckled and you gasped when his cock brushed up against that one spot that made you see stars. You feverishly grabbed his face with both hands and bit desperately at his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth and making him groan.

Your body was loose and pliant now, so with more confidence you quickened the roll of your hips, relishing in the way his cock felt dragging in and out of you, how your clit rubbed against the coarse hair at his base, in the noises you managed to pull from his throat each time your skin slapped together.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Show me what you like. Oh, good girl," he groaned, hands sliding up your back to hold you as you began to lose yourself. He could see it in the look in your eyes and the way your fingers dug into his shoulders.

It was the most beautiful fucking thing.

Your body moved perfectly in tandem with his, your sharp gasps and his deep groans filling the room, the camera long forgotten by now.

"Oh, god, I'm close," you whimpered as you felt the heat that had been building begin to quickly creep up and spread through your stomach. "Oh, fuck. Oh, god... Joel, don't stop, please..." you begged, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your vision began to blur.

"I ain't stoppin'. C'mon, give it to me, lemme feel you," he growled. He snapped steadily into you now, each thrust punctuated by a grunt while his eyes locked on yours, watching with pride as you crumbled and fell apart, your walls squeezing him so beautifully as you came that it nearly pulled him right over the edge with you.

It happened fast. One second you were in his lap, your body tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and the next he had pulled out of you and flipped you onto your hands and knees. Only when you felt his thick cock slide back inside did you fully realize you had switched positions. And shit, taking him from that particular angle always was so much more intense, but combined with the fact that your new view included the camera in the corner of your eye made everything so much more powerful.

You could fucking see him now and you couldn't look away, completely entranced with the way his face looked as he slammed into you. His mouth hung open as he looked down at you with what could only be described as complete and utter desire. You could feel his hand running up the length of your spine but you could also see the look of worship in his eye, the way his face twisted in pleasure when he watched your ass ripple from the force of his hips, and you felt a heavy wave suddenly crash over you once again.

"Oh, fuck!" Joel groaned loudly as he watched another orgasm shoot through you. His hands grabbed at your waist to try to keep you still, but you were trembling everywhere and you couldn't hold yourself up any longer.

You fell onto your elbows, the side of your face pressing into the bed while he held up your hips, fucking into you harder now that he could tell you were spent. "I'm gonna come, baby, I'm -" he cut himself off with a desperate whine, the buildup from the past hour or so becoming too much and causing his release to intensify.

Your bodies finally stilled and he pumped you full of his spend, his groans getting caught in his throat as he pulsed inside you. He watched in a daze when his cum started to leak out even though he was still inside, and without thinking, he snatched the camera from the bedside table so he could get a close up.

"Fuckin' hell, baby," he whispered hoarsely, chest heaving and hands shaking as he held the camera at his chest, pointing it down to where you were connected. "So glad you're back on the pill. Fuckin' beautiful, all full of me like this. Shit," he muttered, swiping a finger to collect some of his release to rub it over your clit. With a whine, your body jolted forward and he chuckled before dropping his hand, knowing you were too overstimulated.

"Joel," you whispered tiredly. Your eyelids were heavy and your thighs were shaking from the effort of holding yourself up.

"I know, baby, just one more thing and then I'll clean you up," he promised. He took a deep breath and steadied the camera before slipping out of you.

He made a pained noise in the back of his throat when he watched through the lens the way your body leaked of him, your pussy all swollen and stretched out, completely fucked, messy and used.

"Jesus," he croaked, wishing he could keep filming but your body sagged forward and he stopped the recording before tossing the camera onto the other side of the bed so he could check on you.

"You alright?"

You nodded, eyes closed, lips bitten raw, hair a complete mess but you still wore a satisfied smile.

"Tired. I think I'm gonna just..." you yawned and stretched out your shaky limbs. "Just gonna close my eyes for a sec."

He grinned and stood up to go to the bathroom, plucking a couple clean washcloths from the linen closet and wetting them both under the faucet so he could clean himself up with one and take the other back to you.

"Did you eat?" he asked softly as he gently and carefully dragged the washcloth through your thighs. You shook your head, eyes still closed. "I'm gonna go make you somethin'. Gotta eat, honey," he whispered before kissing the top of your head and covering you with the sheet. But by the time he came back upstairs with a bagel and cream cheese, you were fast asleep.

So you're getting married, then?

Well, he hasn't really asked me, not in so many words.

Four, you mean?

Huh?

Well, that's how many it takes: will you marry me?

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard two familiar voices reciting an even more familiar dialogue from the television, the volume turned down so low, you could hear the neighbor's dog barking from four houses down.

Joel shifted in bed next to you as quietly as he could, unaware you had awoken. You peered up at him, hair all messy, chest still bare, and you smiled when you caught him stifling a laugh at Audrey Hepburn.

"Hey," you said, voice coming out rougher than you expected, so you cleared your throat. He immediately muted the television and turned toward you, grinning as his eyes raked up and down your sleep-addled face.

"Hey, yourself," he said softly. He pushed the hair off your face, letting his thumb linger on your cheek while he continued to examine you closely. "Feelin' okay?"

You nodded and yawned, stretching your sore legs out underneath the blankets. "You fucked me into a coma."

He laughed heartily and rubbed his palm over his chest, embarrassment flushing his bronzed skin.

"But I guess that's what I get for shacking up with a pornstar," you added with a giggle. He tossed his head back and laughed even louder at that and you couldn't resist, his happiness too infectious. You inched forward and nuzzled into his side, his arm dropping to wrap around your shoulders.

When the laughter died down, he gazed lovingly at you and, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, reminded you, "ex-pornstar, but I suppose old habits die hard, huh?"

"Mm, maybe, but that's okay," you said, tracing light, invisible patterns on his stomach. "It's nothing I can't handle."

He cocked an eyebrow at you and smirked. "Careful, or I might have'ta hold you to that."

"Bring it on, superstar," you whispered before leaning up and pressing a gentle, soft kiss against his mouth. You licked your lips and hummed before looking up at him through your lashes. "Cream cheese?"

"I made you a bagel, but you fell asleep," he admitted, "but figured we could relax the rest of the day. Order in, watch movies... just like we said we would."

"I don't remember saying we would do all that naked," you teased.

"Thought that was implied, baby," he said with a frown. "You shacked up with a pornstar, what'd you expect?"

What did you expect? Did you ever imagine your life would turn out the way it did? Sitting in bed with a sheet wrapped around you, eating Chinese food and watching a Turner Classic Movies marathon with the man of your dreams? You always wished for it; before you met, after you became friends, while you were carrying on an illicit affair, and even when you weren't on speaking terms, you always, always wished for it. But did you ever really think it would come true?

You couldn't really remember, and at that point, it didn't matter. Because you didn't care how you got there, just as long as you were together, you were happy.

You did exactly what he said you would do. You stayed in bed until the sun began to set, wasting the whole day away curled into his side watching old movies and pointing out your favorite parts, exactly the way you used to.

It was around nine when Joel suggested going out for ice cream. Let's get out, stretch our legs and walk along the river, he had said after vowing to finish your vegetable garden the next day.

And on your way out, your hands fused together even while he struggled to lock the door one handed, you looked at the chairs on his porch and smiled to yourself.

"What's that for?" he asked, tapping your cheek lovingly while you walked side by side to his truck.

"Nothing, it's stupid," you told him with a shrug.

"Ain't nothin' you got to say is stupid to me."

You sighed when he let your hand go so you could round the truck and hop into the passenger seat. After you clicked your seatbelt into place, he put the keys in the ignition but waited to turn it on. Instead, he looked at you expectantly with his eyebrows raised.

"Fine," you mumbled, "I'm gonna sound fucking crazy, but... fine."

"Oh, well now this I gotta hear," he said.

You gave him a look before turning in your seat to face him. "The chairs on your porch." He nodded.

"So far, not crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Remember when I came by to drop off the shirts for the Jack and Jill party?"

He nodded again and you could feel the self-consciousness begin to creep up.

"We weren't on great terms back then. I had just found out you bought a house. I felt like I hardly even knew you anymore. And I was so damn nervous, I didn't want to fuck things up even more than I already had, but when I saw you had two..." You paused when you saw the flicker of understanding cross his face. "I thought you maybe found someone else. I know. It's crazy, like I said."

Joel smiled and reached his hand across the seat to lace together with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Got the second one for you."

Your eyes snapped up to his in surprise.

"What?" you breathed.

He gave you a shrug and tilted his head bashfully. "I was just waitin' for you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckling yourself so you could stretch your body over to his seat and pull him into a deep kiss.

"I thought I lost you," you whispered against his mouth, and he chuckled.

"You didn't. I was all yours that very first night, sweetheart."

You didn't even try to deny it. He was right. It seemed so obvious now. Why didn't you see it back then? But before you began to mentally chastise yourself for being so bullheaded, you stopped. You couldn't change the past, something you've been learning to accept in therapy for months now, but what you could do was focus on your future. And while you sat next to Joel as he drove towards your favorite ice cream place in town, windows down and stars twinkling in the sky, you smiled because your future together looked pretty damn bright.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us au #roommates fic

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cinematicreid · 8 months ago

Text

out the door

the one where Spencer helps reader pack for a trip.

wc 1003

tags + the rundown: fem!reader, bau!reader, fluff, spencer and reader are besties but ofc flirty, cute banter, i want him so bad etc.

a/n: hi tumblr hi fellow spencer reid stans hiiii! i think about this man so much in my head it was time to get him out of my notes app and onto a blog. inbox is open, let’s chat. all feedback welcome just pls be nice! enjoy!

“Spencer, be more helpful,” you beg as you stuff your toothpaste into an almost-full toiletry bag while frantically looking for your chapstick.

“I told you this was going to happen,” he says with a huff of resignation. He begins to fold the tiny, but mighty (i.e., messy) pile of clothes on your bed, organizing them neatly in your duffle bag.

To be fair, he was right. To also be fair, it had been a long week at the office, working through a stack of files that seemed never-ending. The days were long as they always were, and you had already fallen behind on quite a few household tasks, a rare habit of yours that was particularly prominent during weeks like these. Packing for your girls’ weekend had been the last thing on your mind.

Now here you were with a flight that was sure to leave without you if you didn’t kick it into high gear, and a somehow always right Spencer Reid ready to drive you to the airport, and you couldn’t find your damn chapstick.

“Well, if you knew this was going to happen you should have come even earlier.”

You make your way from your bathroom to your bedroom and toss your toiletry bag on the bed, nearly missing Spencer’s arm as he folds the last of your jeans. He chuckles at your remark before tucking the see-through bag neatly into the duffle.

“You know, I could have not offered my automobile services to you. I could have let you perish on the side of the road,” he teases.

You roll your eyes as you rummage through the drawers of your bedside table. Where the fuck did you put your chapstick?

“You’ve packed so many go-bags, you’d think you’d have this down by now,” he continues.

“My go-bag!”

You rush to the living room, targeting another one of the (too many) duffle bags you own on the couch. Most of its contents had been emptied into your laundry basket or returned to their rightful places except a few, and you race back to your room with your chapstick proudly brandished. Spencer shakes his head in amusement.

“How long will you be gone?” he asks, gently taking the tube from your fingers and securing it inside the front pocket of the bag, now zipped up and ready to board.

“Just the weekend,” you smile, already feeling your shoulders ease as the breath finds your lungs easier. You hated rushing. “I haven’t been back to Michigan in almost a year.”

His brow furrows. “We had a case there last month.”

“Yeah but, you know what I mean. I want to see my friends and visit the museums and enjoy the food, not profile a psycho.”

You grab your bag and start to sling it over your shoulder as you make your way to the front door. Spencer trails behind you, reaching for the strap before you can secure it and placing it over his own shoulder.

“We haven’t had a full weekend off in a while,” he says, and is that the faintest twinge of disappointment in his voice? “I didn’t know you were going to be out of town.”

You glance over at him, letting your eyes wander for a moment. Spencer on the weekends was a rare sight. His hair was extra fluffy; he’d had time to truly wash it in the shower instead of the rushed mornings you were used to when working a case. He was wearing his favorite cardigan that he never traveled with, the bottom two buttons left undone and the light brown of the wool bringing out the even lighter specks of brown in his eyes.

Of course, there was your favorite part: Those damn, adorable glasses that made their appearance once in a blue moon and almost exclusively on weekends when he felt too lazy to put in his contacts. Spencer on the weekends was all soft smiles and gentle laughs and, quite frankly, he was an absolute joy to be around.

You internally echo his disappointment that you’ll be a plane ride away instead of here with him, enjoying a new book store he’d found or convincing him to go window shopping with you.

You stop yourself before letting this daydream become too enticing. You could spend a million weekends with Spencer and never get bored, but you did miss your hometown, and your friends. You had a plane to catch.

“Sounds like someone already misses me,” you joke, returning your gaze ahead of you and grabbing your keys from the kitchen counter. “We see each other nearly every hour of every day. I honestly thought the sight of me repulsed you.”

“What? Of course not! I don’t find you repulsing. I was just…“ he begins to trail off ever so slightly, and there it is again. That tempting bubble of a daydream and what the weekend could have been starts creeping back into your apartment. You’d probably do anything to please Spencer in this moment.

Damn him.

Before you can burst it, for the sake of both of you and your not-so-cheap plane ticket, the piercing ringtone of the good doctor’s phone bursts it for you.

You stare at each other knowingly.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan, shutting your eyes and tossing your head back in defeat.

Spencer retrieves his phone from his back pocket, pursing his lips knowingly before answering it.

“Hey, Garcia… yeah… you don’t have to call her, she’s actually with me. We’ll be there soon.” He gives you an apologetic look as he hangs up.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, the previous moment fully vanished as you both slip back into work-mode. You let out an exaggerated, though you feel appropriate, sigh.

“At least you packed my go-bag for me,” you say in attempt to ease your own sadness about your now nonexistent weekend plans. “You should come over before all our cases.”

“Don’t let my generosity fool you.” Spencer nudges you toward the door with a comforting hand. “You’re packing mine when we get to my place.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #rina writes

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nicolewritesthings · 26 days ago

Text

Lost Love

Summary: You run into Steve after years of not seeing each other Steve Harrington x fem!reader, 4.3k, angsty, exes, one shot

Read part two here

okay, this is angsty, but I recently ran into an ex and for a fleeting moment saw what my life could have been and was inspired by that what if. Instead of acting on these rash feelings, I wrote about it! also, go listen to The Crux!!!!!!!!!!

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Chicago, Fall 1991

The city bustled around you. A slight chill nipped at your exposed neck as the wind picked up. You walked down the street, heeled boots clicking against the pavement as you made your way to the bar.

You were in town for the weekend on a work trip, accompanying one of the law partners to the Chicago office to oversee a merger. You were not even a year out of college and were already looking into law school, specifically one in Chicago.

While you loved living in New York, you had already spent four years of school there and were looking for a change. Moving closer to home would be nice too—only a short drive to Hawkins from the city. Yeah, you thought, being closer would be nice, which was such an odd sentiment given that just five years ago you couldn't get out of Hawkins fast enough.

Who could blame you though, after everything that happened to your little town and your friends? God, you haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. You saw Nancy up in Boston here and there. Occasionally spoke to Robin on the phone, but that was really it. Even when you came home for holidays, you rarely had time to see anyone besides your family who came out to visit you more than anything.

They knew you didn't love to be home, partly because of what happened and partly because of him. Because of Steve.

You two ended things before they really got started. Two kids way too afraid to really admit how much they felt for each other, too scared to commit to one another.

When you tell new friends about your past relationships, you usually keep it light when it comes to Steve. Chalking it up as a friends-with-benefits type of thing or it was never that serious. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. You two shared an immense amount of trauma that no one could begin to understand, and that ultimately led you two apart.

Steve was a constant reminder of a past you were so ready to let go of. So that's exactly what you did. You let him go. You left Hawkins after graduation, moved to Manhattan early, started school at Columbia, and never looked back.

You've come a long way, graduating with honors and clerking at a prestigious firm. Your boss tells you that getting into law school will be a breeze and that you'd have your pick. Chicago has great schools and is an even better place to practice business law, so it seemed like the obvious choice to explore your options there.

You walked into the dive bar, meeting the other clerks also dressed in business attire, quickly falling into a comfortable stride with them. This was who you were now and this could be your new life here. But something picked at you, like a soft scratch or gentle tug coming from just 200 miles south of here.

The night went on as you learned about the other young people at the firm, where they were attending school or applying. Northwestern sounds great or even the University of Chicago, all great choices really.

It was easy getting along with them. You talked about work, new artists they've listened to, movies they've seen, their love lives. One of them is newly engaged, the other just had a monumental breakup, and then they turn to you.

So you tell them about Peter, your boyfriend of just over a year. How kind and smart he is, how he's a finance guy but not the kind on Wall Street, he's a lot more relaxed than that. He's from Manhattan, his parents come from old money - whatever that means, you always thought. You think of his light blue eyes and his sweet smile, what you'd be giving up if you moved away. Even though he told you there was money to be made in Chicago.

You liked that you could see a future with Peter. That certainty was refreshing, something you never had before.

After everyone insists on another round of drinks, you follow to the bar, slipping onto an empty stool. You lean over to order your drink and turn back to your friends. That's when you see him. Like a ghost at the other end of the bar.

You freeze, it can't be him. It can't be Steve.

But that's his hair, tamer now but still big. Then comes his laugh as he smiles with some people you don't recognize.

The bartender places your drink in front of you, breaking your trance. You quickly look at your drink and pick it up, taking a long sip. What is he doing here? Does he live here now? Does he see you? Oh shit, oh shit.

You look up and he's gone from his place at the bar. Oh no.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this moment before, seeing Steve after years of not speaking. You imagined it quite a bit actually. How you’d tell him about your new life and how happy you were. You thought you’d have more control in this situation, and feel more confident and less like a floundering fish.

Then you feel a warm hand on your shoulder and your body is turning toward Steve before your mind can catch up. You look up at him, his smile wide and eyes happy.

"No fucking way," Steve beams, reaching his arms around you.

You can't even compute what's going on, but again your body moves before you can think and you're hugging him back. His scent hits you like a train, the familiar smell of fresh linens and pine.

You play off his positive, light attitude, "Steve, wow, it's great to see you."

He smiles, "what are you doing here? Did you move?"

"No, no," you shake your head and gesture to the group of business casual people around you, "I'm here for a work thing."

"I thought I spotted a shit ton of lawyers," Steve jokes. He was so good at this, making light of everything. Making every situation comfortable and easy, even when it shouldn't be. You hated that about him and were jealous of that trait too.

"Lawyers to be," you smiled, taking a long sip of your drink. You never needed tequila more than at this moment. You look back up at him, “what about you? What are you in town for?”

“Oh, I live here now,” he smiles widely, “I’m studying to teach while working at a local middle school.”

Well, that hit you like a ton of bricks. Steve Harrington moved? Out of Hawkins? But then the rest of his words register, and you’re overcome with happiness for him.

You clap his shoulder proudly, “that’s amazing! Actually, that’s so perfect for you.”

“Took babysitting those kids to a whole new level,” he laughs.

You nod, “I totally see it though. Really, I’m so happy for you.”

Steve beamed, “look at the two of us. Grown ups now. Who woulda thought.”

You laughed, relaxing a bit. He was always good at that, making a conversation easy and light. Feeling bold, you nod over to the bartender.

“Let me buy you a drink,” you smiled at Steve, “you know, to celebrate.”

He happily obliged, sitting down at the bar next to you, kicking off the start of a long night of catch-up.

It’s funny, how time can feel so irrelevant with the right person. You hadn’t seen Steve in almost four years and yet it was like no time has passed.

But that’s what happens with old friends, former lovers. The connection will always be there if it’s right.

The conversation was polite at first, covering the basics. How were the kids? Your parents? Is Manhattan really that great? Hopper still the Chief? They rebuilt the mall? You two went on and on about your mutual connections. After all, there was a lot to cover in the last few years.

Then your friends started to trickle out and Steve’s too, but you two stayed, moving over to a booth - quieter, more intimate. The conversation became more familiar then. It was like you were back at the diner, gossiping over milkshakes and burgers. Just the two of you and your opinions about anything and everything.

The Terminator sequel was better than the first. You’re into baseball now? The Yankees, really? No way you saw the Stones at an underground show, no way.

Then you were inviting him to New York, telling him there’s so much going on there with its music and art and people. Steve gushed about Chicago and how you were right, that living in the city really was the best thing to do.

So you told him that you were looking at law schools in Chicago, considering moving back to the Midwest for good. And for the first time since he saw you that night, Steve felt those past feelings come up. The ones he tried to repress and put away for the night, for the sake of seeing an old friend. But now you could move here, to his home and that thought scared him.

But Steve didn’t falter, instead, he listened as you told him your plans and how everything was so up in the air. You were excited, he could tell, and it was contagious. So he suggested taking you to his favorite deep dish place a couple blocks away. If you were considering moving to Chicago, you had to try the best pizza the city has to offer.

So of course you went with him, not even considering checking the time. Although you knew it had to be past midnight by now.

The pizza place was packed with late-night eaters, which overwhelmed your senses. Steve grabs your hand as you push past the crowded doorway to the tiny shop, guiding you to the line.

That was the first familiar touch of the night. You two didn’t even realize you were still holding hands in line, distracted by the crowded room.

Then it was swapping pizzas, Steve insisting on you trying his spicy pepperoni slice. You looked up at him and he was already holding up the slice for you to take a bite out of it. The interaction seemed casual to you, but Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker down to your pink lips for just a moment.

After a couple of more hours of catching up over pizza and beer, Steve was walking you back to your hotel. Both of you slightly tipsy, most of the buzz already soaked up by the greasy pizza.

You were freezing, not prepared for the wind chill, and Steve noticed your shivering. Without any hesitation, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in. His pine scent makes you woozy again.

But you didn’t move. Instead, you leaned further into his side, grateful for his warmth and the familiarity of it all. Another mindless touch, one that you’ve exchanged so many times before. This time, you couldn’t help but feel the pull towards him, the unspoken connection between you two that you had believed ceased to exist.

It’s funny how time doesn’t work like that. Because no matter how many years go by, feelings never really go away. Where would that love go? That lost love. The untested love that never really got a chance to go somewhere. It doesn’t just go away. It lingers and stews until a moment like tonight when two former lovers randomly reunite.

You two walked down the empty street, huddled closely together. From a passerby, you two look like a young couple that’s been together for a long time now. Then came the music blasting from a club a couple of doors down. The line to get in was short, but people were still heading in.

A New Order track hit your ears and you immediately turned to Steve who was already laughing, knowing you loved this song and this band and to dance. So he didn’t even scoff when you pleaded with him, “just one song! Please!” Steve feigned reluctance, as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the packed dance club.

And there you two were, after five more songs, dancing your hearts out. Like it was prom again and you two were the most embarrassing (and high) students on the dance floor. This time you were two fully grown 20-somethings, mostly sober and having the time of your lives. An unexpected turn of events to say the least.

So you inched closer to Steve as the familiar 80s synth raged on. The disco lights flashed in and out, casting most of the floor in a dark fluorescent purple hue. Steve watched as you swayed your body, noticing your fuller hips and sweet smile. He couldn’t bring himself to look away as you turned around, your ass looking too good in the tight skirt you were wearing. Fuck, you looked good. With your knee-high boots and off-the-shoulder top. For the first time tonight, he realized that you looked older now too, or at least acted like it. You moved your body confidently, knowing exactly what you were doing with those new curves of yours.

Steve cursed himself for missing so much of you.

You caught him staring, of course, you did. You had always known when men looked at you or when a man wanted you. So when you caught a glimpse of Steve’s hooded eyes, you should have suggested calling it a night.

But you didn’t.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him in to close the gap between you, and really danced with him, your body pressed to his. Steve’s hands find your waist as you peer up into his eyes, and he recognizes that cheeky glimmer. Frankly, he missed seeing it. That little look you’d give him when you wanted something from him. But you didn’t even realize you were doing it. You never did. It was a tell only Steve recognized, and that was dangerous.

Steve should have wondered then if you were single and that’s when you should have finally brought up your boyfriend. But the possibility of significant others was so far from your mind the entire night, especially when you were pressed together in a dance club.

It was always like this with you and Steve. Monogamy was never brought up because it was always implied. There was no room for anyone else in your hearts when you were together and honestly, you didn’t want anyone else. Steve tried to date other girls just for the sake of it, but no one ever measured up to you. So he waited patiently for those quiet moments together in his bed or the back seat of his car when you let him in.

Was this one of those moments? Was this always how the night was going to turn out for you two? Under the disco lights, the possibility of reconnecting on a whole other level. Again, this logic was the furthest thing from your mind. All you and Steve wanted to do was be with each other in this moment, this rare moment an unexpected gift from the universe.

The bar flashed its house lights to indicate the night was coming to a close, but neither of you wanted it to end. So Steve enclosed your hand in his and you two stumbled out onto the street again, slowly trekking to your hotel.

Steve wrapped his arm around you again, tighter now, breathing in your scent. The same light floral perfume your mom gifts you. He smiled, remembering the bottle on your nightstand when it almost broke after he pushed you into the dresser during a little more rough and needy hook up. The bottle nearly fell, but he was quick to catch it and yet you didn’t even notice, too busy pulling him onto the bed.

Oh, how he missed you. Your smile, your humor, the way you said all the right things, how you two could talk about anything and everything.

“It’s funny,” Steve pulls you in closer, “how we bumped into each other tonight.”

You nod, “I know. Of all the bars in Chicago, we happened to be in the same one. At the same time.”

“I’d say it’s fate,” he bumps you lightly.

“I agree,” you smile, “it feels like the universe is trying to tell us something.”

Steve bites his lip, nervous to take this step but it just feels natural. He smiles, “maybe it thinks we should be in each other’s lives again. In some way or another.”

It’s music to Steve’s ears when you reply, “I’d like that. To be someone you know again.”

He pauses at this, suddenly saddened by your words. Steve stops walking, pulling you with him, and looks down at you. His eyes fill with sincerity as he shakes his head, “you know me. You know me better than anyone else.”

His words send you reeling. Taken aback, you look up at him, “we haven’t spoken in years. Shit, I didn’t even know you moved, Steve.”

But he doubles down, his hand gripping your arm gently, “sure, but I wouldn’t be who am today without you.”

How could he be so kind, after everything? Maybe he wasn’t angry or upset with you anymore, and maybe you shouldn’t be either. Maybe you two could move forward from this.

Then Steve’s looking at you, really looking. His eyes memorize every feature of your face, noticing how you’ve changed but only slightly. His fingers trail up to your cheek to move the strand of hair behind your ear and you have to steady yourself from this touch. Another familiar and way more intimate touch.

You look over his face too, how there’s a shadow of stubble on his chin that wasn’t there before. How his face is thinner, more mature now. How his eyes are still the same shade of honey brown you loved. Time was a wicked thing, and you’d be damned if you wasted any more of it.

So you pull back, looking over at the doors of your hotel, and taking a step up the stairs toward the lobby. You hold Steve’s hand, enticing him to follow. He stands there, looking up at you, lips turned up into a slight smile.

Then the words spill out of your mouth before logic can stop you, “want to come up?”

Your hand lingers in his as he gazes up at you. Steve’s expression is breathless, eyes soft as he contemplates your question. The insinuation hits a nerve, deep in his chest. He’s not in shock that you’d ask such a thing, honestly, he was expecting the night to end this way. The two of you wrapped up in each other just like old times.

But, instead of accepting your invitation, his first instinct is to pause. His second is anger.

It bubbles up out of nowhere, emotions he’s repressed over the years of not seeing you. How dare you pop back into his life and think it’s this easy to get him in bed again. He has a life now without you in it and here you are steamrolling through like you own the place. Like you’re entitled to him.

Steve recoils, breaking his hand away from yours. His gaze now hardens as he shakes his head, “are you serious right now?”

You shift back, bringing your hand down to your side, it still tingles from his touch. “Steve, I thought-”

He cuts you off, piling on, “you don’t just get to show up here and act like everything’s normal. Like I’m some old fling you screw on vacation.”

You flinch at his version of events. Is that what he thinks he is to you? An old fling?

Now you start to get angry, frustrated at his sudden aggression. You shake your head, “that’s not what’s happening here. I haven’t seen you in years and-”

“Yeah, well whose fault is that,” Steve mutters, bitterness not looking good on him.

You swallow harshly, “it certainly wasn’t just mine. Don’t act like you didn’t have a hand in it.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “You left!” Steve yells, “you made your decision and ran away to New York!”

“It’s not like you tried to stop me!” You’re yelling now too, on the steps of the upscale hotel your company is paying for, but you don’t care. The conversation you’ve envisioned dozens of times is finally coming to fruition and you are losing control.

Steve steps up to your level, the height difference more evident as he looks down at you.

“You said you couldn’t do it anymore, that you needed to move on and that meant from me too,” his eyes narrowed at you.

Your cheeks were hot now and probably red, but you continued on, “I was always going to leave Hawkins, you knew that and still did nothing. I felt like you gave up! Like you were fine just letting me go!”

“What was I supposed to do? Stop you?”

“You could have come with me!”

Steve pauses, hurt flashing across his face. “Now that’s not fair,” he breathes out, “how was I supposed to know you wanted that? You said you wanted a clean break!”

He was right. You hadn’t voiced that desire for him to follow you because you hadn’t known that was what you wanted. But now you knew, you knew that you should have asked him to come with you and start your life together. Frankly, he can’t put this all on you. If he cared so much, he would have tried harder to be with you. Told you to stop being stupid and let him love you.

“I was wrong! I was dumb and angry, but you didn’t even put up a fight!” Your voice still raised.

It’s all out there now and Steve knows it. He shouts, “you expected me to drop everything? After what we just went through?”

“Yes!” You breathe out, exhausted from the vulnerability. But you had to tell him how you felt.

Steve looks at you, his chest rising and falling as he steadies his breathing.

“I was scared,” he states quietly.

You sigh, “yeah, well so was I.”

Now at a stalemate, you look at each other. Not sure what to say or do from here. All that time wasted and for what? If only you had communicated things better, maybe you’d have an entirely different life. One with Steve still in it.

“Look,” he took a step down toward the sidewalk, “maybe you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t see each other.”

Your chest tightens, your stomach dropping at his words. The same way you felt a few years ago when you first broke it off.

So you let your pride get the better of you and nod at his words. Maybe you had been right, maybe you didn’t need each other after all.

“Yeah, maybe,” was all you could say without your emotions overwhelming you. You could feel your throat tightening, your eyes glassy.

Steve of course notices as your eyes redden and your arms cross against your chest, hugging yourself tightly. He hated making you feel this way, but he had to protect himself. Following you up those steps into your hotel room would send him down a path he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

He had felt similarly after you graduated and told him you were moving away for school. Steve wasn’t ready to make such a life-changing decision, not after everything that just happened. He needed normalcy and comfort, not to fall head first for you. So he didn’t protest and he let you leave, brokenhearted and angry.

Steve looks up at you and nods, more at himself than to you, “take care.”

Then he was turning down the street, walking away. Leaving you alone and cold as the city quieted down into the early morning hours. The faint sounds of the train and a garbage truck drown out the thump of your heart beating.

You breathlessly wander into the hotel lobby before you can watch him turn the corner, disappearing forever.

The bright lights of the elevator sober you up a bit, letting your emotions sink in. You were angry, definitely angry. Why was he allowed to be the only victim in this? If he really loved you he would have fought harder. Right?

You push into your quiet hotel room, the bed untouched.

After all these years, he managed to still make you feel so intensely and he clearly harbored the same sentiment toward you.

If this was the universe’s way of giving you closure, it was a fucked up attempt. You were reeling more than ever now.

As you discard your clothes and change into pajamas, you eyed the alarm clock - it was almost 4 am. God, where did the time go?

You notice a flashing red button on the room’s phone. Pressing it to reveal a voicemail, your boyfriend’s voice coming onto the line. Fuck, Peter.

In the chaos of the night, you had forgotten to give him a call. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him since the moment you saw Steve.

Then a cold wave of regret hits you as you listen to his message. His sweet tone saying, “hey, it’s not too late here so you’re probably out and about, but I just called to say goodnight and that I love you. Hope you’re having fun! Talk tomorrow, bye.”

You lay back on the bed, throwing your hands over your face as the tears finally come.

You had invited Steve up to your room.

Not even stopping to consider your nice boyfriend back in New York. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Read part two here!

#steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months ago

Text

not to me

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote “I’ll take care of you” “it’s rotten work” “not to me. Not if it’s you”

rated t | 947 words | cw: injury recovery | tags: pre-relationship, post-Vecna, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, disabled Eddie Munson

👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️👨🏻‍🦽‍➡️

“Fuck!” Eddie yells as he throws his hands up in frustration.

He’s been trying to stand on his own for days now, and the furthest he’s gotten is pulling himself most of the way up. His legs shake. He falls back down.

Repeat again until he finally isn’t even strong enough to get himself upright.

Wayne’s always home, but he doesn’t watch. At least he doesn’t let Eddie know if he is. But he’s home in case Eddie ends up hurting himself or falling onto something other than his bed or the couch.

Steve’s come by a few times, offering to be a steady body to hold onto. He doesn’t accept the offer. Usually, he jokes that Wayne’s the only man he’s ever trusted and distracts him with something else.

“Alright, Ed?” Wayne calls to him from the kitchen.

“Fine!” Eddie calls back because he doesn’t want Wayne to come into his room and see him splayed out in his bed while his walker is still unused by his bed. He glares at the wheelchair in the corner of the room.

The doctors said he’d be in it for a long time, maybe months, but he’s determined to prove them wrong. They also said he wouldn’t play guitar again, but he was already able to play most of the chords.

He hears a car pull up outside and he just knows it’s Steve. Of course he would come over now.

The car door opens and closes.

The front door opens and closes.

Wayne greets him like he’s an old pal and he kind of is. It’s a little weird how close they’ve become since Eddie woke up, but whatever.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door before it opens.

Closes.

Steve looks nice. Not dressed up, necessarily, but he’s wearing his good jeans and a new polo. His hair is done a little less carefree, more like he actually went through the phases of blow drying it, putting product in it, and then showing up here to drive Eddie and his unrequited crush crazy.

He smells nice, too.

“Is that a new cologne?”

“It’s not new, I just only wear it for dates.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. It shouldn’t.

Not only is Eddie a man, but he’s also weird. And, at this current time, he’s pretty much bedbound or being pushed around in a wheelchair.

Steve’s a good guy, but he isn’t gonna waste the good cologne on visiting Eddie.

“Oh. Where you taking her? Movies? Dinner?” Eddie sits up so he doesn’t have to look up at Steve. His mind starts to wander to other reasons Steve might be above him, but luckily, Steve answers before he gets carried away.

“I’m taking you to my place,” Steve replies simply.

“I thought you were going on a date?”

“I am. I’m taking you to my house.”

“No offense, but I’d rather not sit alone at your house while you’re on a date,” Eddie snorts. “Is this because Wayne’s leaving in the morning for a weekend trip? I swear I’ll be fine on my own. Dustin’s coming by tomorrow anyway.”

“Eddie.” Steve takes both of his hands. “I’m taking you to my house for a date. You and me. On a date. I’m making dinner for us and I thought you could help me make a character sheet.”

Eddie must’ve fallen and hit his head. He must’ve blacked out. Wayne will be so pissed that his independence has landed him in the hospital again.

“You’re saying words to me. I hear them.”

Steve groans. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and cups his face instead.

“Wayne said this would be difficult.” He rubs his thumb against Eddie’s cheek, smirking. “You’re awake. You’re alive. I’m really here in front of you. I’m asking you to come to my house so I can charm you and maybe kiss you at the end of our date. And then you can stay at mine, but there’s no expectations. I have the guest room made up for you.”

“This is crazy. You realize this is crazy?” Eddie squeaks. “You’re not even gay!”

“I’m a little gay,” Steve laughs. “And I really like you.”

“But-“ Eddie turns to his wheelchair. He’s definitely gonna need it to get outside and then back inside Steve’s house. And then he’ll probably need help getting upstairs to the guest room, or Steve’s room if he’s lucky. “You’ll have to help me. For a long time maybe. The doctors might have been right on this. I can’t even stand, let alone walk. And I’m miserable about it. What you walked in on was my 28th attempt at getting up to use my walker today and I’m no closer than I was on day one, attempt one. It’ll be a lot of fucking work, taking care of me.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie’s speechless for quite possibly the first time in his life.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nods once. Steve beams at him, like he’s given him the best gift he’s ever received.

He gets lightheaded almost immediately. Steve’s lips are gentle against his, full of so much tenderness and love. It’s almost more than he can handle.

Eddie chases his lips as Steve pulls away.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie whines.

“I’m gonna take you home. We’re gonna have a date. And then we’re gonna kiss again. Let me treat you right, though,” Steve says and winks.

“You stop that. I can’t handle your winking.”

Steve laughs, kisses him again. He leans back and claps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get you in the chair so we can get home. Dinner’s gonna take about an hour to make.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #getting together #friends to lovers #steddie events

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willowsnook · 29 days ago

Text

You have been my friend, that in itself is a tremendous thing (LS)

request from @waterdeeply book quote requests here

Lance stroll x bsf!reader

—----------------------------------------

It surprised most people that you and Lance had been friends for as long as you had, especially since it was like you were from two different worlds. In college, you worked as a barista at a cafe in Montreal and had been intrigued by a quiet regular you’d had that winter. Always polite, but never talkative, you felt like you had formed a silent friendship with the man.

It became loud when he showed up that June to the cafe, after not having been in for months.

“Where have you been?” You demanded, putting a hand on your hips while you glared at him. He was startled and then confused, not realizing his presence had been that known.

“Uhh, I don’t live here,” he stuttered out. “I mean, I’m from here, and visit over the holidays.”

“But you’re back now,” you said. “And it’s not a holiday.”

“Work,” he said shortly, a tight smile on his face.

“Okay, well here,” you said, handing his drink to him.

“What is it?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Your americano? The same thing you always order?” you said, and he didn’t say anything. He just looked from you to the drink and back to you again. “Okay, stop being weird, go sit down.”

That was the beginning of your favorite friendship that was going on 5 years now.

It was funny, really—how someone who barely said two words at first became the person you texted when you saw a raccoon doing something stupid, or when you were panicking over something dumb like taxes.

Somewhere along the way, Lance went from “quiet guy who drinks Americanos” to “guy who shows up at your apartment at midnight with snacks when you're sad.” From “I think he races cars or something?” to “I know his pre-qualifying ritual better than he does.”

It didn’t matter that his life was fast-paced and international while yours was rooted in simplicity. You grounded him, and he gave you wings. You balanced each other out in a way that made perfect sense—just not to anyone else.

You were the first person he called after a good race, and the only person he wanted to talk to after a bad one. And you always picked up—even when it was 3 a.m. in whatever timezone he was calling from.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about coffee orders and started being about always.

And that quiet guy who used to barely make eye contact? Now he couldn’t go a day without sending you a dumb meme or a video of a dog in sunglasses with the caption, “You.”

His friend group had changed a lot over the years you had known him - it wasn’t rare for it to be because someone ended up showing that they only wanted to be friends with him because of his status. The Lance in the media was also drastically different from the one you knew. They painted him to be a rich, stuck-up, daddy’s boy with no regard for anyone other than himself, but that wasn’t your Lance. Your Lance was shy. He was thoughtful. He was loyal.

It was after a particularly dreadful weekend in Brazil that ended with a DNF from Lance that you heard him knocking on your hotel door at 10 pm. You were already in pajamas in bed, not expecting your friend as you had just seen him literally two hours ago. Prepared to give him your best irritated look you swung open the door, but the glare dropped once you saw his face.��

“What’s wrong?” You instantly asked. His hair looked like he had ran his fingers through it a million times, his eyes tired, shoulders slumped.

“Can I just stay here tonight?” He asked hesitantly. You looked back to your room that only had one bed but nodded your head anyway. Lance had spent the night countless times at your apartment, but always on the couch.

"Come on in," you said softly, stepping aside to let him through. He shuffled in, his movements heavy with exhaustion. You closed the door behind him and watched as he sank down onto the edge of your bed, his head dropping into his hands.

"Thanks," he murmured. "I just... couldn't be alone with my thoughts tonight."

You sat beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed. "Want to talk about it?"

Lance let out a long, shaky breath. "Everyone's saying I don’t want to be here. That I don’t even like racing. Social media is... brutal."

"Since when do you care what people on Twitter think?" you asked, nudging him gently.

"Since my dad called to tell me he agreed with them," Lance said, his voice barely audible.

Your heart sank. Lawrence Stroll had always been the person that Lance had looked up to the most. You knew Lawrence well now, finally gaining his approval once he realized you weren’t ever trying to get something from his son. He loved Lance more than life, but he was human.

Moving back on the bed, you rested against he headboard and motioned for Lance to come closer. He laid his head down in your lap, and you started to massage his head, his soft hair moving between your fingers.

“It was just a bad day,” you told him. “You are better than today. You know that, I know that, your dad knows that.”

“Would you still be friends with me if I lost my seat?” He asked quietly and you laughed.

“Oh Lance, I’d still be friends with you if you had no money to your name and had to live on my couch,” you said easily. “Nothing could ever get me away from you, we are stuck together I’m afraid.”

He smiled up at you, and suddenly the weight of the day seemed to lift from his shoulders. His eyes, those deep brown pools that could convey more than his words ever did, held yours with a warmth that made your heart skip.

"Stuck together, huh?" he repeated softly. "I think I can live with that."

You continued running your fingers through his hair, noticing how his breathing gradually slowed, the tension in his face melting away. This was the Lance only you got to see—vulnerable, honest, without the armor he wore for the rest of the world.

—---------------------------------------------

You only turned 25 once; that’s what Lance had been telling you nonstop the whole time you were at the airport. He knew you were irritated with him because you made it clear from the beginning of your friendship that you didn’t like him throwing around money for you.

“Look at it this way,” he said convincingly as you waited to board his jet. “This is the first time your birthday has fallen on a non-race weekend so it’s like a vacation for me too. So really it’s not all about you.”

“So my birthday present from you is not all about me?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well, of course it’s all about you,” he said, panicked. “I’m just saying, I am also benefitting, so you can’t be mad at me for paying.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Will you tell me where we’re going?”

That’s the other thing you were annoyed about. This whole trip was a surprise so you had no idea that you were even going anywhere until an hour ago when you both pulled up to the airport. Lance had clearly just bought you a new suitcase with new clothes to ‘keep up the surprise’ in his words.

"I'll tell you when we land," Lance said with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up in that way that always made it hard to stay mad at him.

You sighed dramatically, but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quipped, guiding you up the steps of his private jet with a gentle hand on your lower back.

The interior was luxurious, of course, but you'd been on his jet enough times now that the initial awe had worn off. What hadn't worn off was the way Lance always watched your face when you stepped inside, like he was still seeing it through your eyes the first time. The plane ride went by smoothly and as you departed the jet, you stopped in your tracks, jaw dropping as you looked over at Lance.

Mykonos. The place that had been #1 on your travel bucket list since forever. You had even told Lance once that your future husband had no say in honeymoon destination because it had to be here.

“Surprise,” he said, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. The drive to the villa was short and you were overwhelmed by the place.

It was stunning—like something out of a travel magazine or a Pinterest board you never actually thought you’d step into. Whitewashed walls with cascading bougainvillea, infinity pool stretching out into the Aegean Sea, and floor-to-ceiling windows that made it feel like the whole island was yours. But more than the luxury, it was the details that hit you like a punch to the heart.

There were vases filled with your favorite flowers—lilies and lavender—spread throughout the villa, filling the space with a soft, calming scent. A record player sat in the corner, already spinning one of your favorite albums, the volume low and warm like a heartbeat in the background. On the coffee table was a stack of books Lance had remembered you saying you wanted to read “someday”—and apparently today was someday.

You wandered into the bedroom and blinked in disbelief at the soft linen robe draped on the bed embroidered with your initials. There were framed photos—your photos. Ones you’d taken during hikes, some blurry selfies the two of you had snapped over the years, one you didn’t even remember taking of him grinning with his face smeared in ice cream.

On the nightstand sat a cup of coffee in a to-go cup that looked suspiciously familiar. You picked it up and laughed—it was your exact old cafe’s logo, and the label read “Americano for L.S.” in your handwriting.

You turned around and found Lance standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, that nervous smile on his face again—the same one from years ago, when you’d first asked him why he’d been gone so long.

"Why did you do all this for me?" you asked, voice soft, almost overwhelmed. "I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything like this for you."

Lance tilted his head slightly, walking into the room. His gaze was steady, warm. “You’ve been my friend,” he said simply. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging. You weren’t usually emotional like this—but Lance had a way of catching you off guard, of making you feel seen in a way you didn’t even know you craved.

"You remembered everything," you whispered, running your fingers along the robe.

"Of course I did," he said, stepping closer. "You talk, I listen. You just never notice because you're usually ranting about people who don't listen."

You let out a watery laugh and shook your head. “You are… something else, Stroll.”

He grinned. “Hopefully something good?”

You nodded. “The best kind.”

That night, you sat out on the balcony wrapped in a blanket, sipping wine while the sun dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and purples. Lance sat beside you, your feet in his lap, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your ankle like it was second nature.

You turned to look at him, heart full, cheeks sore from smiling all day.

“This was the best birthday of my life,” you said.

“Only the best for you,” he replied casually, like he hadn’t just moved heaven and earth to give you this moment.

And it was then, in the golden light of Mykonos, wrapped in comfort and laughter, that you realized something you maybe should’ve seen all along.

He was your best friend. He knew you. Every piece of you.

And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to feel like something more.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine

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atomicami · 9 months ago

Text

bull ride

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: you spend the night out at a bar and decide to challenge yourself on the mechanical bull to impress abby. when abby sees you from the crowd, she ends up giving you something else to take a ride on. (part 4)

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel and jerry are both alive, jerry is not a doctor, reader has a business degree, family & work drama, bar setting, some alcohol consumption, truck sex (bit of a quickie), fingering (a!receiving), strap usage (r!receiving), strap sucking, abby referring to the strap as her cock, basically save a horse ride a cowgirl tbh 🤠

- author’s note: hi everyone… i know i’ve been very inactive this year but this part has actually been sitting in my drafts since march so i figured i’d at least post it for the few people who’ve been waiting this long to read it, i hope y’all enjoy it

previous parts: quick fix, surprise visit, charity work

It’s been a week since the bake sale, meaning that it’s also been a week since Abby last had her hands on you.

You’d be lying if you said that this week was flying slow for you right now, because to your surprise, seven days flew by like seven minutes, and before you knew it, it was officially Saturday.

You’re sitting in your room by your dresser, fully dressed from head to toe in the finest Western apparel that you own, finishing the touches on your makeup in the mirror. You then look down at your phone for a moment, still eyeing the last text that Abby had sent you.

She invited you to go to Wild Randy’s tonight, and while you were excited to see her again, you were dreading it at the same time.

It was mainly because Wild Randy’s was the go-to place for you and Joel, and as bad as you want to sneak off with Abby again, you knew that you’d also have to make sure you wouldn’t get caught by your dad either.

You take a few deep breaths before standing up and adjusting your belt, then grabbing your phone and bag before exiting your bedroom.

“Dad! I’m ready to go!” you call out as you strut down the stairs. Given that you always take longer than him to get ready, you figured he’d be sitting on the couch waiting for you, but to your surprise, he wasn’t there.

“Dad? Where are you?” you call out for him again, entering the kitchen to find it empty as well. You roam around the house for a bit before entering the garage, seeing him still in his work clothes working on blueprints. “Dad…are you not coming?”

Joel looks up at you, frowning once he sees you ready to leave. “Oh, shit…it’s Saturday isn’t it?” he says, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry kid, I know we go to Randy’s every Saturday but…work’s just been tyin’ me down lately.”

You nod to your dad in acknowledgment. “Well, we can skip tonight if—“

“No, no, no, s’alright,” he says, quickly cutting off your words. “You go. There’s always next weekend right?” he looks down for a moment at his workspace before looking back up at you. “Are you gonna drive yourself there or…?”

“Oh, um it’s okay Dad, I can text Dina for a ride.” you take a few steps closer to him before continuing. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you ask him, receiving a nod from him in response.

“Okay, well…don’t stay up too late, we have to go to the hardware store next week to start getting supplies for the Mitchell home.” you remind him as you walk your way to the door.

Joel clicks his tongue at you in response. “Thanks for remindin’ me, kid. Don’t have too much fun out there, alright?”

You smile and nod back at him before leaving the garage. Even though you felt bad that your dad couldn’t come, you can’t help but feel relieved about it either. With your dad out of the way, you’d be able to get some time with Abby without the risk of getting caught by him.

You pull out your phone to send a text to Dina telling her to pick you up, and in less than ten minutes she was already honking at your door. While checking to make sure you have everything, you exit your house before locking it, walking down the porch to see Dina inside her car with the windows rolled down.

“Hey, you!” she shouts out, leaning forward over her steering wheel. “Ready for Randy’s?”

“You bet I am!” you shout back to her as you hurriedly get into the passenger side of her car and sit down.

The ride to Wild Randy’s was pretty quick, given that there’s never a rush hour on Saturdays. Aside from the twenty minutes it took Dina to find an available parking spot, the two of you were now quickly settled at the bar.

“So tell me, how’s it going with you and Abby?” Dina asks you as you both sit yourselves down on the bar stools.

Before you can respond to her, Jesse ends up cutting in from behind the bar with two beers in his hand. “Wait a second, you’ve been having a thing with Anderson?” he asks you, popping open the two bottles before handing them to you and Dina. “Didn’t you say that your dad doesn’t want you around her?”

You nod to him in response. “Yeah, and I mean I’ve been doing that for what, four, five years now? But I needed her to come over a few weeks ago to fix an outlet in my living room and it just like…happened, you know?” you explained, taking a sip from your beer.

Dina quickly gulped and set her bottle back down on the bar. “Wait a minute…is that why you were acting so weird during movie night?”

“Yeah…” you tell her with a nod, taking another sip out of your beer. “Anyways, she told me she was going to be here today so…” your words drift off as you turn your head around in search of her, and you are quick to catch her entering the bar with her group of friends. Not only that, but her father was also nowhere to be seen.

It was the first time you saw Abby like this, outside of work and not in her work clothes for once. She was wearing a pair of jeans instead of her usual cargo pants, a pair of western boots instead of her usual work ones, and her tool belt was ditched for a leather belt with a metal buckle on the center. She also had on a tight button-up that showed off her muscles, and to top it all off, a cowboy’s hat that rested over her braided blond hair.

You hate to admit it, but she was looking pretty damn good right now.

Dina suddenly snaps her fingers at you to get your attention, causing you to swivel your chair back around. “She’s there right now isn’t she?” she asks you, receiving a nod from you in response.

“Yeah, I want to go talk to her but…” your words drift off again as you turn back to see her. As you check her out, you notice from the corner of your eye some movement going on towards your left. You fully swivel your chair around this time to get a better look. It appeared to be a group of employees carrying out a large mechanical bull inside an inflatable ring, while another employee stood next to them, giving them orders on where to position the machine.

“Jesse,” you call out to him, swiveling your stool back to face him. “They’re bringing back the bull?”

Jesse looks up briefly to see the mechanical bull being set up before looking back down and pouring some contents into a cocktail shaker. “Yeah, we’ve been getting so many requests to bring it back up after our last bull broke down last year,” he explains as he continues preparing the cocktail for the customer in front of him.

You briefly look back at the bull for a moment, then look over to where Abby was. At that moment, an idea instantly sparked in your mind. What better way could there be to catch Abby’s attention than impressing her by taking a ride on the mechanical bull?

The sound of a loud microphone tap shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over to see the bar’s owner standing in front of the bull with the microphone in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he calls out, quickly grabbing the attention of all the patrons inside the dimly lit bar. “I’m pleased to announce that we now have our brand new and improved mechanical bull back into our bar!” he announces, quickly receiving cheers and applause from the customers. “Now who in here…” he says, pointing a finger around the bar. “Is gonna be the first one to be brave enough and take her for a ride?”

You look around the bar to see several amounts of people already preparing themselves for the challenge. Part of you wanted to not do it, but a bigger part of you wanted to ride that damn bull like there was no tomorrow. You were willing to do it, just for the sake of impressing Abby. Neither of your dads were here right now, so who knows when you could get another opportunity like this? It was either now or never.

“I’ll do it!” you shout out, quickly raising your hand to get the owner’s attention.

Dina quickly grabs your hand and pulls it down to your lap. “What are you doing? Are you seriously gonna ride that thing?” she asks with concern.

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by the owner shouting at you. “You right there! Come on up here!”

You look over at the man before back at Dina. “I guess I am now,” you tell her with a shrug, hopping off of the bar stool and approaching your way towards the ring.

As you walk away from the bar, Jesse comes to Dina from behind, leaning into her side. “I’ll bet you $20 that she won’t last the full five minutes.”

You watch the owner squint to try to get a better look at you as you get closer to the inflatable ring. “Well well well, what do we have here!” he says as you make it to the ring, now standing next to him. “If it isn’t Joel Miller’s daughter herself. You think you’ll be able to handle the bull, Miss Miller?” he asks, pointing the microphone towards you.

You grab the mic from the owner and hold it closer to yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see but…I think I could handle her,” you tell him with confidence before handing the mic back to him.

Numerous amounts of patrons clap and cheer you on in response. As the owner continues to speak to the audience, you step into the inflatable ring, watching as your boots sink inside. You look at your surroundings for a moment, seeing all of the customers placing their bidding money into a hat and passing it around the bar. The hat goes around past Abby as well, and you could’ve sworn she had slipped a hundred-dollar bill in there for you. Her eyes then meet with yours for a moment, and so does that stupid smirk of hers.

“Alright Miss Miller, you have five minutes up on the clock now, if you can make it to the end, you win the bidding money, got it?” the owner explains to you.

You nod at him in acknowledgment. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

You then turn back around so you’re facing the bull. You take a few steps backward as a head start, then quickly run forward and hop on top of the bull. Your hands quickly grab onto the handles, and you keep your legs wrapped around the sides of the bull. Lastly, you position your hips on the bull by pushing them forward, keeping yourself as close as possible to the saddle.

The bull was quickly activated as soon as you sat down, and so was the timer. The machine began to rock back and forth, slowly to start. Once you felt like you were getting the hang of it, that’s when the speed began to go faster. Your grip on the bull progressively gets tighter and tighter the more that the speed increases. It eventually escalated to the fullest speed, the bull now moving and spinning around like crazy. Time has never flown by slower for you than at this moment. On the inside, you were getting so dizzy to where you were going to be sick. But you couldn’t express that. Not in front of the audience. Not in front of Abby.

Regardless of it, you refused to let go. You held onto the bull like your life depended on it, waiting for the timer to count down to zero. Five minutes felt more like an eternity to you right now, but you soon start to feel relief once you hear the audience begin to count down.

Ten, nine, eight…

You lock down your grip on the bull’s handles.

Seven, six, five…

Your legs remain secure on each side of the saddle, and your hips push forward against it. As much as you were trying to hold onto the bull, you couldn’t help but imagine your hips pushing forward on Abby’s str—

Four, three, two, one!

The timer goes off, and the bull begins to slow itself down. As the machine comes to a stop, you instantly loosen your grip on it. You let out a breath of relief as you look up, watching all of the patrons cheer and applaud you. One of the employees approaches to help you, and you carefully hop off the bull before exiting the ring.

“I have to say you did phenomenal on that bull there, Miss Miller.” the owner tells you through the mic, handing you the bidding money. “Anything you wanna say to the audience?”

You take the money from his hands before taking the microphone. “Well, first of all, thank you all for bidding on me, and second…” you pause for a moment before continuing. “And I don’t mean to self-promote but…if anyone here needs any construction help…be sure to contact my dad’s company, Miller Contracting. We’re the best in all of Austin.” your eyes scan around the audience before your gaze fixes on Abby. You keep your eyes on her for a little bit, smirking at her before looking back at the audience and walking off, a last set of applause happening as you do so.

You make your way back to the spot where Jesse and Dina remain. “See? Told y’all I’d beat that thing,” you say, flaunting your bidding money in front of them. Jesse leans forward on the bar to get closer to you. “Mind if I get a cut of that?” he asks, trying to grab the money from your hand.

You move your hand away from him and shake your head. “Hell no, I won this fair and square,” you tell him, clutching the money close to your chest. “Besides, didn’t you bid against me anyway?”

Jesse scoffs, still leaning forward on the bar. “Yeah, but I still have rent to pay,” he replies before taking his weight off the bar to assist another customer.

You simply roll your eyes at him and chuckle in response as you count your money. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not even that much—“ your words quickly cut off once you notice something unusual on the hundred-dollar bill. You pull it out of the thin stack, seeing a note attached to it that reads:

“Meet me at the parking lot in five. —A”

You smirk to yourself upon reading the message, not even realizing that you were doing so until Dina points it out. “She wants you to go see her, doesn’t she?” she asks, crossing her arms at you.

You simply nod at her in acknowledgment. “Yeah, she does…” you reply, reaching to the bar to grab the rest of your things before saying goodbye to Jesse and Dina. Upon leaving, you look over to see Abby on the other side of the bar. You watch as she pays for her beer and leaves from the other exit. The thrill and excitement starts to consume you already in seeing her again.

The cool air hits you once you exit the bar. You roam around the parking lot in search of her until you hear a faint whistling sound from behind. You turn around to see Abby’s prominent figure from a distance leaning on the side of her truck. You don’t approach her quickly though. Instead, you take your time walking your way towards her.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the bull tamer herself…” Abby says, taking her weight off the truck. “You looked good up there, you know…riding that thing.”

You smirk and take a step closer to her. “I’m glad. Wanted to put on a show for you there,” you tell her quietly, and she leans in to give you a kiss, the rim of her cowboy hat slightly brushing over the top of your head as your lips briefly connect.

“You know…” she tells you quietly, slightly separating her lips from yours. “I’ve got something else that you can take a ride on for me…”

“Oh yeah?” you whisper back to her. “And what might that be?”

“Why don’t you hop in my truck and find out?”

And with that you take a step back, letting Abby unlock her truck before opening the passenger door and entering inside. Upon opening the door, you couldn’t help but notice that the windows in Abby’s truck were slightly darker than the last time you saw it…did she seriously get her windows tinted?

Abby holds the door open for you, and you quickly climb inside and hop onto her lap before she closes the door and locks it, now confining the both of you inside. Your thighs wrap themselves around Abby’s lab and you push your hips forward over her crotch, just like how you did on the bull. You could practically feel the bulge of her strap under all that denim.

Abby lets out a soft groan at the sudden friction. “How about you get it wet for me first, yeah?” she says, reaching down to the lever on the bottom part of the seat and pushing it back to give you some space on the ground.

You don’t even think twice about it, instantly dropping down to your knees and unzipping her jeans before pulling the thick black strap out of her boxers. After seeing the sight of it, you were pretty shocked. You didn’t get a good look when she fucked you last time, but now that it’s in your hands, you’re amazed that you were able to take the immense length of Abby’s strap.

Your fingers wrap around the large piece of silicone before you lean into it, lips instantly wrapping around the tip. You gently suck onto the tip for a moment, then slowly work your way down to the base of the strap. However, your mouth couldn’t last being down so deep, so you briefly pull it back up to the tip before going back down, repeatedly continuing your movements thereafter.

Abby lets out a quiet groan as she feels the base of her strap rubbing against her clit. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up for a moment to see her head slightly tilted back, her cowboy hat obstructing her view as well.

You keep stroking her strap with one hand, spreading your saliva all over from base to tip to distract her. As you do that, you use your other hand to gently shift the harness to the side and sneak your fingers into the crotch of her boxers, instantly finding access to her wet pussy before sliding two of them inside.

Abby notices the sudden shift of movement and looks down at you. “What the hell are you—oh fuck—“ her words get cut off with a quiet groan as you begin to curl her fingers inside of her. “Oh fuck yeah, k-keep doing that…”

You smirk back at her as you continue to pump your fingers inside her, now fully diverting your attention away from the strap for a moment. Your other hand moves to keep the harness of the strap pushed to the side while you finger Abby’s pussy, and you look up to keep an eye on her every movement—the way her hands grip the seat of the truck, the moans and whines escaping from her mouth, and how her eyes were tightly shut and the head was thrown back in pleasure. You’d be lying if you said that the way she looked right now wasn’t turning you on because you can just easily feel your arousal pooling in between your thighs as you do this to her.

“God, fucking hell—go…go faster…” Abby whines out to you, tightening her grip on the seat as she manspreads herself farther on it to give you more space. You simply nod in acknowledgment, speeding up your pace inside her in a desperate effort to get her to cum.

You can visibly see her breaths getting deeper, and you can practically feel the way her cunt began to contract around your two fingers, knowing that she was getting close. Within moments, your fingers get instantly coated with her release as she cums around them with a loud groan. Her breathing soon slows down as she recovers from her orgasm and she looks back down at you. Your gaze stays fixed on hers while you slide your fingers out of her pussy and place them into your mouth, sucking them clean while you get a taste of her release.

“My god…” Abby pants out, still trying to catch her breath. “No one’s ever made me cum that fast before…you’re good at this too, you know.”

You smirk back at her as you sit back for a moment, briefly resting your weight on the back of your boots. “Looks like you’re not the only one who’s good at making a quick fix, Anderson.” the blonde simply shakes her head at you in response before patting her hand on her lap. “Your turn now, angel. Get on up here.”

Without hesitation, you slowly lift yourself from the floor of the truck and climb onto Abby’s lap in the passenger seat, her large hands quickly roaming up and down your hips as you do so. You watch as she scrunches up your skirt around your hips and brings one of her hands down to the crotch of your underwear, smirking once she senses the wetness underneath it. “Looks like she’s pretty eager to take a ride, don’t you think?”

You nod quickly in response, and you lift yourself to hover over the strap. Abby helps you out by shifting your underwear to the side and spreading your puffy folds open. You grab the strap with one hand to align it with your entrance while you grab onto Abby’s shoulder with the other to support yourself as you go down.

The tip meets with your entrance, and you whimper at the sudden stretch. Your grip on Abby’s shoulder tightens as you try to maintain your balance over her lap. And then, little by little…you begin to sink down her strap, all the way until your folds were pressing over the base of it.

Once the entire length was inside you, you used your other hand to grab Abby’s other shoulder for balance. The feeling this time was a little more difficult to handle in comparison to how Abby had fucked you at the bake sale. You weren’t bent over, nor did you have the support of the counter either. You were completely sat upright, in the confined passenger seat of Abby’s truck, with her strap so far inside you that she could visibly see the tip poking out of your lower stomach. It sure felt overwhelming, to say the least.

“Fuck…you look good for me like this…” she mutters out quietly as she runs her thumbs down your stomach, gently pressing onto the bulge that was being formed from her strap. She watches as you continue to stay upright, now squirming in her grasp as a response to the pressure she was giving to your stomach. “You know…it’s not gonna feel any better if you don’t move.” she continues, now bringing one hand further down to rub your clit. “Take a ride on it, princess…It’ll feel good once you start moving.”

Your eyes flicker down to the watch that was wrapped around Abby’s left wrist. You glance at the time.

10:39…10:40.

You take a deep breath and tighten your grip on Abby’s broad shoulders. As her hands remain planted on your body, you begin to lift yourself up before going straight back down. You repeat the process, now developing a slow pace on her strap.

Abby smirks as she looks up at you, watching every moan and whimper escape from your lips as you fuck yourself on her cock. “There we go, that’s it…atta girl…” her praises and coos continue, now leading you to move at a faster pace. As you begin to ride her faster, Abby notices how close your head is getting to the ceiling of her truck every time you go up. While keeping one hand planted on you, she quickly takes off her cowboy hat and places it on your head, fixing up the rim so she can still see you. “Prettiest cowgirl I’ve ever seen,” she mutters out quietly, placing her hand back onto your hip as you keep riding her.

As you keep riding Abby’s strap, you take a glance out the window, making you slow down to get a better look. You see some people leaving the bar and walking their way back to their vehicles, and your heart begins fucking racing when they pass by Abby’s truck, completely oblivious of the events that are happening inside it.

“Hey,” Abby squeezes your hip, causing you to direct your attention back to her. “They’re not seeing any of this, you know…” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “But I bet you want them to, don’t you? It’s obvious you enjoyed throwing on that little show back there at the bar earlier, so would this be any different?” she asks, leaning in to kiss you. “Would it be any different if those same people saw a pretty cowgirl like you slutting herself out for me like this? Riding my cock and making a mess all over my lap? Hm?”

You whine back at her, shaking your head. “Yeah, I knew you’d like that, my filthy little cowgirl…” she responds with a smirk. “But you see, that’s why I have all of my windows tinted now…because I don’t want anyone to see what’s really mine.”

Your pussy practically throbs at her words. You were so distracted by what Abby was saying to you that didn’t even realize that you had stopped riding her. Your arousal was now just soaking up her cock and jeans. Abby looks down at her lap and smirks before looking back up at you. “I didn’t tell you to stop now, did I?” she asks, giving you a smack on your ass. “C’mon, cowgirl…keep fucking riding me.”

Your pace now begins to quicken this time, and you move your left hand to the armrest that was above your head, gripping it as you keep your other hand on her shoulder. “F-fuck, Abby…f-feels so good….” you moan out to her, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the tip of her strap presses onto your cervix while you ride.

“Oh yeah? Does it feel good, princess?” she asks, admiring how you were starting to go dumb on her cock. “That’s it, keep riding me, just like that…Ride me just like how you were riding that damn bull.”

Abby’s words had your stomach doing fucking flips. You tried your best to maintain your fast pace as you rode her strap, but your legs were quickly starting to give out. “A-Abby, help me…please…”

“Aw, you poor thing, getting tired already now aren’t you?” Without any warning, Abby tightens her grip on your hips and begins to slam her cock right into you. You yelp in surprise as your left hand flies from the armrest back onto Abby’s shoulder, and you continue to push your hips down as Abby keeps thrusting inside you. “C’mon cowgirl, be a good girl and cum for me now…”

Your cunt begins to clench around her strap, indicating that you were about to cum. Abby looks down at your pussy, watching in awe as a white ring began to quickly form on her strap. Her thumb meets with your clit, quickly rubbing it as you continue to cum all over her cock, whimpering and moaning out her name as you do so.

As you finish riding out your orgasm, your pace begins to slow down and you rest yourself on Abby’s chest, panting deeply as you try to catch your breath. Before Abby pulls herself out, you grab her left wrist again and glance back down at her watch.

10:43…10:44.

“Four minutes,” Abby says, looking down at her watch. “Looks like you made a new record.”

You playfully push her arm back as she brings her hand back onto your hip and slowly pulls her strap out of your fucked out pussy, causing you to whine at the loss of it. Keeping you in her arms, Abby trades places with you and carefully rests your limp body onto the seat while briefly she gets onto the ground. She peeks through the fogged up windows, making sure that the coast was clear so she could get out of the truck.

As you watch Abby hop off her truck, your eyes start to feel heavy from the exhaustion before quickly fluttering shut for a moment. As your eyes were closed, you could feel Abby’s large hands move your body around before the sudden warmth of her tongue makes contact with your sore cunt, causing you to involuntarily jerk away.

“Hey, relax…I’m just cleaning you up a bit,” she mutters out to you. You simply nod in response, eyes remaining shut as your body eases in and relaxes into her touch again. The gentle movements of Abby’s tongue and lips on your pussy easily removes the tension in your thighs, making you feel as if you were now sinking into the leather of the seat. You then start to feel some shifting of your clothes along with the sounds of the truck doors opening and closing right before you briefly fall into a state of slumber.

The sudden rumbling movements of the truck cause your eyes to slowly flicker back open. You wake up to find yourself lying on your left side in the passenger seat, but now with the seatbelt secured over you. The dim lights of the truck are no longer present, only the faint brightness of the music player on the dashboard is the only thing illuminating your vision right now. The sounds of the few cars on the road surround you, along with the country music quietly playing inside as well. You look up to see Abby with her gaze fixed on the road, with one hand planted firmly on the steering wheel while the other simply rested over on the center console.

You rest your hand on top of hers, and Abby quickly notices that gentle touch of yours, briefly glancing down to look at you. “Hey there…” she says with a smile before looking back up at the road. “You were out for most of the ride, feeling any better?” she asks, gently enclosing your hand into her large palm.

You shift around in your seat, no longer feeling as sore as you were before. “Yeah, a little…” you tell her, resting your head back on the seat as you watch her drive. “I had a really good time tonight, you know…” you tell her, to which she smiles in response.

“I did too,” she replies, quickly looking over to you again. “Felt nice to finally escape from our dads for once.”

The speed of the truck soon starts to slow down before coming to a halt. Your heart instantly sinks to the pit of your stomach, and your smile begins to fade. You knew what this meant.

It meant that you were back home. Your time with Abby was now up.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up completely to look over at the sight of your house. All of the lights were shut off, except for the faint blue light of the living room TV, and you could easily see your dad’s head tilted to the side, indicating that he was now asleep.

You let out a sigh. “I…I don’t want to go back in there,” you say, turning your head back to look at Abby. She simply sighs and gently rubs your shoulder. “I know you don’t, angel…but we can’t risk it. As much as I can’t stand your dad, I don’t want him to get worried about you either.”

Your head hangs low now, nodding in acknowledgment. Abby’s hand gently holds your chin to lift your face. “You know this won’t be the last time, right?” she asks you, to which you nod again.

“I know, I just…I’ll miss you, Abs…who knows when we’ll see each other again?” you ask back, looking up into her soft blue eyes. She nods back at you in response. “It’ll happen again soon, okay? Just know that I’m always gonna have you on my mind, alright?” she says before quickly leaning in to kiss you, the rim of her hat on your head brushing over her hair this time as she does so.

You instantly kiss her back before pulling away to grab your things from the ground. You take a deep breath and open the door, exiting the truck and closing it. Your boots now meet with the concrete of the sidewalk, and you walk your way to the front door of your house. Before you go in, you look back to see Abby watching you from her truck, and you two give each other a final wave before she drives off to park into the driveway of her house.

As the lights of Abby’s truck shut off now, you turn back to the door to unlock it. You slowly open the door just enough to squeeze yourself inside before closing it and locking it again. You turn around to see Joel fast asleep on his recliner while the TV screen illuminates the whole room. Without making a sound, you tiptoe on over to pick up the remote from the coffee table and shut off the TV. You set the remote back down and turn over to pick up a throw blanket from the couch to tuck your dad in before heading upstairs to your bedroom.

The door creaks slightly as you enter inside. You slowly close the door before letting out a sigh as you set your bag down on the ground before kicking off your boots. You take off Abby’s hat and set it on top of your dresser before the rest of your clothes come off of you and to the ground until you’re down to your underwear. You pick up a random oversized shirt from your dad’s company and throw it on. As you’re taking off your makeup, your phone buzzes on your bed, and you reach over to pick it up.

“Abby: I’ll be thinking of you.”

You look up from the screen to your right, seeing her broad silhouette in the bedroom window across from yours. The two of you stare at each other for a bit, until you wave her off and get into bed, to which she does the same right after.

Not only was this the first night the two of you had officially spent alone together, but it was also the first night where you both just couldn’t take each other off of your minds now.

And all you could do was just wait until your path meets with hers again.

- tags 🏷️: @nyctophiliq @lucidfairies @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @abbysfavewh0rx @lia-winther @grooviestcowboy @pretty-prrincess-13 @iwillkilyou @erinsdeluluworld @elliens4 @totallyghostdgirl @sirenbxby @bellaramslover @uraesthete @cherrycolouredflunk @whorn3y @thatonementallyillsimp @elliewilliamsmunch @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @mochiivqi @floptron @swtsuna @naomis-daydream @hunnybunnyhazel @paprikahoernchen @bbglmfao @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @littlegingerperson @ur-fav-pixi @2busyfangirling @lmaoo-spiderman @olive-fics @onlinelesbo @piscesfairyyy @mrsandersons (striked means i couldn’t tag)

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blainesebastian · 1 month ago

Text

yes is a world

word count: 8,043 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: Nick rarely finds himself saying no to you, but there is one instance in which he does. notes: title is from 'love is a place' by e.e. cummings. gifs are from this gifpack! i also have a nick leister x reader masterlist here! notes 2: mentions of domestic abuse between reader's parents

Everything about Nick Leister screams yes, you noticed that the moment you met him.

It’s in the firm lines of his body, broad shoulders, toned waist. The way he wears rings on his hands, his hands in general. It’s how he holds himself, it’s in his well-placed smiles and the curved syllables of his accent. This is someone who knows how to get exactly what he wants, when he wants it. When you first met him, you remember thinking that this was someone who was rarely told no. At first, you thought he was a spoiled brat, silver-spoon engraved with the word yes tipped into his mouth since birth.

You couldn’t have been more wrong about that, about him, but it takes barriers coming down and masks removed to see that.

It takes a long time to wriggle through the cracks, for Nick to trust you. A friendship between shared circles sprouts into something else, mutual attraction, an easiness that was somehow not there before. Or perhaps it’s always been there, just transformed into something else. Nick has always been someone who’s touchy; you’ve teased him that it’s his love language—hands brushing fingers, your lower back, dragging across your shoulders, playing with your hair, or rubbing up and down your spine. But him talking in a way that mattered? Sharing things? It was always one-sided.

You’ve shared and gave and pried yourself open, and Nick’s always listened, been there for you, supported and protected you. But there was never a moment in which he cracked his ribs open either, shared vulnerabilities, until—

Seated on a small swatch of roof outside your bedroom window, you tug a blanket further around your shoulders. You and Nick are just hanging out, watching the dark clouds move across the midnight sky, attempting to count stars. It’s been a long fucking week of parties and obligations and…sometimes that’s fun? Other times it’s exhausting.

He’s seated close enough that you can feel the heat of his body alongside your own, smell his cologne and something purely him. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and are kinda dumbfounded, all over again, by how beautiful he is.

“You know what’s weird?” You ask.

“That you insist on putting peanut butter on Oreos?” He volleys back, a twinge to his lips as you scoff.

“I regret sharing that culinary masterpiece with you,” You don’t, “But no. I fucking hate my birthday.”

Nick doesn’t say anything, but knows your birthday is at the end of the month.

You tip your head back, eyes following a few stars that get stuck under moving clouds, “I know it’s bizarre. But I just—I feel like every year I’m supposed to be different, or something? One year older and I end up just feeling exactly the same.”

You’re not sure if it makes sense or if it’s just some sort of deep-seated insecurity that’s been passed on from your parents to you. They’re not divorced, but they should be. They’re not fucking happy. And yet every year passes and things stay the same. You think most kids would be thrilled that their parents were sticking it out together, not cutting up a marriage. Except they’re not trying to work together or figure out how to fix things.

They’re just making it worse.

Nick’s hand brushes over your back in silent comfort and when he turns his head, he brushes his lips into your hair.

You shake your head, trying to clear the sourness from sticking to the bottom of your ribs, attempting to change the subject. “Anyways,” You mutter, straightening your shoulders, “How’s Maddie?” He went to visit her this past weekend and while he didn’t say much about it, you’re hoping he had a good time. You know how much she means to him.

When Nick stills beside you, you steal a glance at him and can see that he’s upset. There’s a muscle working in his jaw, brown eyes clouded over and…

“You don’t have to tell me.” You assure him, because obviously whatever happened is bad enough to cause this visceral reaction.

You don’t expect him to say anything, his body is so tightly wound up in what feels like the word ‘no’, and yet—

Nick draws in a slow breath into his lungs, swallowing before— “I can’t see Maddie for her birthday.”

Fuck. That’s next week. Your eyebrows draw together in soft confusion, trying to figure out how this happened. Nick’s been to a few parties, sure, just like anyone else in their friend group has…but he’s been really good, meticulous, about not involving himself in anything that could get him into trouble. He hasn’t stepped foot in a bare-knuckle boxing match or a racing event in a long while. Not even just to watch.

You shift just a little to face him, “I don’t understand, what did your mom say?”

Nick holds your gaze but he doesn’t reply, just licks his lips. Your eyes search his until they land on a fading bruise on his cheekbone and oh…oh fuck.

“It’s my fault.”

“It is not.” Nick counters, making you scoff out a soft sound.

“You wouldn’t have that bruise if it wasn’t for me.”

When some guy grabbed your ass at a party, Nick shoved him so hard he tumbled into a table. Before you could get in the middle, assure Nick that you were fine and that maybe it was best to leave, the guy got up and suckerpunched with a sloppy fist at Nick’s face.

“My actions are my own.” He replies, his hand slipping into your own and squeezing your fingers.

“Which you wouldn't have done if it weren’t for me.”

“And I’d do it again.” Nick counters, finality in his tone.

You can’t help but sigh, frustrated for him. Knowing Nick, when his mother assumed he was doing something troublesome thanks to the bruise on his face, he never tried to correct her, refusing to drag you into it.

Well. You can drag yourself into it. “I’m gonna talk to your mom, tell her what actually happened.” You tell him, “And before you start—‘my actions are my own’.” You parrot his words back to him, looking pleased as hell at the look on his face.

Surprise, maybe, amusement definitely. His lips twitch into an almost smile at your determination. He doesn’t tell you no or try to talk you out of it. But he does lean over and kiss your cheekbone.

—

That’s the first time that Nick finds himself unable to say no to you. And it’s not the last.

—

Nick stares long and hard at the ball of wriggling fur in the center of his comforter, one of his hands coming up to rub the lower half of his face.

“It’s a cat,” You smile, opening your hands wide and motioning to the orange, striped little thing with honeysuckle colored eyes that’s playing with a loose string on a blanket, “Or well…a kitten, I guess, is more specific.”

His eyes flit up to yours before looking back down, “I know what it is, why is it on my bed?”

“Because the floor is cold?”

“Y/N.” He sighs out, slightly exasperated, which causes your lips to pout.

“Oh come on,” You sit down on the edge of his bed, “I found him outside in the garbage. Someone threw him away.” And you’re trying not to sound hysterical here—the thought that someone could just toss a baby kitten, or any animal for that matter, into the trash if they didn’t want it—you shake your head.

No need to cry. The kitten is going to be just fine. You smile a little as it rolls on its back, catching his own tail.

“And you brought him here?”

Your eyes flicker up to your boyfriend. You haven’t been together for very long but if Nick knows anything about you, it’s your soft spot for animals. This should not be a surprise to him.

“I can’t keep him at my house—my parents would flip. And they’re already miserable, they don’t need the help.”

“I don’t like cats.” Nick replies, the tone of his voice leaving little room for nonsense.

You tilt your head at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Since when? “You’ve never told me that.”

The orange kitten gets up and wobbles on its four legs to wander towards Nick…except he’s moving too fast and nearly does a nose-dive off the bed. Nick’s reflexes are fast, catching the fluffy ball in his hands and lifting him up and holding him against his chest. The kitten squirms but then starts to bat at the strings of his hoodie. Your lips curl up in soft amusement and Nick opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t.

Instead, he sneezes, right into his shoulder, barely turning his head in time. He blinks, like it caught him by surprise but then the next one doesn’t. He hands you the kitten, moving towards his bathroom, and your mouth forms a soft ‘O’ as you get up and follow him.

Leaning against the doorframe as he blows his nose, you raise your eyebrows, “You’re allergic?” You had no idea. A soft, entertained noise leaves your lips as the kitten reaches for a strand of your hair and Nick sniffles.

You give him an innocent wince as he takes a step towards you, gazing at the kitten like it’s personally offended him somehow. Well, it was a nice try. “I’ll take him to Jenna’s, maybe she can keep him.”

You look down at the kitten and give him a soft smile, scratching underneath his chin. Nick tips his head back, sighing audibly, before gently taking the kitten back into his hands. He moves to sit down on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he watches the orange little thing play with the silver bracelet around his wrist.

“We’re naming him Garfield.”

You grin—we. You move to sit down next to his legs. The name Garfield is perfect.

—

Nick has to start taking daily allergy pills but he never complains. He starts feeding Garfield special treats right from his hands, sitting on the floor with him. And you kiss him a little harder and longer for that.

—

You rarely allow yourself to get drunk when you’re out at the club with Nick and your circle of friends. It’s not that you look down on it, or anything, it’s just that you know your hangovers are the fucking worst. There’s no in-between to how it treats you the next day (sometimes in the middle of the night). You’re either completely fine, or god awful sick—nauseous, headaches, body aches and promises that you will never allow yourself to get so shit-faced again. Until you inevitably do.

Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve pushed past your limits. You’re not incredibly sloshed, or anything; you’ve ironically always been a rather respectable drunk. Just enough of your wits about you to brush your teeth and text your mom that you’re okay before passing out. But the room is definitely spinning and your heart is beating in tandem with the music pulsing through the speakers onto the dance floor.

Nick isn’t as far gone as you, just toeing the line of buzzed and seeing everything rose-colored, a state in which you probably should have kept yourself at but it was someone’s birthday at the bar. Everyone close by got a shot. Then Lion ordered another round. And then another. That on top of the two mixed drinks you already had.

You’re off the dance floor, waiting at the bar, leaning against the edge of it. Nick has created a cage around you with his arms, body pressed against your back. You bop your head to the beat, chewing on a straw, waiting for the bartender to free up.

“We should get another shot,” Jenna declares, finding a stool to slide onto.

Your eyes widen as you turn to look at her because suddenly that sounds like a great idea, “Yes.” You wave your arm a little, attempting to grab the attention of the bartender, “Sir!”

Nick reaches up for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and tucking it down against your body. You rotate to face him.

“How am I supposed to get the bartender’s attention if I don’t have a hand to wave?”

He presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose, making you melt a little. “How bout some water instead?”

You pout, jutting out your lower lip. You can’t hear Nick laugh but you can feel it, that tell-tale rumble in his chest. “No, no, just one more—one more.” You hold up the finger of the number in case he’s confused.

He shakes his head but he’s smiling, his hand now curling around that one too. “One more,” He relents, “Then water.”

Grinning, triumphant, you turn to Jenna and call out one more, making her cheer. You lean over Nick’s arm and wrap yours around your friend’s shoulders, a set of giggles capturing you both as Lion orders the shots. Your boyfriend doesn’t let go of you, helping you remain balanced and upright as you tip that final shot back into your mouth.

—

Drinking water until you leave the club, while needed, unfortunately does not restore your equilibrium. You don’t remember going home with Nick, or him helping you out of your shoes and dress, or taking your makeup off, or helping you crawl into bed. All you remember is the sour taste of shots in the back of your throat as a sharp pain in your stomach wakes you out of a dead sleep.

Glancing over at Nick, he’s asleep on his stomach, his one arm stretched out near his head along the pillows. He’s beautiful when he sleeps, though you suppose that shouldn’t be surprising. His eyelashes rest gently against his cheek, his back rising and falling as he breathes—and a twinge of amusement battles out your nausea as you see Garfield tucked into Nick’s neck, purring. You brush your fingers through his curls and shift to carefully pull the covers back, moving as quickly as you can to the bathroom.

Your knees barely hit the floor before you’re vomiting into the toilet. It’s all liquid, which unfortunately does not make you feel any better as your stomach lurches its contents forward. Until there’s nothing left but dry heaves.

You feel him before you hear him, the measured steps of Nick’s feet against the marbled floor. He then crouches down next to you in a pair of sweatpants, no shirt. The heat of his body feels nice alongside your own given the way you’re shaking in a cold sweat. He carefully gathers your hair up, holding it with one hand as the other rubs down your back.

You cough, trying to get yourself to stop gagging long enough to breathe deeply in through your nose. Your eyes slip shut, focusing on Nick’s calm breathing, his hands massaging your spine. When you seem to be done, and god—you really hope you are, you close the toilet lid and Nick reaches to flush the toilet.

“Never let me insist on one more shot.”

Nick smirks a little, as if you could be told what to do—you know he’d never do that anyways, but he leans forward and helps you up off the floor. He sets you on the closed toilet seat, Garfield trotting into the bathroom like he owns the place. He’s getting a little bigger, chasing Nick’s shadow on the floor as your boyfriend wets a washcloth in the sink and brings it back over. He crouches in front of you, gently tipping your chin up.

“On second thought, never let me drink ever again.” You mumble.

He wipes the sweat off your cheeks, forehead and the sides of your neck. “Yes ma’am.” He teases, focused on the task at hand. Garfield attempts to crawl up Nick’s leg by using his sweatpants as leverage. That kitten is obsessed with him…though, you suppose you can relate.

When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth towards the hamper, picking Garfield up and standing to his full height. “You gonna get sick again?”

You try to suss out how you feel. Definitely not as terrible as before when you first woke up but…still kinda queasy. No reason for him to stick around though when he could go back to sleep.

“I dunno, you mise well leave me here to die.”

Nick smiles, rolling his eyes before returning to the bedroom. You sigh softly, standing from the toilet to at least wash the taste from your mouth with some mouthwash. You then settle on the floor in front of the glass shower, using the door to prop your back up. Your eyes slip closed for a moment, only opening again when you hear Nick come back into the bathroom.

You expected him to crawl back into bed but instead he…he places Garfield into your hands and sets the one pillow down that was under his arm, then encourages you to sit up while he places the other behind you. He sits down, his thigh pressed into yours, spreading out the comforter over both your legs.

You should not be getting so emotional about this man creating a makeshift bed in the bathroom. You can’t find the words to explain, either, behind what feels like cotton in your throat. So you lean your head on his shoulder instead as Garfield curls up on your lap.

—

Your entire body is trembling as you lay back on your sheets, tired, sated, pleasure swirling as it licks at your nerve endings. Nick’s on top of you, inside of you, no one moving as you both come down from your high. Your throat is dry as you swallow, but fuck, you wouldn’t move for anything. He tips his chin down, nipping at your jawline, leaning up just a little to put weight on his arms so he doesn’t crush you.

“Don’t—” You mumble, hooking a leg around his own, “Don’t move.”

He smirks softly, his hand moving to tangle itself in your hair, “Weren’t two orgasms enough?” He asks, cheeky little shit.

“You tell me,” You whisper against his mouth, rolling your hips up to meet his. Your body clenches around his cock and you can feel him stir with interest again, pressing against that deep spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

Just one more. Nick leans down and nips at your lower lip with his teeth, shifting so he can use momentum to thrust forward. He swallows your moan, turning the kiss into something deeper.

One more—and who’s Nick to deny you of that?

—

You’ve known Nick a long time, friends far before you were together. Because of that, you know that you can read one another fairly well. Even though you tend to wear your emotions right on your face, heart on your sleeve, he’s always been rather attuned to you. Nick, however, takes a bit longer to figure out. Anyone who doesn’t know him well would miss small signs when something is wrong. He keeps people at a distance on purpose, never letting anyone close enough to get a good look at him, to realize he’s wearing a mask.

But you know.

It takes a little while to spot it with a trained eye, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders, his smile a little too forced, his body coiled tight with tension. When you touch him underneath his jacket, you can feel it in the muscles of his back, the way he doesn’t relax into you like he usually does. The way he avoids your gaze.

He’s upset about something.

You’re almost certain that’s why he picks a fight with Lion in the middle of this party that you’re at. He’s been short and a little rude all night, but sometimes, admittedly, that’s just how Nick is. He’s a hothead, he sometimes says things without considering consequences. But tonight feels different, you watch him carefully, like he’s a powder keg ready to explode.

You and Jenna both get in the middle of an impending fist fight and you drag Nick outside until he’s forced to get into his car and take you home with him. You’re hoping that the tension will dissipate by the time you walk into his bedroom, but unfortunately it gets worse. You wrap your arms around yourself, watching as he begins to undress, removing his leather jacket.

“You gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“Think it was quite obvious, I'm tired of Lion dragging me into his messes.” His accent is slightly thicker than usual because he's agitated, running both hands through his curls, “And you don't need to defend him, he's got a girlfriend for that.”

Your eyebrows lift, “I'm on your side.” You say it a bit slowly, pointedly, because clearly whatever he's wound up about is not Lion.

He scoffs, tugging his shirt over his head to toss in the hamper near his bathroom, “Right. That why you were hanging on him all night? That’s you being ‘on my side’?”

You draw in a careful breath, looking away from him. Not because you feel like you’re embarrassed, in the wrong, or because you have something to hide. But because Nick is trying to hurt you, he’s trying to push you away.

And you’re not going to let him.

“Now all of a sudden you’re upset when we all dance with eachother?” You ask, trying to point out the faults in his so-called argument.

A tight-knit circle of you and Lion, Nick and Jenna drinking on the makeshift dance floor. Consistently spinning and interchanging couples and…you didn’t think anything of it. It’s something the four of you have always done. Tonight was no different. You didn’t touch Lion in a way that could be construed as anything other than friends, and he was a perfect gentleman with his hands. He’s in love with Jenna.

You refuse to call Nick ridiculous or begin some sort of name-calling back and forth because that’ll just make things worse. You are not the one that Nick’s upset with.

You center yourself, squeezing around your midsection, “I know you’re frustrated that Lion pulls you into things without asking, but—”

“He’s not the only one who does that.” Nick interrupts, his words wrapped in barbed wire.

You lift your chin, “You’re saying I do that too?”

“Well I couldn’t explain a bruised face to my mother and now I own a cat I never wanted.”

Fucking ouch. You can tell the exact moment when his words land and the gentle regret in his eyes, his breathing a little heavy. He suddenly glances away and you try to ignore the tingling at the bridge of your nose. You’re not going to cry in front of him, you know he’s yanking on insecurities of ‘what if’s, trying to grasp at anything that’s not the real problem.

You smooth your hands over nonexistent wrinkles in your shirt, “Alright, when you’re ready to talk to me about what’s really bothering you, I’ll be in the living room.”

You only let tears slip down your cheeks when you’re far away from his bedroom.

—

You curl up on the couch downstairs, taking your jeans off and pulling on one of Nick’s hoodies that you find on the back of the chair in the kitchen. Angry at him or not, the man still has comfortable clothes that are hard to resist.

Frustration sits heavily in your lungs, making your chest hurt. You know that sharing things that hurt isn’t always the easiest of things. You’ve been there. It’s difficult to trust people, especially when they have a habit of letting you down. You know have struggled with that before—not just with one another, but in your own lives with your family. You feel like you’ve tried to promise yourself that it’d be different with Nick, that despite patterns of predictability, that you’d both work on letting the other in.

Or was that just something you made up for yourself that night on the roof?

You hope your boyfriend will take those steps forward even when it’s hard, that yes, he’ll come talk to you about what’s really going on.

But he doesn’t show.

—

At some point you must fall asleep, because the next thing you know, you’re rolling over onto your back and trying to adjust your eyes to…Nick. Nick seated by your hip, his one arm resting on the other side of you. You can tell that he’s showered, a warm hue to his skin and his hair slightly damp, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. There’s an inward curl to his shoulders though that makes him appear smaller than usual.

“What time is it?” You croak out, clearing your throat. You sit up a little, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Just after two,” He says softly and it’s quiet for a moment as you sit with one another.

You watch him carefully, the way he holds himself. You can see him clamp down on an emotion so he can speak, though his voice is slightly strained when he says,

“Fuck, I’m sorry—about what I said upstairs. I—”

You shake your head, your hand reaching for his. You squeeze, running your thumb back and forth over his knuckles, “I know.” It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he’s down here, trying to talk to you.

“Nick,” You say gently after a moment, “What’s wrong?”

Nick swallows, letting out a long breath as his eyes fill with unshed tears. It guts you, punches you right in the chest, seeing him like this, struggling with being able to talk about his emotions. He’s got them so tightly under lock-and-key, so buried underneath himself that he’s not sure how to let them out easily, which is how it ends up like this. A dam breaking open.

“It’s—this is the day my mum left when I was younger, and I don’t know—I guess I think each year will get better, feel different. It never does.” He sniffles, quickly rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, “And I know she’s worked hard on herself, why she had to leave—and yet I’m still so angry with her. And that feels awful too.”

Your chest splits wide open, hurting that he’s hurting. You sit up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, encouraging him to lean into you. He’s tense for a long few moments before he melts, lets go, his arms sliding along your back and holding onto you tightly, like a lifeline. You can feel his face press into your shoulder, tears wetting your skin, dragging a ragged breath in as you stroke his back while your other hand threads into his curls.

You hold him until he’s ready to pull away.

—

A few days pass and you don’t bring up what Nick said to you about his mother. There’s no need to break it down further—what he was feeling, what he probably still is feeling, is valid. You’re not sure that one conversation is going to fix everything, but you hope he knows that someone is there for him, someone to listen. Someone to hold his hand next year when those ugly feelings visit his doorstep once again.

Nick apologizes to Lion, who tells him it’s not a big deal, that it’s already forgotten. You’re just glad things return to as normal as they can around here.

You dive under the water in Nick’s pool, kicking underneath until your lungs burn a little for oxygen. When you make your way to the surface, Nick is coming out from around the hedges in a red swim trunks and a white t-shirt.

“Got something for you.” He says, motioning for you to get out of the pool.

“Is it ice cream?” You call out, floating on your back towards the ledge to exit, “Cause I love ice cream.”

“Easy to please, I’ll remember that for next time.” He teases, setting some towels down on a glass table.

You pull yourself from the water, adjusting your swim bottoms as you round the edge of the pool to stand in front of him. He looks…he looks better. There’s a lightness that’s returned to his eyes, the smirk more genuine in the corners of his mouth. His shoulders are relaxed too and you swallow the urge to kiss him.

You purse your lips, “I’m still not convinced it’s not ice cream—”

And then, from a small, blue, velvet bag, Nick pulls out a silver chain that has a tiny key on the end of it. It’s dainty, beautiful, the key top shaped like a heart and no bigger than your thumb nail. Your mouth falls open and then a wide smile spreads across your face as you reach out and take it from him.

“Nick,” You whisper.

He hums and then reaches into his shirt, pulling out a similar chain. But instead of a key on his, he has a silver lock relatively the same size. It’s clear—they go together, yours unlocking his, and the weight of that sits heavy and low in your chest.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, watching you, “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” You reply instantly, turning and handing it back to him, “Can you put it on me?”

Nick opens the clasp and moves his arms around you, resting it against your chest as you move your hair aside for him. When he’s done, he puts his hands on your shoulders, squeezing, palms traveling down your arms. When you turn back around, he’s smiling, gaze wandering from the key on your sternum and then back up to your eyes.

Then, in one giant swoop, he lifts you into his arms to haul over his shoulder, a squeal leaving your lips as he jumps into the pool.

—

Nick’s a great cook, which you suppose shouldn’t be surprising, because he’s good with his hands. It’s like a state of fluidity you can’t begin to understand, the way he moves in a kitchen. It’s like he has a sixth sense of when to add seasonings, when to fix a temperature for something he’s making, when a recipe calls for one thing but he substitutes another. He’s also mesmerizing to watch when he prepares things—cutting strips of chicken, rolling noodles in sauce, mincing garlic and herbs.

Probably something that shouldn’t be attractive but it is.

On the flip side, you’re not the most organized in the kitchen. You know how to make the basics, provide for yourself if you’re not ordering UberEats. Your one aunt didn’t know how to boil pasta until she was seventeen so…safe to say you’re not that bad. However, baking is another story. Your grandparents owned a little bakery before it went up for sale when they passed away. One of your regrets is that you were never old enough to take it over, that your parents didn’t save it.

Regardless, baking is in your blood and you want to be good at it.

Though…if Nick’s face is any indication as he bites into a cookie you’ve made, maybe you should quit while you’re ahead. Or behind, in this case. You chew on your lower lip, leaning against the counter as he chews…thoughtfully.

“Not good? Are they awful?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

You groan, tipping your head into your hands, “They are, they’re terrible.” You lift your gaze to his, a soft pout on your lips, “I don’t understand, I followed every step of the recipe.”

Nick smiles a little, licking his lips, setting the cookie down on the plate. It makes a conk noise, which indicates they’re far too hard. And you like crispy cookies! Like a snickerdoodle that’s soft and gooey on the inside but has a good crust on the outside. But this…isn’t that.

You pick one up and bite into it. It’s supposed to be red velvet chocolate chip but it kinda tastes…bland. Except at the end where there’s a salty, burnt chocolate flavor. “Oh no.”

“Really hope food poisoning isn’t involved.”

“Hey,” You kick his shin under the table even though you’re laughing, “Shut up.” Sighing dramatically, you place the cookie back on the plate, “I guess it’s good I didn’t try out one of my grandparent’s recipes, would have ruined their memory along with the cookies.”

He shakes his head, his hand reaching for yours on the table. He smiles as he brushes his thumb along your knuckles, your fingers dragging across the silver ring he’s wearing, “You can always try again. I can help you next time.”

“I wanted to do it by myself,” You grumble—you already know they’re going to turn out good if Nick helps. But that’s not the point. Or…maybe it is. Having edible cookies.

He stands from the counter, shifting around the island to plant a kiss to your cheek. He then dips his chin, peppering kisses along your face in rapid succession until you laugh, your hand falling to his chest to playfully push him away.

“I’ll just throw them out, then we can watch a movie or something.” You move to grab the plate, but Nick gets there first, picking it up to carry it into the living room. He selects one of the less sad-looking ones on the outskirts. A small smile blooms over your cheeks as he decides that, yes, he’ll eat another one, despite how awful they are.

—

Nick rarely finds himself saying no to you, but there is one instance in which he does.

—

Admittedly, this is not how you usually handle situations like this. You know that when you’re on the outside looking in, it digs under your skin when people you care about try to shove you away from trying to help. When they put up walls around themselves, refusing to let anyone close to help. You’ve always been a problem solver, driven by solutions, or at the very least being available to listen, because sometimes having someone to vent to is more than enough.

You never want someone to close themselves up to the point in which they push anyone they care about away, building a box inside to shove emotions into because it’s easier not to feel anything at all.

So maybe that’s why this is so ironic—because now when you’re faced with something you’re not sure how to handle, you cut everyone off like a gangrenous limb.

You’ve expressed frustrations before about your parents, about how despite the fact that they should be divorced, they’re sticking together for god knows what reason. It’s made their once tolerable relationship ugly, it’s turned them into people who hate one another. And that toxic relationship finally bubbles up one night—

Your dad hits your mom.

And you’re not talking about a gentle tap, it’s a backhanded strike that knocks her into the table. There’s instant regrets, there’s begging, there’s crying, and all the while you just kinda stand there, staring at the spot where your mom was. It shuts a door inside you, it pushes everything you’ve ever cared about right into your ribs.

It makes you never want to trust another person again, it makes you never want to be in a relationship because things can sour far too fast. Two people who loved one another, who had a child together, turned into something ugly. You’re not saying you’re destined for that same fate, but it doesn’t inspire comforting feelings about being with someone either.

This might not be a small town, but drama spreads like a virus in private social circles, and suddenly everyone knows about what happened between your parents. Your mother’s doctor visit, your father at a bar—it’s all too much for you to deal with, that downward spiral making you feel like you’re stuck even though what’s happened doesn’t directly impact you.

Especially since both of your parents are acting like it never fucking happened. They never mention divorce. It makes you irrationally angry, almost to the point where you want to drive your fist through your bedroom mirror.

Jenna blows up your phone with calls and texts and you manage to send a few that respond to her questions. You have no idea how to answer, are you alright? Or is there anything I can do?

You don’t respond to Nick at all.

—

In the back of your mind, you know you should have seen this coming. Nick wasn’t just going to take to being ignored. You can picture the concern swimming in his brown eyes, the frown tugging his handsome mouth down, the surge of protectiveness to just fix whatever’s wrong. You hate worrying him, but you just…can’t find it within yourself to make a different choice. It’s like you’re sitting in the rafters watching this all play out, a spectator in your own life.

You’re folding laundry when Nick shows up, letting himself into your room. He’s wearing a large gray hoodie that makes your chest ache with how comfortable it looks, tugging the hood off his head when the door closes behind him. He lets out a soft sigh, reaching into the large pocket in the front and—

A ball of orange, fuzzy fur mewls.

You pause as he puts Garfield down on your bed, the kitten instantly rushing to greet you, rolling into piles of laundry you’ve created to put in your closet. Your eyebrows draw together in soft confusion, gaze lifting to your boyfriend,

“Not keeping him anymore?” You ask, voice a little rough from lack of use.

Nick’s eyebrows draw together—you suppose you wouldn’t be surprised if he was breaking up with you, given the radio silence you’ve created. “No. I figured you might miss him. And since you won’t text or call me back, I assumed you wouldn’t be coming over any time soon either.”

You swallow over a foreign emotion in your throat (you know exactly what it is) and look down at Garfield. Your heart clenches—you did miss him. The kitten isn’t the only thing you miss. Your eyes flit up to Nick again, who’s hovering near the door, eyes assessing. He’s trying to get a read on you, trying to figure out what he can do to help. You’re sorry that he’s wasted his time.

Setting down a shirt, you pick up Garfield and bury your nose in his fur for a moment. He kinda smells like Nick’s sheets, like the comfort and warmth of his bedroom. Your eyes close.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You lower Garfield a little, scratching under his chin, “I’m sure you’ve heard by now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Your eyes flash as you lift your chin, a scoff tumbling out, “What, is that not enough? What else should be wrong, Nick?”

“Y/N,” He starts and you shake your head, putting your hand up as you gently drop the orange kitten to your bed. His voice is too soft, too gentle, it hurts to hear.

“No, I’m curious—please elaborate. Is my dad hitting my mom not a wrong enough reason to not respond to your calls or texts?” Your voice is heightened, slightly pinched and you hate how it sounds borderline hysterical, but what the fuck? When he showed up, you didn’t expect that he’d be calling you out on your emotions. You figured he might listen, try to help, even though you weren’t interested in talking.

But this?

“Get out.” You state, voice calmer than before.

You stare a hole right through him and you can tell the moment that Nick strengthens his resolve, digs his heels in, the asshole actually has the audacity to cross his arms over his chest.

“No.”

You blink at him, your breath coming out short, nearly a gasp as your heart begins to hammer in your ears. No? No? Nick has been the type of person to be completely supportive to the point where he nearly bends to your every whim, your every request. He says yes like he was made for it—it’s in every smile he gives you, every lingering touch, every kiss of a promise.

You do not expect him to say no.

“Nick, I’m not—” You shake your head, rounding the bed to stand in front of him, not close enough to touch. Not yet. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

That just serves to piss you the fuck off, “Get out,” You snap, no longer worried about being cordial, about sounding a certain way. Your voice shakes and you can feel the bridge of your nose tingle, your eyes stinging, “Just leave me alone.”

Again, Nick looks at you with an utter calm that makes you want to slap him across the face. He breathes in through his nose and then lets it go. He shakes his head,

“No.” He repeats.

You swallow what feels like glass in your throat. Why is he doing this? “I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care,” He volleys back, determination strengthening his entire stance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That statement hits you square in the chest, a roar that sounds like the ocean crashing in your ears. I’m not going anywhere—it repeats a few times, a cycle bouncing off your ribs, capable of ripping you wide open. Your jaw sets in resolve and you’re not even realizing that you’re moving until you take two steps forward and put your hands on his chest, shoving him towards the door.

Nick’s mouth falls open, more surprised than anything else, as you throw him off balance. He quickly rights himself, that boxing training coming into handy as he anticipates your next push.

“Stop,” He says softly, nowhere near as pissed as you want him to be. How you feel.

You don’t listen, hitting his chest again, throwing your body into it to try and force him through the doorway. Out. Away. “Get out.” Your hands curl into fists, throwing them against him, your cheeks burning with effort. Your vision blurs, pent up tears beginning to spill down your face. “I–just leave.”

Nick shakes his head again, his hands moving to gently clasp your wrists. His body is immovable despite how much power you’re trying to put into each movement. He squeezes you but not in a way that’s painful, just trying to keep you still. You draw in a haggard breath,

“Nick—”

His features scrunch at the pain in your voice and he attempts to wrap his arms around you to draw you close, even though you won’t let him, taking a step back,

“I know,” He whispers, cupping your cheek and thumbing away tears, “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

A pinched whimper leaves your lips as you give in to what he’s saying, your body pitching forward, Nick firmly keeping you in place against his chest. The tears are relentless as they stream down your cheeks, plopping into his gray hoodie, all of your frustration, anger, hurt, emptying against him. He tries to support you the best way that he can, pressing his lips and nose to your temple, murmuring that he’s there, that you’re going to be okay, that he loves you.

And for once? You’re glad he didn’t listen. You’re glad he said no.

—

Seated in bed against the headboard, Garfield finds his way onto your stomach, making biscuits with his little hands. For something so tiny, he’s a loud purrer. You glance up as Nick comes back into your bedroom, a mug of hot tea in his hands that he places into yours before crawling in beside you.

“Were they downstairs?”

Nick adjusts a pillow near you, leaning back and angling his body a bit towards yours. He smiles a little at Garfield, reaching over to pet between his ears.

“Your mom’s in the living room. I didn’t see your dad.”

Probably out again to avoid the gravity of his mistakes. You feel so tired, exhaustion sitting in your chest like cinderblocks. Heavy in a way you’ve never felt before. You hold the mug of tea carefully, blowing at the steam that’s curling out of it.

Sometimes your parent’s problems feel immovable, like you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past it. You’re scared it’s going to get worse if it’s not addressed. You let out a slow breath out of your mouth—you suppose you can’t allow yourself to think like that, you’ll drive yourself crazy.

Besides—at least you have people who care about you, who can help, even if it’s just to be here. You glance over at Nick, his gaze already on yours, mapping along your face. A gentle smile tugs the corners of his lips, his hand moving to rub your thigh gently.

“Can I do anything?” He asks.

Your fingers squeeze the hot ceramic. “You already have.” And lean over to kiss him.

—

There’s this poem you like that reminds you of Nick—one of the lines says, yes is a world. And despite how often he says it? You realize you should be saying yes to more things too. Yes, you will have that extra scoop of ice cream. Yes, you’ll spend a lazy Sunday watching crime documentaries. Yes, it’s okay to feel frustrated that the trust you put in the adults around you has been mishandled. That they’ve hurt you in doing so. Yes, it’s okay to admit you need help. That you need someone to lean on.

It’s a work in progress, but maybe if you start living more in that world of yes? Other people might too. Like your mom, who will hopefully discover one day that, yes, she deserves better.

So when Nick asks you if you’d like to come with him to visit Maddie, you smile brightly and say yes.

Despite everything you’ve heard, you haven’t met Maddie. You’ve briefly interacted with Nick’s mother a few times, but not the sister that is so near and dear to him. You know how important this is, can feel it fill up your chest like a hot-air balloon when pulling into the gravel driveway. There’s this unfounded worry that his sister will somehow not like you, even though there’s no reason to think that. You know Maddie knows who you are—Nick’s told her.

You watch as Nick gets out of the car and crouches low to scoop his younger sister up into his arms, doing a small spin that makes her giggle and you smile. He’s so good with her, your heart hammering in your chest as he sets her down and ruffles her hair. He motions a little over to you, putting his hands on his knees so he’s eyelevel with her.

“That’s Y/N.”

She gasps in pure excitement, “Your girlfriend?” Nick laughs a little before nodding, standing to put his hands on her shoulders and turn her in your direction. “She’s so pretty.”

He hums in agreement. “She is.”

You smile, wandering towards the pair, “It’s really nice to meet you Maddie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Instead of replying, she rushes forth and captures you in a hug, squeezing you tight enough to envy her big brother. You can’t help but laugh, hugging her back—you decide you like her. A lot.

—

After a big dinner, two pieces of chocolate cake, and playing hide and seek (quite terribly, you might add) you and Maddie lay in a hammock under twinkle lights with a book in the backyard as Nick helps his mother put away dishes and clean up. He glances outside the kitchen window at you two, a small smile on his face. The fondness in his eyes is almost enough to take you out at the knees, butterflies skittering into your ribs.

Maddie turns the page, reading outloud, “It was then the princess said that the prince was her home, even if they were miles and miles apart.”

She pauses, fingers playing with the page. She tips her head back to look at you, her hair smelling like daisies and citrus. “Can home be a person?”

You smile a little, your gaze finding Nick again, “Yes,” You nod, “I think it can.”

#nick leister #nick leister x reader #my fault london #my fault: london #my fault london x reader #my fault series #matthew broome #matthew broome x reader #mccall writes things

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mayajadewrites · 9 months ago

Text

clean freak

levi ackerman x fem! reader

synopsis: you're levi's housewife, but your cleaning skills have not been up to his standards lately.

warnings: smut, smut, and more smut. levi is kinda mean in this but oh well

reblogs and comments are always appreciated pls my love language is words of affirmation

His huffs could be heard from a mile away. He's officially off from the Scouts for the weekend, and he's finally visiting his wife after a month.

Day by day, watching his comrades die, slaughtering mindless titans, has gotten to him.

All he wants to do is come home to his good little wife, to have a house that's impeccably clean after a month of fighting for humanity.

Yet when he walks into his home, it's not clean. Well, Levi's version of clean.

The house looks, homey - comfy even. He can see specs of dust on the table.

"Hi, honey." You emerge from the kitchen, wearing a dress that Levi hasn't seen you in yet.

His half-lidded eyes find yours as he takes off his shoes, sucking his teeth. "Tch."

You tilt your head, not knowing why your husband is so... tense. Usually when he comes home, he assaults your face with kisses and ends up on top of you.

"I made your favorite." You bring him a cup of his favorite tea - in his favorite cup. He glances at you, then the cup, before grabbing the top of it with his large hand.

"Are you just going to pretend your wife doesn't exist, Levi?" You say as you sit next to him at the table.

"Why is it that my house is a mess?"

"Your house?" You put down your own cup of tea. "OUR house is not a mess. You're here once a month - so I clean the way I like."

"That's not going to work for me." Levi crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes furrowed. "This is embarrassing."

"Embarrassing for who, exactly?" You mock his pose, mirroring his posture.

"Me. I would never let my house get like this."

"Funny, my boyfriend really likes it." You knew exactly how to push his buttons, and when to push them. His stone cold eyes darted to you - wandering up and down your body. "Oh, that makes you look at me finally?"

"Any man that likes a house like this has no taste." His eyes stay on you as he speaks lowly.

"That's very bold of you to say. You don't know, he could've tasted me."

His knuckles were turning white. Using jealousy against him was not your favorite, but he left you no choice.

"Are you done being an ungrateful dickhead?" You stand up, grabbing his cup to put it in the sink.

As you wash the dishes, you feel his large, calloused hands grip your waist harshly and pull you into his chest. You refuse to acknowledge what he's doing as you continue to wash the teacups.

His mouth found your neck, kissing gently before biting down, sucking on the sensitive spot. "Mm, you want to misbehave some more?"

Your head tilts to the side as he leaves his marks on you, but you're still scrubbing at the porcelain - ignoring him.

Levi hates being ignored.

"You're really gonna ignore your husband after he slaved away saving humanity?" He brought his right hand to your thigh, pushing your dress upwards as he squeezed the plush skin.

You refuse to acknowledge his digs, so you keep scrubbing the dishes to distract yourself from the heat pooling in your tummy.

"What an ungrateful brat I married." His mouth found a sensitive spot on your neck - where he can feel your pulse. His lips sucked, tongue swirling on the skin as he peered over your shoulder. "You can't even wash dishes right."

His hands gripped your hips, this fingers digging into your flesh as if he wanted to carve into you. His left hand stayed in place on your hip as his right hand dipped under your dress.

"Levi, I just cleaned the kitchen. Don't make a mess." You turn your head, slightly looking at him.

"You think this is clean?" His lips found your ear, his breath kissing it. "You think this is what your husband wants to come home to?"

You finally give in and turn around to face him. Even though he's on the shorter side, you're shorter than him. Gazing up into his steel grey, bluish eyes almost makes you forget why you're even arguing.

"I'm sorry I'm not a germaphobe like you who cleans every surface 5 times a day. I'm sure you can forgive your lovely wife, since she's holding your life together while you risk your life to kill titans."

His eyes turn almost predatory as he looks down at you, a smirk forming on one side of his face. You notice a new scar on his face, your hand almost magnetically going to the spot, rubbing your thumb along the skin.

The moment was soft, unlike the argument you have been having. He closed his eyes as you touched him, a deep breath leaving his lips.

Levi isn't one to apologize. Never was, and you were okay with it at this point. You know he's stressed and worried constantly about the future of the world, especially since the most important person to him, you, is in it.

Within a second Levi has you on the counter, his body in-between your legs as his mouth smashes against yours - your dainty hands cupping his face as he takes care of every inch of your mouth.

His hands pressed against the small of your back and your ass as he kissed you, soft moans leaving his mouth. "God, I missed you."

You smile at his words, he doesn't say things like that much, so you savor the moment. You drag your nails across his skin to his undercut, tracing shapes on the hair as your tongue slips into his mouth.

"Baby, I might come right here if we keep kissing." He pulled away, adjusting his pants slightly and you notice the bulge.

"A month without me, one kiss and you're already about to come in your pants?" You say in a teasing tone, pulling away from him.

"Tsch." His hands drag under your thighs, lifting you up and carrying to you to your shared bedroom. Luckily you remembered to make the bed, to which Levi silently appreciates.

His delicately lays you on the bed, making sure none of your hair pulls against your back as it splays across the sheets.

He's on top of you now, his stone eyes following your every move, every breath. Almost like he's studying you, not wanting to forget a single detail.

"Levi?" You interrupt his thoughts, your voice a half whisper.

"Sorry, I just..." His finger drags along your jawline, to your neck and then collarbone. "I missed you."

"I missed you." You lean into his touch, being gentle as you spot more scars on his hands. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Please come home to me. Even if our house isn't clean enough, even if you don't want to see me. Always come home."

Levi takes in your words, seemingly having his own conversation in his head as he watches your expressions.

"Always. I promise." He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his body snaking over you as his tongue invades your mouth.

Your hands find his hair, pulling on his inky locks as his lips move down your skin to your chest, gently removing your dress to reveal your undergarments.

Like a work of art, his hands gently grazed your soft skin, goosebumps forming soon after.

"You are so beautiful." He whispers, studying every inch of your skin as he unclips your bra seamlessly, throwing it to the side. His lips found the supple skin of your breast, leaving heated kisses as his hand made their way to your lace panties, his index finger hooking onto the side and pulling them down.

Your mouth gapes open as you feel his touches, anticipating the next feeling. He takes his large hands as spreads your legs, his thumb caressing your thigh. "Are you ready for me? It's been awhile."

You nod, watching him strip off his uniform, his forest green cloak cascading to the floor, almost poetically.

You're mesmerized by his physique every time - but like always, you notice new bruises and scars that are now a part of him. Which makes them a part of you.

Levi takes his middle digit, sliding it over your slit to feel your slick. His mouth curves into a smile as he feels you, letting his finger envelope in the wetness. "I can just slide right in." He whispers.

Your hands grip the sheets as you feel him align himself with you, his hands gently holding your hips as he angles you upwards. As you feel his fat tip enter you, a moan so loud your neighbors definitely heard it escaped your lips.

Levi's head went back, some of his hairs sticking to his forehead from sweat as he entered you. Just like he said, he slid in, and your body automatically started taking him.

"Such a good girl." He grunts, picking up his pace as he looks at you. "God, I missed this pussy. Thought about it every day."

He's being super vocal today, usually he's all grunts and moans before he reaches his high.

You nod, moaning his name as he hits every spot, your back arching as he pounds into you. Your hands reach for his neck, hoping he can hold you.

"My needy brat." He whispers, obliging to your request as he leans down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. He starts thrusting into you at a different angle, immediately hitting the spot that makes you crumble.

"Oh, right there Levi." You moan, closing your eyes as you both develop a rhythm.

"Open your eyes. I want to watch you come undone." He looks down at you, his eyes almost menacing.

Your eyes shoot open, capturing his gaze as he continues to thrust into you, the sounds of your slapping skin filling the room. Your mouth gapes open as the coil in your tummy breaks, your climax waving over you.

"L-Levi, holy shit." He continues to pound into you through your high, his eyes still on you. He watched as you came on his cock, but it didn't stop him. Watching you get off, was making him close.

Your nails digged into his skin as he thrusted into you to the hilt, this movements becoming more sloppy - he's close.

You tangle your fingers in his silky hair, the strands wrapping around your fingertips as you kiss his ear - one of his most sensitive spots.

He groaned, his body pressing into you one last time as he moaned your name, pants following soon after.

You both lay on the bed, sweaty and completely satisfied. He rolls next to you, closing his eyes and taking a few breaths.

"Wash these sheets." He looked at you, pinching your nose between his thumb and index finger.

"Why, you don't want to dirty them some more?" You purred, turning onto your side to face him.

You continued to dirty the sheets all night, until Levi forgot what he was mad at in the first place.

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